Rue was not going to let her mother coerce her Dama. She mounted a secondary defence. “Pish-tosh, Mother. May I kindly remind you that I am all grown up and perfectly capable of making my own tea-related decisions.”
“Like rampaging around London in your bloomers?”
“I wasn’t in human form, no one knew it was me. At least, not until the tether to Uncle Rabiffano snapped.”
“So it was you? Oh dear me, the scandal! You’ll have to retire to the countryside until it blows over at the very least. How will we keep this out of the popular press?”
Rue felt like stamping her foot, but didn’t on principal. “Of course it was me. And I will certainly not go to the countryside.”
“I hope you learnt something from this,” said her mother, looking a little hopeless.
“Frankly, all I learnt is that I must give up bloomers. Perhaps a short silk underskirt would work better? It’s the tail, you see, it rips the seams.”
“And what on earth has happen to your stays, young lady?”
“Pshaw, Mother. I gave up wearing corsetry years ago. Far too inconvenient. And so old-fashioned.”
“Oh mercy me, how did I not know this? What kind of child have I raised?”
“I got permission!” Rue whined.
Her mother whirled on Dama. “This is what comes of your overindulgence! My daughter prancing around in split bloomers!”
Dama only smiled, his fangs politely tucked away. “My dear sugarplum, be reasonable. I would never allow my daughter to go without proper foundation. It wasn’t me who gave her said permission.”
Rue’s mother threw her head back and yelled at the top of her lungs, “Conall! Get your furry posterior in here post haste!”
Rue giggled. “Paw’s got great hearing but he’s at the Bureau tonight. Even he can’t hear you all the way across London.”
Her mother’s face was all thunderclouds. “Give up stays, indeed! With your figure? To think, you’ve been dancing without support. Lordy, lordy. The uncontrollable wobble of it all! And now bloomers as well?” She turned to Dama as a new possible ally rather than enemy in the matter of her daughter. “My dear lord, how are we to remedy the catastrophe that is my progeny?”
Rue would have none of it. “Mother, it’s done. Besides, why should I obey the bounds of polite dress?”
“Because, infant, you are a proper gentlewoman. The daughter of two lords and a lady. You have standards to maintain.” Her mother was moved to impassioned gesticulation for emphasis. It was the Italian ancestry that did it.
Rue rolled her eyes.
Her mother turned again to Dama. “What are we to do with her?”
“Ah, good, Alexia my gherkin, I’m delighted you brought that question up. I do believe that what our Puggle requires is an occupation.”
Rue’s mother sputtered.
Dama was ready. “Now, now, my dear, cast your mind back some quarter century or so. I do believe you once got into a great deal of trouble yourself, all because you hadn’t an occupation. Now, you are settled into your duties, I have my potentate responsibilities, your husband has BUR, even Rabiffano has his hat shop. Puggle needs the same, don’t you, darling?”
Rue would hardly have put it like that, but since she was keen on the idea of travelling, she nodded, and watched her mother for an adverse reaction.
Whatever incident Dama alluded to seemed to do the necessary because her mother’s imminent boil-over subsided. She twisted her parasol about in her grasp and actually gave the matter serious thought.
She caught Rue’s eye. “I suppose, were you an ordinary child, you’d be married by now. And since you’ve been vampire-raised, people have mostly stopped trying to kill you. I worry, that’s all. What will become of you?”
Rue was touched. “Aw, you actually love me.”
Alexia Maccon scooped her child in closer to her on the couch with one arm and kissed her temple. “Of course I do, infant.”
Rue hid a smile. Sometimes it was too easy. “So, this ball I was at…” Before you get hold of tomorrow’s gossip rags.
“Very well, tell me all. What’s the situation with the tea? What did you do to poor Uncle Rabiffano? And why were you gallivanting about London in your bloomers?”