She closed her eyes and contemplated the possible recriminations soon to emanate from her upset mother. She should check herself for injuries, or see to finding the rest of her dress, but flopping was more dramatic. Sophronia flopped over onto her back with a sigh. Without allowing Sophronia a rebuttal, the lady waddled from the room, a plop of custard trailing down her fluffy skirts. Barnaclegoose made it sound as though Sophronia alone were responsible for the disreputable state of the entire British Empire. It is 1851, and I believed we lived in a civilized world! Yet you are as bad as a rampaging werewolf, young miss, and someone must take action.” Mrs. “Your mother is occupied in an important private audience. Sophronia was mortified to realize she was in public with her underskirt on display! Most of Sophronia’s top skirt had ripped off. Barnaclegoose stood, with as much dignity as possible under the circumstances, and looked down at Sophronia, sprawled on the plush rug. This made Sophronia more nervous than the fact that she had just assaulted an aristocrat with a trifle. White with mortification, Petunia rushed to the aid of the older woman, assisting her in the removal of the trifle bowl.

One of Sophronia’s older sisters, Petunia, was playing at hostess. She was not, however, so progressive as to accept flying food.

She accepted that dirigibles would be the next great means of transportation and that soon people might fly through the aether. Barnaclegoose was a large woman of progressive inclinations-which is to say she supported vampire and werewolf social reform, played a good deal of whist, kept a ghost in her country cottage, and even wore the occasional French gown. Sophronia, with great restraint, held back a triumphant giggle. The addition of a trifle, it must be admitted, made it less smart. Until that moment, the bonnet had been rather smart-red with black velvet ribbons and crimson ostrich feathers. Nevertheless, it made for quite the spectacle as the bowl upended the last of its contents over that good lady’s bonnet. Barnaclegoose, who was not the kind of woman to appreciate the finer points of being crowned by trifle. The bowl landed, in glorious perfection, atop the head of Mrs. The trifle arched up into the air, scattering custard, cake, and strawberries all over the blue brocade and cream furnishings of the well-appointed parlor. Sophronia hit the pudding on her dismount. Unfortunately, Sophronia’s grand escape coincided with one of the maids loading a half-eaten trifle into the dumbwaiter. The top skirt of her dress caught on the lip of the door and made an ominous ripping sound. Perhaps removing the rubber was not such a brilliant plan.Īs the top of the next loading door appeared, Sophronia dove forward, tumbling through it and into the family’s front parlor. The loading door on the third floor sped past, and then the one on the second. Sophronia squirmed over to the pulling cable, but before she had a chance to grab it, the dumbwaiter began to descend-fast. It was while she wrapped the india rubber protectively around her boots-her mother had been complaining about the state of Sophronia’s shoes of late-that the dumbwaiter started shaking. Sophronia reached up and liberated the strapping. The dumbwaiter had no ceiling it was simply a bit of platform with a support cable on the inside and a pulling cable on the outside. Perhaps, once the strapping was removed, the dumbwaiter might shake loose? Several lengths of india-rubber strapping made up part of the drive mechanism. Sophronia examined the windlass machine at the top. The dumbwaiter disagreed with the whole idea of stopping at the ground floor, and instead kept on going-up all four stories. So she had pressed the dumbwaiter into the service of espionage. Barnaclegoose had decided opinions on reforming other women’s daughters. Barnaclegoose, and the stranger was from inside the dumbwaiter. The only way of overhearing her mother, Mrs. With the hallways patrolled by siblings and household mechanicals, eavesdropping was out of the question. Barnaclegoose had arrived with a stranger in tow. Sophronia intended to pull the dumbwaiter up from the kitchen to outside the front parlor on the ground floor, where Mrs.

Etiquette and espionage