Professor Shrimpdittle emerged at the far end of the passageway, followed by his boys. “What’s happening?”
Sophronia sent Dimity off. “Tell him something is terribly wrong with one of the girls in Professor Braithwope’s class. Use a tone that implies the vampire is to blame.”
Dimity gave her an odd look but did as requested. She wafted down the hall, smiled sweetly up at the Bunson’s teacher, and then whispered to him. She might not be the best at acquiring information, but she was deliciously excellent at disseminating it.
Professor Shrimpdittle’s boyishly handsome face became suffused with red, and he glared at the vampire teacher. Professor Braithwope, flustered by actually having to deal with a human illness, remained unaware of the man’s ire.
The matron arrived. She and Sister Mattie made a litter out of some parasols and carried the insensate Monique from the room.
By now, word had spread, and most of the lessons were on hiatus. The doors were crowded with curious students, a consequence of their education. A few milled about in the hallway, causing Dimity some distress in returning. Vieve popped up, watching with interest as the fainted girl was carried past. She exchanged a few words with Pillover, who was lurking near Professor Shrimpdittle.
“What did that vampire do to her?” the visiting professor blustered loudly.
“Don’t be silly, Algonquin,” Professor Lefoux sneered. “The girl fainted. Could hardly be Aloysius’s fault!”
“No good can come of having vampires supervising a bevy of nubile young girls,” insisted Shrimpdittle.
Pillover said something to Vieve that made her laugh. The girl then trotted back the way she had come. Sophronia realized Pillover must be included in the plot to get Vieve into Bunson’s, as he knew her real identity. How to persuade him?
The girls returned to class, somber after the sudden illness in their midst.
“Imagine, fainting forward!” Preshea whispered, white with shock.
What did Monique eat? Useful to know, thought Sophronia. I must ask Sister Mattie. Dover’s powder, perhaps? And why did Monique want to get out of class so badly she poisoned herself?
Over supper, Pillover agreed to Vieve’s planned infiltration, because it was evil to hide a girl from his professors, and he’d yet to do anything truly evil. “If I’m found out, I’ll probably be awarded top marks. So I’m game.” His expression remained morosely impassive. Poor Pillover; everything was a struggle. Here he was, forced to be bad, when at heart, he was a rather agreeable fellow. No wonder he behaved like a pustule, as his sister put it.
Felix watched Sophronia’s whispered interchange with the younger boy with an odd expression on his face. She made certain he could not overhear the actual conversation.
Monique looked none the worse for her faint. She must have used the illness as an excuse to read those other secret letters because she promptly engaged in an odd role reversal.
She took a seat between Dimity and Agatha, not Preshea and one of the boys.
“Dimity, you’re looking quite pretty this evening,” she said awkwardly.
“Um, thank you, Monique?” Dimity was tentative as she frantically searched for the barb within the compliment.
Sophronia and Pillover stopped talking in order to watch this fascinating proceeding.
“Such a nice bracelet you have.” Monique smiled. It looked like it pained her. The bracelet was one of gilt filigree with paste amethyst stones.
Dimity sniffed. “Thank you again. Can I help you with something, Monique?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. It seems that we must make up the numbers. I was hoping you and your lovely brother might honor us with your attendance at my coming-out ball.”
Pillover choked on his mulligatawny soup, snorting a small bit out his nose. Dimity looked at Sophronia, eyes desperate.
Sophronia gave a slight nod and then pointed at herself.
Dimity nodded back. “We will, of course, consider your kind offer, but you know I couldn’t possibly attend without Sophronia. We do everything together.”