“But the names you chose!” Quesnel looked as if he really would laugh.
Primrose said, affronted, “Hisselpenny is my mother’s maiden name, and Dandelion Fluff Upon a Spoon is Lord Akeldama’s pleasure dirigible. They are perfectly respectable names.”
Rue explained, “If one must lie, make it memorable. Hisselpenny is a name which, if called out in a crowd we would both respond to, and that ship name is easy for us to remember and exactly the moniker two frivolous ladies of fashion would give to their craft.”
With which Rue determined she owed Quesnel no further explanation, and pushed open the door into the docking centre.
“Oh, my goodness me!” she squeaked.
It looked rather like the Reading Room of the British Museum, only a great deal larger and without any books in it. Instead there were stalls selling wares around the edge, like at a street fair with various interesting-looking sculptures, booths, and gatherings in the middle. The place was humming with humanity, some fashionable, many questionable. Somehow the centre harnessed part of the orange light of the beacon far above, and it spilled down into the interior in umber shafts.
Quesnel said, “Only you didn’t tell your crew, my beautiful witless wonder.”
Rue turned back to her chief engineer. “What was that?”
“About your plan to change the names of everything. You didn’t tell your crew, yet you gave them permission to leave the ship,” explained Quesnel carefully. “Aren’t you worried they’ll spoil the act?”
“Oh dear, good point. I do hope they don’t go blabbing.” Rue frowned, calculating the time. They had only three quarters of an hour left. How much harm could the crew do?
Quesnel nodded to the gaggle of staff still behind them. “I think most of them witnessed your antics.”
Rue wasn’t certain “antics” was a dignified way to describe a lady but before she could reprimand her chief engineer, Spoo stepped forward. “Yes, Chief Sir and Lady Captain. That was a pretty nice show you put on there.”
“Why, thank you, Spoo,” replied Rue.
“You’re all right, Lady Captain, but this one was a real corker.” Spoo gestured with her thumb at Primrose.
Prim smiled down at the small person in a queenly manner, causing the young sootie to blush. “Such accolades. I was born to carry on a theatrical legacy, but sadly fate had other plans for my family.”
“Fate or Egypt?” wondered Rue.
“There’s a difference?” Prim looked wistful. Egypt was where her mother had turned vampire. The girls knew few particulars, but they understand that everything had changed for everyone after Egypt, 1876.
Spoo said, not following, “I’ll make sure everyone knows who and what we are and what names we belong to while ’round the tower.”
“That is very much appreciated, Spoo,” replied Rue.
Spoo, after a quick hushed conversation with a few of the other sooties, scampered back to The Spotted Custard to waylay anyone else who might disembark or have cause for conversion with dockhands.
Rue and Prim exchanged a look. They were unused to having to widen the scale of their schemes. Adjustments must be made for this new course their lives had taken.
“We’ll plan better next time,” Rue assured her friend.
“Yes, I think we ought,” Prim agreed but was already distracted by their surroundings. “What a very odd sort of place this is.”
Quesnel moved forward to pat her arm reassuringly.
Primrose took it eagerly.
Rue felt a tiny pang but brushed it off as girlish silliness.
Someone dragged a noisy nanny goat past them. Across the way, two men with turbans argued in an exotic language about a clay figurine of a pregnant snake or possibly a cow without legs. One of them had a monkey sitting on his shoulder. Off to one side was a row of massive cages inside which paced tigers, hyenas, and other toothy carnivores. The Maltese Tower clearly did a brisk trade in exotic animals. A stall nearby displayed racks of valves and rows of sprockets in tempting stacked pyramids, as a fishmonger might lay out his wares.
Quesnel’s eyes lit up and he drifted in that direction.
Primrose, on the other hand, had spotted a promising-looking jewellery vendor and began to walk the other way.
Before they could get far, Rue grabbed each by the arm.
Quesnel looked down at her gloved hand on his sleeve. “What now, chérie?”
“How about exploring together? Get the lay of the land? I’ve never been to a docking tower before, have you?”
Quesnel’s shook his head.
“But… sparkles,” said Prim forlornly.
“We can shop after a bit of a wander and a nice nosh, what do you say?” Rue’s eyes were shining hopefully.
Primrose said, suspiciously, “Tea?”
“Tea in a proper tea-shop. There must be one somewhere. All the best towers have tea-shops. Fortnum & Mason has three.”
Nothing else could possibly draw Primrose away from rubies. “Oh, very well.”
Quesnel was disposed to be agreeable. “The opportunity to spend more time in your glorious company, how could I resist?”
“How could you, indeed?”
Quesnel gave Rue big violet puppy eyes – back and forth between her and the stall of gadgets.
Rue relented. “Very well, you may acquire gadgets on the ship’s account. A few, mind you. I’m not made of money. And nothing too greasy.”
Quesnel brightened.
Primrose looked pathetically at her.
“No, dear.” Rue was firm. “I don’t think I could convince even Dama that we needed jewellery on the ship’s account. Spend your own money.”
They shifted so Quesnel was in the middle, as was proper and, arms linked, the three strolled the perimeter.
Rue enjoyed herself immensely. The tower was fascinating. It was so unlike her experience in London, with the exception of the theatre district. Even so, one rarely saw day labourers in the West End during fashionable hours. Yet here was surely every possible example of human life. Not to mention a wide range of objects and animals. They saw so many small dogs carried about the person that Primrose said, “Do you think I should return to the ship for Footnote? I could wrap him around my neck. Everyone who is anyone seems to be wearing a pet.”
“What footnote?” wondered Quesnel.
“Not what, who. My brother’s cat.”
Rue said, “While it does seem the thing to do, and I know you like to follow the very latest styles, you would look somewhat less fashionable with scratches all over your face.”