Manners & Mutiny
Page 84
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Sophronia supposed she should have been more discreet when telling her story, but Lord Akeldama probably knew most of it and could guess the rest, even asleep. Sophronia aspired to be like that herself one day. And the sooties deserved to learn what they had been party to. They’d suffered the whip for it, after all, scones or no scones.
Pilpo returned, trailed by Monique de Pelouse.
“I thought I should find you here,” she said.
“You’re better at your job than I suspected,” replied Sophronia.
“Nice to see you haven’t suffered too many ill effects, Miss Temminnick. I brought you the morning paper. You might be interested in the headline.” Monique flipped it open and read out: “‘Secret Society of Picklemen Exposed.’” Then she stopped and paraphrased. “Apparently, the popular press received irrefutable evidence of a secret society of elites engaged in treason and misconduct. Evidence came straight to them, notes in the leader’s own hand. My queen is a little upset that I missed getting hold of the Chutney’s notes and the intelligencer records.”
Sophronia gave her an arch look. “You can’t have it all, Monique.”
“Lord Akeldama may feel similarly.” Pilpo was looking at Agatha, who blushed faintly.
“Ah. You gave them to Dimity, then, I take it?” Monique was no fool.
Sophronia inclined her head.
Monique sighed. “Well, the repercussions are good so far as my countess is concerned. What with that and the rebellion last night, not to mention two reputed deaths, there is wide-scale public outcry against mechanical technology. Mobs have dug up the tracks all over London. People are ripping them out of their houses and piling them in the streets. There’s scrap metal to be collected on every corner. It’s a pity we couldn’t control it, but the Picklemen are shamed and disbanding, and that’s all my queen really cares about.”
She tossed the paper at Dimity, who caught it easily.
“Beautifully done, Miss Plumleigh-Teignmott.”
Dimity saluted her with the paper.
There was a long awkward silence. Monique stood, poised. She showed no repercussions from the previous evening’s activities. Her skin was flawless. She even looked well rested. It was revolting.
Sophronia reached for her nose, wincing at the touch.
Monique stayed, expectant, her attention on Lady Linette. Monique’s posture was perfect, not a hair out of place. Her visiting dress was an expensive French design of printed blue muslin that looked almost like the pattern on Sophronia’s mother’s fine china. Her sleeves were wide and fringed. Perhaps the gown was a little too spring, but Sophronia realized with a jolt, they were headed into spring anyway. New Year’s was over.
A silent battle of wills occurred between Lady Linette and Monique.
The teacher nodded. “Very well. I pronounce you finished, Monique de Pelouse.”
The lovely blonde relaxed at that, as if she had been waiting a long time. Perhaps she had. Then, without another word, she strode from the room.
Lady Linette sighed. “Not that it matters anymore.”
Dimity said, bravely, “What about us, Lady Linette? Surely Sophronia deserves recognition, at the very least?”
Lady Linette gave a half smile. “She’s already finished, which I believe she knows.”
Sophronia nodded.
“And you and Miss Woosmoss as well, my dear. It was a brave rescue and a daring charge across the countryside on wolf-back. I could not have devised a more taxing exam.” Sister Mattie took pleasure in the pronouncement.
Lady Linette added, “Not to mention the initiative needed to seek help of a hive. Particularly after they once kidnapped you, Miss Plumleigh-Teignmott.”
Agatha smiled. “We’re finished?”
Dimity looked like she wanted to cry. “We’re really finished? Mummy will be so proud.”
Lady Linette patted Sophronia on the knee. “We shall overlook that you destroyed my entire school, shall we? Just this once, my dear. Try not to do it again to any other school, all right?”
Sophronia took the recommendation to heart. “I’ll certainly try, Lady Linette, but I’m not making any promises.”
That night was remembered in infamy as the Great Pickleman Revolt of 1854 and among the untutored masses as the Mechanicals’ Uprising. No household in England ever again employed mechanized staff. Most mechanicals were willingly destroyed in the space of six months. The government hunted down the rest. Bumbersnoot, the only mechanimal to survive eradication, was gifted to Queen Victoria in a secret ceremony. He was specially exempt from destruction. Due to Vieve’s modifications, he became the Royal Alarm Dog, in case mechanicals rose up again. Queen Victoria grew terribly fond of the little chap, and through him, dogs in general. As a result, the royal household kept a number of canines through the years, a passion that persists to this day. Rumor is that Bumbersnoot still rattles about, well loved and carefully tended, shedding small ash piles in Buckingham Palace—the old family retainer, just in case.
Poor Vieve never forgave England for the technological destruction. She stayed long enough to graduate with distinction from Bunson’s and then left in pursuit of further education at L’École des Arts et Métiers in France—still disguised as a boy. She eventually set up shop with her aunt in Paris, producing a respected line of domestic women’s gadgets, all of them highly functional and quite deadly. Sophronia, Agatha, and Dimity visited her establishment for all their needs—after all, ladies of quality always shop in Paris.
Pilpo returned, trailed by Monique de Pelouse.
“I thought I should find you here,” she said.
“You’re better at your job than I suspected,” replied Sophronia.
“Nice to see you haven’t suffered too many ill effects, Miss Temminnick. I brought you the morning paper. You might be interested in the headline.” Monique flipped it open and read out: “‘Secret Society of Picklemen Exposed.’” Then she stopped and paraphrased. “Apparently, the popular press received irrefutable evidence of a secret society of elites engaged in treason and misconduct. Evidence came straight to them, notes in the leader’s own hand. My queen is a little upset that I missed getting hold of the Chutney’s notes and the intelligencer records.”
Sophronia gave her an arch look. “You can’t have it all, Monique.”
“Lord Akeldama may feel similarly.” Pilpo was looking at Agatha, who blushed faintly.
“Ah. You gave them to Dimity, then, I take it?” Monique was no fool.
Sophronia inclined her head.
Monique sighed. “Well, the repercussions are good so far as my countess is concerned. What with that and the rebellion last night, not to mention two reputed deaths, there is wide-scale public outcry against mechanical technology. Mobs have dug up the tracks all over London. People are ripping them out of their houses and piling them in the streets. There’s scrap metal to be collected on every corner. It’s a pity we couldn’t control it, but the Picklemen are shamed and disbanding, and that’s all my queen really cares about.”
She tossed the paper at Dimity, who caught it easily.
“Beautifully done, Miss Plumleigh-Teignmott.”
Dimity saluted her with the paper.
There was a long awkward silence. Monique stood, poised. She showed no repercussions from the previous evening’s activities. Her skin was flawless. She even looked well rested. It was revolting.
Sophronia reached for her nose, wincing at the touch.
Monique stayed, expectant, her attention on Lady Linette. Monique’s posture was perfect, not a hair out of place. Her visiting dress was an expensive French design of printed blue muslin that looked almost like the pattern on Sophronia’s mother’s fine china. Her sleeves were wide and fringed. Perhaps the gown was a little too spring, but Sophronia realized with a jolt, they were headed into spring anyway. New Year’s was over.
A silent battle of wills occurred between Lady Linette and Monique.
The teacher nodded. “Very well. I pronounce you finished, Monique de Pelouse.”
The lovely blonde relaxed at that, as if she had been waiting a long time. Perhaps she had. Then, without another word, she strode from the room.
Lady Linette sighed. “Not that it matters anymore.”
Dimity said, bravely, “What about us, Lady Linette? Surely Sophronia deserves recognition, at the very least?”
Lady Linette gave a half smile. “She’s already finished, which I believe she knows.”
Sophronia nodded.
“And you and Miss Woosmoss as well, my dear. It was a brave rescue and a daring charge across the countryside on wolf-back. I could not have devised a more taxing exam.” Sister Mattie took pleasure in the pronouncement.
Lady Linette added, “Not to mention the initiative needed to seek help of a hive. Particularly after they once kidnapped you, Miss Plumleigh-Teignmott.”
Agatha smiled. “We’re finished?”
Dimity looked like she wanted to cry. “We’re really finished? Mummy will be so proud.”
Lady Linette patted Sophronia on the knee. “We shall overlook that you destroyed my entire school, shall we? Just this once, my dear. Try not to do it again to any other school, all right?”
Sophronia took the recommendation to heart. “I’ll certainly try, Lady Linette, but I’m not making any promises.”
That night was remembered in infamy as the Great Pickleman Revolt of 1854 and among the untutored masses as the Mechanicals’ Uprising. No household in England ever again employed mechanized staff. Most mechanicals were willingly destroyed in the space of six months. The government hunted down the rest. Bumbersnoot, the only mechanimal to survive eradication, was gifted to Queen Victoria in a secret ceremony. He was specially exempt from destruction. Due to Vieve’s modifications, he became the Royal Alarm Dog, in case mechanicals rose up again. Queen Victoria grew terribly fond of the little chap, and through him, dogs in general. As a result, the royal household kept a number of canines through the years, a passion that persists to this day. Rumor is that Bumbersnoot still rattles about, well loved and carefully tended, shedding small ash piles in Buckingham Palace—the old family retainer, just in case.
Poor Vieve never forgave England for the technological destruction. She stayed long enough to graduate with distinction from Bunson’s and then left in pursuit of further education at L’École des Arts et Métiers in France—still disguised as a boy. She eventually set up shop with her aunt in Paris, producing a respected line of domestic women’s gadgets, all of them highly functional and quite deadly. Sophronia, Agatha, and Dimity visited her establishment for all their needs—after all, ladies of quality always shop in Paris.
