To the surprise of everyone, including himself, Percy agreed to attend the garden party that evening. Rue forbade him to bring any books. Quesnel looked as if he could not decide whether to be amused or distressed. Primrose disappeared with her brother in order to monitor his apparel choices. Virgil was in a near panic. He’d never dressed his master for an actual event before, even something as casual as a garden party. Prim provided a most necessary service, for Percy emerged looking almost respectable.

Of course, while his sister finished her own toilette, the professor mucked about in the library and managed to get covered in dust, skew his cravat, and wrinkle his waistcoat. A very long-suffering Virgil marched him abovedecks.

“Hopeless,” pronounced his sister in exasperation before turning her ire on Rue.

Without Dama to impose upon her, Rue leaned in favour of ease rather than style. She had selected a gown of pale lilac muslin that was startlingly plain and nearly four seasons old. It had no train and only a single band of dark purple velvet at the hem and collar. There was a demure pattern of cream appliqué on the bodice and over the forearms, and dark purple puff sleeves. That was all. It had a matching velvet hat with silk sweet peas in the same lilac colour and a ribbon like an undertaker’s down the back. Without a lady’s maid, Rue had resorted to twisting her mass of hair up quite simply. Dama would have disowned her on the spot.

Prim was moved to tisking disapproval. “And here I thought Percy was the only one who required assistance.”

Rue smiled at her. “This is a working event for me, my dear.”

“What if you get run over? People would read about what you were wearing when you died in the papers.”

“Don’t tempt fate, Prim. Besides, I need something practical.”

“There is absolutely no call for you to use that horrible word. And what do you mean, working? You’ve never worked a day in your life, I’m happy to say.”

Rue detailed, with some suppressed excitement, her naptime encounter with Miss Sekhmet.

Prim was, as ever, an excellent sounding board. “But why did this female feel it necessary to approach you on the ship and not wait until you were out in the city?”

Rue had no answer, only adding, “And why such urgency? Dama implied it was a secret economic concern. Admittedly, if he’s right and this new variant of the plant takes, others will be interested, but to go to such lengths for tea?”

“Be fair, tea is important,” Primrose remonstrated.