FLIRTING WITH DECEIT
With the sun firmly down and card games satisfactorily completed, the students went to their next classes. The boys had lessons in mechanics and machinations with Professors Shrimpdittle and Lefoux. The girls, all forty-five of them, trooped down to a lower deck to disembark using the glass platform lift. They had their weekly lesson with Captain Niall. There was a palpable waft of excitement, not to mention perfume, as the werewolf was most every young lady’s favorite teacher. He was also, by far, the handsomest.
Sophronia liked him, too, even though she knew the floppy, easygoing military man was a sham. In his werewolf guise, he’d tried to kill her and got her best horsehair petticoat instead. He’d been moon-mad at the time, but she’d never quite forgiven the lapse, nor the loss of the petticoat. Like a proper gentleman, the good captain had never made any mention of the undergarment murder.
The girls stood on the moor. The glass lift turned into a gaslight for evening fighting lessons. Captain Niall strode toward them—a dashing soldier with a beaver-skin top hat tied to his head and a leather greatcoat buttoned from collar to hem. He had a loose way of walking as if he had temporary, and not very good, control over someone else’s legs.
“Ladies, today we leave off knife fighting and move on to the most useful of all skills.” The werewolf paused dramatically. The young ladies about him inhaled in anticipation.
“Running away,” said Captain Niall with a flourish.
The faces about him were crestfallen; running away was hardly a romantic pursuit. Except when one was running to Gretna Green.
“Now, there are many ways and means to run. Today we will cover escape within a confined area—the fine art of dodging.”
He divided them into groups, naming some rabbits and others wolves. The wolves were each given a short wooden spoon that had been dipped in red gooseberry jelly. They had to tap the bodice of a rabbit to eliminate her from the game. This added incentive for the rabbits to dodge, given their dresses were about to be covered in jelly. Wolves could only chase assigned rabbits, and rabbits could not work together. Apart from that, they were free to be as creative as they liked.
Sophronia, Sidheag, and Preshea were the rabbits to Monique, Dimity, and Agatha’s wolves. Sophronia was pleased with this arrangement. She was good at running away and saw nothing morally reprehensible in it. She promptly scampered off to a nearby copse and climbed a tree to watch the proceedings.
A game of chaotic tag commenced, with the werewolf teacher moving so quickly among the students he was difficult to see. He yelled instructions and called out rabbits as dead. It soon became clear why Captain Niall had chosen this particular hill. It was littered with obstacles—shrubs, long grasses, the copse of trees, and an occasional boulder.
The game went on for some half an hour until all the rabbits had died and only Sophronia was left. When she was finally found, the wolves refused on principle to climb after her.
“Rabbits can’t climb trees,” objected Monique.
Captain Niall ignored this and gestured Sophronia down. “Ladies, what did Miss Temminnick do correctly?”
“There she goes again,” sniffed Preshea.
Everyone was silent.
Sophronia jumped down. Monique instantly whacked her with her spoon. A great gob of gooseberry stained the front of Sophronia’s dress, and her collarbone stung.
“Ouch,” she objected.
Finally, one of the older girls answered Captain Niall. “She hid?”
“Exactly! If one is hidden, one does not need to run. However, Miss Temminnick, that was not part of the lesson. So, let’s see you try again in a five-minute fray.” He pointed to three older girls Sophronia knew only by sight. “You’re the wolves. Begin!”
All three charged Sophronia, holding out their jelly-covered spoons. Sophronia dove to one side and broke sharply outside of spoon range. She hiked up her skirts, leapt over a shrub, and made for the high ground. One of the wolves got her dress caught in the shrub and tripped, falling to the side. The two others followed. Sophronia dashed to a boulder, scrabbling for the top.
The wolves did not coordinate, or they would have had her easily. Instead, they each came after her alone. Sophronia kicked, which was considered quite shocking in a gentlewoman, but with her skirts hiked it gave her enough reach to stay out of spoon range. It was so unexpected the first wolf fell backward down the hill, her gooseberry jelly never even touching Sophronia’s leg.
Sophronia managed to push the last wolf away as the older girl went for her bodice. The wolf almost managed, but Sophronia twisted at the last minute and then, with a tremendous heave, leapt forward over her fallen opponent to land down the hill on the opposite side. She skidded around and took refuge behind a very spiky bush.
Sophronia was panting from the exertion, but still alive. She had a brief moment of elation, and then a wolf came to flush her out. Should have named this game fox and hound, thought Sophronia, bending double to avoid the jelly-covered spoon and charging her enemy headfirst. Surprised by a frontal attack, the other girl fell backward into a prickly briar.
Captain Niall called time.
“Interesting, Miss Temminnick. Ladies, what do you think?” He turned to the row of watching students.
“She showed her legs by hiking her skirts.”
“She kicked!”
“She charged with her head! Like a bull.”
“It was all very embarrassing.”
Sophronia stood at Captain Niall’s side and crossed her arms, panting. Certainly, she had conducted herself like neither a lady nor a rabbit, but Captain Niall hadn’t given them any particular rules about conduct, except to survive. She had survived, hadn’t she?
Captain Niall appeared to agree. “Miss Temminnick sought the high ground, a strategic choice if you know the number of opponents. Remember, however, that if there is a chance of reinforcements, the high ground exposes you to projectiles. Now, ladies, please jelly up your spoons and switch roles. Those who were rabbits are now wolves.”
Sophronia saw Dimity lick her spoon surreptitiously before passing it on. Dimity was awfully fond of gooseberries.
So it went, switching back and forth, rearranging rabbits versus wolves, until all were exhausted. By the end, everyone, even Sophronia, had died several jelly deaths. Dimity enacted a dramatic Shakespearean soliloquy at the combined spooning of Agatha and Preshea to a round of polite applause.
After two strenuous hours, with the girls all sore in the calf and blistered in the toe, the captain called a halt. They lined up to be lifted, in groups of five, aboard the airship. Sophronia was pushed to the back because she was being given the cold shoulder by nearly everyone. Sidheag, however, was hanging back intentionally, edging toward Captain Niall.
Sophronia faded into the darkness, pretending to have dropped her reticule.
“Sir, may I ask a word of advice?” Sidheag curtsied, bending her head too far forward.
“About the game, Lady Kingair?” Captain Niall gestured for her to rise.
“No, sir, it is a matter of pack. Things are unsettled in Kingair. I think he may be losing control.”
“He is one of the strongest Alphas in England.” Captain Niall smiled as though alluding to a shared joke. “There are some who would say even the queen’s own werewolf would lose three out of five challenges to your grandfather.”
“It’s not his strength I question; it’s the behavior of the rest of the pack.”
“They are Scottish.”
“But never have they been this angry.”
“Perhaps it’s the Giffard dirigible run. If there is even the possibility he could open the aetherosphere up to vampires, even if it’s only roves…” Captain Niall trailed off.
Sidheag filled in the rest. “Then werewolves have a right to be worried.”
Sophronia puzzled over this. It must have something to do with tethers. Currently, one of the greatest checks on vampire power was the fact that it was limited to specific territories. The more powerful the vampire, the more confined the territory. Werewolves, on the other hand, had a greater range since their tether was to other members of the pack, rather than an exact location. This was how England had won an empire abroad; packs could fight in armies. Is there something about this dirigible flight that could change that dynamic? That’s far more significant than Vieve’s claims of shorter travel times. Vampires could be as mobile as werewolves if they tethered to aetherosphere-going dirigibles, possibly more so.
“I’ve always wondered why Professor Braithwope was the only floating vampire,” said Sidheag.
“He’s a bit of an experiment.”
Considering the vampire teacher’s silly mustache, Sophronia thought, Not only in that way. Are the vampires hoping to experiment further with Giffard’s new technology? Is someone trying to stop them? Vampires, to Sophronia, were mainly a concept rather than a practice—she hadn’t much experience with them. But she found the concept more palatable when she knew there were limits to their supernatural abilities. The werewolves, she must assume from this conversation, felt the same.
Sidheag said, “Do we consider the professor a successful experiment?”
Captain Niall touched the tall girl affectionately on one shoulder. “You know I can’t tell you that.”
“Of course.” Sidheag pressed one long finger to her mouth. Then, glancing around, she said, “Oh, dear, it looks like I’m the last.” The glass platform waited for her, so low Sidheag need only step up onto it.
“Not entirely. Miss Temminnick?” Captain Niall turned into the darkness to where Sophronia skulked.
She moved forward, not at all ashamed. This was, after all, what they were trained for. “Did you smell me or hear me?”
“Both. Even you cannot quiet your own heartbeat. And, as you have been told before, perfume will always work against you with the supernatural, unless you have scattered it everywhere.”
Sidheag, at least, seemed gratifyingly surprised to see her.
“What did you hear?” she hissed, as Sophronia stepped up onto the platform next to her.
“Enough.”
“That’s personal pack business!”
“And I won’t mention any of it, if you tell me everything you know about this vampire plot.”
“I can’t be seen talking to you.” The platform rose slowly toward the underbelly of the airship. At the same time, the massive craft lifted higher into the sky.
“Then you had better do it fast.”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re awful contrary, Sophronia?”
“Frequently. Now explain.”
“It seems the werewolves think the vampires are trying to master aetherosphere travel for themselves. There are rumors Giffard’s been funded by vampire backers. Even though he’s French.”
Sophronia’s mind whirled at the implications. “Is our school floating to town to support or fight this possibility?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“How do our visiting boys figure into this?”
Sidheag shrugged. “Bunson’s is pro Picklemen.”
Sophronia nodded. “And the Picklemen will want to control any aetherosphere travel for themselves.” She was thinking about the prototype kerfuffle at her sister’s ball. Both the government and the Picklemen had been after the technology then. “No wonder we are floating to town.”
“You think there’s going to be some kind of contest for control?” Sidheag nibbled her lips. The werewolves, as a rule, were uninterested in advancements in science that did not pertain to munitions. Sidheag had not been raised to think in terms of patent control or manipulation of technological discoveries.
Sophronia said, “I’m not sure what I think yet, but that seems likely.”
It was far easier to get around the ship with Vieve. Sophronia didn’t have to climb the exterior to avoid patrolling mechanicals. Vieve had an invention of her own devising, the obstructor, which froze a mechanical in its tracks long enough for two girls to slide around it.
They sped through the central student section and then into the forbidden section. Dangling red tassels all around demarcated the highly restricted forward segment of the ship, which included the teachers’ quarters, the record room, and… the boiler room. Everything was going smoothly, even the most dangerous part: passing the doors of slumbering teachers.
Then a loud whistle reverberated through the airship, picked up and repeated by every mechanical within range. They hadn’t had to use the obstructor for two hallways, so it couldn’t have been their fault. The alarm was triggered by some other miscreants out after hours.
The two girls squeezed behind a massive marble bust of Pan and a once-underdressed nymph in the corner. The nymph had been clothed in skirts and a lace hat, to make her more the thing. This meant there was plenty of room for concealment. Just in time, too, for doors to teachers’ rooms popped open and heads stuck out.
“Is there no peace for the naked?” Sister Mattie wore a bed cap of sensible white lace.
“I think you mean peace for the wicked,” corrected Lady Linette, wrapped in a flowing silk robe of apple green trimmed in black velvet. Her hair was loose and flowing, her face free of paint. She looked lovely and fresh.
“Why would that apply?” asked Sister Mattie, before closing her door on both the problem and the noise.
“What’s going on?” The headmistress voiced that query, her rinsed red hair crowned by a great pink floof of crochet.
“I shouldn’t worry, Geraldine. It’s probablyour young gentlemen guests.”
“I warned you no good would come of having boys on board!”
“Might have told that to me, mum, whot?” joked Professor Braithwope, shimmering out of his room fully clothed and dapper. His mustache was a fluffy caterpillar of curiosity, perched and ready to inquire, dragging the vampire along behind it on the investigation.
“Oh, Professor,” simpered Mademoiselle Geraldine, “you don’t count. You’re a gentleman, not a boy, and qualit-tay to boot.”
The vampire looked around the hallway, noting no mechanicals or culprits who might have set the alarm. He was the only one dressed, his boots mirror shiny and his trousers cut to perfection. Sophronia wondered how such a nobby little man could manage to fade to the background so often. It was a real skill.
“Where’s the revolution?”
“Student quarters, I suspect. One of the boys. Our girls know better than to risk it at night. Or they know how to avoid setting off alarms.” Sophronia could have sworn Lady Linette glanced in their direction.
The vampire nodded. “I’ll see to it, being as I’m all gussied up and proper for public consumption. Plus, put a bit of fear into those monkeys, wrath of a vampire, whot?”
“A most excellent notion, Professor.”
Sophronia, forgetting her own first encounter with the vampire, suppressed a giggle at the very idea of Professor Braithwope, with his quizzical mustache and undersized frame, putting the fear into anyone—except perhaps the fear of growing the wrong facial hair.
The alarm, painfully loud, continued. There was no maid nearby to receive shutdown protocols. Professor Braithwope hurried off, and the other teachers disappeared into their rooms, presumably to hide from the noise.
Sophronia and Vieve continued on their way, reassured that attention was directed elsewhere.
“What was that about?” Vieve wondered.
“Viscount Mersey might have taken something Pillover said after dinner as encouragement.”
“Sophronia, you didn’t plant ideas in that poor nobleman’s head? You are a naughty girl.”
“Where’s your aunt? I didn’t see her just now.”
“Down in the laboratory with Shrimpdittle, I think. They’re working on something together, despite bad blood over the prototype.”
“Is that the real reason the boys are on board, as cover for this project?”
“Possibly.”
“Vieve,” said Sophronia slowly, “how would vampires handle floating through the aetherosphere?”
“I’ve no idea. Ah, here we are.”
When entering the engineering chamber from the proper door, rather than the outside hatch, they came in from above onto a wide landing with the whole of the massive room spread out before them. Sophronia loved the view. It was so impressive, with multiple boilers flaming and smoking, engines and machines moving and sparking, sooties running between massive mounds of coal. Usually, two-thirds of the sooties slept during evening shift, but tonight everyone was awake. A full complement of supervisors stood guard—firemen, greasers, engineers, and coal runners. Something is definitely afoot. Or should one say “a soot”?
Sophronia and Vieve, unnoticed, made their way down the spiral staircase and through the crowds to the far corner of the room, ending up behind the coal pile that had long since become their regular meeting spot.
Soap was waiting, fairly vibrating with anticipation.
“What took you so long?”
“Someone set off the alarm.”
“Not you two? Never you two.” Soap’s faith was endearing.
“Course not. Sophronia set up a patsy to take the fall.”
Soap swung to look at her.
Sophronia smiled slyly. “What can I say? Boys need lessons sometimes.”
Soap arched an eyebrow at her.
“Not you, Soap. You’re not a real boy. But Felix is being difficult.”
“Felix, is it?” Soap did not look pleased.
“Lord Mersey, I mean,” Sophronia corrected herself.
Soap looked even less pleased.
Sophronia didn’t quite understand where she’d gone wrong. Soap was usually such a good-natured chap. She changed the subject. “So, what’s the surprise?”
Soap brightened. “We’re going undercover for the next three days. Weather not being obliging.”
“What do you mean? It’s been lovely for March.”
“Just so. We can’t go sailing to London all visible. So they brought out the steam machine. We’re going to white!”
“Well, that explains all the extra water that flute took on.”
“You saw that?” Soap looked away from Sophronia. “What else did you see?”
Sophronia tried to look more mysterious than embarrassed.
Vieve was not interested in innuendo—a new machine was about to be cranked up! “I’ve heard about it but never seen it in action.”
“I’ve only helped do it twice before,” said Soap. “Come watch.” He led them to sit atop a pile of coal. “Don’t interfere!” He shook a finger at Vieve.
The sooties wheeled out a massive apparatus, one that usually huddled at the back of the room. They arranged it to sit straddling the distribution hatch—a massive opening used to bring in coal and shovel out ash.
The contraption was hooked up to boilers and attached to a complex series of metal tubes, springs, and gears, the range of which charmed Vieve.
“Oh my goodness, is that an electrosplit goopslimer port? I do believe it is. And is that a Thrushbotham pip-monger swizzle sprocket? Oh, two swizzle sprockets!” Vieve was practically squeaking in excitement.
The machine was cranked up and began to puff.
Never before had Sophronia seen such a massive amount of steam at once. The boiler room filled with hot white moisture. All her curls fell flat—Mademoiselle Geraldine would be so upset.
There was a great deal of yelling and some crashing, and then the sooties had the device corked up. All the steam, one must presume, was now flowing outside the ship.
Soap sauntered over, hands deep in his pockets. The soot on his face was clumped and spotty from the steam, and he looked inordinately pleased with himself.
“Wanna see?”
“Of course!” said Sophronia and Vieve in unison.
Soap helped Sophronia down, and she was shocked by how large and strong his hand was. He led the way over to the small hatch Sophronia used on her solo visits.
They stuck their heads out and saw… nothing. Only white.
“We are our own cloud! Ingenious.” Sophronia was impressed. “And it will hold day or night, despite temperature shifts?”
“Of course!” Soap took this questioning as doubt of his actions and integrity. “Designed by Professor Lefoux, this was! She don’t make mistakes, that one. Except bringing this bit of trouble on board.” Soap pulled off Vieve’s cap and ruffled her hair.
Vieve swatted him.
Sophronia nodded. “Thank you, Soap. This has been most entertaining. But we should be getting on.” She was profoundly relieved. At least for a while Dimity will be safe from attack. No one will be able to find her.
Soap looked surprised; normally Sophronia lingered. “You should? Right then.” He led them back to the staircase. Vieve scampered up, but before Sophronia could follow, Soap touched her arm. “Who is this Felix chap?”
“Just an impossible boy. I shouldn’t let him bother you.”
“You need me to teach him any lessons? A little boxing ’round the ears?”
“That’s very kind, Soap, but I can fight my own battles.”
“I don’t like you fraternizing with boys. Ain’t normal.”
Sophronia quirked her head in amusement. “No? And here I was thinking that’s how society worked. Might as well learn the way of it.”
“Oh, you believe so?” Soap leaned in. Even though she stood on the first step, the sootie towered over her. He smelled of wet coal and engine oil. It must be quite strong, as it seemed to be affecting her breathing. He leaned in, his normally cheerful face quite serious. “I could teach you a bit.”
He was so close, Sophronia thought for one delusional moment that he intended to actually kiss her on the mouth! Imagine that? Soap! Instead he reached for her arm, the exposed piece between glove and sleeve where his filthy hand would not soil her dress. He raised it to his face and kissed her just there, his lips impossibly soft.
Sophronia froze. But I don’t think of Soap like that was her first reaction, and then she felt a tiny bit of annoyance. Why would he want to complicate our friendship? And then caution. It’s up to me to ensure he doesn’t.
She recovered her powers of movement and extracted her arm gently. She decided to take his overture as a jest, a mockery of polite society, and laugh it off. “Oh, Soap, you are silly.”
Jaunty Soap was instantly back. “See what I mean? I can teach you.”
“Very gallant,” Sophronia said, smiling and backing up, almost tripping over the next step up. Look at me, made clumsy by a sootie! “It’s not exactly the lesson I need, however.”
“I’m thinking it’s the same kind of lesson this Felix is after.”
Feeling she had entirely lost control of the conversation, Sophronia did as Captain Niall had so recently instructed; she ran away.
When Sophronia caught up to Vieve, the girl was trotting purposefully down the hall, obstructor at the ready. It was proving unnecessary, as the mechanicals had all been diverted elsewhere. Probably to monitor the boys.
“Can we swing by your aunt’s classroom on our way back?”
“Need something?” Vieve’s mind ever jumped to supplies.
“No. Didn’t you say your aunt and the visiting professor were holed up there?”
“You want to see what they are up to?” Vieve changed course and headed toward the teaching area outside the tassel zone, rather than across to student residencies. Soon, they found themselves at the classrooms. The dark hallway was lit only by a small beam of light emanating from the crack under Professor Lefoux’s lab door.
Sophronia went for Sister Mattie’s room.
Vieve, confused, followed.
Sister Mattie never locked her door. She maintained that if a student needed to pollute, cure, or improve nutritional health, she should do so with impunity. Or, as she put it, “One woman’s petunia is another one’s poison.”
Sister Mattie’s classroom abutted Professor Lefoux’s. Sophronia made her way through it in the dark. This was not difficult, as she knew which plants were thorny and which were sticky. She ended up behind the rubber tree, where a small door let out onto a balcony covered in large pots of rhubarb and tomatoes, alongside foxgloves and rhododendrons. Sophronia brushed through, mindful that tomato leaves would deposit telltale yellow streaks on her dress. She climbed up and balanced precariously on the railing so she could lean over to the small round window of Professor Lefoux’s lab.
She peeked inside. Under bright gas lighting, Professor Lefoux and Professor Shrimpdittle stood together over a large table spread with the parts of some disassembled apparatus. They were not working on the gadget. They were arguing. Sophronia fished in her reticule and brought forth her latest prized acquisition, an ear trumpet. It had taken a good many letters to persuade her mother that she was losing her hearing and in desperate need of the medical device. It was invaluable for eavesdropping, and she’d decorated it to look like a morning glory flower. She pressed the flared end to the glass and the nozzle to her ear.
“… needs to be done!” Professor Lefoux was saying. Her words were almost indecipherable, her French accent was so strong.
“That’s ridiculous. Breathing is irrelevant!” Shrimpdittle objected. His voice was one of upper-crust education, all toffy-nosed and toothy.
A knock sounded at the door.
Professor Lefoux went to open in.
Monique de Pelouse came inside. Holy smokes! thought Sophronia. What’s she doing here? She whispered to Vieve, “Monique’s turned up. I thought she was in disgrace. Why on earth would they let her wander around after hours?” Sophronia felt unsettled, possibly even a little jealous. Monique knew more about what was going on than she did!
The professors were obviously expecting Monique. For a moment, Sophronia wondered if the dismembered gadget was meant for her.
“I’m to ask if it’s ready,” the blonde said. “Is it?”
“Not yet,” Professor Lefoux answered.
With no further exchange, Monique pirouetted to leave.
“Wait a moment, Miss Pelouse. Was that you who set off the alarm?”
Monique stuck her nose in the air. “Of course not. I have permission to be out. You know that; you gave it to me.” She gestured rudely with her thumb at Professor Shrimpdittle. “A couple of his charges thought it’d be fun to sneak out.”
Professor Shrimpdittle looked contrite. “Oh, dear. I do hope Lady Linette isn’t upset.”
Monique smiled evilly. “Not at all. She sent Professor Braithwope to handle the matter, knowing how little Bunson’s cares for vampires.” With that, she let herself back out of the room.
Professor Shrimpdittle whirled on Professor Lefoux. “If your bloodsucker has harmed one hair on any of my boys’ heads!”
“Professor Braithwope is a perfectly respectable teacher. Your boys should not have been out! You were told. They were told!”
“I wager they only did it because your girls taunted them.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Algonquin. It’s what boys do!”
“Who’s he feeding from? That’s what I want to know.”
“As if I should inquire into your personal life and diet!”
“Who is his drone?”
Sophronia perked up. This was a question that troubled her on a regular basis.
“None of your concern!”
“I think it is my concern, with my boys on board! What if he goes for one of them?”
“Professor Braithwope is a gentleman! Not to mention a vampire. He never goes anywhere without proper invitation. You should know that! His kind invented the concept!”
“Well! I like that.” Professor Shrimpdittle’s tone clearly said that he didn’t.
“So you should! Would you rather our school were so deep in the Picklemen’s keep we couldn’t claw ourselves away… like you? Going to sell this invention to them to keep it out of vampire hands? Or are they still after the valve?”
Sophronia hissed back to Vieve, “I think that mini crystalline valve frequensor is involved.”
Vieve’s eyes shone. “I’ve been researching that. The one you gave me, I think—”
Sophronia held up a hand, back to eavesdropping.
Professor Shrimpdittle said, “This is getting us nowhere. Perhaps we should stop for the night?”
“I think that’s a capital idea.” Professor Lefoux was struggling to control her emotions.
Until that moment, Sophronia would have said the austere teacher didn’t have emotions.
“You should examine your loyalties, Beatrice. Someday you will have to choose.” Sophronia could hear the slamming of books as Shrimpdittle packed.
“Choose?”
“Between science and the supernatural.”
“I wasn’t aware they were on opposite sides.”
Sophronia heard the door slam.
“Oh, that man!” Professor Lefoux exclaimed in French to the empty room. Then there was silence.
Sophronia peeked through the window. The teacher was cleaning up the apparatus on the table, systematically putting everything away.
Sophronia signaled Vieve.
“Take a look,” she whispered, making room on the railing and assisting the smaller girl to look in. “What do you make of those parts?”
Vieve didn’t answer, face pressed to the glass, until the gas in the room was turned off and the interior black.
She swung her weight back and slid down off the railing. Sophronia followed.
“I don’t know. It looks almost like armor, but for what? Undersea exploration?”
“Perhaps it has to do with our trip? Perhaps we’re going to London because of your aunt or Professor Shrimpdittle and this invention.”
Vieve considered. “It’s possible. It’d explain why they need the whole school—access to my aunt’s laboratory.”
“You were saying about the valve?”
“That one you gave me, I have to run further tests. But I don’t see how it can affect mechanicals or the oddgob.”
“Keep at it, will you?”
“Until I get caught or something more interesting comes along.”
Sophronia patted her friend on the head in the manner of Soap, a thing she knew the girl found particularly annoying. “Good little inventor.”