Rue bridled at the tone of her mother’s voice. She wished she could act like someone else around Mother – pretend to be Uncle Rabiffano, for example. But it was useless to even try: her mother always brought out the worst in Rue. Which is to say, Rue’s actual personality proved impossible to repress and all acting ability deserted her. When Lady Maccon used that tone of voice Rue was irreversibly thirteen again. “I was at the Fenchurches’ ball with Primrose, as I informed you I would be. Would you believe the Stilton on the cheese plate was misplaced? And they had the latest floating dirigible lighting arrangement from Quimble’s – a ridiculous expense. And Mrs Fenchurch was positively vulgar – she must have worn an entire breastplate of diamonds.”
Dama obligingly switched his delight from tea to gossip. “Were they paste? I’d wager they were paste. His business concerns have taken a tragic downturn recently, did you hear? Very weak indeed.”
Unlike Dama, Rue’s mother was not to be misdirected. “Ah, then you weren’t running through London in your bloomers? Oh good. I did hear this wild rumour about a werewolf in bloomers. And I thought to myself, here now, none of my dear husband’s pack are that experimental.”
Dama looked intrigued. “Are you quite certain?”
Rue snickered, imagining the fuzzy uncles in bloomers. She could see, perhaps, on a lark, some of Dama’s drones bouncing about in lacy pantaloons, but not a werewolf. They were much more dignified.
“You must be mistaken, Mother.” She stopped smiling and tried to be prim, crossing her hands delicately in her lap in a modest manner.
Mother tapped her parasol, an impossibly ugly accessory she dragged with her everywhere day or night, dinner party or ball. “Yes, I suppose I must. You couldn’t possibly have had anything to do with, perhaps, the acquisition of this unusual tea?”
Rue looked affronted. “I’ve no idea to what you are referring, Mother.”
Accustomed to her daughter’s stubbornness, Lady Maccon turned to the vampire. Her famous Italian glare pierced Dama. “What’s are you two hiding?”
Dama looked equally innocent. “Us? Nothing, gooseberry pearl. Nothing at all.”
Lady Maccon leaned forward and grabbed Dama’s hand. At the contact, the vampire turned mortal. Her power wasn’t like Rue’s – she didn’t take on the vampire’s abilities, and the effect wouldn’t last once she let go, but she did turn him human. It was this skill that made her soulless, and made most vampires loathe her upon the very realisation of her preternatural state. Of course, once her personality asserted itself, vampires tended to loathe Rue’s mother for her own sake.
“Lord Akeldama, I will not have you involving my daughter in some seedy tea extraction mission!”
Dama sat back, affronted. “My darling girl.”
Rue leapt to his defence. “When has Dama ever done anything even remotely seedy?”
“Of course, infant, permit me to rephrase. I will not allow you to involve my daughter in some stylish tea extraction mission, either.”
“Could we say ‘stylish tea infusion mission’?” Dama suggested meekly.
Rue was not going to let her mother coerce her Dama. She mounted a secondary defence. “Pish-tosh, Mother. May I kindly remind you that I am all grown up and perfectly capable of making my own tea-related decisions.”
“Like rampaging around London in your bloomers?”
“I wasn’t in human form, no one knew it was me. At least, not until the tether to Uncle Rabiffano snapped.”
“So it was you? Oh dear me, the scandal! You’ll have to retire to the countryside until it blows over at the very least. How will we keep this out of the popular press?”
Rue felt like stamping her foot, but didn’t on principal. “Of course it was me. And I will certainly not go to the countryside.”
“I hope you learnt something from this,” said her mother, looking a little hopeless.
“Frankly, all I learnt is that I must give up bloomers. Perhaps a short silk underskirt would work better? It’s the tail, you see, it rips the seams.”
“And what on earth has happen to your stays, young lady?”
“Pshaw, Mother. I gave up wearing corsetry years ago. Far too inconvenient. And so old-fashioned.”
“Oh mercy me, how did I not know this? What kind of child have I raised?”
“I got permission!” Rue whined.
Her mother whirled on Dama. “This is what comes of your overindulgence! My daughter prancing around in split bloomers!”
Dama only smiled, his fangs politely tucked away. “My dear sugarplum, be reasonable. I would never allow my daughter to go without proper foundation. It wasn’t me who gave her said permission.”
Rue’s mother threw her head back and yelled at the top of her lungs, “Conall! Get your furry posterior in here post haste!”
Rue giggled. “Paw’s got great hearing but he’s at the Bureau tonight. Even he can’t hear you all the way across London.”
Her mother’s face was all thunderclouds. “Give up stays, indeed! With your figure? To think, you’ve been dancing without support. Lordy, lordy. The uncontrollable wobble of it all! And now bloomers as well?” She turned to Dama as a new possible ally rather than enemy in the matter of her daughter. “My dear lord, how are we to remedy the catastrophe that is my progeny?”
Rue would have none of it. “Mother, it’s done. Besides, why should I obey the bounds of polite dress?”
“Because, infant, you are a proper gentlewoman. The daughter of two lords and a lady. You have standards to maintain.” Her mother was moved to impassioned gesticulation for emphasis. It was the Italian ancestry that did it.
Rue rolled her eyes.
Her mother turned again to Dama. “What are we to do with her?”
“Ah, good, Alexia my gherkin, I’m delighted you brought that question up. I do believe that what our Puggle requires is an occupation.”
Rue’s mother sputtered.
Dama was ready. “Now, now, my dear, cast your mind back some quarter century or so. I do believe you once got into a great deal of trouble yourself, all because you hadn’t an occupation. Now, you are settled into your duties, I have my potentate responsibilities, your husband has BUR, even Rabiffano has his hat shop. Puggle needs the same, don’t you, darling?”
Rue would hardly have put it like that, but since she was keen on the idea of travelling, she nodded, and watched her mother for an adverse reaction.