Curtsies & Conspiracies fs-2

by Gail Carriger

  Her position afforded her the opportunity to watch the carriage draw around to wait, having disgorged its contents. Sophronia ruminated. Lord Ambrose, who does he belong to? Is he a rove like Professor Braithwope, or is this a hive house? How do I find out? I don’t even know which part of London I’m in. A number of fashionably dressed individuals came and went, as if it were visiting hours. The visitors were not dressed for dinner, and they did not stay long. Sophronia observed for some three-quarters of an hour, hoping for an indication of… something.

  Eventually, a young man in full evening dress sauntered up to the house. He had a nondescript face, good-looking enough, with a clean, straight nose and no mustache. He took off his hat to salute whomever opened the door. In the light cast by the hallway, Sophronia recognized him. He was the man who’d tried to get the prototype from Monique and the Pickleman at Petunia’s ball. The man from Westminster. Sophronia had thought him a government employee, but now it was clear that this man was a Westminster Hive drone and this was the hive house. Lord Ambrose must be a member as well. The hive wanted Dimity and Pillover. Oh, dear, I did hope it was the Picklemen. Vampires complicate matters, being all supernatural and hard to sneak around. So the vampires wanted to press matters with Dimity’s parents. The Plumleigh-Teignmotts must be the only ones who knew how to make the guidance valves. The vampires wanted to either manufacture and sell the technology or destroy it.

  Sophronia was wise enough not to take on a hive alone and without preparation. Dimity and Pillover were on their own until she could return with reinforcements. Sophronia could only hope that her two friends would be of no use to the vampires dead. Oh, Dimity, please remember some of your training.

  She turned her attention to hiring transport, but the roadways were quiet—not a single hansom to be seen. Then a fly came careening down the cross street, drawn by matched white geldings and driven by two dandies of the highest order. One might even have called them fops, their trousers were so loud and their collar points so high. Sophronia glanced away; she did not want to be thought a light skirt. She had no time for shenanigans.

  To her horror, the fly drew up next to her.

  “What ho, little miss!” yodeled one of the dandies. His hair was a lovely pale gold, his face almost iridescent in the moonlight. He wore an outfit of silver and royal blue, accented with pure white.

  The other, a young man with ebony skin like Soap, although with none of Soap’s streetside aura, looked to his companion. “My lord, we are very close to Westminster. Should we be stopping in their territory?” His outfit was all soft peaches and dove grays with cream, a perfect compliment to the other’s clear colors.

  “For a brief moment, I think, Pilpo, dear. They are accustomed to my sport.”

  “But, my lord…”

  The gold-haired dandy smiled at Sophronia, showing a hint of fang.

  I spend my whole life without vampires, and in the space of one year I’ve met far too many.

  “One of Mademoiselle Geraldine’s girls, methinks,” he said. “You have the aura.”

  Sophronia blinked up at him, shocked.

  “My dear child, did you think you and yours were the only players?”

  Sophronia narrowed her eyes in the direction of the hive house.

  “And Westminster,” the vampire added, confirming her suspicions.

  Sophronia said, “And Bunson’s, and the Picklemen, and the potentate, and now—who, my dear sir, are you? If you will excuse my asking directly.”

  “Oh, I’m not important. Would you like a lift, little lavender bud?”

  Sophronia considered this. Lavender bud?

  The vampire dandy said, “Normally, my dear dewdrop, I prefer not to interfere. It’s so much more fun to observe. But even I’m loathe to leave an innocent young lady alone and entirely without protection on the streets of gay London-town.”

  Sophronia thought on the matter. She might be getting herself into more trouble, accepting a lift from a strange vampire—well dressed though he might be. But he wasn’t threatening, and Dimity and Pillover desperately needed her. Besides, this man was well-informed. Perhaps he might engage in some lucrative conversation.

  With a nod, she allowed herself to be helped in by the other dandy, who took up position on the footman’s perch of the fly, allowing Sophronia to sit next to the driver. Said driver gave her a charming, if fanged, smile, and whipped the horse into a trot.

  The 15th test

  HOW TO BE A DANDY

  The foppish vampire was not very forthcoming, although he found Sophronia’s attempts to extract information highly diverting.

  “Are you acquainted with the members of that household?” was her first foray, alluding to the Westminster Hive as they sprang down the street.

  He rebutted with, “The house on the corner? Not at all, sweet almond flower.”

  “No, the house in the middle. The one with the birches at the front.”

  “I know them by reputation, of course, but who doesn’t?”

  Sophronia raised her eyebrows at him. “Me. I don’t.”

  “Oh, my dear sugarplum, aren’t you precious?”

  “Westminster Hive. Lord Ambrose. That’s what I’ve got so far. I don’t suppose…” she trailed off hopefully. He seemed like such a nice, jolly fellow.

  The nice, jolly fellow gave a nice, jolly laugh. “Curious as a kitten. Aren’t you, puss? No, dear, no. I think a lift is more than enough interference. As I said, I do try not to participate as a rule. Although, this is unusual hive behavior for so early in the Season. What are they about?”

  Sophronia said, hoping for an exchange, “I think it’s all to do with Mr. Giffard’s new dirigible.”

  “Do you indeed? And how is poor Aloysius Braithwope?”

  “Not well, last I heard.”

  “Ah, dear, that’s only to be expected with such an unfortunate mustachio.”

  “You know him?”

  “We all know one another, puss-puss.”

  “What do you want?” Sophronia was moved to exasperation.

  “Me? Stockings and breeches to come back into fashion. I do so miss seeing a man’s calves.”

  Sophronia swallowed down a startled giggle as the fly drew up in front of Walsingham House Hotel. “No, vampires. What do you vampires want?”

  The blond fop looked at her, cocking his beautiful head to one side like a bird. “The same thing you want, my kitten.”

  What do I want, right now? Information. Is that all the vampires are after? Information.

  Pilpo jumped down and offered her his hand. A sweet flash of a smile crossed his face.

  Sophronia stepped down and turned back to look up into the fly.

  “There’s a difference between us, you realize?”

  “Indeed? Oh please enlighten me, kitten.” The vampire’s blue eyes sparkled in excitement.

  “I only want information. You people want to control it.”

  The blond threw his head back and laughed. “So wise for one so young. Most diverting! I must remember you, little puss-puss. Normally, I don’t bother with the fairer sex. I think I might make an exception in your case.”

  “Thank you for the compliment, but I’d really rather you didn’t.” Sophronia hadn’t meant to catch his eye. The last thing she needed was a vampire interfering in her life.

  “Now, now, don’t close all your doors, kitten. When you are Finished, remember me. I believe I might even take on the potentate for your indenture. Such sharp little claws as Geraldine’s can provide will look lovely on you, and only I can make certain that they have diamond sparkles.”

  Sophronia said nothing to that. He was right, best not to close all doors. After all she was only recently considering how expensive her chosen profession might be. Wealthy patrons were not easy to come by, and she had a feeling this one would at least not expect a connubial relationship.

  She said only, “Thank you very much for the lift, kind sir.”

  “I am at your disposal,
kitten.”

  He was away before she could ask his name or his consequence. Nor, she realized, had she been afforded the opportunity to give him hers. I suppose he will know how to find me, if he wants.

  Sophronia trotted up the steps and back into the hotel, the odd encounter forgotten as she concentrated on the task at hand.

  The ball was still in full sway, which was odd to Sophronia. She had the feeling ages must have passed, but a lively reel vibrated the floorboards of the Frond, and the celebration had continued despite her. She spotted Lady Linette instantly. The music teacher wore a bright pea-green-and-pink gown, vivid among the pastels of the young ladies. She was in conference with the potentate and Captain Niall. They all had worried expressions on their faces, and Sophronia wondered if her absence had been noted.

  She was making her way over to them when a hand grabbed her arm.

  “Where have you been?” hissed Felix.

  “Not now, Lord Mersey!”

  “You cut me. On the dance floor. Again. Miss Temminnick, you owe me an explanation.”

  Frustrated, Sophronia merely said, “Come with me if you must. I only have time to say this once.”

  They pushed their way through the crowd, ending up in front of the group of teachers.

  Sophronia curtsied. “Lady Linette, Captain Niall, and Mr. Potentate, sir, please excuse the interruption.”

  “Yes, Miss Temminnick?”

  “Dimity and Pillover Plumleigh-Teignmott have been kidnapped by the Westminster vampire hive.”

  “Miss Temminnick, what a shocking accusation!” Lady Linette clasped her hand to her breast.

  Good technique, thought Sophronia.

  The potentate looked down at her out of sharp green eyes as if she were some kind of bug in his tea. “I highly doubt that. Why on earth would the hive involve itself? I have everything under control.”

  “Have you any evidence?” asked Captain Niall, looking less doubtful.

  “Only my own eyes. I followed Lord Ambrose’s carriage to the house itself.”

  “The hive house? You can’t possibly know its location.” The potentate would not believe a word of it.

  “It wasn’t difficult. I simply used the skills I have been taught. I know it’s the hive because I recognized some of the members.”

  “Prove it!” demanded the potentate.

  Quietly, cautious of being overheard, Sophronia described the hive house in detail, including the birches in front and the nondescript nature of the street. She did not recount her odd encounter with the fop vampire. Somehow she did not think this would help her cause.

  “That proves nothing,” said the potentate, “except that this child somehow knows what the Westminster Hive looks like.”

  “And how would she know that, if she hadn’t visited it?” Felix wanted to know. He believed her. But then Sophronia was beginning to suspect that he would automatically believe the worst of any vampire.

  The potentate looked down his long nose at the boy. “And who, may I ask, are you?”

  “Golborne, sir, Lord Mersey.”

  “Picklemen’s get? I should have known they’d be mixed up in this.” The potentate turned on Sophronia. “You working for them, little girl?”

  Lady Linette stepped in at that. “My lord potentate! Miss Temminnick is only at the beginning of her training. She isn’t working for anyone… yet!”

  The potentate was unconvinced. Glancing over the crowd of dancers, he said, “Ah, look, there’s Ambrose. He can sort this out.”

  Lord Ambrose was lurking at the edge of the crowd, looking as if he never left. The potentate summoned him over with a rude crook of the finger. The other vampire responded, a pleasant expression on his handsome face.

  Of course, Lord Ambrose denied the accusation. “The Plumleigh-Teignmott children, you say? I suspect the father will have removed them, Lady Linette. I understand he is back working with the Picklemen.”

  “No!” gasped Lady Linette. “He never. His wife would never countenance it!”

  “Oh, yes, indeed. She’s helping.” The handsome vampire shook his head in mock regret. “Shrimpdittle has been most forthcoming. I excused myself to read this report on his interrogation.” His lip curled. “He claims the Plumleigh-Teignmotts are intending mass production of the crystalline guidance valves for sale to the British market. The Picklemen want controlling concerns.” He handed over a bit of rolled parchment paper. “I bet that upsets the government’s plans, eh, potentate?”

  Sophronia glanced at Felix. The boy’s face was inscrutable.

  She realized that if the Picklemen were backing Dimity’s parents’ research, then the Westminster Hive had been trying to stop them all along. They’d used Monique to try to steal the original prototype months ago, and when that didn’t work, they’d started trying to kidnap Dimity and Pillover. But my school and the potentate are also involved. Are they mere bystanders, simply trying to ensure that the technology work properly? Or are they trying to gain control of the valves for the Shadow Council and the British government? The Picklemen stood to make a great deal of money off those valves and control who had access to them. Westminster Hive clearly didn’t like that idea and obviously didn’t trust the potentate to put a stop to it. So they were trying to get hold of the valve technology themselves. Even if vampires could never travel in the aetherosphere, Sophronia suspected they would love to control which humans could.

  She opened her mouth to protest, to explain this, but Lady Linette shushed her firmly. Good manners forced Sophronia into disgruntled silence.

  Lady Linette perused the contents of Shrimpdittle’s confession. “I should think Mrs. Plumleigh-Teignmott would at least have notified me of the family’s intent to remove the children from my supervision.”

  “You know scientists, easily distracted.”

  Lady Linette looked again at the paper. “Are they really sending Shrimpdittle into exile?”

  Lord Ambrose nodded. “The continent, as I understand.”

  “Ah, well, I suppose he couldn’t be allowed to teach anymore.”

  Sophronia felt an intense sensation of relief. At least Shrimpdittle wasn’t to be imprisoned or hanged, simply consigned to the wilds of Switzerland. She glared at Lord Ambrose. I could confront him directly, accuse him of the kidnapping, but they’re bound to believe an adult over me. I’ve no real proof.

  Blast good manners. She made the attempt. “But I saw—”

  “You were obviously mistaken,” interrupted Lord Ambrose.

  Sister Mattie entered the ball and came bustling over to them. “My dears, Professor Braithwope is awake and lucid. He is asking for you, my lord potentate.”

  Lady Linette nodded. “You’d best get along then, my lord.”

  The potentate agreed. “Ambrose?”

  “Oh, no, I’ll remain here. A ball with such tempting morsels is so very diverting.”

  Lady Linette slapped his arm flirtatiously with her fan. “Now, now, keep your fangs to yourself, good sir.”

  Lord Ambrose bowed to her. “Of course, dear lady, but perhaps you would honor me with a dance?”

  “La, sir, how charming.”

  He whirled her off onto the floor, both of them dancing expertly.

  Sophronia realized she was on her own in mounting a rescue attempt. She began cataloging her options. I require supplies and a change of clothes. There was nothing for it; she would have to return to the airship. Plus I’ll need the hive house’s actual address. She looked at Captain Niall. The werewolf was the only adult who might help her. I’ll wager he knows the location. She started planning. Sidheag would be useful as well.

  “Would you mind a little company on your drive back?” Sophronia looked with wide eyes at Sister Mattie. “I find I am rather bored with this ball.”

  Everyone looked at her as though they had forgotten her existence.

  Sister Mattie said, “Are you certain, dear? It looks like quite the treat.” Her tone was wistful.

  Felix
protested as well. “But I had two more dances with you.”

  “How kind you are, dear Lord Mersey, but another time? Perhaps you might escort me out?” Sophronia used her best wheedling tone.

  Felix had no choice. As a gentleman, he could do nothing but offer her his arm. He did so with grace if not alacrity.

  Sophronia added, “And I believe Lady Kingair would also like to depart.”

  Captain Niall, who was looking at Sophronia out of the corner of his eye, said, “I think I’ll be going as well.”

  The potentate offered Sister Mattie his arm, and they pushed through the crowd. Captain Niall followed, grabbing at Sidheag’s sleeve in a lightning-fast move.

  Sidheag left off her position, lurking partnerless near a potted palm, and trailed along with only mild confusion. She was game for anything that removed her from a ball. Plus, as she had once said to Sophronia, “Life’s always more interesting when I chum about with you.”

  “What’s going on?” She craned her neck back and whispered to Sophronia.

  “I’ll explain when we’re more secure.” Sophronia glanced meaningfully at the potentate’s back.

  “Where’s Dimity?” Sidheag asked.

  “Otherwise occupied.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “Exactly.”

  Sophronia turned to her escort and said in a low voice, “Lord Mersey, I know you believe my story.” She batted her eyelashes at him purposefully. “I was thinking there might be others who would be… interested… in Dimity’s current location.”

  Felix blinked at her.

  Lord save me, thought Sophronia, from boys without training. She nudged him with her elbow. “You know. Others.”

  “Oh, yes, I see. Well, perhaps after the ball Father might, or…” Felix trailed off, Sophronia’s expression telling him she was profoundly disappointed. “Perhaps sooner,” he amended his speech.

  They reached the street where the potentate’s carriage—a landau with footmen in full royal livery—stood waiting for them.