Etiquette & Espionage (Finishing School, #1)(44)

Dimity had no solution to that particular problem. “I’m sorry you’re going to miss the theatricals.”

“In Swiffle-on-Exe? It could be worse.”

“It is worse: all the boys will be attending.”

Sophronia flopped onto her back. She wasn’t certain whether to be upset or pleased by this. “That’s all right, really it is. I don’t think I’m quite ready for boys yet. My eyelash fluttering is subpar.”

“Oh, but that’s what Bunson’s is for! Practice. I overheard Monique telling Preshea all about it. Some of the girls even keep score. They use what we learn to make as many boys as possible fall in love with them. They aren’t allowed to encourage actual declarations, of course. If one of Mademoiselle Geraldine’s girls takes a real beau, he’d better be a baronet at the very least.”

“Isn’t Bunson’s training evil geniuses?”

“Yes, mostly.”

“Well, is that wise? Having a mess of seedling evil geniuses falling in love with you willy-nilly? What if they feel spurned?”

“Ah, but in the interim, think of the lovely gifts they can make you. Monique bragged that one of her boys made her silver and wood hair stick [od oan. s as anti-supernatural weapons. With amethyst inlay. And another made her an exploding wicker chicken.”

“Goodness, what’s that for?”

Dimity pursed her lips. “Who doesn’t want an exploding wicker chicken?”

Sidheag opened the door and stuck her head in. “Are you two going to wallow in here all day? It’s time to eat, and rumor is there’s going to be a big announcement over the scones.”

“We’re headed to Swiffle-on-Exe. There’s a play on. We’ll be allowed to attend alongside Bunson’s,” said Sophronia.

“Gracious, aren’t you in the know?” Sidheag arched an eyebrow and turned away. Today her dress was of plaid, as if she were a housekeeper.

Dimity sidled up to Sophronia and said, under her breath, “Plaid! Can you believe it?”

They followed Sidheag out to where the debuts stood waiting.

Dimity, with a mercurial gleam in her eye, said, “Sophronia claims we’re headed to Swiffle-on-Exe to see a play with Bunson’s.”

Instantly the others all began to chatter excitedly.

“Really? What kind of play?” Agatha was, for the first time in Sophronia’s experience, animated by the prospect. Agatha, so shy it was almost disruptive, never seemed to get excited about anything.

“Bunson’s? You mean boys?” Preshea’s pretty face narrowed into covetousness. Sophronia thought she looked like a partridge with a plucking disorder.

“Now, Preshea,” reprimanded Dimity, “it’s no good choosing your first husband from a school for evil geniuses. Much too difficult to kill.”

“Why do you know any of this?” Monique demanded of Sophronia.

“Why, Monique, surprised I learned it first?” said Sophronia, minding her recent lesson on not revealing information unnecessarily.

They made their way through the passageways and out onto various decks toward the dining hall. Sophronia grabbed Monique by the arm, holding her back. Dimity gave her a confused look, but took the cue and concentrated on shepherding the other three forward, giving Sophronia some privacy.

“A word, if you would, Monique?”

“What do you want?”

“Shoddy business, tittle-tattling on me like that. I thought you didn’t do that kind of thing. Did you go to your pet teacher?”

“I have no idea to what you are referring.”

“Oh, very nice—denial. Lady L said I ought to have applied it better myself. I’ll remember that in future.”

“Do you think you might make sense at some point, or are you merely trying to annoy me?”

Actually, thought Sophronia, she’s pretty good. Monique’s blue eyes were guileless, even as they narrowed in exasperation.

“Not that I really wanted to go to the play,” Sophronia added.

Monique shook her off. “You’re mad, did you know that? But what can one expect from a covert recruit? Do refrain from socializing with me henceforth, will you?”

“With pleasure.” Sophronia walked off.

“Well? What did she say?” whispered Dimity.

“She de [-1"nt>

“Of course she did.”

They arrived and took their seats at table.

The murmuring of talk and consumption of comestibles hushed when the headmistress stood and stepped forward, her hair a wild pouf of red. She took a deep breath and opened her arms wide, bracing her back and pushing her tremendous cleavage forward. “Ladies, ladies, your attention, please! We have changed direction toward that other school, Bunson and Lacroix’s Boys’ Polytechnique. There is a small troupe in residence at the moment, performing a highly instructional play, An Ideal Bathtub. We thought you ladies deserved a treat. Now, remember, if there is gossip to be garnered, garner it. If there are new dress styles to be imitated, imitate them. If there are hearts to be broken, break them. That’s my girls.”

“Gossip? I thought she didn’t know about us, you know, gathering information?” Dimity was confused.

“I think she is actually implying social gossip,” said Sophronia.