Dimity ran to Sophronia, looking as if she very much wanted to hug her, but settling for cheek kisses and cooing noises. Despite her bath and visit with the doctor, Sophronia knew she still looked awful. From the thinly disguised horror in Dimity’s eyes, she suspected it was worse than even she could imagine.

“Oh, Sophronia, what you must have been through!”

Agatha followed, no less pleased, but not so effusive about it. She clasped Sophronia’s good hand briefly with her old shy smile. “Welcome the returning hero.”

“Oh, stop,” said Sophronia, charmed.

Pillover mooched after the two girls. He was grinning, of all absurd things, a wide genuine smile. Sophronia would never have believed it if she hadn’t seen with her own eyes.

Agatha seemed pleased with life. “Pillover is a hero, too, did you know?”

Dimity recovered her composure at that, enough to say, under her breath, “Oh, really. He’s no better than a mangel-wurzel.”

Sister Mattie, however, agreed with Agatha. “Indeed he is. Helped us to escape, he did. Bunson’s was in league with the Picklemen, as we suspected. Well, if not in league, at least complicit. Anyway, Agatha’s young man here helped to free Lady Linette and me.”

This worried Sophronia. “Oh, dear Pill, will it detrimentally affect your school standing?”

Pillover shook his head. “No, increase it. Bunson’s doesn’t hold traitorousness against a fellow. After this, I’ll have moved up to Reprobate Genius. One step closer to true Evil.”

“Where’s Vieve?” Sophronia asked, assuming that the little inventor would have been involved in any Bunson’s escapades.

Pillover shrugged. “Said she didn’t want to see large-scale destruction of her beloved technology. Said she knew it’d be necessary, that you’d probably see to it, but she’d rather not know the details.”

Sophronia wondered if Vieve had been thinking of the Picklemen’s mechanicals or if she was smart enough to have realized all along that the airship was the target. It hardly mattered, and even if Sophronia asked, Vieve wouldn’t tell her. Sophronia respected her all the more for that.

“I left Bumbersnoot with her to be fixed.” Dimity’s tone was questioning.

“Good decision.” Sophronia approved, especially as London was likely rife with anti-mechanical sentiment right about now. “So why’d you do it, Pill? I thought you didn’t enjoy adventure.”

“Did I say I enjoyed myself?”

Sophronia did not point out that he was grinning, nor did she say anything about the fact that he kept casting little sideways glances at Agatha.

“Happy to have you here, Pill.” Sophronia hid her own smile.

“Well,” groused Pillover, resuming his normal dour expression, “so you should be.”

Dimity tutted. “Heaven forfend you enjoy yourself, you wombat.”

Agatha said nothing, although she did look a tiny bit smug.

Dimity inched close to Sophronia and clasped her good hand fervently. “What happened after Monique left you? Please don’t keep us in suspense any longer. We were so worried.”

She led Sophronia over to a cluster of chairs around a tea table, some distance from the sleeping Soap. Sophronia chose a seat that allowed her to keep an eye on her werewolf. She wasn’t ready to let him out of her sight again. The bath had taken long enough.

Still full from her breakfast, Sophronia figured there was always room for more tea, and allowed Dimity to pour her a cup. Sipping gratefully, she leaned back and told them the story of the death of the airship.

“I do apologize, Lady Linette. There seemed no other way.”

Her former teacher shook her head, blonde curls bouncing. “We knew it was coming to an end soon, my dear. Geraldine’s girls, I’m afraid, are creatures of the past. Admissions have declined steadily over the years. No one wants their daughter to be an intelligencer anymore.”

“You won’t be starting it back up again?” Sophronia was saddened by this.

Lady Linette and Sister Mattie exchanged looks.

“Not as such,” Lady Linette explained. “Mademoiselle Geraldine now has a bee in her bonnet about starting a school for underprivileged boys, training them up to be physicians of all things. Professor Lefoux is intent on returning to France—she says England has gotten too complicated. Sister Mattie was muttering something about Cornwall, weren’t you, dear? I don’t know what I’ll do. Fortunately, I’m trained for pretty much anything.” She waggled her eyebrows, and for the first time, Sophronia noted that she wasn’t wearing her usual heavy face paint. “I am a mite exhausted by the work. I’ve been at this for three decades now.” She gave a delicate little shudder.

Agatha looked sober. “Thirty years is a lot of Sophronias to deal with.”

“My point exactly,” said Lady Linette with feeling.

A bell at the door drew Pilpo away, which was when Sophronia noticed how many drones had gathered to hear her story. It was a mark of how discombobulated she was that her guard was so far down. Some were entertaining the sooties at cards. It was hard to tell who would do better out of that deal. Smokey Bones had taken possession of a hassock near the coal scuttle, which was probably why he liked that particular spot. The drones no doubt approved of an animal so innately well dressed. They had brushed the little black-and-white cat to a glossy shine heretofore unheard of, and popped a tiny cravat about his neck. They cooed over him in a manner the sooties took as approval of not simply their cat, but themselves as well. It was lending an air of conviviality to the gathering, only improved upon by the fact that unlimited tea, scones, and sardines were on offer. Neither Smokey Bones nor the sooties had ever had it so good.