Manners & Mutiny (Finishing School, #4)

With a shrug, Sophronia shut the wardrobe door. Best to keep out as much light as possible.

“Whatever else, we must be coordinated.” The headmistress gave a small sigh. “And we need the vampire.”

Sophronia nodded. “Agreed.”

“So we must hide out here for the day.”

Sophronia didn’t like that, for it left the sooties enslaved for that much longer. Not to mention that Madame Spetuna was in danger.

“You think they’ll search the ship again, with three gone and us missing?” Mademoiselle Geraldine moved the wicker chicken off the bed. “Make room there, handsome.”

“It’s possible.” Sophronia tugged up the low neckline of her bodice in a now ubiquitous adjustment. “Then again, it’s likely making them nervous, which means they’ll make mistakes.”

“We can only hope so. And now, you look dead on your feet, dear. Get out of that dress and get some sleep. I’ll take first watch.”

Sophronia wasn’t certain if she was happier to be out of the blasted ball gown or to be in bed. Both were accomplished rather more rapidly than delicacy dictated, but if Mademoiselle Geraldine chastised her for it, she didn’t hear.


Sophronia slept until well past noon.

Then she sat watch while the headmistress slept, waking her before sunset.

Mademoiselle Geraldine got out of bed with her red hair wildly tousled and her face paint smeared. She made some desultory repairs, using Sophronia’s small vanity and meager stores of rouge, but emerged looking somewhat like Lady Macbeth after the speech with the spoon. Or was it a knife?

Luckily, Sophronia still had the food she’d filched from the kitchen. Also, Dimity had a mound of tea nibbles set aside to take to the sooties. It was mostly cake, but better than nothing. They ate all of it, hoping they’d have an opportunity to steal more when they were out that evening.

Sophronia would have given a great deal for a decent cup of tea. She even contemplated sneaking down to the kitchen to brew herself a pot. She thought she could teach herself how. But even tea wasn’t worth the risk—dire straits indeed.

She fed a lump of coal to Bumbersnoot while they waited for the vampire to rise.

This time Sophronia wore her boy’s garb. Mademoiselle Geraldine made no comment at seeing one of her students in rolled-up trousers and a man’s shirt and vest. Sophronia put the leather pinafore back on, liking the protection and all the pockets. She then checked over her devices and weapons. Everything was sharp and in good working order. She went about finding what kit she could for Mademoiselle Geraldine as well, filching stuff from Dimity, Agatha, and Preshea with a silent apology for entering their private chambers. She thought her two friends probably wouldn’t mind. Preshea’s room yielded up a wide variety of potions, poultices, and poisons, all neatly labeled, a selection of which Sophronia intended to put to good use.

She consulted with Mademoiselle Geraldine about the soldier mechanical codes, her best guess on how to activate the wicker chicken, and if there were any guns available. Then they fell silent. Plans already made and espionage in order, they had little in common and no other conversation. It seemed silly to fall back on the weather at a time like this. Sophronia might have asked the headmistress about her past or how she had managed to keep up the charade of ignorance so long, but she thought Mademoiselle Geraldine would resort to absurdities about the theater again. Sophronia couldn’t take theatrical talk on only five hours’ sleep.

The vampire emerged from the wardrobe looking mercurial and refreshed.

“Ladies.” His tone was one of surprise. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company first thing in the morning?”

“Evening, good sir,” corrected Mademoiselle Geraldine.

“Is it? How droll. I have slept the day away?” He looked thoughtful. “I’m starving. Any tea?”

“Don’t you mean blood, Professor?” Sophronia was gentle with him.

“Blood, whot? No. Or. Yes. Ah, vampire. Right. Why did I do that?”

“You wanted to live forever?” It was the only reason Sophronia could conceive.

“Did I? How curious of me. Yes, drop of blood would be nice right about now. You offering, pretty lady? Or, um, is it lad?”

“No.” Sophronia’s tone was flat, and she tilted her head at Mademoiselle Geraldine.

“Oh, me, neither, Professor, but we do have some gentlemen in mind for your breakfast. If you’d like to follow me. There may be a bit of tightrope walking involved, but I’m sure you aren’t averse.”

“Whot? Tightrope, you say? How lovely. Used to be quite the carnival artist in my day, did you know that?”

“Yes indeed, Professor. That’s why you came on board my school, remember? The only vampire to tether the skies. Said you liked heights too much to stick to the ground and you’d take the risk.”