Cinderella Six Feet Under(48)

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.

How could the old dame’s knees take it? Her joints must be as crackly as a boiled fowl’s.

Lady Cruthlach pored over the pages, flipping and looking, flipping and looking. “Oh, ’tis the one! ’Tis the one indeed!” Her face went back and forth from gleeful to serious, like an actor practicing in a mirror. She let out a chirrup and pointed to a page. “This one, Hume. This one will make a fine start.”

“Yes, Your Ladyship.” Hume bowed, took up the open book, and carried it off.

Prue had been forgotten. She turned to sneak off, but then thought better of it. She should make sure the Cruthlachs were going to leave her in peace, now that they had their moldy book. She cleared her throat. “Lady Cruthlach, I don’t suppose it would be forward of me to make questionings into why exactly you’ve had your ogre kidnap me again.”

“Oh, good heavens,” Lady Cruthlach said. “I had quite forgotten about you—it is so thrilling to at last be in possession of that volume, you understand. Well, no, of course you do not understand. You are but a simple girl, born into the cinders, no? But all of that will change, and soon, too, as soon as Athdar and I have regained our strength. We have just enough time, I think.”

No doubt about it: Lady Cruthlach was a little misty in the attic. “I’ll just be going, then.”

“No!”

“Sorry, but I really ought. I got work to do.” Prue opened the door.

Hume hulked on the other side.

“Good boy, Hume,” Lady Cruthlach said. “Take Cendrillon to the chamber Marguerite prepared.”

Sendry-on? Who in tarnation was that?

Hume pinched Prue’s wrists together at her back.

“I ain’t Sendry-on!” Prue shouted over her shoulder. “I’m Prue! Prue Bright!”