“I will? That sounds rather jolly. Spotted Custard, eh? New kind of pudding, is it? Delish. Can I finish with the quinces first?”

“No, the quinces will wait.”

“I understand that’s one of the advantages.”

“What?”

Percy explained, animated. “Quinces store very well, better than crab-apples. In cellars, and cupboards, and wardrobes, and hatboxes, and what have you.”

“Oh, do they? Very interesting, Percy dear. Perhaps I’ll have Cook order some for the journey. But you’ll still have to change study subjects for the time being. India, I’m afraid, must take precedence.”

“Hard taskmistress,” Percy grumbled.

“I’m sure you’ll become accustomed to it. You may bring the quince books along. You might have time to read as we float.”

Percy didn’t answer. He was at one of his shelves, combing through scrolls, rolled-up maps, and current charts.

Rue rang for the valet.

A harried young personage appeared. Rue gave him a funny look. Had Percy elevated the boot-black boy in lieu of any other household staff?

“Pack your master’s portmanteau for a float to India, a month or more’s journey. Please don’t forget his daily necessities. You know how he gets when he’s researching. And try to keep him from bringing too many books. I’ll be sending around a carriage tomorrow around teatime. Please ensure the first load is aboard and that he goes with it to see to his quarters. You’ll also be joining us since someone has to look after him. I hope that’s agreeable. I will, of course subsidise your remuneration. We leave the evening after next, currents permitting.”

The young man was not at all discombobulated. In fact, he looked thrilled. Well, life with Percy was probably extremely dull. “And Footnote, miss?”

“Footnote?”

“Himself’s cat.”

Upon hearing his name, said cat stood up from behind a pile of books and swayed over, emitting a chirrup of inquiry.

“Whatever possessed Percy to acquire a cat? He can’t even take care of himself.”

The boy suppressed a chuckle. “The cat acquired us, I’m afraid, miss.”

“The best ones always do.” Rue chucked Footnote under the chin. He emitted a mighty purr of approval. Rue was lost. “Oh, bring him along. Every ship should have a cat. Perhaps he can help with the pigeon problem.”

“Very good, miss.”

Footnote flopped over onto his back presenting his chin for further scratching. He was an attractive animal, mostly black with white markings, as though smartly dressed for the theatre. Better dressed than Percy ever was, that’s certain. Rue left off cat-worshipping reluctantly.

The valet made his farewell bow.

“Oh,” Rue added before he shut the door, “bring Percy up some tea, please.”

“And nibbly bits,” mumbled Percy, digging through scrolls, maps flying, not looking up.

“And nibbly bits,” added Rue. Footnote trotted after the valet, possibly intrigued by the mention of nibbly bits.

“Yes, Lady Prudence.”

“Oh dear, have we met before?”

“No, my lady, but I’ve heard of you. And I guessed that you couldn’t be the Honourable Primrose Tunstell.”

“No? We do look alike.”

“Yes, my lady, but himself’s not yelling at you.”

“A good point you make there…?” Rue trailed off, questioningly.

“Virgil, my lady.”

“Ah, I see why Percy hired you. He always has had great affection for the ancient scribes.”

“My lady?”

“The tea, please, Virgil.”

Virgil made her a second bit of a bow and scampered off. Footnote biffed along after him, tail up with the tip tilted like a small furry flag.

Rue turned her attention back to Percy, “Nice young man, Percy. No idea what he’s doing with you.”

“Good name,” muttered Percy.

Rue sighed and made her way through the chaos of books and out into the hall. “I shall see you soon.”

Percy came to the study door and waved a dismissive map at her. “Unfortunately.”

Rue knew Percy well enough to realise that this was the best she was going to get out of him so she let herself out with as much dignity as possible. She did trip over a small stack of Beeton’s Englishwoman’s Domestic Magazine and Fashion Tips next to the automated hat cleaner in the hallway. Since he was entirely the opposite of fashionable Rue was mystified by their presence. One never knew why with Percy.

Thereafter, Rue spent the majority of her waking hours on The Spotted Custard supervising the hiring of the last of the deckhands and staff, meeting her crew, redecorating her chambers, and ensuring they had adequate stores for the journey. Scientists had recently shown that sunflowers were a great natural disinfectant of the poisonous humours in the upper atmosphere. Just to be on the safe side, Rue had twelve potted sunflowers brought in for the decks, fresh-cut placed in all the rooms, and dried clustered everywhere else. She even stocked seeds for regrowing or consumption, whichever seemed best. Sufficient puff pastry was also of paramount importance, although perhaps not so public a health concern. Lady Prudence Akeldama had quite the sweet tooth and it was impossible for her to imagine a journey of a week, let alone a month, without an adequate supply of custard and puff pastry.

This frazzled the cook. “It’s the milk we’ll run out of first, captain. It does tend to spoil.”