Waistcoats & Weaponry

“If this goes on for too long, at too many stations and wealthy households, there will be a public outcry,” said Dimity.

The group was getting a little lax about security. Someone still stood watch at the door, but it really seemed that no one else was on the train. When they paused, only Monique, the drone with the transmitter, or the driver was ever visible, although presumably there must be a stoker. No one was interested in checking the last carriage. Why was it even attached? To make the train look larger and more important?

Sophronia agreed with Dimity. “Mumsy couldn’t manage the household if Frowbritcher stopped functioning. She uses him for practically everything. That’s why she’s so diligent about maintenance. If he’s still down today, the house will be in chaos.”

Sidheag said, “Rather dependent, isn’t that?”

Sophronia only shrugged.

“Doesn’t Kingair keep mechanicals?” asked Dimity.

“No, we keep clavigers for the dirty jobs. The castle is far too old to lay tracks.”

Felix bristled at Sidheag’s implications.

Sophronia suspected that Duke Golborne’s residence, both in the country and in town, was littered with tracks. Felix seemed like the type to come from the sort of family that kept a mechanical for every whim. Perhaps his ideals are more entrenched than I thought. A true test of my persuasive abilities!

Felix defended the status quo. “People wouldn’t need so many tracks if the supernatural politicians stopped restricting mechanical development. After all, mechanimals don’t need tracks, but free rollers are illegal. It was the potentate that pushed that piece of legislation through.”

Sophronia frowned. “Are you saying tracks are no longer necessary?”

“Might be implying it, but I’m not saying it.” Felix looked smug.

Sophronia thought of Bumbersnoot. He operated without tracks and was illegal. But he also wasn’t very big and wasn’t, by most standards, useful. Yet correlate track-free motion to the idea that mechanicals might be controlled by a distant third party via the crystalline valves? Sophronia felt very uncomfortable. She could almost see where the vampires were coming from.

Speculation died down after that and things got extremely dull. The day was gray and drizzly. The train moved slowly north. They played cards; Felix had some in an inside pocket. They bickered about inconsequential things. They were all getting a bit tetchy after being trapped in a coach for so long.

Around teatime Dimity threw down her cards petulantly. “Sophronia, you never warned me adventuring would be so dull and tea-less.”

“No, but Lady Linette did. She said when one was stalking a mark that great patience was required.”

“I missed that bit.” Dimity leaned back. “What I wouldn’t give for a nice pot of Assam with some of those little cream puffs with the sugar on top. This isn’t the life for me. It really isn’t.” She looked most unhappy. It lent her ridiculous getup an air of self-sacrifice. She made for such an unconvincing boy.

Felix looked at Dimity, intrigued. “I thought all of Mademoiselle Geraldine’s girls wanted to be intelligencers.”

“Do all of Bunson’s boys want to be evil geniuses, Lord Mersey?” Dimity responded, knowing with confidence that this was not the case. Her own brother objected to the principles of his school, and mooched through his studies in a very nonevil way.

“No, I suppose not. Then why bother?”

Dimity grimaced. “You haven’t met my mother.”

“No, I haven’t had that pleasure.”

“I’d avoid it if I were you.”

“Duly noted.”

“Dimity means to get herself married to a nice safe country squire or tuppenny knight. Spend the Season in London and the rest of the time out of all intrigue in the countryside. Although lately the countryside seems very excitable.”

“You mean, like a normal girl?” Felix looked not at all upset by this admission of limited ambition.

Dimity flushed and glared at Sophronia. “You aren’t supposed to tell a boy that!”

“As if he weren’t well aware of the marriage mart? If he isn’t yet, he should be. Once he circulates in society, he’s going to be prime nosh.”

“I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or not, Ria. You make me sound like a bun from the baker’s.”

“And a very tasty hot cross bun, unless I’m very much mistaken. Full of currants,” said Sophronia, speaking for all the chaperones in Felix’s social future.

Felix actually blushed.

Soap looked as if he might be moved to speak against such outright flirting. His face wore an expression of disapproval not unlike that of Professor Lefoux upon encountering something she deemed particularly frivolous.

Felix turned the conversation elegantly back to Dimity, saying gallantly, “Don’t you worry, Miss Plumleigh-Teignmott. I respect that choice. It seems eminently reasonable for a young lady of quality.” Was he purposefully testing Sophronia with that statement?

Sophronia couldn’t say anything. If she objected to his support of the normal path, she would insult Dimity. If she condoned it, her own choices were in question. Very nicely played. She gave Felix a nod of credit.

Sidheag, however, took offense. After all, she was off to probable spinsterhood and a very abnormal life choice—nanny to a band of discredited werewolf soldiers. She would have argued with Felix, but Sophronia put a hand to her arm and shook her head. Sidheag jerked away and went to stare out the window, annoyed now with both of them.