Curtsies & Conspiracies

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.

Agatha met her in the parlor.

“For you, is it?” asked the dumpy girl.

“What are you doing awake?”

“You think you’re the only one who sleeps light?”

“Were you expecting someone?” This seemed, given Agatha’s character, highly unlikely.

Agatha gave her a look that said exactly that.

Sophronia opened the door a crack.

It was not Felix Mersey, thank goodness. Instead, she found herself looking down at Vieve’s pert little face.

“You want to cash in on our gentlemen’s agreement now? I haven’t had any time to plan!” protested Sophronia.

The young girl shook her head. “No, these things take ages to sort, I know that.”

“Have you found out something about the mini-prototype?”

“Not as such. I still need to run more tests. Although I do think it involves Picklemen, if that Felix Mersey knew it was called a guidance valve.”

“Oh, dear. Picklemen and possibly vampires as well?”

Vieve shrugged as much as to say that the two were always involved in any technological advancement, so why fuss? “But I thought you might like to see what they went out of their way to bring on board.”

Sophronia had nearly forgotten. “Of course! Soap said it was a special shipment.” She began to follow Vieve out the room.

Agatha, who had been listening with interest, said timidly, “You aren’t going outside in your nightgown, Sophronia? What if someone catches you?”

“Loan me Sidheag’s duds?” asked Sophronia. “I’ll take the blame if she gets upset.”

Agatha puffed out her cheeks but then nodded, disappeared, and reappeared with a familiar set of shirt and trousers. Sometimes even Agatha had gumption. Sophronia put them on and knotted her hair at the base of her neck. She was supposed to put her hair up in rags each night, but she rarely found the time. Plus, the only person any good with curling rags was Monique. Sophronia wasn’t about to ask her for help, even at Lady Linette’s insistence.

She followed Vieve down into the lower part of the rear of the airship, where storage chambers thrummed to the loud hum of the massive propeller.

It was via this warehouse that Sophronia had first entered Mademoiselle Geraldine’s Academy for Young Ladies of Quality—an ignorant covert recruit. There was a massive hatch and a moving glass platform, used for loading students or goods. The cavernous storage chamber was lit only by a flickering orange glow coming through the slats from guidance engineering. There, specially trained sooties, greasers, and firemen manned the propeller’s boilers and engines.

The noise of the propeller allowed the girls to be less cautious with their footsteps, but they still hugged the wall. At the far end, near the propeller room, was a small shed. Usually it housed cleaning supplies, but these were now stacked outside. Inside, someone had lit a gas lamp and was talking quietly.

Sophronia held Vieve back. The propeller was loud, but if it was Professor Braithwope inside that shed, he might still be able to smell them.

Eventually, Sophronia decided to risk it, inching forward slowly, her bare feet whisper-soft. Vieve took her cues from the older girl. They reached the side of the shed, and Sophronia pulled out her ear trumpet. She crouched low and pressed it against the small space at the bottom where wall met floorboards.

“… too bad these were delayed. We could have used this information months ago,” Professor Braithwope was saying. “How could the intermediary let them all pile up like that?”

“She seized an opportunity to infiltrate flywaymen. The messages kept coming, but she was afloat, so no one was left to alert us. It wasn’t until I realized we hadn’t had a shipment that we thought to go after them ourselves.” Of all the possible teachers with the vampire, it appeared to be Sister Mattie.

“Are they all from her?”

“No. She’s our best, but even she is not that prolific.”

“But all hers say the same thing, whot?”

“Indeed they do. The question is—how many are involved?”

The vampire’s tone was resigned. “And why? They know we have to enter the results of the test into public record.”

“Are we overlooking something, Aloysius? Are we certain this is only about the technology?”

“Isn’t it always, whot?”

“I suppose we should head to bed, then. We aren’t getting anything new.”

Vieve and Sophronia dove to the back of the shed, squeezing in behind it.

The two teachers emerged, illuminated by a lantern Sister Mattie held high in one hand. She stood by while Professor Braithwope locked the door to the shed. Once finished with the task, the vampire tucked the key into his waistcoat pocket and turned to offer the lady his arm.

Then he stiffened, cocking his head to one side. “Who’s there?”

Sophronia and Vieve barely dared breathe.

“You might as well come out.”

The two girls exchanged terrified looks, and then Vieve got a very set expression. “You stay,” she mouthed at Sophronia. “I owe you.”

Vieve unclipped the obstructor about her wrist and passed it over. Then she carefully nicked one finger with the sharp edge of her shirt pin, drawing blood. She’s hiding my smell, Sophronia realized. Vampires senses could be befuddled by fresh blood. Then Vieve stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jodhpurs, pulled her cap over her eyes, and sauntered out.

“What ho, Professors,” she said jovially. Just as though she strolled about the ship at all hours turning up where least wanted—which, Sophronia supposed, was exactly what she did do.

The vampire looked none too pleased to see her.

“Oh, it’s only little Genevieve,” said Sister Mattie, relief in her voice. Really,