Part 15 (2/2)
Misinterpreting her continued physical contact, the lady inventor twisted to face her, their noses practically touching. Madame Lefoux slid her hand up Alexia's arm.
Lady Maccon had read that Frenchwomen were much more physically affectionate than British women in their friends.h.i.+p, but there was something unbearably personal in the touch. And no matter how good she smelled and how helpful she had been, there was that octopus mark to consider. Madame Lefoux could not be trusted. The fight could have been staged. She could have an a.s.sociate on board. She could still be a spy, intent on procuring the muhjah's dispatch case through any possible means. Alexia pulled away from the caressing hand.
At the withdrawal, the inventor stood. ”I shall excuse myself. We could probably both use some rest.”
Breakfast the next morning saw everyone back about their regular routine, bruises, bonnets, and all. Miss Hisselpenny forbore to mention Alexia's clumsy attempt at scaling Mt. Dirigible out of mortification over her dear friend's exposed underpinnings. Madame Lefoux was impeccably, if incorrectly, dressed and unflaggingly polite, with no comment on the previous evening's aerial escapade. She inquired kindly after Tunstell's health, to which Alexia responded favorably. Felicity was horrible and snide, but then Felicity had been a repulsive earwig ever since she first grew a vocabulary. It was as though nothing untoward had occurred at all.
Lady Maccon only nibbled at her food, not from any concern that there would be another attempted poisoning, but because she was still feeling slightly airsick. She was looking forward to having solid, unpretentious ground under her feet once more.
”What are your plans for the day, Lady Maccon?” inquired Madame Lefoux when all other pleasantries were exhausted.
”I envision an exhausting day of lying about in a deck chair, broken up with small but thrilling strolls about the s.h.i.+p.”
”Capital plan,” replied Felicity.
”Yes, sister, but I was going to sit in that deck chair with a book, not a supercilious expression and a hand mirror,” shot back Alexia.
Felicity only smiled. ”At least I possess a face worth looking at for extended periods of time.”
Madame Lefoux turned to Ivy. ”Are they always like this?”
Miss Hisselpenny had been staring dreamily off into s.p.a.ce. ”What? Oh, them, yes, as long as I've know them. Which is a dog's age now. I mean to say, Alexia and I have been friends for quite these four years. Imagine that.”
The inventor took a bite of steamed egg and did not respond.
Lady Maccon realized she was exposing herself to ridicule by bickering with her sibling.
”Madame Lefoux, what did you do before you came to London? You resided in Paris, I understand? Did you have a hat shop hat shop there too?” there too?”
”No, but my aunt did. I worked with her. She taught me everything I know.”
”Everything?”
”Oh yes, everything. everything.”
”A remarkable woman, your aunt.”
”You have no idea.”
”Must be the excess soul.”
”Oh.” Ivy was intrigued. ”Did your aunt come over all phantomy after death?”
Madame Lefoux nodded.
”How nice for you.” Ivy smiled her congratulations.
”I suspect I I will be a ghost in the end,” said Felicity, preening. ”I am the type to have extra soul. Don't you all agree? Mama says I am remarkably creative for someone who does not play or sing or draw.” will be a ghost in the end,” said Felicity, preening. ”I am the type to have extra soul. Don't you all agree? Mama says I am remarkably creative for someone who does not play or sing or draw.”
Alexia bit her tongue. Felicity was about as likely to have excess soul as a ha.s.sock. She turned the conversation forcibly back to the inventor. ”What made you leave your home country?”
”My aunt died, and I came over here looking for something precious that had been stolen from me.”
”Oh, really? Did you find it?”
”Yes, but only to come to the understanding that it was never mine to begin with.”
”How tragic for you,” sympathized Ivy. ”I had just such a thing happen with a hat once.”
”It matters little. It had changed beyond all recognition by the time I located it.”
”How mysterious and cryptic you are.” Lady Maccon was intrigued.
”It is not entirely my story to tell and others may be injured in the telling if I am not careful.”
Felicity yawned ostentatiously. She was little interested in anything not directly connected to herself. ”Well, this is all very fascinating, but I am off to change for the day.”
Miss Hisselpenny rose as well. ”I believe I shall go check on Mr. Tunstell, to ascertain if he has been provided with an adequate breakfast.”
”Highly unlikely-none of us were,” said Alexia, whose delight in the imminent end to their voyage was encouraged by the idea of eating food that was not bland and steamed into submission.
They parted ways, and Alexia was about to pursue her highly strenuous plans for the day when she realized that if Ivy had gone to check on Tunstell, the two would be isolated together, and that was not a good idea. not a good idea. So she hightailed it after her friend toward the claviger's cabin. So she hightailed it after her friend toward the claviger's cabin.
She found Miss Hisselpenny and Tunstell engaged in what both probably thought was an impa.s.sioned embrace. Their lips were, in fact, touching, but nothing else was, and Ivy's greatest concern throughout the kiss seemed to be keeping her hat in place. The hat was of a masculine shape but decorated with the most enormous bow of purple and green plaid.
”Well,” said Lady Maccon loudly, interrupting the couple, ”I see you have recovered with startling alacrity from your illness, Tunstell.”
Miss Hisselpenny and the claviger jumped apart. Both turned red with mortification, though it must be admitted that Tunstell, being a redhead, was far more efficient at this.
”Oh dear, Alexia,” exclaimed Ivy, leaping back. She made for the door as rapidly as the strapped-down floating skirts of her travel dress would allow.
”Oh no, Miss Hisselpenny, please, come back!” Tunstell cried, and then, shockingly, ”Ivy!”
But the lady in question was gone.
Alexia gave the ginger-haired young man a hard look. ”What are you up to, Tunstell?”
”Oh, Lady Maccon, I am unreservedly in love with her. That black hair, that sweet disposition, those capital hats.”
Well goodness, thought Alexia, he really must be in love if he likes the hats. he really must be in love if he likes the hats. She sighed and said, ”But, really, Tunstell, be serious. Miss Hisselpenny cannot possibly have a future with you. Even if you were not up for metamorphosis presently, you are an She sighed and said, ”But, really, Tunstell, be serious. Miss Hisselpenny cannot possibly have a future with you. Even if you were not up for metamorphosis presently, you are an actor actor, with no substantial prospects of any kind.”
Tunstell donned a tragic-hero expression, one she had seen more than once in his portrayal of Porccigliano in the West End production of Death in a Bathtub. Death in a Bathtub. ”True love will overcome all obstacles.” ”True love will overcome all obstacles.”
”Oh bosh. Be reasonable, Tunstell. This is no Shakespearian melodrama; this is the 1870s. Marriage is a practical matter. It must be treated as such.”
”But you and Lord Maccon married for love.”
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