Percy shook his head at the ridiculous politeness of it all and consulted his maps and timetables. “That’s not ideal, but we could catch a lesser current and hook up with the loop over the mainland here.” He stopped talking and began calculating, completely ignoring them all.
Primrose put down her tea-cup. “Well, Rue, if there’s nothing else —?”
“Of course. Very well. Dismissed.”
Quesnel left with alacrity, doffing his hat and winking at Prim.
Percy didn’t look up.
Rue decided to leave him to it. She walked Primrose down the gangplank and saw her back into her carriage. There was something off about her friend’s attire. An under-used part of Rue’s brain, the part that belonged to Dama’s drones, was bothered by her friend’s outfit. But since Primrose never made mistakes in fashion, Rue ignored her inner drones and returned to ensuring all was shipshape.
Rue was at dinner in the stateroom at around midnight when Primrose returned to the ship. Footnote had found his way over from the library and graced her lap with a purr. This was most likely due to the delicious smells coming from her plate but Rue was disposed to be honoured by his presence. She had thought to return home to Dama’s that night but with so much to do, and a cat in her lap, it seemed easier to stay aboard and test out the facilities in a dry run. Kill two pigeons with one stone, as it were.
“Oh, Prim,” she said, looking up from her manifest, “I forgot you’d be back. Would you like some supper? Shall I ring for…?” She trailed off. “What on earth is the matter?”
Prim’s face was a picture of distress.
“Rue, it’s awful! My reputation… in tatters. I may never recover from the scandal.” She paced about in a veritable state. A lock of her hair might actually have fallen out of place.
“My dear, what’s wrong?” Rue bribed Footnote to the floor with a bit of chicken skin. Then she stood to console her friend with an arm about the waist.
Prim trembled in agitation. “I hardly dare speak of it.”
Rue lowered her voice. “Prim, were you caught in flagrante?” Rue could hardly suppose this to be true – Primrose was a horrible flirt but she wasn’t a hardened flirt. As far as Rue knew, Prim had never even entertained a gentleman in private. In this, Prim was the more circumspect of the two of them.
Prim resumed pacing, gesticulating, and talking – likely to knock some carefully placed decorative item over in her agitation. “I was making my calls, presenting parting compliments pour dire adieu, the rounds and such, as you do.”
“You didn’t use the wrong size card, did you?”
“The very idea! I am not absent of all sense of decorum. Of course, I used the larger format. But you see, oh, it’s just too bad…”
“Primrose Tunstell, what has happened?”
“I made near a dozen calls and it wasn’t until I got to the duchess’s that I realised. Oh, Rue, I can hard bear think – the shame of it all.”
“What is it?” Now Rue was getting annoyed. Primrose was drawing things out for dramatic suspense.
“I wore the wrong outfit.”
“Is that all?” Rue realised that was what her inner drones had been upset about that afternoon. Primrose had been wearing a travelling dress, not a visiting dress.
“Queen Mums will never forgive me. A travelling outfit for evening calls? Should she hear of this, should it get back to her, I’ll never live it down. And of course I returned home to the hive and her drones saw. I wondered what they were tittering about. Then I got to my room and looked in the glass and right there, on my head, a sun hat. At night! And a travelling gown. Oh, the shame of it. I went back down immediately and begged them not to tell. But they can’t hold their tongues, not for more than one night.”
“This is a serious business.” Rue schooled her expression into one of deep concern. It hardly mattered that she thought it ridiculous – Primrose was in distress and such perturbation must be honoured.
“Queen Mums practically invented the idea of specialty hats. And to pair one with an inappropriate dress? I might as well have worn my bicycling outfit to her dinner party.”
“Practically?” interjected Rue. “She did invent the idea.”
“Oh, Rue, what are we to do?”
“Issue a statement of apology to the popular press?”
“Please don’t be facetious at a time like this. No, there is only one thing for it – we must leave London at once.”
“What, early? Before the party?”
“Yes – early. Just as Percy suggested. The better current is tomorrow morning anyway. As if I could show my face at a party when word of this gets out.”
“But Dama would never forgive me.”
“Dama would forgive you anything.”
“Good point. Except possibly wearing a sun hat for evening calls.”
Primrose was too distressed for the joke. “Oh, goodness, what if he finds out too? Rue, we must leave! Immediately!”
“Agreed. The hat requires it. Do be more careful from here on out though, please. I wouldn’t want my ship to get a reputation.”
Primrose nodded earnestly. “Not a hat will be left unturned. This I vow.”
Rue took a last bite of supper. “Well then, we will have to finish preparations tonight. Luckily most of us are still on board. Percy’s trapped in the library. Quesnel elected to stay overnight as well. I’ll make sure the rest of the crew is here, if you’ll check on the staff and the supplies?”
Primrose put down her tea-cup. “Well, Rue, if there’s nothing else —?”
“Of course. Very well. Dismissed.”
Quesnel left with alacrity, doffing his hat and winking at Prim.
Percy didn’t look up.
Rue decided to leave him to it. She walked Primrose down the gangplank and saw her back into her carriage. There was something off about her friend’s attire. An under-used part of Rue’s brain, the part that belonged to Dama’s drones, was bothered by her friend’s outfit. But since Primrose never made mistakes in fashion, Rue ignored her inner drones and returned to ensuring all was shipshape.
Rue was at dinner in the stateroom at around midnight when Primrose returned to the ship. Footnote had found his way over from the library and graced her lap with a purr. This was most likely due to the delicious smells coming from her plate but Rue was disposed to be honoured by his presence. She had thought to return home to Dama’s that night but with so much to do, and a cat in her lap, it seemed easier to stay aboard and test out the facilities in a dry run. Kill two pigeons with one stone, as it were.
“Oh, Prim,” she said, looking up from her manifest, “I forgot you’d be back. Would you like some supper? Shall I ring for…?” She trailed off. “What on earth is the matter?”
Prim’s face was a picture of distress.
“Rue, it’s awful! My reputation… in tatters. I may never recover from the scandal.” She paced about in a veritable state. A lock of her hair might actually have fallen out of place.
“My dear, what’s wrong?” Rue bribed Footnote to the floor with a bit of chicken skin. Then she stood to console her friend with an arm about the waist.
Prim trembled in agitation. “I hardly dare speak of it.”
Rue lowered her voice. “Prim, were you caught in flagrante?” Rue could hardly suppose this to be true – Primrose was a horrible flirt but she wasn’t a hardened flirt. As far as Rue knew, Prim had never even entertained a gentleman in private. In this, Prim was the more circumspect of the two of them.
Prim resumed pacing, gesticulating, and talking – likely to knock some carefully placed decorative item over in her agitation. “I was making my calls, presenting parting compliments pour dire adieu, the rounds and such, as you do.”
“You didn’t use the wrong size card, did you?”
“The very idea! I am not absent of all sense of decorum. Of course, I used the larger format. But you see, oh, it’s just too bad…”
“Primrose Tunstell, what has happened?”
“I made near a dozen calls and it wasn’t until I got to the duchess’s that I realised. Oh, Rue, I can hard bear think – the shame of it all.”
“What is it?” Now Rue was getting annoyed. Primrose was drawing things out for dramatic suspense.
“I wore the wrong outfit.”
“Is that all?” Rue realised that was what her inner drones had been upset about that afternoon. Primrose had been wearing a travelling dress, not a visiting dress.
“Queen Mums will never forgive me. A travelling outfit for evening calls? Should she hear of this, should it get back to her, I’ll never live it down. And of course I returned home to the hive and her drones saw. I wondered what they were tittering about. Then I got to my room and looked in the glass and right there, on my head, a sun hat. At night! And a travelling gown. Oh, the shame of it. I went back down immediately and begged them not to tell. But they can’t hold their tongues, not for more than one night.”
“This is a serious business.” Rue schooled her expression into one of deep concern. It hardly mattered that she thought it ridiculous – Primrose was in distress and such perturbation must be honoured.
“Queen Mums practically invented the idea of specialty hats. And to pair one with an inappropriate dress? I might as well have worn my bicycling outfit to her dinner party.”
“Practically?” interjected Rue. “She did invent the idea.”
“Oh, Rue, what are we to do?”
“Issue a statement of apology to the popular press?”
“Please don’t be facetious at a time like this. No, there is only one thing for it – we must leave London at once.”
“What, early? Before the party?”
“Yes – early. Just as Percy suggested. The better current is tomorrow morning anyway. As if I could show my face at a party when word of this gets out.”
“But Dama would never forgive me.”
“Dama would forgive you anything.”
“Good point. Except possibly wearing a sun hat for evening calls.”
Primrose was too distressed for the joke. “Oh, goodness, what if he finds out too? Rue, we must leave! Immediately!”
“Agreed. The hat requires it. Do be more careful from here on out though, please. I wouldn’t want my ship to get a reputation.”
Primrose nodded earnestly. “Not a hat will be left unturned. This I vow.”
Rue took a last bite of supper. “Well then, we will have to finish preparations tonight. Luckily most of us are still on board. Percy’s trapped in the library. Quesnel elected to stay overnight as well. I’ll make sure the rest of the crew is here, if you’ll check on the staff and the supplies?”
