Curtsies & Conspiracies (Finishing School, #2)(37)

Soap paused in an attempt to sound out a word in his reading primer. “We went to take on more water, fuel, and a certain delivery.”

“Delivery of what?”

“Ah, miss, that I don’t know. But it must be important because we went well out of our way.”

Sophronia nibbled her lower lip. “Did Vieve notice anything?”

“Did Vieve notice any what?” asked Vieve, wandering up.

“This delivery the school took on. Soap says… wait a moment!”

“No, Soap didn’t say that,” said Soap.

Sophronia had noticed something unusual, or rather someone unusual, trailing Vieve. There was the expected crowd of nosy off-duty sooties, but there was also…

“Dimity! What are you doing in the boiler room?”

“Good evening, Sophronia. My, it’s rather dingy down here, isn’t it?” Dimity came forward out of the pack of sooties, looking embarrassed. The sooties were accustomed to Sophronia and Sidheag in their parochial garb, but Dimity wore a visiting gown and a bonnet with silk flowers. They had never seen the like in the boiler room.

“I had to bring her,” said Vieve. “I dropped in to check on Bumbersnoot, but you had left. She insisted.”

“How did she insist?” Sophronia found it difficult to persuade Vieve to do anything Vieve didn’t want to.

Vieve blushed. “She simply did.”

Dimity was self-satisfied. “I blackmailed her with a hat!”

Sophronia cocked her head. “Dimity, why are you down here?”

Dimity proclaimed, “I brought pamphlets!” and produced a small stack of parchment, homemade and cut to resemble those of the temperance movement.

“What?” Sophronia took one.

“To help the poor dears improve themselves, of course. There’s a whole section on cleanliness. See, here?” Dimity pointed to a drawing of a bar of soap. She began handing out the pamphlets to the sooties, none of whom were particularly impressed. A few checked to see if they might be rolled for smoking tobacco, and one used a corner to pick his teeth. Soap took his with alacrity and began to try sounding out the words.

Sophronia said, “Oh, Dimity, they can’t read, remember?”

Dimity was crestfallen. “I forgot that bit.”

“I’m learning, miss,” piped up Soap, waving both primer and pamphlet.

“Very good, Mr. Soap, most improving,” said Dimity, clearly under the impression that it was her charitable efforts that had encouraged his interest in education.

“You must excuse Dimity,” said Sophronia to the sooties at large. “She believes that to be a lady she must practice acts of charitable benevolence. She has selected you lot as her victims.” The sooties laughed. Dimity was not very prepossessing. She looked as though she couldn’t victimize a beetle.

Dimity ignored this slur on her character. “I do hope you don’t find my efforts condescending.”

“Not at all, miss,” said Soap. “This is my very first personal bit of paper. I’ve never owned a pamphlet afore. Thank you.” He wasn’t joking. Sophronia looked at her tall friend with new eyes. He always seemed to be so happy; did he actually suffer from deprivation?

One of the others asked, “Will your charitable actions come with more of them little cakes?”

“Oh,” said someone else. “Is she that Dimity?”

Dimity had encouraged Sophronia to filch nibbles from tea and pass them out to the sooties. Sophronia attributed the largesse to her friend. Thus, while none of the sooties had actually met Dimity, they all knew of her. They had been thinking of her as a kind of angel of pudding mercy.

Dimity brightened as the sooties turned more affectionate eyes upon her. “I shall do my best. I’m certain stealing for charity is a worthy application of my intelligencer skills.”

“You and Robin Hood,” said Sophronia.

“Oh.” Dimity was confused. “Was he a spy, too?”

Soap had only really spent one evening in Dimity’s company, and that was during an infiltration. He turned to Sophronia at this juncture and said, “Is she always like this?”

“Pretty much,” answered Sophronia.

Soap returned to the pamphlet. “Prop-per, high-gine-y,” he read out. “What’s high-gine-y? Some kind of animal?”

“Nope.” Sophronia giggled. “It simply means clean.”

“I’m so stupid,” muttered Soap.

“You’re brilliant!” Sophronia defended him staunchly. “You simply haven’t learned yet. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh at you.”

“S’all right, miss. You really think I’m brilliant?” he fished hopefully.

“Of course,” said Sophronia without hesitation. “Book learning will only take you so far.”

One of Soap’s quick white smiles flashed.

Dimity finished passing out pamphlets and turned expectantly. “Right. What do we do now?”

“Usually, practice dirty fighting. This young man will help.” Sophronia beckoned Furnival over.

Furnival Jones was a kindhearted, scruffy boy and one of Sidheag’s favorite fighting partners. He had a perpetual expression of mild surprise on his face due to a near absence of eyebrows, the result of a close encounter with a boiler.