Curtsies & Conspiracies fs-2

by Gail Carriger

  One of the others asked, “Will your charitable actions come with more of them little cakes?”

  “Oh,” said someone else. “Is she that Dimity?”

  Dimity had encouraged Sophronia to filch nibbles from tea and pass them out to the sooties. Sophronia attributed the largesse to her friend. Thus, while none of the sooties had actually met Dimity, they all knew of her. They had been thinking of her as a kind of angel of pudding mercy.

  Dimity brightened as the sooties turned more affectionate eyes upon her. “I shall do my best. I’m certain stealing for charity is a worthy application of my intelligencer skills.”

  “You and Robin Hood,” said Sophronia.

  “Oh.” Dimity was confused. “Was he a spy, too?”

  Soap had only really spent one evening in Dimity’s company, and that was during an infiltration. He turned to Sophronia at this juncture and said, “Is she always like this?”

  “Pretty much,” answered Sophronia.

  Soap returned to the pamphlet. “Prop-per, high-gine-y,” he read out. “What’s high-gine-y? Some kind of animal?”

  “Nope.” Sophronia giggled. “It simply means clean.”

  “I’m so stupid,” muttered Soap.

  “You’re brilliant!” Sophronia defended him staunchly. “You simply haven’t learned yet. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh at you.”

  “S’all right, miss. You really think I’m brilliant?” he fished hopefully.

  “Of course,” said Sophronia without hesitation. “Book learning will only take you so far.”

  One of Soap’s quick white smiles flashed.

  Dimity finished passing out pamphlets and turned expectantly. “Right. What do we do now?”

  “Usually, practice dirty fighting. This young man will help.” Sophronia beckoned Furnival over.

  Furnival Jones was a kindhearted, scruffy boy and one of Sidheag’s favorite fighting partners. He had a perpetual expression of mild surprise on his face due to a near absence of eyebrows, the result of a close encounter with a boiler.

  “Miss?”

  “Be a dear, Furnival, and go at Miss Dimity here for a bit?”

  Furnival looked Dimity up and down doubtfully.

  “Oh, must I?” Dimity hated to fight.

  “Certainly.”

  “Oh, very well.” Dimity kilted up her lovely skirts and gamely grabbed a stoking pole, aiming it limply at poor Furnival.

  The sootie backed away and looked helplessly at Soap.

  Soap gave him the nod.

  Sophronia said, “I know she doesn’t look like it, but she’s trained like Sidheag and me.”

  The boy swung his own pole tentatively at Dimity.

  Dimity blocked.

  Sophronia, Vieve, and Soap watched for a bit. Dimity wasn’t very good, but Furnival treated her gently. Unless Sophronia missed her guess, the poor lad was already developing romantic feelings toward her friend. Many of the sooties probably were. Dimity was so pretty and chattery, she quite overpowered the average male. Many gentlemen were unable to cope with abundant chatter, which is why they so often married it.

  Soap went to encourage the fighters. Dimity developed a bit of backbone under his tutelage and struck with more firmness. Furnival scrambled to block.

  Sophronia turned to Vieve. “Anything new on that mini-prototype?”

  Vieve’s small face went serious under her oversized newsboy cap. She dipped into her waistcoat pocket and produced the faceted crystalline object. “It’s giving me stick. Why put a communication device inside an oddgob?”

  Sophronia took it from her, rolling it about in her hands. “Definitely for communication?”

  “Yes, and I have a few theories as to application.”

  “Of course you do. Anything you wish to share?”

  “Sophronia, my dear,” said the ten-year-old, sounding not unlike one of the professors, “I must test the theories first.”

  “Of course. Silly of me to even ask.”

  “What are you two plotting?” asked Soap, leaving Dimity and Furnival to whack irresolutely at each other.

  “Nothing,” said Sophronia and Vieve in unison.

  Soap was not convinced and took the mini-prototype from Sophronia, his soot-covered fingers brushing the back of her hand most unnecessarily as he did so. He held the valve gingerly, as though afraid to smudge it. “What’s it for?”

  “That,” said Sophronia, “is the question.”

  A set of birdlike whistling noises floated into the air, the sootie version of a proximity alarm. The boys assembled to watch Dimity’s duel shuffled about uncomfortably and look over at Soap for direction. It was not unlike a group of pigeons disturbed by the presence of a partridge in their midst.

  “Oh, ho, what’s going on here?” said a cultured male voice.

  Felix Mersey slouched up, as if he always wandered the boiler rooms of floating girls’ seminaries. He was dusty with coal, having obviously climbed in from the outer hull through the hatch.

  Sophronia’s first thought was: Oh, dear, he’s figured out how to get around the ship. Her second was: Thank goodness I wore a dress this evening. Her third was: Life probably would have stayed easier had Felix and Soap never met.

  At an almost imperceptible hand signal from the taller boy, the young lord found himself surrounded by sooties, none of whom looked pleased to see him. Vieve melted into the shadows. Dimity came to stand with Sophronia.

  Soap straightened, put down his primer, and walked over to the viscount. Felix Mersey might be the cream of the aristocracy, but in the boiler room Soap was undisputed king—grimy empire though it might be.

  Felix was not impressed. “Who are you, darkie? And what are you doing with a guidance valve?”

  Sophronia didn’t like anyone disrespecting Soap. But even while battling anger, she filed Felix’s comment away: the mini-prototype was called a guidance valve. She jerked forward to take back the guidance valve and show her allegiance to Soap.

  Dimity held her back. Her friend was remarkably strong for such an innocent-looking creature. “My dear, we’d best let them deal with this in their own way.”

  “But—”

  “This is not a matter for ladies.” Dimity considered. “Or even intelligencers.”

  “Oh, but I—” protested Sophronia.

  “No, dear, no.”

  Soap smiled his big, wide, welcoming grin at Felix. For once, it did not look friendly. “Ah, now, little lordling, you’re in our world. I’m thinking a bit of politeness might be in order.”

  “To commoners? I think not.”

  “We can boost you right back out that hatch you came in.”

  “Hardly sporting. There’s plenty more of you scrappers than there is me.”

  “Ah, yes, but if you’re going about not treating us as gentlemen, we don’t have to behave like ’em, do we?”

  “As if you knew how.”

  Soap made a perfect bow, precisely the kind due to a viscount. “How do you do? The name is Phineas B. Crow.”

  Goodness, if Soap didn’t sound exactly as if he were a gentleman. He’s been practicing the accent. Sophronia wondered where he’d learned it in the first place.

  Shocked into an instinctual reaction, Felix bowed back. “Felix Golborne, Viscount Mersey.”

  “Lord Mersey, I’ve heard of you.” Soap looked over to where Sophronia skulked.

  And he knows how to shorten the name of an aristocrat as well?

  “Funny,” said Felix, watching Soap’s gaze rest on Sophronia, “but I hadn’t heard of you.”

  “Some of us know how to keep secrets.” With that, Soap ostentatiously returned the valve to Sophronia.

  Felix colored. So he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone it’s a guidance valve? Or is he embarrassed to catch Soap and me on terms of any intimacy?

  “Be careful,” whispered Sophronia to Soap.

  The sootie winked and turned back to Felix.

  The boys squared off. Felix stood about half a
head shorter than Soap, but then most people did. His clothes fit him perfectly, while Soap seemed to have been shoveled badly into his, with wrists and ankles sticking out.

  “What can we possibly do for you, Lord Mersey?” asked Soap.

  “I have no business with you.”

  “Good thing, too. We have enough bother keeping this ship afloat. We don’t have time to pander to layabout toffs when there’s real work to do.”

  Felix ignored this. “I wanted to look in on Miss Temminnick.”

  Soap said, “Well, she has had a number of unwelcome visitors this evening.”

  “Oh, has she indeed?”

  Soap declined to elaborate. As Felix had voiced his interest outright, the taller boy could not delay him further.

  “Miss Sophronia,” he said, “you have a visitor,” as if her were her butler. “This boy wants to see you.” He said it as though Felix were years his junior.

  Felix turned the full force of his charm on Sophronia, presenting the back of an impeccable frock coat to Soap. “It is an odd place for us to meet, Ria, my dove.”

  Soap tensed.

  Sophronia supposed she must play the game. “Very well, my lord, why tarry here at all? Your waistcoat will be smudged and your cravat gone gray; how will you survive such travesties?”

  “For the pleasure of your glorious company, I should suffer a thousand smudges.”

  “Do they always talk like this?” Soap asked Dimity, loudly.

  “Pretty much.”

  “It’s revolting.”

  “I shouldn’t let it worry you, Mr. Soap. She’s only practicing.”

  Sophronia looked away from Felix. “And he’s only playacting. Training to be a rake and toying with my poor, weak heart.” But even as she said it, she was forced to face up to the fact that this was probably a lie. Felix was interested in courting her. He’d made no illusions otherwise. And so, unfortunately, was Soap. What a pickle. Maybe if I ignore their overtures, the messiness will go away?

  “Oh, now, Ria, you malign me. I’m as honest as a rose garden is beautiful.”

  “And as full of dung,” replied Sophronia without missing a beat.

  Dimity said appreciatively, “Such language.”

  Soap was looking equal parts impressed and disturbed by this banter. He added, “Aside which, don’t you know, Lord Mersey, Miss Sophronia doesn’t have a heart?”

  Sophronia didn’t show it, but the remark stung. She was very fond of Soap. She didn’t want him to think her cold. She said to Felix, “My lord, how did you follow me?”

  Felix didn’t answer, which was reason enough to be wary. He’s only an evil genius in training. He shouldn’t be able to track me, a prospective intelligencer.

  “I need to know, my lord. It could cost me my life some day.”

  Vieve stepped out of the shadows. “My fault again, I’m afraid,” she said, looking cheeky. “I told him how to climb and where to go, then left the climbing and the going to him.”

  “Goodness, why?”

  “He’s going to put a word in with the headmaster of Bunson’s for me.”

  “What?” Sophronia was confused.

  “Young Master Lefoux and I have struck a bargain,” said Felix. “I’ll campaign for his admittance to Bunson’s, and he’d tell me were you went each evening.”

  Sophronia digested the fact that Felix, evidently, didn’t know that Vieve was female. She contemplated revealing this to him out of spite, but Vieve must have good reason for betraying Sophronia’s whereabouts. It was best to keep information as ammunition for when it might become useful and not squander it on revenge. And, in the end, there was no real harm done in Felix following her.

  One question did remain. “How did you know I went anywhere of an evening?”

  “I might have seen you leave your chambers late one night.”

  “You know where my chambers are?” Sophronia was shocked. A girl’s boudoir was sacred!

  Felix issued her a crooked smile. “I’ve never seen the engine room of a floating school before.”

  “I see. Well, thank you, Vieve.”

  Vieve tried to explain. “I can’t lark about here forever. I’ve been thinking Bunson’s is a better place for me.”

  Sophronia handed her traitorous friend back the mini-prototype. “Guidance valve,” she mouthed.

  Vieve nodded, indicating she’d heard the name.

  “What about Professor Shrimpdittle?” Sophronia was alluding to the fact that, as an old acquaintance of Professor Lefoux’s, Shrimpdittle knew Vieve’s true gender.

  “I haven’t figured that out yet. May need your help to reassign him.”

  “Oh? And here you betrayed me this very evening to both Dimity and Lord Mersey.”

  Dimity took offense at being lumped together with a boy. “Wait a moment!”

  Felix watched the exchange with amused eyes.

  Vieve had the good grace to look embarrassed. “Yes, well, I thought we might come to an arrangement. If I leave for Bunson’s, I won’t need the obstructor anymore, will I?”

  Vieve had found Sophronia’s weakness. “Fine, you rat, I’ll put some thought into a discrediting action.” Sophronia’s mind was already contemplating how one might get a professor dismissed from an evil genius training school.

  Vieve spat on her hand and offered it to Sophronia. “Done!”

  Sophronia sighed and shook it. Luckily she was wearing her black cotton spare gloves, the ones dedicated to visiting sooties.

  “I think that’s enough excitement for one evening. Shall we head out?”

  Soap said, “So soon?”

  Vieve was dubious. “As a party of four?”

  “Oh, you may take Dimity with you;. Lord Mersey and I will go the normal route. I’d like to see his technique.”

  Felix looked uncomfortable but schooled his expression to one of bland superiority and marched off to the hatch. Clearly, he was not as relaxed about climbing as he pretended.

  Sophronia held back. “Don’t you worry, Soap. I’ll give him what for!”

  Soap looked pleased. “You will? Oh, good. But, erm, what for?”

  “Disrespecting you, of course. Ignoramus.”

  Soap’s face fell. “Oh, now, miss. Please don’t. I don’t need you to defend me.”

  “But, your honor is at stake!”

  “Honor’s for toffs. In that, at least, he’s right. I’m nothing but a lowly sootie.”

  “But—”

  “You wanna give him a lecture for some other reason, please do.”

  Sophronia was disconcerted. What else had Felix done?

  “Looking at you as if he wanted to spread you on toast and nibble!” Soap’s voice vibrated with disgust, or something more dangerous.

  Sophronia didn’t know what to say to that, so she only nodded dumbly and scampered after Felix out the hatch.

  Sophronia was none too thrilled to be stuck climbing. Vieve’s method of getting around was faster and less strenuous. But exercise was good for her, and part of her wanted to show off for Felix—not to mention show him up.

  If Lord Mersey was impressed by the smooth way she shot her hurlie and swung from balcony to balcony, he gave no indication. After an abortedattempt to assist her, as any gentleman would a woman into a carriage, he found she was more efficient than he, even in skirts, and hung back in an attitude of “ladies first.”

  Sophronia out-distanced him and, although she knew it was rude, decided to leave him eating petticoat fluff. If Felix had entertained any ideas of an assignation, they were quite thoroughly shredded.

  “You’re flirting with that boy shamelessly,” accused Dimity, who was already undressed and abed when Sophronia entered their room.

  “That’s a lie! I’m not entirely certain I even like Lord Mersey. He’s very involved in his own consequence.”

  “And why shouldn’t he be? Son of a duke, long line of evil geniuses, even Picklemen in his pedigree. He is allowed to be arrogant. But I wasn’t speaking of h
im. You flirt with him with aplomb and finesse. Lady Linette would be chuffed. In fact, I think your approach far outstrips that of Monique or Preshea. Insulting him and pretending you aren’t interested; who’d have thought such a tactic might work?”

  “Mademoiselle Geraldine,” said Sophronia promptly. “She has advised the approach on a number of occasions.” Sophronia puffed out her chest and assumed a mockery of their headmistress. “A lady of qualit-tay makes herself appear at all times unwilling and most of the time unavailable. Gentlemen adore the hunt.” Sophronia frowned, considering her current circumstances. “Honestly, Dimity, I wasn’t applying it intentionally, but I suppose Lord Mersey has had ladies after him most of his life. I must make for a nice change.”

  Dimity got out of bed to undo the buttons down the back of Sophronia’s dress. “Regardless, it’s Mr. Soap to whom I was referring. You’ll break that poor boy’s heart. He’s leagues beneath you. Nothing can come of it.”

  “I won’t!” Sophronia was stung. “I don’t think of him at all in that way.”

  “You might be reduced to saying something quite blunt.”

  Sophronia blushed at the very idea.

  “Or at least stop canoodling with him.”

  Sophronia was shocked by the accusation. “I’m not! There wasn’t one single canoodle!”

  “You are most assuredly flirting. I’ve suspected it before, but now that I’ve visited the boiler room, I’m convinced: flirting.”

  Sophronia pulled on her nightgown. Perhaps Dimity is right. Perhaps I am being unfair to Soap. But I do so enjoy his company. Soap’s so much more fun and restful to be around than Felix. Or anyone else, really.

  “When did life get so complicated?” she wondered to Dimity.

  “Boys,” said Dimity succinctly. “Good night.”

  The 9th test

  INTERIOR DECORATION

  A faint knock sounded at the parlor door just as Sophronia was drifting off to sleep, exhausted. She climbed out of bed, assuming anyone knocking at three in the morning could only be wanting her. A sinking sensation in her stomach suggested it might even be Felix.