“Well, that is something. At least my clothing will be safe.” Alexia threw her hands up in exasperation. “I knew it was a terrible idea to get out of bed this morning.”
“And Ivy, I am certain, would be happy to write you regularly with all the latest news from London.” Tunstell offered up his form of encouragement, accompanied by the expected flash of persuasive white teeth. Alexia reflected that it was a good thing her husband hadn’t turned Tunstell into a werewolf. The redhead smiled too often. Most werewolves did not do smiling very adeptly; it came off as sinister.
Neither Lady Maccon nor Madame Lefoux saw fit to explain how unlikely it was that any missive would actually reach them.
“So where are we going?” Madame Lefoux looked at her friend with interest.
Alexia had also given this due consideration over her tea and toast. If she had to leave, she was going in pursuit of information. If she had to flee, she might as well flee toward the possibility of proving her innocence. Only one country knew anything substantial about preternaturals.
“I hear that Italy is lovely at this time of year.”
CHAPTER FIVE
In Which Ivy Hisselpenny and Professor Lyall Are Given Too Much Responsibility Italy?”
“The hotbed of antisupernatural sentiment,” spat Professor Lyall.
“The cesspit of religious fanaticism,” added Tunstell.
“The Templars.” That last was from Floote, and he whispered it.
“I think it’s a perfectly topping idea,” said Alexia, expressionless.
Madame Lefoux examined Alexia’s face sympathetically. “You think the Templars can explain how Lord Maccon managed to get you with child?”
“Why don’t you tell me? You once said you managed to read a portion of the Templars’ Amended Rule.”
“You did what?” Professor Lyall was impressed.
Floote looked at the Frenchwoman with renewed suspicion.
“They must know something about this thing.” Alexia poked an accusatory finger at her still flat stomach.
Madame Lefoux looked thoughtful but clearly did not want to tempt Alexia with false hope. “I think they might be so intrigued at meeting a female preternatural that they will be unguarded in their approach. Especially if they find out you are pregnant. But they are warriors, not intellectuals. I’m not convinced they can furnish you with what you actually desire.”
“Oh, and what’s that?”
“The return of your husband’s regard.”
Alexia glared daggers at the Frenchwoman. The very idea! She didn’t want that disloyal fuzz ball back in love with her. She simply wanted to prove him wrong.
“I think,” said Professor Lyall before Alexia could commence a diatribe, “that you are entering a wasp hive.”
“So long as it is not a ladybug hive, I shall be fine.”
“I think,” said Floote, “that I should come with you ladies.”
Neither of the ladies in question objected.
Alexia raised a finger in the air. “Might I recommend we arrange a regular aethographic transmission date, Professor Lyall? Although that presupposes the fact that we will be able to find a public transmitter.”
“They have become more popular recently.” Madame Lefoux clearly approved of the idea.
The Beta nodded. “Keeping a time slot open at BUR headquarters is an excellent notion. I shall give you a list of all the names and locations of transmitters for whom we have crystalline valve frequensors, and with whom we can thus transmit. From what I recall, Florence has a good one. You understand, our apparatus is not as sophisticated as Lord Akeldama’s?”
Alexia nodded. Lord Akeldama had recently purchased the latest and greatest in aethographic transmitters, but BUR’s was old and clunky. “I shall need a valve for your transmitter as well, for the Italian end of the business.”
“Of course. I will send an agent ’round directly. Shall we set the appointment for just after sunset? I will have my men set ours to receive from Florence and hope something comes through from you at some point on that frequency. If only so that I know you are alive.”
“Oh, that is terribly optimistic of you,” said Alexia in mock umbrage.
Professor Lyall did not apologize.
“So, Italy it is?” Madame Lefoux rubbed her hands together in the manner of one about to embark on an adventure.
Lady Maccon glanced about at the four standing around her. “One should always visit one’s roots once in one’s lifetime, don’t you feel? I expect the carriage with my things has arrived by now.” She turned to leave. The others followed. “I shall have to repack. Better do it quickly, before anything else goes wrong today.”
Madame Lefoux touched her arm before she could dash off. “What else happened to you this morning?”
“Aside from the announcement of my rather embarrassing condition in the public papers and an attack of virulent ladybugs? Well, Queen Victoria fired me from the Shadow Council, my family ejected me from their house, and Lord Akeldama vanished, leaving me a very terse message about a cat. Which reminds me.” Lady Maccon took the mysterious metal cat collar out of her reticule and waved it at Madame Lefoux. “What do you make of this?”
“Magnetic auditory resonance tape.”
“I thought it might be something like.”
Professor Lyall looked on with interest. “Do you have a resonance decoding cavity?”
Madame Lefoux nodded. “Of course, over here somewhere.” She disappeared behind a vast pile of parts that looked to be the dismembered components of a dirigible’s steam engine combined with half a dozen enormous spoons. She returned carrying an object that gave every indication of being a very tall stovepipe style top hat, with no brim, mounted on a teapot stand with a crank attachment and a trumpet coming out its underside.
Lady Maccon had nothing to say upon seeing such a bizarre looking contraption. She handed over the metal tape in mystified silence.
The inventor fed the tape in through a slit in the underside of the hat, turning the crank to run it through the device. As she did so, a pinging sound began to emerge, akin to the noise a piano might make after inhaling helium. She cranked faster and faster. The pings began meshing together, and eventually a high voice came into existence.
“Leave England,” it said in a tinny, mechanical tone. “And beware Italians who embroider.”
“Useful,” was Madame Lefoux’s only comment.
“How on earth did he know I would choose Italy?” Sometimes Lord Akeldama still managed to surprise Alexia. She pursed her lips. “Embroidery?” Lord Akeldama was never one to prioritize one vital factor, such as murder, over another, such as fashion. “I’m worried about him. Is it safe for him to be away from his house? I mean to say, I understand his being a rove detaches him from the hive, but I was under the impression roves also became part of a place. Tethered, a little like ghosts.”
Professor Lyall tugged on one earlobe thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t concern yourself overly, my lady. Roves have a much larger roaming ability than hive bound vampires. It takes considerable strength of soul to break the queen dependency to begin with, and the older the rove, the more mobile. It is their very capacity for movement that keeps most roves in favor with a local hive. They are untrustworthy but useful. And since the rove needs the queen to convert his drones, they are vested in each other’s survival. Have you seen Lord Akeldama’s BUR file?”
Lady Maccon shrugged noncommittally. She was not above poking about her husband’s office, but she did not think Lyall needed to be made aware of that little fact.
“Well, it is quite substantial. We’ve no record of his original hive, which suggests he has been a rove some considerable time. I should think he could easily travel outside London city limits, perhaps even as far as Oxford, with very few psychological or physiological consequences. He is probably not mobile enough to handle floating the aether or crossing the water out of England, but he is certainly capable of making himself difficult to find.”