“I like spots.”
“She’s rather over-decorated for a dirigible.”
“So she should be. You stick to your jibs and leave the dirigible to me.”
“A man, mon petit chou, has only one jib.” Rue did sputter at that. “Now, what did you decide to call her?”
“The Spotted Custard.”
Quesnel couldn’t suppress his snort of derision. “Goodness, that sounds like a disease of the unmentionables.”
“You and your jib should know,” Rue shot back without thinking.
“Jealous of my experience, mon petit chou? You’ve only to ask and I’d be happy to teach you all the rigging.”
Rue tried not to be shocked or intrigued – after all she had rather asked for it. She was actually tempted to open negotiations on that very subject right then and there. She’d wager he could teach her a great deal, and she was quite curious. Instead she stuck her nose in the air. But it was a retreat and they both knew it.
Quesnel didn’t press the advantage, instead assessing propellers, belay lines, sail, and smoke stack. “N’importe quoi. Who cares about the name as long as she floats smoothly?”
Rue arched her brows at him. “Well, that would be your responsibility now, wouldn’t it, Mr Chief Engineer?”
“A responsibility at which I have no doubt I shall excel.” He became distracted by Prim gesticulating wildly at a deckhand. “Why is the Honourable Primrose Tunstell accompanying us? What purpose could she possibly serve? Is it a safe journey for a woman of her delicacy?” Quesnel seemed genuinely concerned.
Rue sniffed – he didn’t give a toot for her delicacy. “Don’t worry about Prim. All will become clear.”
They watched as Primrose flirted and parasolled her way through rank and file on the main deck, in a matter of moments organising the entire crew into a streamlined baggage transportation troop. Rue would have had to act like Paw and issue orders. Primrose simply manipulated everyone into doing what she wanted. It was impressive.
“That is the Honourable Primrose Tunstell’s purpose, as you so delicately put it,” said Rue.
As Quesnel’s own bags were already being unloaded and whisked up the gangplank under Prim’s expert guidance, the engineer could only say, “Remarkable. I stand corrected.”
“I believe you might want to become accustomed to the sensation.”
Quesnel turned twinkling violet eyes on her. “This is going to be such fun.”
Rue laughed. “Yes, yes, it is.” She spent a moment appreciating those eyes before Quesnel’s attention was once more caught by something on the ship.
A redhead appeared on the main deck, and it wasn’t Percy.
“Goodness,” said Rue. “What’s she doing outside the boiler room? She never leaves the inner sanctum.”
Aggie Phinkerlington waved a hand at Quesnel and yelled, “Thought those were your bits I saw loading in.”
Quesnel shouted back, “What would you know of my bits, you beastly woman?”
“More than I ever wanted to, you repulsive boffin. Come on up, see what they’ve done with all your original bits. I think you’ll like it.”
“I’d better – you know how seriously I take my bits.” Quesnel turned to Rue and doffed his hat. “Until later, chérie.” He began to stride towards the gangplank.
“Chief Lefoux?”
He paused gratifyingly quickly. “Yes, captain?”
“Staff meeting in the stateroom in one hour. I expect to see you there. Don’t let Greaser Phinkerlington and those bits distract you for too long.”
Quesnel gave a half-smile and another tip of his hat. “Of course not, captain.”
Primrose put her tea-cup down without a clatter, her big brown eyes delighted. “You didn’t lie about the tea, Rue. It is quite excellent. This is going to be a far more civilised journey than I initially thought.”
Rue huffed. “Goodness, I hope not. Life can be too civilised, don’t you think?”
Prim was genuinely shocked by such a statement from her Lady Captain – as the crew had taken to calling Rue.
Quesnel said by way of explanation, as though he were on far more intimate terms with Rue than her closest friend of twenty-odd years, “Now, Miss Tunstell, you know our girl here, raised by werewolves. Gives one a healthy scepticism of polite society. Not to mention a charmingly forthright nature.”
Percy grunted, either in agreement or disapproval – it was impossible to tell which. He was nibbling a biscuit and reading a book. At the table! However, Rue was pleased to see that the book addressed the complex subject of aetheric currents – so at least it was relevant to their trip. Of course, it seemed to be a treatise on the currents above the Mongolian Steppes but one couldn’t quibble.
In addition to Quesnel, Percy, and Primrose, a few of the staff were also present – the head steward, the purser, and the cook all stood uncomfortably at the back of the room, despite having been invited to join the aristocracy at table.
Rue turned to them first in order to alleviate any discomfort. After a brief hesitation, she settled on imitating her mother at her most docile. It was a challenging personality to wear – a modulated aggressive temperament mixed with eager interest. It required the eyes be widened slightly, the nose elevated but not too much, and a touch of a smile about the corners of the mouth. It bordered on arrogance, so Rue had to take great care with her wording. “If you’re certain you won’t take tea, shall we get on to business right away? I’ve called you here to introduce you to the Honourable Primrose Tunstell – she will have charge of the daily staff. She is, in effect, my clerk meets butler meets housekeeper meets batman.”
“She’s rather over-decorated for a dirigible.”
“So she should be. You stick to your jibs and leave the dirigible to me.”
“A man, mon petit chou, has only one jib.” Rue did sputter at that. “Now, what did you decide to call her?”
“The Spotted Custard.”
Quesnel couldn’t suppress his snort of derision. “Goodness, that sounds like a disease of the unmentionables.”
“You and your jib should know,” Rue shot back without thinking.
“Jealous of my experience, mon petit chou? You’ve only to ask and I’d be happy to teach you all the rigging.”
Rue tried not to be shocked or intrigued – after all she had rather asked for it. She was actually tempted to open negotiations on that very subject right then and there. She’d wager he could teach her a great deal, and she was quite curious. Instead she stuck her nose in the air. But it was a retreat and they both knew it.
Quesnel didn’t press the advantage, instead assessing propellers, belay lines, sail, and smoke stack. “N’importe quoi. Who cares about the name as long as she floats smoothly?”
Rue arched her brows at him. “Well, that would be your responsibility now, wouldn’t it, Mr Chief Engineer?”
“A responsibility at which I have no doubt I shall excel.” He became distracted by Prim gesticulating wildly at a deckhand. “Why is the Honourable Primrose Tunstell accompanying us? What purpose could she possibly serve? Is it a safe journey for a woman of her delicacy?” Quesnel seemed genuinely concerned.
Rue sniffed – he didn’t give a toot for her delicacy. “Don’t worry about Prim. All will become clear.”
They watched as Primrose flirted and parasolled her way through rank and file on the main deck, in a matter of moments organising the entire crew into a streamlined baggage transportation troop. Rue would have had to act like Paw and issue orders. Primrose simply manipulated everyone into doing what she wanted. It was impressive.
“That is the Honourable Primrose Tunstell’s purpose, as you so delicately put it,” said Rue.
As Quesnel’s own bags were already being unloaded and whisked up the gangplank under Prim’s expert guidance, the engineer could only say, “Remarkable. I stand corrected.”
“I believe you might want to become accustomed to the sensation.”
Quesnel turned twinkling violet eyes on her. “This is going to be such fun.”
Rue laughed. “Yes, yes, it is.” She spent a moment appreciating those eyes before Quesnel’s attention was once more caught by something on the ship.
A redhead appeared on the main deck, and it wasn’t Percy.
“Goodness,” said Rue. “What’s she doing outside the boiler room? She never leaves the inner sanctum.”
Aggie Phinkerlington waved a hand at Quesnel and yelled, “Thought those were your bits I saw loading in.”
Quesnel shouted back, “What would you know of my bits, you beastly woman?”
“More than I ever wanted to, you repulsive boffin. Come on up, see what they’ve done with all your original bits. I think you’ll like it.”
“I’d better – you know how seriously I take my bits.” Quesnel turned to Rue and doffed his hat. “Until later, chérie.” He began to stride towards the gangplank.
“Chief Lefoux?”
He paused gratifyingly quickly. “Yes, captain?”
“Staff meeting in the stateroom in one hour. I expect to see you there. Don’t let Greaser Phinkerlington and those bits distract you for too long.”
Quesnel gave a half-smile and another tip of his hat. “Of course not, captain.”
Primrose put her tea-cup down without a clatter, her big brown eyes delighted. “You didn’t lie about the tea, Rue. It is quite excellent. This is going to be a far more civilised journey than I initially thought.”
Rue huffed. “Goodness, I hope not. Life can be too civilised, don’t you think?”
Prim was genuinely shocked by such a statement from her Lady Captain – as the crew had taken to calling Rue.
Quesnel said by way of explanation, as though he were on far more intimate terms with Rue than her closest friend of twenty-odd years, “Now, Miss Tunstell, you know our girl here, raised by werewolves. Gives one a healthy scepticism of polite society. Not to mention a charmingly forthright nature.”
Percy grunted, either in agreement or disapproval – it was impossible to tell which. He was nibbling a biscuit and reading a book. At the table! However, Rue was pleased to see that the book addressed the complex subject of aetheric currents – so at least it was relevant to their trip. Of course, it seemed to be a treatise on the currents above the Mongolian Steppes but one couldn’t quibble.
In addition to Quesnel, Percy, and Primrose, a few of the staff were also present – the head steward, the purser, and the cook all stood uncomfortably at the back of the room, despite having been invited to join the aristocracy at table.
Rue turned to them first in order to alleviate any discomfort. After a brief hesitation, she settled on imitating her mother at her most docile. It was a challenging personality to wear – a modulated aggressive temperament mixed with eager interest. It required the eyes be widened slightly, the nose elevated but not too much, and a touch of a smile about the corners of the mouth. It bordered on arrogance, so Rue had to take great care with her wording. “If you’re certain you won’t take tea, shall we get on to business right away? I’ve called you here to introduce you to the Honourable Primrose Tunstell – she will have charge of the daily staff. She is, in effect, my clerk meets butler meets housekeeper meets batman.”
