Ivy clapped her hands. “Oh, excellent. Alexia, this is superb fun.”
Lady Maccon sat back down. “Do you think we might have tea now?” she asked plaintively.
Ivy immediately rang the bell rope, and in short order a nervous young maid brought in a laden tea tray.
“Marvelous,” said Lady Maccon in evident relief.
Ivy poured. “And now that I have been properly inducted into the Protectorate, what is my first assignment?”
“Ah, yes, the reason I came to visit in the first place. You see, there is a matter of national delicacy concerning an assassination attempt on Queen Victoria. Some twenty years ago, members of the Kingair Pack tried to eliminate Her Majesty.”
“Oh, no, really? Not those nice Scotsmen? They couldn’t possibly do anything so treasonous. Well, except trot around displaying their knees for all to see, but nothing so calamitous as attempted regicide.”
“I assure you, Ivy, this is the honest truth, universally acknowledged by those in a position to know such details.” Lady Maccon sipped her tea and then nodded wisely. “Fact—my husband’s previous pack tried to kill Queen Victoria by means of a poison. I need you to float back to Castle Kingair and ascertain the particulars.”
Ivy grinned. She had developed, since her first trip with Alexia to Scotland, a most unladylike fondness for dirigible travel. Her current position in life did not allow her to indulge, but now?.?.?.
Lady Maccon grinned back. “All I know is that the previous Beta spearheaded the plot and was killed. My husband left the pack as a result. Any further information could be invaluable to my current investigation. Do you think you are up to this task, even in your present condition?”
Ivy blushed at the very mention. “I am barely along, and you certainly cannot go.”
Alexia patted her belly. “My difficulty exactly.”
“Can I take Tunny with me?”
“I should hope you would. And you may tell him of your mission, although not your new position.”
Ivy nodded. More pleased, Alexia suspected, by the need to keep one secret from her husband than by permission to reveal another.
“Now, Ivy, please pay particular attention to any information on the poison that was going to be used. I believe that may be key. I shall give you a crystalline valve frequensor for aetheric transmission to my personal transponder at Woolsey. At sunset you are to report in, even if you have uncovered nothing of interest. I should like to know you are safe.”
“Oh, but, Alexia, you know how clumsy I am with gadgetry.”
“You will do fine, Ivy. How soon can you leave? Naturally your expenses will be covered.”
Ivy blushed at the mention of such unseemly matters as fiscal settlements.
Alexia brushed her friend’s embarrassment aside. “I know one doesn’t ordinarily talk of such matters, but you are operating under the umbrella of the Parasol Protectorate now, and you must be free to act in accordance with the needs of the organization, regardless of expense. Is that clear, Ivy?”
Mrs. Tunstell nodded, cheeks still hot. “Yes, of course, Alexia, but—”
“It is a good thing I am to be patroness of your acting troupe, as it is the perfect way to hide pecuniary advancements.”
“Oh, yes, indeed, Alexia. But I wish you didn’t insist on mentioning such things while we are eating—”
“We shall say nothing more on the subject. Can you leave directly?”
“Tunny has no performances on at the moment.”
“Then I shall send Floote tomorrow with the necessary papers.” Lady Maccon finished the last of her tea and stood. She was suddenly tired. It was as though she had been out and about most of the night, sorting out the problems of the entire empire. Which, in her way, she had.
Mrs. Tunstell stood as well. “To Scotland I go, investigating assignation attempts of the past!”
“Assassination,” corrected Lady Maccon.
“Yes, that. I must find my extra special hairmuffs for dirigible travel. I had them made to match my own curls. They are rather stunning, if I do say so myself.”
“Of that, I have no doubt.”
Lady Maccon returned to her new house and then made her way across to Lord Akeldama’s. Floote’s builders produced exemplary work. They had constructed a small secret drawbridge between the two balconies that operated by way of a hydraulic lever. It flipped downward. At the same time an elaborate spring mechanism caused the railing on each balcony to fold away. This allowed Alexia to easily traverse from one building to the next despite encumbrances.
She retired to her closet with alacrity. She had been keeping remarkably odd hours recently, what with having to consult daylight folk yet living with the supernatural set. It was of little consequence, as the infant-inconvenience was making it increasingly arduous to sleep for any length of time without some part of her body going numb or some unmentionable function driving her out of bed. Really, pregnancy was the most undignified thing she had ever had to endure in all her life, and for several years Alexia Tarabotti had been a confirmed spinster living with the Loontwills—a most undignified state—so that was saying something.
She slept restlessly, shifting aside when her husband joined her only to be awakened fully just after sunset by someone banging on the closet door.
“Conall, there is someone at the door to our bedroom!” She shook her massive husband where he lay in a boneless pile next to her.
He snuffled softly and rolled over, trying to gather her in closer. He had to settle for patting her belly absently and burrowing into her neck.