“And,” added Dimity brightly, “it might net you an invitation to the ball.”
That was not the right tactic. Agatha looked terrified at the possibility.
Sophronia said hurriedly, “Oh, I don’t think Monique would, no matter what you did. I shouldn’t worry about that, Agatha.”
“Oh, good.”
“So, are you game?” prodded Dimity, titillated at the prospect of gossip.
Agatha straightened and looked pugnacious. “I’ll do my best!”
Sophronia didn’t expect much to come of it, but Agatha did try. She began, with remarkable subtlety, to lurk among Monique’s followers. She inched her way down to that end of the table at meals. She offered to loan Monique her jewelry. Agatha had a great deal of nice jewelry, the real stuff, unlike Dimity.
Unfortunately, her reports were unsatisfactory. “The ball is all she talks of,” she kept saying, and, “When can I stop?”
Then a few evenings later, when Dimity and Sophronia were getting ready for sleep, a demure knock sounded at their door. Dimity, in her nightgown, squeaked and dove for her bed. Sophronia, still dressed, went to answer.
It was Agatha. “Sorry to disturb you so late, but… Monique’s gone.”
“What?”
“I did like you suggested and went to her room just now, pretending I wanted that necklace back. Preshea tried to hide the fact, but Monique’s not there. She’s definitely snuck off. I think it has something to do with a message she got earlier. One of the mechanicals delivered it and she went all red.”
“Oh, goodness. Thank you, Agatha!”
Agatha shuffled away. Sophronia closed the door and headed for her wardrobe.
“You’re going after her?” asked Dimity.
“Here I was, proud all this time that I was out regularly, climbing the hull, visiting sooties, and spying on teachers, not even thinking Monique might be doing the same! She had permission to be out the other night, but I never thought she was a sneak like me….”
“Be fair, she can hardly be visiting sooties.”
“Good point. Oh, none of this will work!” Sophronia slammed her wardrobe door. “I’m going to visit Sidheag. It’s time to follow Vieve’s example.”
“What…?”
Before Dimity could finish her question, Sophronia was away.
She knocked on Agatha and Sidheag’s door, hoping to be let in before Preshea noticed. When Sidheag opened it, Sophronia pushed past and closed the door quickly behind her.
“Sidheag, I need to borrow clothes.”
Sidheag blinked. “Now? It’s one in the morning.”
“So?”
“Nothing I have could possibly fit you. You’re shorter and curvier.”
“Not dresses, silly. I need boys’ clothes. I thought you might have some.”
“What?”
Agatha looked up from the vanity, where she was brushing her hair. “You’re going after her, aren’t you?”
“Yes. And if she’s climbing, I have to climb faster. It’s time to get rid of skirts. Now, Sidheag? Please hurry.”
Sidheag grinned. “How sensible of you.” She dove for her wardrobe, which was in an unholy state. The act of opening the door caused a straw bonnet, a parasol, and a patchwork goose to fall out on her head. The taller girl barely noticed, batting away hats, gloves, and a single red stocking like so many gnats. She ruffled through the contents, hurling items behind her in a deliciously enthusiastic way.
Agatha gave a whimper of distress. Her side of the room was neat as a new penny.
“Aha!” Sidheag resurfaced, triumphant, with a pair of tweed jodhpurs, of the type country squires use for hunting, and a wrinkled man’s shirt.