“Vieve?”
“Good evening,” said the scamp, from near her elbow.
Pillover nodded at her. They’d met before, during the incident with the petticoats.
“Listen, Sophronia, Soap says there’s something you might want to see tonight when we leave the moor. And I
“Did you understand any of that?” Pillover asked, in a tone of voice that said he didn’t really care.
“You mean to say, you didn’t?”
“Nor was I meant to. Are you going out this evening, then?”
“Possibly.”
Pillover looked down the table to where Felix was once more staring in their direction. The viscount seemed distressed by the amount of attention Sophronia was bestowing upon Pillover. Since Pillover was customarily the victim of the Piston’s pranks, he was morosely pleased to be getting under the boy’s skin.
“You want any company?”
“Oh, no, thank you.”
“I wasn’t thinking of myself.”
Sophronia gave him a crafty smile. “Has no one officially warned you boys about Geraldine’s alarms?”
Pillover looked as cagey as a round boy with an obvious stash of apple fritters could. “Nope. I know from Dimity, of course.”
“In that case, you might mention to Lord Mersey that I’m planning a jaunt later tonight.”
Pillover smiled for the first time in their acquaintance. “I might do that.”
The 5th test
FLIRTING WITH DECEIT
With the sun firmly down and card games satisfactorily completed, the students went to their next classes. The boys had lessons in mechanics and machinations with Professors Shrimpdittle and Lefoux. The girls, all forty- five of them, trooped down to a lower deck to disembark using the glass platform lift. They had their weekly lesson with Captain Niall. There was a palpable waft of excitement, not to mention perfume, as the werewolf was most every young lady’s favorite teacher. He was also, by far, the handsomest.
Sophronia liked him, too, even though she knew the floppy, easygoing military man was a sham. In his werewolf guise, he’d tried to kill her and got her best horsehair petticoat instead. He’d been moon-mad at the time, but she’d never quite forgiven the lapse, nor the loss of the petticoat. Like a proper gentleman, the good captain had never made any mention of the undergarment murder.
The girls stood on the moor. The glass lift turned into a gaslight for evening fighting lessons. Captain Niall strode toward them—a dashing soldier with a beaver-skin top hat tied to his head and a leather greatcoat buttoned from collar to hem. He had a loose way of walking as if he had temporary, and not very good, control over someone else’s legs.
“Ladies, today we leave off knife fighting and move on to the most useful of all skills.” The werewolf paused dramatically. The young ladies about him inhaled in anticipation.
“Running away,” said Captain Niall with a flourish.
The faces about him were crestfallen; running away was hardly a romantic pursuit. Except when one was running to Gretna Green.
“Now, there are many ways and means to run. Today we will cover escape within a confined area—the fine art of dodging.”
He divided them into groups, naming some rabbits and others wolves. The wolves were each given a short wooden spoon that had been dipped in red gooseberry jelly. They had to tap the bodice of a rabbit to eliminate her from the game. This added incentive for the rabbits to dodge, given their dresses were about to be covered in jelly. Wolves could only chase assigned rabbits, and rabbits could not work together. Apart from that, they were free to be as creative as they liked.
Sophronia, Sidheag, and Preshea were the rabbits to Monique, Dimity, and Agatha’s wolves. Sophronia was pleased with this arrangement. She was good at running away and saw nothing morally reprehensible in it. She promptly scampered off to a nearby copse and climbed a tree to watch the proceedings.
A game of chaotic tag commenced, with the werewolf teacher moving so quickly among the students he was difficult to see. He yelled instructions and called out rabbits as dead. It soon became clear why Captain Niall had chosen this particular hill. It was littered with obstacles—shrubs, long grasses, the copse of trees, and an occasional boulder.
The game went on for some half an hour until all the rabbits had died and only Sophronia was left. When she was finally found, the wolves refused on principle to climb after her.
“Rabbits can’t climb trees,” objected Monique.
Captain Niall ignored this and gestured Sophronia down. “Ladies, what did Miss Temminnick do correctly?”
“There she goes again,” sniffed Preshea.
Everyone was silent.
Sophronia jumped down. Monique instantly whacked her with her spoon. A great gob of gooseberry stained the front of Sophronia’s dress, and her collarbone stung.
“Ouch,” she objected.
Finally, one of the older girls answered Captain Niall. “She hid?”
“Exactly! If one is hidden, one does not need to run. However, Miss Temminnick, that was not part of the lesson. So, let’s see you try again in a five-minute fray.” He pointed to three older girls Sophronia knew only by sight. “You’re the wolves. Begin!”
All three charged Sophronia, holding out their jelly-covered spoons. Sophronia dove to one side and broke sharply outside of spoon range. She hiked up her skirts, leapt over a shrub, and made for the high ground. One of the wolves got her dress caught in the shrub and tripped, falling to the side. The two others followed. Sophronia dashed to a boulder, scrabbling for the top.
The wolves did not coordinate, or they would have had her easily. Instead, they each came after her alone. Sophronia kicked, which was considered quite shocking in a gentlewoman, but with her skirts hiked it gave her enough reach to stay out of spoon range. It was so unexpected the first wolf fell backward down the hill, her gooseberry jelly never even touching Sophronia’s leg.
Sophronia managed to push the last wolf away as the older girl went for her bodice. The wolf almost managed, but Sophronia twisted at the last minute and then, with a tremendous heave, leapt forward over her fallen opponent to land down the hill on the opposite side. She skidded around and took refuge behind a very spiky bush.
Sophronia was panting from the exertion, but still alive. She had a brief moment of elation, and then a wolf came to flush her out.
Captain Niall called time.
“Interesting, Miss Temminnick. Ladies, what do you think?” He turned to the row of watching students.
“She showed her legs by hiking her skirts.”
“She kicked!”
“She charged with her head! Like a bull.”
“It was all very embarrassing.”
Sophronia stood at Captain Niall’s side and crossed her arms, panting. Certainly, she had conducted herself like neither a lady nor a rabbit, but Captain Niall hadn’t given them any particular rules about conduct, except to survive. She had survived, hadn’t she?
Captain Niall appeared to agree. “Miss Temminnick sought the high ground, a strategic choice if you know
