Rue tried a new tactic. “Wouldn’t you enjoy seeing some of the exotic lands you’ve studied?”
“Not particularly. All evidence seems to suggest that they are dirty, hot, messy places riddled with disease and chilli peppers. I loathe chilli peppers.”
“But what about all the bits that haven’t been written about? Subjects untapped, discoveries waiting to be made. Percy, you could become the world’s expert on the…” Rue flailed, grappling, and then said triumphantly, “Sacred napping practices of the Punjabi wild cabbage.”
“Do cabbages have napping practices?”
“They might. And how would you know if you didn’t join me?”
Percy considered. “You make a valid point. Some of my research books on the subject of India are quite dated and inexcusably superficial in their treatment of native culinary practices. After all, how can one avoid chilli peppers if one doesn’t adequately track their movements and migration patterns?”
“Chillies have migration patterns?”
“Don’t interrupt. Where was I? Oh yes. Of course, I read Hindustani and Punjabi and if I could get my hands on some primary sources I shouldn’t be disappointed. But couldn’t you and Primrose pick those up for me and bring them back?”
“No.” It was Rue’s turn to be difficult. “We most definitely could not.”
Percy looked at her. “No, I suppose you would have no earthly idea what a true academic requires on the matter of chilli peppers.”
“As you say.”
Percy paused. “Very well, I shall come,” he capitulated suddenly and with great decisiveness. “Where is that valet with the tea?”
“You never rang for him.”
“I didn’t? Oh well. When do we leave? It should only take me a month or so to pack.”
“The evening after tomorrow.”
“What?”
“I shall send Dama’s carriage for you. The Spotted Custard is moored in Regent’s Park. His driver will know the way. I’ll have him call tomorrow afternoon in case you’d like to take some books over early and settle them in. And you’ll need to research aether current navigation and aerial maps of India.”
“I will? That sounds rather jolly. Spotted Custard, eh? New kind of pudding, is it? Delish. Can I finish with the quinces first?”
“No, the quinces will wait.”
“I understand that’s one of the advantages.”
“What?”
Percy explained, animated. “Quinces store very well, better than crab-apples. In cellars, and cupboards, and wardrobes, and hatboxes, and what have you.”
“Oh, do they? Very interesting, Percy dear. Perhaps I’ll have Cook order some for the journey. But you’ll still have to change study subjects for the time being. India, I’m afraid, must take precedence.”
“Hard taskmistress,” Percy grumbled.
“I’m sure you’ll become accustomed to it. You may bring the quince books along. You might have time to read as we float.”
Percy didn’t answer. He was at one of his shelves, combing through scrolls, rolled-up maps, and current charts.
Rue rang for the valet.
A harried young personage appeared. Rue gave him a funny look. Had Percy elevated the boot-black boy in lieu of any other household staff?
“Pack your master’s portmanteau for a float to India, a month or more’s journey. Please don’t forget his daily necessities. You know how he gets when he’s researching. And try to keep him from bringing too many books. I’ll be sending around a carriage tomorrow around teatime. Please ensure the first load is aboard and that he goes with it to see to his quarters. You’ll also be joining us since someone has to look after him. I hope that’s agreeable. I will, of course subsidise your remuneration. We leave the evening after next, currents permitting.”
The young man was not at all discombobulated. In fact, he looked thrilled. Well, life with Percy was probably extremely dull. “And Footnote, miss?”
“Footnote?”
“Himself’s cat.”
Upon hearing his name, said cat stood up from behind a pile of books and swayed over, emitting a chirrup of inquiry.
“Whatever possessed Percy to acquire a cat? He can’t even take care of himself.”
The boy suppressed a chuckle. “The cat acquired us, I’m afraid, miss.”
“The best ones always do.” Rue chucked Footnote under the chin. He emitted a mighty purr of approval. Rue was lost. “Oh, bring him along. Every ship should have a cat. Perhaps he can help with the pigeon problem.”
“Very good, miss.”
Footnote flopped over onto his back presenting his chin for further scratching. He was an attractive animal, mostly black with white markings, as though smartly dressed for the theatre. Better dressed than Percy ever was, that’s certain. Rue left off cat-worshipping reluctantly.
The valet made his farewell bow.
“Oh,” Rue added before he shut the door, “bring Percy up some tea, please.”
“And nibbly bits,” mumbled Percy, digging through scrolls, maps flying, not looking up.
“And nibbly bits,” added Rue. Footnote trotted after the valet, possibly intrigued by the mention of nibbly bits.
“Yes, Lady Prudence.”
“Oh dear, have we met before?”
“No, my lady, but I’ve heard of you. And I guessed that you couldn’t be the Honourable Primrose Tunstell.”
“No? We do look alike.”
“Yes, my lady, but himself’s not yelling at you.”
“A good point you make there…?” Rue trailed off, questioningly.
“Virgil, my lady.”
“Ah, I see why Percy hired you. He always has had great affection for the ancient scribes.”
“My lady?”
“The tea, please, Virgil.”
Virgil made her a second bit of a bow and scampered off. Footnote biffed along after him, tail up with the tip tilted like a small furry flag.
Rue turned her attention back to Percy, “Nice young man, Percy. No idea what he’s doing with you.”
“Good name,” muttered Percy.
Rue sighed and made her way through the chaos of books and out into the hall. “I shall see you soon.”
Percy came to the study door and waved a dismissive map at her. “Unfortunately.”
Rue knew Percy well enough to realise that this was the best she was going to get out of him so she let herself out with as much dignity as possible. She did trip over a small stack of Beeton’s Englishwoman’s Domestic Magazine and Fashion Tips next to the automated hat cleaner in the hallway. Since he was entirely the opposite of fashionable Rue was mystified by their presence. One never knew why with Percy.