CHAPTER FOUR

A FLOATING CUSTARD

The Spotted Custard left London on her maiden voyage with much less fanfare than one might expect from the departure of two of London society’s darlings.

Thinking they were to leave that evening, Rue’s parents, the Wimbledon Hive, and the Woolsey Hive had agreed for once to coordinate the outdoor event of the supernatural season. They planned a moonlit masquerade in Regent’s Park with invitations accepted by many of the best kinds of people. Provisions included unlimited champagne and sanguine fluid, treacle tart and blood sausage. The event would have played host to the season’s most extravagant dresses and fantastic hats. The next day’s papers referred to its cancellation as a scandalous upset, several young debutantes went into serious emotional declines. The precipitous departure of the guests of honour did not, many felt, warrant the event’s demise. Lady Prudence and the Honourable Primrose Tunstell were, in hushed whispers, thought to as have behaved in a very shabby manner indeed. Why should they spoil everyone else’s fun?

Rue and Prim knew none of this.

Rue’s thoughts were of her hapless Dama, who would be frightfully disappointed. He did so enjoy a fuss, and if it couldn’t be over him, his Puggle was the next best thing. He’d have had his outfit planned and all the drones furnished to match. Then again, he might have predicted Rue’s sneaking away early.

Only Quesnel’s mother came to witness their departure, arriving in the steam roly-poly. How she’d found out was anyone’s guess. Drone Lefoux merely hugged her son goodbye and stood quietly to the side while he made ready for float-off. She was statue-like – a bony older woman with short cropped hair and a preference for gentlemen’s garb that the age of American novelists had ensured was no longer as shocking as it once had been. Quesnel checked the rigging, conferred with the ground crew, and re-boarded with a final wave. As the mooring ropes were pulled up, his mother removed her hat and held it to her breast in the attitude of a mourner.

Rue, Prim, and Percy assembled on deck. Percy took the helm behind and above the others, his face drawn in concentration. Primrose had supervised the installation of a large parasol over his poop deck navigation area, a pretty red one to match the balloon, which rather clashed with Percy’s hair but would keep him from acquiring additional freckles during the journey. Prim was overly worried about her brother’s freckles. Quesnel, of course, disappeared below to supervise engineering.