Waistcoats & Weaponry
Page 25
“Sophronia, what are you meant to be?” Petunia was disgusted.
Sophronia pulled out her mask; it was an asymmetrical slash of black lace, like a large smudge. “I’m a sootie, of course.”
The young ladies all gasped. Imagine going to a masquerade as something lower class! There was some muttering about the fact that at least Sophronia wouldn’t be competing for masculine attention.
“Well,” sniffed Petunia, “I suppose we should be glad you didn’t actually don masculine attire.”
Sophronia blinked at her. Yes, yes you should. She said, “Oh, dear, do you think this too plain?”
“Of course it’s too plain!”
“I was thinking of your finer feelings, sister dear. I wouldn’t want to distract the gentlemen. After all, I’m not officially out yet. You’re on the market; you should have first crack.”
“Oh, well, that’s very thoughtful, Sophronia.” Petunia fluffed the skirts of her shepherdess outfit, trying not to look pleased by the consideration.
Dimity grinned from behind her mechanical mask.
Sophronia winked at her.
They both knew the truth. The very plainness of Sophronia’s dress would make it stand out in a sea of color. Besides, Sophronia had the figure to carry it off. After a stint at Mademoiselle Geraldine’s, she also had the bearing. Also, the simplicity would make others underestimate her, never a bad thing. Sophronia loved the gown for its practicality and for its nod to her friends belowdecks. Soap would have thought it a great joke. After all, it looked like a feminine version of the apron he wore to shovel coal.
The ball had started, but there was still an hour or more before they could safely go down without being thought desperate. Sophronia and Dimity made their way to the settee corner. Sophronia occupied herself checking the sharpness of her scissors and letter opener and wishing for a bladed fan while relaying softly some of her conversation with Felix in the cart.
Suddenly an excited twittering emanated from the door, opened by a very uncomfortable-looking Pillover. He cleared his throat.
Before he could say anything, Dimity pushed through the crowd to face him. “Pill, you aren’t supposed to be here. We’re dressing!”
Pillover grumbled something unintelligible. Dimity nodded. She replied sharply and then shut the door in his face.
The hubbub died down and the young ladies returned to fixing masks and fussing with hair, now accompanied by discussion of Pillover’s finer points. This startled Sophronia and Dimity—who would have thought he had any? Apparently his complexion was considered lovely, and he was a nice height for dancing, and the sullen glumness came off as deliciously mysterious.
“Don’t you want to cuddle and console him? Poor darling, he looks so unhappy,” said one, pulling on long white gloves.
“I wager he’s had his heart broken,” suggested another. She wore the costume of a Greek goddess—swathes of white silk draped over a turquoise ball gown and large crinoline. She was one of many who had opted for the classics. “I should love to be the one to repair his tortured soul.”
Dimity made her way back to Sophronia, not bothering to advocate for or against her sibling. Pillover would suffer the slings and arrows of willing young ladies without her help. “Pillover needs to talk. Alone. He’s been trying to all along, apparently, but Felix has always been there. I told him to wait in the gazebo. I knew he’d remember it from before.”
The gazebo had been the location of all the fuss with the prototype and Monique the first time Dimity and Pillover had attended a party at the Temminnicks’. It burned down as a result, but Sophronia’s mother had had it rebuilt bigger and better. Sophronia had used the reconstruction to hide her stolen airdinghy. The small aircraft seemed a part of the roof structure, hidden in plain sight like a basket figurehead on top.
Sophronia looked around at the excited young ladies. “We’ll never escape unseen. Too many people at too close quarters.”
Dimity nodded. “I think he mainly needs to talk to you. I’ll create a distraction. If the message was meant for both of us, he’d have told me himself while you were flirting with Felix. It’ll be easier for you to get around with all the borrowed mechanicals. In that outfit you might be taken as staff, so long as you avoid family.”
Sophronia reached below the settee, grabbed Bumbersnoot, and shoved him under the throw rug in one corner of the room with an encouraging “Go ahead.”
Bumbersnoot began to explore, a moving lump under the carpet.
“There’s your distraction. You can keep him safe?”
Dimity smiled. “In this crowd? Of course. Most of them will faint, and the others are silly.”
It was a fair assessment. “Yet you still want to be one of them?”
“It’s not the deceit I object to, Sophronia dear, it’s the danger.”
With which Dimity made her way to the settee. For a short moment she stared fixedly at the rug where the Bumbersnoot lump moved. Then she threw her head back and shrieked at the top of her lungs. “Rat! Eeeeeek!” With which she hopped up onto the settee, upending the mound of discarded clothing onto the floor and on top of poor Bumbersnoot once more. “Eeek! There it goes, get it! Eeeeeee!”
Without even seeing the alleged rat themselves, the girls in that corner of the room all fainted. Those near to a couch or chair got up on top of it, screaming themselves. This proved challenging on the cushier furniture and with longer skirts. One or two fell over; a few pushed others off in order to gain the high ground. This caused more shrieks. Still others cried out in sympathy, for the sake of exacerbating the hysteria. The chaos was instant and intense. With all attention on Dimity, Sophronia slid out into the hallway, closing the door behind her.
Sophronia pulled out her mask; it was an asymmetrical slash of black lace, like a large smudge. “I’m a sootie, of course.”
The young ladies all gasped. Imagine going to a masquerade as something lower class! There was some muttering about the fact that at least Sophronia wouldn’t be competing for masculine attention.
“Well,” sniffed Petunia, “I suppose we should be glad you didn’t actually don masculine attire.”
Sophronia blinked at her. Yes, yes you should. She said, “Oh, dear, do you think this too plain?”
“Of course it’s too plain!”
“I was thinking of your finer feelings, sister dear. I wouldn’t want to distract the gentlemen. After all, I’m not officially out yet. You’re on the market; you should have first crack.”
“Oh, well, that’s very thoughtful, Sophronia.” Petunia fluffed the skirts of her shepherdess outfit, trying not to look pleased by the consideration.
Dimity grinned from behind her mechanical mask.
Sophronia winked at her.
They both knew the truth. The very plainness of Sophronia’s dress would make it stand out in a sea of color. Besides, Sophronia had the figure to carry it off. After a stint at Mademoiselle Geraldine’s, she also had the bearing. Also, the simplicity would make others underestimate her, never a bad thing. Sophronia loved the gown for its practicality and for its nod to her friends belowdecks. Soap would have thought it a great joke. After all, it looked like a feminine version of the apron he wore to shovel coal.
The ball had started, but there was still an hour or more before they could safely go down without being thought desperate. Sophronia and Dimity made their way to the settee corner. Sophronia occupied herself checking the sharpness of her scissors and letter opener and wishing for a bladed fan while relaying softly some of her conversation with Felix in the cart.
Suddenly an excited twittering emanated from the door, opened by a very uncomfortable-looking Pillover. He cleared his throat.
Before he could say anything, Dimity pushed through the crowd to face him. “Pill, you aren’t supposed to be here. We’re dressing!”
Pillover grumbled something unintelligible. Dimity nodded. She replied sharply and then shut the door in his face.
The hubbub died down and the young ladies returned to fixing masks and fussing with hair, now accompanied by discussion of Pillover’s finer points. This startled Sophronia and Dimity—who would have thought he had any? Apparently his complexion was considered lovely, and he was a nice height for dancing, and the sullen glumness came off as deliciously mysterious.
“Don’t you want to cuddle and console him? Poor darling, he looks so unhappy,” said one, pulling on long white gloves.
“I wager he’s had his heart broken,” suggested another. She wore the costume of a Greek goddess—swathes of white silk draped over a turquoise ball gown and large crinoline. She was one of many who had opted for the classics. “I should love to be the one to repair his tortured soul.”
Dimity made her way back to Sophronia, not bothering to advocate for or against her sibling. Pillover would suffer the slings and arrows of willing young ladies without her help. “Pillover needs to talk. Alone. He’s been trying to all along, apparently, but Felix has always been there. I told him to wait in the gazebo. I knew he’d remember it from before.”
The gazebo had been the location of all the fuss with the prototype and Monique the first time Dimity and Pillover had attended a party at the Temminnicks’. It burned down as a result, but Sophronia’s mother had had it rebuilt bigger and better. Sophronia had used the reconstruction to hide her stolen airdinghy. The small aircraft seemed a part of the roof structure, hidden in plain sight like a basket figurehead on top.
Sophronia looked around at the excited young ladies. “We’ll never escape unseen. Too many people at too close quarters.”
Dimity nodded. “I think he mainly needs to talk to you. I’ll create a distraction. If the message was meant for both of us, he’d have told me himself while you were flirting with Felix. It’ll be easier for you to get around with all the borrowed mechanicals. In that outfit you might be taken as staff, so long as you avoid family.”
Sophronia reached below the settee, grabbed Bumbersnoot, and shoved him under the throw rug in one corner of the room with an encouraging “Go ahead.”
Bumbersnoot began to explore, a moving lump under the carpet.
“There’s your distraction. You can keep him safe?”
Dimity smiled. “In this crowd? Of course. Most of them will faint, and the others are silly.”
It was a fair assessment. “Yet you still want to be one of them?”
“It’s not the deceit I object to, Sophronia dear, it’s the danger.”
With which Dimity made her way to the settee. For a short moment she stared fixedly at the rug where the Bumbersnoot lump moved. Then she threw her head back and shrieked at the top of her lungs. “Rat! Eeeeeek!” With which she hopped up onto the settee, upending the mound of discarded clothing onto the floor and on top of poor Bumbersnoot once more. “Eeek! There it goes, get it! Eeeeeee!”
Without even seeing the alleged rat themselves, the girls in that corner of the room all fainted. Those near to a couch or chair got up on top of it, screaming themselves. This proved challenging on the cushier furniture and with longer skirts. One or two fell over; a few pushed others off in order to gain the high ground. This caused more shrieks. Still others cried out in sympathy, for the sake of exacerbating the hysteria. The chaos was instant and intense. With all attention on Dimity, Sophronia slid out into the hallway, closing the door behind her.
