Gail Carriger - Etiquette & Espionage

“How can I help you, Professor Braithwope?”

The vampire was looking once more like his dandy self: no greatcoat. “Ah, good, you are not abed yet. Take a little walk with me, if you would, Miss Temminnick?”

Sophronia curtsied and reached for her wrap from a nearby hat stand. The other girls watched in dumb silence. Sophronia gave them all a quelling look and followed the vampire.

As she was in the company of a professor, none of the mechanicals were aggravated by Sophronia roaming the ship after hours. Professor Braithwope led her up and out onto a small balcony that bridged the gap between the middle and forward sections. They stood staring out at the clouds and the moon setting over the moor.

Finally Sophronia said, “Sir?”

“You understand, Miss Temminnick, that I am a vampire.”

“Yes, sir, I had noticed the fangs.”

“Don’t be pert, young lady.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yet I am tethered to this roaming ship far from all meaningful society.”

“Yes, sir. But you did go down to the ground to fight Captain Niall.”

“I am not a vampire queen to have so short a tether as all that .”

“I see, sir.” Although she didn’t. Why did that make him defensive?

“Tonight when you came to my room…”

Sophronia cocked her head, remembering what must have been blood around his mouth. “I didn’t hear or see anything. Although I have been wondering, sir, how you eat? Or should I say who ?”

The vampire said nothing.

Have I revealed that I saw too much? Quietly Sophronia added, “And the soot on my dress, sir?”

“I didn’t see anything.” Professor Braithwope smiled down at her, showing a small hint of fang.

Sophronia grinned back. “I’m glad we understand each other, sir.”

The vampire looked out into the night. “This is the right finishing school for you, isn’t it, whot?”

“Yes, sir, I think it might very well be.”

“A piece of advice, Miss Temminnick?”

“Sir?”

“It is a great skill to have friends in low places. They, too, have things to teach you.”

“Now, sir, I thought you didn’t see any soot.”

Professor Braithwope laughed. “Good night, Miss Temminnick. I trust you can make your own way back to your room without causing an alarm? It seems to be a particular skill of yours.”

“Actually, sir, I could use your escort tonight.”

“Whot, whot? Interesting.”

“Even a vampire can be surprised on occasion?”

“Miss Temminnick, why do you think I became a teacher?”

They turned together and walked back toward the students’ residential section.

Sophronia thought hard about what it must be like to live forever. I suppose one would get bored easily. That’s one thing about Mademoiselle Geraldine’s. So far, it’s not been remotely dull. What she said was, “It can’t be all that bad, being away from cities. You’re one of the few vampires who gets to travel.”

“So long as we don’t go too high.”

“Really?”

“Whot, whot, there goes that curious mind of yours, Miss Temminnick. I think perhaps there has been enough of that , for the time being.”

They arrived back at her door.

“Good night, Miss Temminnick.”

“Good night, Professor.”

School life carried on course after that, as did the school itself, except that it did so in the gray, as Lady Linette called it. It turned out mail had been retrieved from Swiffle-on-Exe when they stopped over for the play. Sophronia’s loot was comprised of a package of clothing, including her winter cape, and one uninformative letter from her mother. They were told they could not send replies. Swiffle-on-Exe was already leagues behind them. The school’s deadline from the flywaymen had been exceeded and they were now on the run and in hiding.

The great airship floated deep into the gray of the wild moor. The mists were more common and longer lasting now that autumn was upon them. Mademoiselle Geraldine’s Finishing Academy for Young Ladies of Quality did not go low; lessons with Captain Niall were canceled for the time being. They had enough fuel and supplies for a good, long stint away from civilization. So they floated, shrouded by cool, wet gray, hidden from friends and enemies alike—for three whole months .

At about a month in, Sophronia overheard Monique complaining to Preshea about the ban on outside communication. Clearly the restrictions had finally gotten to her, and she hadn’t managed to get her message out on the night Sophronia, Soap, and Vieve had infiltrated Bunson’s.

“I cannot believe they won’t let me— me! —send a message.”

“They aren’t letting anyone, Monique. I heard Sophronia complaining about it only the other day.”

“But mine is terribly important.”

“Oh, really? Is it an order for next summer’s hats?”

“Oh, yes, of course. Something like.” Monique neatly avoided Preshea’s interest. “Gloves and a few fans as well.”

Sophronia discussed the conversation with Dimity later that evening.

“I really do think that Monique was hoping to get information to someone about where she hid the prototype. Do you suppose the teachers actually imprisoned her on the evening of the theater jaunt in an effort to prevent this from happening? I mean to say, I saw neither hide nor hair of her all evening.”

Dimity’s round porcelain face scrunched up in suspicion. “That’s a terribly medieval approach. I can’t imagine they’d be that strict with her.”

Sophronia lay back. “Dimity, we are missing something.”

“On board? Decent cheese,” suggested Dimity.

“No, I mean, if Monique hid it somewhere, why did we never see her do it? Is it still in the carriage, do you think? Were you ever separated from her during the beginning of the journey?”

“Only when she went to interview you.”

“Of course! Dimity, you’re brilliant!”

“I am?”

“While I was packing, she asked Mumsy if she might take a turn about the grounds. The prototype must be hidden at my house !”

“Goodness gracious, I suppose you’re right. Oh, Sophronia, what if the flywaymen figure that out? Or what if Monique is working for someone else even more sinister, and they figure that out?”

Sophronia’s stomach twisted in panic. “Then my family might be in danger. I must get a message to them somehow!”

Of course, Sophronia could no more send out a letter than Monique could. She and Dimity even made an abortive attempt at pigeon training. The pigeon was not interested . Sophronia began to see the appeal behind the transmission machine and the prototype. She tried to talk herself down. I am, after all, the only one who knows Monique was alone for that small space of time. And even if the flywaymen do figure it out, they will, hopefully, use nonviolent stealth to retrieve the prototype, and leave my parents and siblings alone.

Professor Braithwope took on some of their weapons training, giving them tips on how to wield a cane versus a parasol versus an umbrella, and the correct application of each to the skull or posterior as occasion demanded. Like Captain Niall, he seemed particularly pleased with Sidheag’s abilities in this arena.

“Some slight advantage to being raised by soldiers.” After lessons, Sidheag was self-effacing about the extra attention.

“So sad there don’t appear to be any other advantages.” Monique sniffed.

Sidheag’s shoulders slumped.

Sophronia and Dimity exchanged a look and caught up to the other girl, one on each side.