Part 15 (1/2)
Alexia entertained herself by concentrating on holding on as hard as she could and yelling a bit more for form's sake. She was indebted to those few puffy clouds floating below her, for they obscured the distant ground. She did not want to know exactly how far she had to fall.
Eventually, a small porthole window popped open near one of her booted feet. A familiar ugly hat stuck out the tiny hole. The face wearing the hat tilted up and back and witnessed Alexia's indecorous position.
”Why, Alexia Maccon, what are are you doing? You appear to be dangling.” The voice was a little slurred. Ivy was clearly still laboring under the effects of Madame Lefoux's cognac. ”How undignified of you. Stop it at once!” you doing? You appear to be dangling.” The voice was a little slurred. Ivy was clearly still laboring under the effects of Madame Lefoux's cognac. ”How undignified of you. Stop it at once!”
”Ivy. a.s.sist me, would you?”
”I hardly see what I can do,” replied Miss Hisselpenny. ”Really, Alexia, what could have possessed you to attach yourself to the side of the s.h.i.+p in such a juvenile fas.h.i.+on? It is positively barnacle-like.”
”Oh, for goodness' sake, Ivy, it is not like I intended to end up this way.” Ivy tended toward dense, it was true, but alcohol evidently caused her to attain new heights of fatheadedness.
”Oh? Well, then. But honestly, Alexia, I do not mean to be boorish, but do you realize that your underdrawers are exposed to the night air, not to mention the public view?”
”Ivy, I am hanging on for dear life to the side of a floating dirigible, leagues up in the aether. Even you must admit there are some instances wherein protocol should be relaxed.”
”But why?”
”Ivy, I fell, obviously.”
Miss Hisselpenny blinked bleary dark eyes at her friend. ”Oh, deary me, Alexia. Are you actually in real danger? Oh no!” Her head retreated.
Alexia wondered what it said about her character that Ivy had genuinely believed she would intentionally go climbing about the side of a floating dirigible.
Some sort of silky material was shoved out the window and up at her.
”What is that?”
”Why, my second-best cloak.”
Lady Maccon gritted her teeth.
”Ivy, did you miss the part where I am hanging, an inch from death? Do get help.”
The cloak vanished, and Miss Hisselpenny's head reappeared. ”As bad as that, is it?”
The dirigible lurched, and Alexia swayed to one side with a squeal of alarm.
Ivy fainted, or possibly pa.s.sed out from the alcohol.
As was to be expected, it was Madame Lefoux who provided the rescue in the end. Mere moments after Ivy vanished from view, a long rope ladder flopped down next to Alexia. She was able, with some difficulty, to transfer her grip from the metal spur to the ladder and climb up. The steward, several worried crewmembers, and Madame Lefoux stood anxiously awaiting her ascent.
Strangely, once Lady Maccon had attained the deck, her legs no longer seemed to function as nature intended. She slid gracelessly onto the wooden deck.
”I think I might reside here for a moment,” she said after her third attempt to rise resulted only in wobbly knees and bones akin to jellyfish tentacles.
The steward, an immaculate if portly man dressed in a uniform of yellow canvas and fur, hovered about her in great concern, wringing his hands. He was clearly most upset that such a thing as a Lady of Quality falling off his craft had occurred. What would the company say if word got out? ”Is there anything I can get you, Lady Maccon? Some tea perhaps, or something a little stronger?”
”Tea, I think, would be quite the restorative,” replied Alexia, mostly to get him to stop hovering about like a worried canary.
Madame Lefoux crouched down next to her. Yet another reason to envy the Frenchwoman her mode of dress. ”Are you certain you are in good health, my lady?” Her squeaky voice had gone, the helium leak having apparently been fixed while Lady Maccon was rescued.
”I am finding myself less delighted by the height and notion of floating than I was at the onset of our journey,” replied Alexia. ”But never mind that. Quickly now, before the steward returns, what happened after I fell? Did you see the attacker's face, ascertain his purpose or intention?” She left off the ”Were you in cahoots?” part of that question.
Madame Lefoux shook her head, looking serious. ”The miscreant wore a mask and a long cloak; I could not even say with certainty if it was a male or a female. I do apologize. We struggled for a time, and eventually I managed to disentangle myself and get off a shot with the dart emitter. The first one missed and cut a hole through one of the dirigible helium ports, but the second caught our enemy a glancing blow to the side. Apparently that was sufficient to instill fear, for the attacker took flight and managed to escape mostly unharmed.”
”Bollix,” swore Lady Maccon succinctly. It was one of her husband's favorite words, and she would normally never deign to use it, but current circ.u.mstances seemed to warrant its application. ”And there are far too many crew and pa.s.sengers on board to stage an inquest, even if I did not want to keep my preternatural state and role as muhjah a comparative secret.”
The Frenchwoman nodded.
”Well, I think I may be able to stand now.”
Madame Lefoux bent to help her up.
”Did I lose my parasol in the fall?”
The inventor dimpled. ”No, it tumbled to the floor of the observation deck. I believe it is still there. Shall I have one of the hands bring it to your room?”
”Please.”
Madame Lefoux signaled to a nearby deckhand and sent him off to find the missing accessory.
Lady Maccon was feeling a little dizzy and was annoyed with herself for it. She had been through worse during the preceding summer and saw no reason to come over weak and floppy due to a mere dabbling with gravity. She allowed the inventor to a.s.sist her to her room but refused to call Angelique.
She sat gratefully down on her bed. ”A little sleep and I shall be right as rain tomorrow.”
The Frenchwoman nodded and bent over her solicitously. ”You are certain you do not need a.s.sistance to disrobe? I would be happy to help in your maid's stead.”
Alexia blushed at the offer. Had she been wrong to doubt the inventor? Madame Lefoux did seem to be quite the best sort of ally to have. And, despite her masculine attire, she smelled amazing, like vanilla custard. Would it be so awful if this woman were to become a friend?
Then she noticed that the cravat around Madame Lefoux's neck was stained on one side with a small amount of blood.
”You were injured while fighting off the attacker and said nothing!” she accused, worried. ”Here, let me see.” Before the inventor could stop her, Lady Maccon pulled her down to sit on the bed and began untying the long length of Egyptian cotton wound about Madame Lefoux's elegant neck.
”It is of little consequence,” the Frenchwoman a.s.serted, blus.h.i.+ng.
Lady Maccon ignored all protestations and tossed the cravat to the floor-it was ruined anyway. Then, with gentle fingers, she leaned in close to check the woman's neck. The wound appeared to be nothing more than a scratch, already clotted.
”It looks quite shallow,” she said in relief.
”There, you see?” Self-consciously, Madame Lefoux s.h.i.+fted away from her.
Alexia caught a glimpse of something else upon the woman's neck. Something that the cravat had kept hidden: near the nape, partly covered by a few short curls of hair. Lady Maccon craned her head about to see what it might be.
A mark of some kind, dark against the woman's fine white skin, was inked in careful black lines. Alexia brushed the hair aside in a soft caress, startling the Frenchwoman, and leaned in, overcome with curiosity.
It was a tattoo of an octopus.
Lady Maccon frowned, oblivious to the fact that her hand still lay softly against the other woman's skin. Where had she seen that image before? Abruptly, she remembered. Her hand twitched, and only through sheer strength of character did she stop herself from jerking away in horror. She had seen that octopus depicted in bra.s.s over and over again, all about the Hypocras Club just after Dr. Siemons kidnapped her.
An awkward silence ensued. ”Are you certain you are quite well, Madame Lefoux?” she inquired finally, for lack of anything better to say.