Sophronia considered this. She was relatively fond of her mother, as one is apt to be, but she supposed some part of her might be on the attack. “Possibly.”
A flash of a smile appeared on the woman’s face. It made her look very young. It vanished quickly. “How are you as a thespian? Any good?”
“Theatricals?” What kind of finishing school teacher asks that? Sophronia was put out. “I may have smudges on my face, but I’m still a lady!”
The woman looked at Sophronia’s exposed petticoat. “That remains to be seen.” She turned away, as though not interested anymore, and helped herself to a slice of cake. “Are you strong?”
Down the hall, something exploded with a bang. Sophronia thought she heard her mother shriek. Both she and the visitor ignored the disruption.
“Strong?” Sophronia edged toward the tea trolley, eyeing the sponge.
“From all the climbing.” A pause. “And the machine lifting, I suppose.”
Sophronia blinked. “I’m not weak.”
“You’re certainly good at prevarication.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“That depends on whom you’re asking.”
Sophronia helped herself to two pieces of cake, just as though she had been invited to do so. The visitor forbore to remark upon it. Sophronia turned away briefly, in the guise of finding a spoon, to tuck one piece away in her apron pocket. Mumsy wouldn’t allow her any sweets for the next week once she found out about the dumbwaiter.
The woman might have seen the theft, but she didn’t acknowledge it.
“You run this finishing school, then?”
“Do you run this finishing school, Mademoiselle Geraldine?” corrected the crow.
“Do you run this finishing school, Mademoiselle Geraldine?” parroted Sophronia dutifully, even though they had not been properly introduced. Odd, in a finishing school teacher. Shouldn’t she wait until Mumsy returns?
“It is called Mademoiselle Geraldine’s Finishing Academy for Young Ladies of Quality. Have you heard of it?”
Sophronia had. “I thought only the very best families were allowed in.”
“Sometimes we make exceptions.”
“Are you the Mademoiselle Geraldine? You don’t seem old enough.”
“Why, thank you, Miss Temminnick, but you should not make such an observation to your betters.”
“Sorry, Madam.”
“Sorry, Mademoiselle Geraldine.”
“Oh, yes, sorry, Mademoiselle Geraldine.”
“Very good. Do you notice anything else odd about me?”
Sophronia said the first thing that came to mind. “The gray in your hair. It’s amiss.”
“You are an observant young lady, aren’t you?” Then, in a sudden movement, Mademoiselle Geraldine reached over and pulled out the small throw pillow from behind her back. She tossed it at Sophronia.
Sophronia, who had never before had a lady throw a pillow at her, was flabbergasted, but caught it.
“Adequate reflexes,” said Mademoiselle Geraldine, wiggling her fingers for the return of the pillow.
Bemused, Sophronia handed it back to her. “Why—”
A black-gloved hand was raised against any further questions.
Mrs. Temminnick returned at that juncture. “I do apologize. How incurably rude of me. I can’t comprehend what has happened to the dumbwaiter. It’s making the most awful racket. But you don’t want to hear of such piddling domestic trifles.” She put a great deal of emphasis on the word trifles.
Sophronia grimaced.
Mrs. Temminnick sat down, rubbing at a grease spot on her formerly impeccable gloves. “How are you and Sophronia getting on?”
Mademoiselle Geraldine said, “Quite well. The young lady was just telling me of some history book she was recently reading. What was the subject?”
So, she doesn’t want Mumsy to know she’s been throwing pillows at me? Sophronia was never one to let anyone down when fibs were required.
“Egypt. Apparently the Primeval Monarchy, which follows directly after the Mythical Period, has been given new dates. And—”
Her mother interrupted. “That’s more than enough of that, Sophronia. A headmistress isn’t interested in education. Really, Mademoiselle Geraldine, once you get her started she’ll never stop.” She looked hopeful. “I know she’s a terrible mess, but can you do anything with her?”
Mademoiselle Geraldine gave a tight smile. “What do you say to a probationary period? We’ll return her in time for that coming-out ball of yours in a few months and see how she gets on until then?”
“Oh, Mademoiselle Geraldine, how perfectly topping!” Sophronia’s mother clasped her hands delightedly. “Isn’t this thrilling, Sophronia? You’re going to finishing school!”
“But I don’t want to go to finishing school!” Sophronia couldn’t help the petulance in her voice as visions of parasol training danced through her head.
“Don’t be like that, darling. It will be very exciting.”
Sophronia grappled for recourse. “But she threw a pillow at me!”
“Oh, Sophronia, don’t tell fibs—you know how unhappy that makes me.”
Sophronia gawped, swiveling her gaze back and forth between her now-animated mother and the crowlike stranger.
“How soon can she be made ready?” Mademoiselle Geraldine wanted to know.