Petronella Saves Nearly Everyone (2 page)

BOOK: Petronella Saves Nearly Everyone
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Of course he did not mean it for a minute, although my heart did give a sort of flip-flop at his suggestion. I calmed myself resolutely. Everyone knew James held his string of actresses before him like a shield protecting him from matrimony, much to the dismay of many a
mama
who would like to mark him as the property of one of her daughters. His fortune, title, and career in the Home Office made him a most eligible bachelor.

I peered at James from the corner of my eyes and studied his dark waves arranged carelessly and held in place with brilliantine, of which I could just catch a whiff. "I would
tell you how perfectly splendid you are tonight if I did not think you already had an overly high opinion of yourself," I replied.

He clutched his starched white shirt front as a laugh escaped him. "Touché. I perceive the danger of trying to preen in front of such an old friend." He emphasized the word "old," and I knew he remarked on my age. I sighed inwardly. I may have reached adulthood, but I truly never would be seen as anything more than a younger sister by James.

As we were quite near the refreshment table, I disengaged myself from his arm and sailed toward Jane. "Miss Sinclair, darling. What an absolutely gorgeous gown. That shade of rose does set off your complexion to perfection."

Jane turned from the conversation she was having with Georgie Grimsley, a most inconsequential young man. It was well known that he was looking for a wealthy wife to pay his family's debts. Mischief lurked in Jane's eyes, and I knew she had been thoroughly enjoying making sport of him. "Why, Miss Arbuthnot. Congratulations on your birthday. And as for your gown, it is quite magnificent, is it not, James? It complements the blue of her eyes most becomingly." She cocked her head and smiled at me while she held her bottom lip with her even white teeth.

It was all I could do not to laugh. We had practiced that
look in the mirror just that afternoon before I had found Uncle Augustus in the garden. We had also examined each other's frocks and rehearsed what we would say.

"I say, Miss Arbuthnot. You do look splendid," young Grimsley interrupted without letting James reply to his sister, which I thought shockingly rude.

"And how do you do, Mr. Grimsley?" I asked a touch coldly.

He was saved the trouble of answering because of the commotion by the tent entrance as a woman of magnificent proportions and jewelry entered. She was on the arm of a mustachioed gentleman with two bejeweled medals hanging on velvet ribbons around his neck.

"Ah, I expected that Dame Carruthers would be here tonight along with Generalissimo Reyes-Cardoza of Panama," murmured James. "I must go and pay my respects. It is the responsibility of the Home Office to ensure his safety. Excuse me, ladies."

Jane and I watched James make his way through the throng of guests who were staring at Dame Carruthers, quite the most famous person at my party and the most resplendent. She was also the most unexpected. I wondered who had invited her and the generalissimo. What with Panama on the verge of rebellion against Colombia, I should have thought the newly made dame would have shied away
from any contact with rebels against a sovereign nation. Perhaps his medals had attracted her.

Of course, James would have to greet her. He knew all the theatrical people, especially the famous ones, and Dame Carruthers fit that category like a kid glove, much as her gown fit her. She had been given the title by King Edward himself, a man also known to have a penchant for actresses. I supposed I should have to greet her, too, since it was my party. Now that I was thoroughly grown up, I would have to play hostess for my own soirees and those of Uncle Augustus.

At the thought of my esteemed uncle, I was reminded of his aberrant behavior. Wherever could that man be? As far as I could see, nearly all the moths in the tent were gone. I would have to find him once I greeted my unexpected guests.

I followed James toward the dame and her escort, dragging Jane along and quite ignoring trivial Grimsley, whom I could hear sputtering by the punch bowl.

My guests parted as if I were Moses and they were the Red Sea. A few offered birthday greetings. I nodded pleasantly and smiled in reply as I proceeded, feeling as if I were a princess in a procession in one of the Baltic countries. Not that I'd ever been to a Baltic country, but one can imagine.

"And here is the birthday girl herself. How charming you look, my dear. Ah, to be in the first bloom of youth again," Dame Carruthers gushed as she pinched my cheek.

I felt all of three years old, which is probably exactly what she intended, the wicked old witch. James had to turn away to restrain a sudden fit of coughing. If he'd been any closer, I would have kicked him, surreptitiously of course, but with sufficient force to lame him for a week.

Instead, I smiled ingenuously and replied, "Why, thank you, Dame Carruthers. You are most kind. Your opinion matters a great deal to me. One cannot help but admire someone who has held audiences enthralled for
so many years.
And may I add that you look absolutely splendid tonight and put the rest of us to miserable shame."

James required pounding on the back by Generalissimo Reyes-Cardoza.

At the mention of her age, Dame Carruthers's face darkened, but she proved herself a competent actress and smiled at Jane, taking her by the hand, and saying over her shoulder to James, who had nearly caught his breath, "Dear Lord Sinclair, this must be your little sister. She is like a dainty Dresden china image of you when you were younger. Do introduce us."

I have to admit that Dame Carruthers described Jane perfectly. She is quite the most beautiful girl I know.

James straightened his shirt front and did his duty in acknowledging the beauty of his sister. Jane said all that was proper, although I could tell she felt like scratching the actress's eyes out. I knew we would have a jolly time recounting our adventures in our rooms after the party.

"And may I also present Generalissimo Alejandro Reyes-Cardoza," said Dame Carruthers. "The generalissimo is escorting me so that he may meet all the right people. Generalissimo, Miss Arbuthnot."

"I'm pleased to meet you," I said while the generalissimo bent over my gloved hand and clicked his heels.

"The pleasure is all mine, señorita." He smiled at me so appreciatively, I felt myself blush. I was struck by the thought that if he should ever shave off his ridiculous mustache, he would nearly rival James in the category of masculine splendor.

Then Dame Carruthers surprised me no end when she asked, "Dear Miss Arbuthnot, may I ask where that most attractive uncle of yours is hiding himself?"

It was my turn to cough and need pounding on the back, which James did with more force than gallantry. I glanced about, wondering how many uncles she thought I had. There was only Uncle Augustus here, and I could scarcely call him attractive. As much as I adored him, I was always astonished at the reactions women in all stations of society had to Uncle
Augustus. Although he reminded me of a bullfrog, those of the fairer sex simply flocked to him. I caught sight of my uncle by the orchestra platform and was astonished further. I could clearly see that he had stuffed both bandaged hands under his armpits and was shaking badly.

Suddenly he lunged toward the moths near the lamp hanging on the center tent pole, compelled beyond his capacity to resist. The pole toppled, and the tent billowed down on my screaming guests.

Chapter Three
In Which Dame Carruthers Is Doomed

TO HAVE ONE'S TENT FALL
on one's guests at one's coming-out party could be considered a crowning cataclysm. One would be expected to be unable to hold one's head up in polite society after such a debacle. As it was, I could not hold my head up because a great deal of tent canvas was weighing it down.

Muffled screams, curses, and calls for help filled the night air. At least I supposed they did. The air was filled with
something,
for I was not getting enough of it myself. If I did not act soon, I would suffocate. In a most inelegant fashion I wriggled between writhing bodies and folds of fabric. Eventually, after enduring some of the most unacceptable language directed at me each time I elbowed someone accidentally, I thrust my no-longer-coiffured head out from under the collapsed tent and gasped for breath. I dragged myself out and stood gaping at the heaving sea of canvas before me.

One of the underchefs, carrying a large platter of cold roast beef, hurried toward me from the direction of the house. "Mademoiselle, what has happened?"

I grabbed the carving knife from the platter and slit the canvas in several places just as Armond, my chef, would slice the crust of a particularly tasty pastry pie. People popped up everywhere I cut, including a not-so-resplendent James.

"I say, old stick," he said when he saw the knife in my hand, "most resourceful. Thanks awfully." He clambered up and away from the still-heaving tent, took the knife from me, and set to work freeing the rest of the guests.

Once freed and in full view of each other, my guests' behavior ran the gamut from stoicism to histrionics. The Countess of Wilberforce fainted twice. (The second time was undoubtedly because not enough people noticed her the first time.) She would not have wanted them to watch her had she seen the strawberry trifle slathered down her gown and dotting her hair, although the trifle was almost invisible among her curls. The stoic ones, led by James, helped other victims escape from the debris.

One of the last to emerge was Uncle Augustus, looking dazed. Bandages trailed from his hands, leaving his fingers
unfettered. A moth fluttered by, which he absently plucked from the air and deposited in his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully as he surveyed my catastrophic coming-out party.

"Oh, Uncle Augustus," I said, shaking my head. I felt as if I might weep at any moment. My perfect night was ruined.

Uncle Augustus turned toward me with the expression of a small boy caught with a sack full of wet cats ready to be deposited in his governess's bed. At least I imagine that is what a small boy with a sack full of cats would look like—my education is woefully lacking in some areas.

"So sorry." He gulped.

I shuddered.

Jane walked up to me and slipped her arm through mine. How she managed to look exactly the same as she had before the calamity, I shall never know. But then, Jane always appears to have stepped out of a band box. I was surprised to see her laughing.

"This is the most splendid party I have attended in simply ages. It will be all the thing to talk about for six months at least. Everyone will have to claim to have been here if only to top everyone else's stories of how they barely managed to escape with their lives. We must keep an account of the stories and notice how they grow with each telling. It will keep us vastly amused."

I managed to smile a little. "Even so, one does not like to be the provider of such stories, no matter how entertaining." But I did feel better. Jane has that effect.

Uncle Augustus appeared to recover his spirits as well. He flitted into the shrubbery after another moth, seemingly without a care in the world except the pursuit of dinner. As it happened, I was beginning to feel the first pangs of hunger myself, having been deprived of the strawberry trifle and punch.

"I cannot find Dame Carruthers or Generalissimo Reyes-Cardoza. We must find them soon. My superiors in the Home Office will have my head if anything happens to him," James announced quietly as he came toward us.

At that moment I noticed a piece of paper nailed to a nearby tree and illuminated by the fairy lights strung about the garden. James and Jane both looked in the direction of my gaze.

"By George. I wonder..." said James, and we all approached the tree as if hypnotized.

Rather shaky handwriting wobbled across the paper, spelling out an ominous message:

Dame Carruthers and Generalissimo Reyes-Candoza are in our power. You will follow the directions that will come to you exactly or they will be doomed.

At the bottom of the page was a purple and turquoise splotch with wings and feelers.

"What is such an unusual butterfly doing affixed to the paper?" I asked James and Jane, pointing to the splotch.

At that instant, Uncle Augustus leaped between us and the tree. His right hand, trailing bits of bandage, snatched the butterfly from the message. He swallowed it in one gulp. Then, without so much as an apology, he leaped back into the shrubbery and vanished.

Chapter Four
In Which There Is an Inspector in the Garden

ALTHOUGH ONE MAY HAVE STACKS
of money, not to mention an impeccable social position, there are times when one wishes for the homely pleasure of encircling parental arms. Such was the case when I surveyed the scene of the crime in the brightening dawn while being interrogated by Scotland Yard. I only hoped Inspector Higginbotham and his lackey Sergeant Crumple did not notice, as I did, the occasional rustle of bushes or the swaying of tree branches, which could only mean that Uncle Augustus was breakfasting.

"My dear Miss Arbuthnot, it would help immeasurably if we could speak to your uncle. Not only is he your guardian, but we've been told that he is also the means by which the tent collapsed. Pray tell us where we might find him," said Inspector Higginbotham, his jowls swinging below his chins
with each syllable. If Uncle were a bullfrog, the inspector would surely be a bloodhound. Fittingly so, I might add.

I had visions of Uncle Augustus popping up from the petunias to capture a tasty morsel and became instantly certain that Inspector Higginbotham should not talk to my unfortunate relative. How could I explain such a circumstance? What would society have to say? Besides, I would not care to see Uncle Augustus hauled off to prison, or worse, to Bedlam, simply because he had a penchant for insects. 'Twould be most unfair and uncomfortable as well, for both Uncle and myself. I was having enough trouble trying to think of how to explain Uncle Augustus's condition to James and Jane, as I should have to once the detectives from Scotland Yard had gone. The two of them were already drawn to stare at said bushes and trees in bewilderment instead of paying attention to the interrogation, and besides, they had seen Uncle devour the insect on the note.

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