Etiquette & Espionage (Finishing School, #1)(53)

Soap was probably thinking about the nefarious applications for a communication device. Vieve, a true scientist, saw only the upside of any contraption. Sophronia could imagine why flywaymen might want access.

Sophronia said, “So we are thinking that the missing prototype must be a valve that somehow facilitates… bouncing?”

Vieve nodded. “Which explains the dodecahedron shape you said you saw. Multifaceted for multiple directions and to sympathize with the aetheric humors, which we have always hypothesized are trapezoidal.”

Sophronia looked at Soap and Pillover. “You understand any of that?”

Soap shook his head.

Pillover shrugged.

Sophronia said, “Well, I understand I can clean that glove of mine now.”

“Come again?” Pillover looked at her in confusion.

“Long story, you were in it, and it was all for naught.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“Only if you’re interested in the postal services.”

Pillover looked as though he might be, but Sophronia was starting to worry about the time.

Vieve was practically vibrating. “This is so exciting!”

“Yes, well, that said, we had better return to the airship, now that we have a bit of a better idea what’s going on.”

“Yes, I think we better had,” Soap agreed. He was looking at the position of the moon, clearly concerned.

They made their way safely back through Bunson’s—well, mostly.

About halfway down, they rounded a corner and ran smack-dab into a maid mechanical. Literally. Sophronia hit up against her with an oof and stumbled backward, banging into Pillover and stepping on Soap’s foot. This did not give them enough time to do the little dance of obscurity, nor for Vieve to use her obstructor. The maid identified Sophronia as female and instantly sounded the alarm—a high-pitched whistle. This, in turn, triggered a schoolwide alert.

Unlike the bells of Mademoiselle Geraldine’s, Bunson’s alarm seemed to be based on the noise made by a wobbling saw, only louder. It was an amusing wob-woob that vibrated through the entire hodgepodge building. The hallways were instantly filled with mechanicals, and one or two humans as well. Sophronia leapt for a nearby door, opened it, and dove inside. The other three crowded after, only to find they had trapped themselves in a broom closet with no possible avenue of escape.

“Simply marvelous. What do we do now?” wondered Pillover.

“Quiet,” said Sophronia.

He ignored her, continuing gloomily, “We’re damned. I’ll be turned away, having achieved kingry only discourteous. What will Father say? No Plumleigh-Teignmott has ever been lower than spiteful genius. The family honor is at stake.”

“What’re you still larking with us for?” Soap wanted to know. “You’re allowed to roam free, remember?”

“Oh, good point.” Pillover straightened out of his slouch and made to leave the closet.

Sophronia grabbed his arm. “You can’t leave now! You’ll give away our hiding place.”

“It’s only a matter of time.” Pillover was unsympathetic. “They’ll do a schoolwide sweep.” Then he pointed to a nearby broom sharing the closet with them. “Sweep. Ha.”

“Delightful. Now we’re trapped in a closet with puns.” Sophronia gave him a dirty look. “Wait, of course—you are meant to be here. Perfect! Everyone turn away from me for a moment.”

The three others looked at her in confusion.

“Simply do as I ask, please?”

Despite being crowded into the closet, the other three all managed to turn their backs on her.

Sophronia shimmied out of one of her two petticoats. “All decent.”

They turned back around.

She handed the undergarment to Pillover.

“Ugh. What’s this for?”

“If you put it on and go out there, they will think it was all a false alarm.”

“Absolutely not!”

“Oh, come on, Pill, please?” Sophronia tried batting her eyelashes.

Pillover appeared to be immune to eyelashes. “The indignity of it!”

“We could come up with a reasonable explanation for your wearing it. Would that help?” wheedled Sophronia.

“Justification for my trotting around wearing lady’s undergarments? I hardly see how.”

Soap’s eyes were sparkling with amusement, and Vieve was dimpling openly at the very idea of Pillover in a skirt. Pillover stood holding the petticoat between thumb and forefinger as if it were contaminated with some dreaded chemical.

“Go on, pull it on over your clothes and go out there,” Sophronia urged.

“You could say you were running some experiment dangerous to your nether regions,” suggested Vieve.

“You could say you were testing the response time of the maid mechanicals,” suggested Sophronia.

“You could say you like lady’s undergarments,” suggested Soap.

“I’m doomed.” Pillover rolled his eyes and flapped the petticoat.

“Oh, go on, Pill,” Sophronia pushed.

Pillover, grumbling, pulled the petticoat on and all the way up to his armpits, as it was far too long for him. Sophronia handed him her hair ribbon to use as a belt. Soap was clearly holding in laughter. Pillover took a deep breath and straightened upright with great dignity and aplomb.