Mittens, especially, adored Lily and hated every other human who
came near him. He had that distinctive feline gaze—an almost predatory
arrogance, which often gave Vivian the feeling that her size was the only thing
keeping him from hunting her like a mouse.
“That cat wants to eat me,” Vivian said.
“Mr. Mittens is a nice cat. Stop saying mean things about
him.”
Vivian approached and made a cautious grab for the animal.
Mr. Mittens bared his teeth in a violent hiss and slinked away from her,
hopping first to Lily’s vanity, then to her bedside table.
“There we are,” Lily said, lifting the covers to let the cat
crawl inside. “See? He’s a friendly little fellow. Aren’t you, Mr. Mittens?
Yes. That’s a good kitty.”
Rather than sit on the bed again and bring herself nearer the
creature, Vivian remained standing. “ Now will you tell me what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong ,” Lily said. “I’ve simply caught a
touch of the malaria from being out of doors.”
“You were a hundred yards from home. And you don’t catch a touch of malaria. It isn’t like the common cold.”
“I wish you’d stop being so critical all the time.”
Vivian tossed up her hands. “How rude of me to criticize you
with facts.”
“Junior told me you sold the crown jewels for a pittance.
How’s that for criticism, Miss Perfect?”
“I got rather a lot for them, I thought. And I managed to
scare the daylights out of Captain Thorpe while I was at it.”
“That bloody marshal is all you ever talk about anymore.
You’ve really got a thing for him, haven’t you?”
“For the love of—he’s the one who’s got a thing for us .
I’m trying to protect this family from his meddling.”
“Oh, yes, it’s all about you, isn’t it? I almost forgot I was the one nearly savaged by elephants in the depths of macaque-infested
jungles today.”
Mr. Mittens poked his head out from Lily’s covers and hissed
at Vivian again.
Vivian had had enough. “I’ve got to go, Lil. Feel better,
will you?” She fled the room to the sound of her sister’s nasally voice.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice the sarcasm in that…”
***
Jonathan was in his cabin polishing the Archduchess’s
tiara when Harlow came in.
“Call for you on the bluewave,” Harlow said.
“Who is it now? Mother? The Admiral?”
“Neither, Cap’n. Fellow calls himself Atwell.”
“Alex?”
“Atwell, he says.”
“No… Alexander Atwell. Is that his name?”
“Don’t know, Cap’n.”
Jonathan hurried to the radio room and picked up the
receiver. “Alex? Is that you?”
Alexander Atwell’s voice slurred through the line. “Johnny
boy? How about that. Never imagined I’d reach you, old bean. You being this
big-shot pilot nowadays, I figured you’d gotten too fancy for the likes of us
normal folk.”
“Oh, don’t even start,” Jonathan said with a laugh. “Lovely
to hear from you, you old blighter. And it’s Captain, by the way.”
“What’s that you say? Chaplain? Say, when did you turn over
the religious leaf? The devil-dog I know wouldn’t be caught dead in a robe and
collars. At any rate, are you terribly unavailable at the moment?”
“As a matter of fact, I was just on my way to Finustria—”
“How wonderful. I should say that works out perfectly. You
wouldn’t mind popping in for a spell, would you? I’m in quite the spot of
trouble, you see.”
“Well that’s awful. I wish I could spare the time, but—”
“Won’t take more than a moment. You have my word as an
Atwell.”
Jonathan sighed. “Where are you?”
“At home, of course.”
“That’s a little out of my way. What’s the problem, exactly?”
“Sensitive matter. Rather not discuss it here. Urgent that
you come at once.”
Jonathan glanced at Harlow, who looked at the wall and
pretended not to be listening. “Okay, Alex. But just this once.”
“That’s the spirit. See you in a tick.” Atwell hung up.
***
From his airship