She shut the wardrobe. “Enter.”
The stepsisters’ maid, Lulu, cracked the door. “Mademoiselle Eglantine wishes to speak with you in the salon.”
Ophelia looked hard at Lulu. Lulu was spotty, true, but had her cheeks always been so pink? So . . . carnation pink?
Yet Lulu gave no hint that she knew about Ophelia’s theatrical case. Her face was guileless.
“Very well, Lulu. You may go.”
Downstairs in the salon, Eglantine sat on a sofa, rubbing at her upper lip. When she saw Ophelia, she kept her fingertips on her lip. “Madame Brand, there you are. Lulu and Baldewyn have been searching the house up and down for you for hours.”
“I must take frequent walks, my dear. My digestion is simply not what it used to be.”
“Well, if you are free this afternoon, might I beg of you to act as chaperone for Mademoiselle Smythe, my sister, and me? We had so hoped to attend an exhibition, but Madame Smythe is abed with a sick headache.”
An afternoon in the company of that particular trio could give anyone a sick headache. However, it would present an opportunity to quiz Austorga about her backstage chat with Madame Babin, and at least one of the sisters about the stomacher.
“Allow me to gather my bonnet and gloves, dear,” Ophelia said. She’d send the note to Madame Fayette with an errand boy, and her cozy chat with Malbert would have to wait.
Just as Ophelia was going upstairs to fetch her bonnet and gloves, a rap sounded on the front door. Baldewyn sighed loudly and answered it. Ophelia saw Pierre, Monsieur Colifichet’s apprentice, pass Baldewyn a large parcel wrapped in brown paper and twine.
Probably some sort of delivery for Malbert and his mysterious clockwork hobby.
*
“Good gracious, what has happened to your lip, my dear Miss Austorga?” Ophelia asked, once they were rattling along in the carriage towards the exhibition hall.
Austorga’s fingers flew to her red, swollen upper lip. “Oh! Nothing at all.”
Ophelia looked at Eglantine, beside her sister. Eglantine still covered her own lip. Seraphina, next to Ophelia, had an upper lip as calm and white as a daisy.
“Miss Smythe,” Ophelia said in a stern voice. “Did you suggest to the Misses Malbert that they should apply hot beeswax to their lips?”
“I simply cannot have hair on my lip at the prince’s ball,” Austorga said.
“It is swan’s down, dear,” Ophelia said in soothing tones.
“Hair!” Austorga yelled.
“Oh, do shut up,” Eglantine muttered.
Seraphina blinked behind her spectacles and stared out the carriage window.
*
Once the young ladies and Ophelia had gone off in the carriage, the coast was clear. Henri the coachman was driving the carriage, and Beatrice was out tippling.
Prue carried the housewifery book upstairs. Baldewyn the Lizard snored away, bolt upright, on a dining room chair. She went out the front door. Sure enough, Lord and Lady Cruthlach’s carriage stood across the street. Two ebony horses shifted from foot to foot. She crossed the street and the carriage door swung open.
Hume put out a hand and snatched the book.
Fine by Prue.
She turned, but fingers hooked her collar and she was lifted up like a stray kitten and tossed into the carriage. The door slammed, and the carriage rumbled forward.
“This routine is getting a little worn out, mister.” Prue righted herself on the seat.
No answer.
“You might do me the nicety of looking me in the eye next time you kidnap me.”
Stony silence.
*
When Hume corralled Prue into that infernal parlor, Lady Cruthlach cried, “Do you have it?”
Hume did have the book, tucked under a meaty arm.
“Oh, yes, I see it, I see it! Bring it closer. Come! Hurry, hurry!”
Prue stayed by the door. “You promised to leave me alone!”
Lady Cruthlach ignored her. Hume placed the book on a low table before Lady Cruthlach. Lady Cruthlach dove to her knees and opened it.