still-heaving tent, took the knife from me, and set to work freeing the rest of the guests.
Once freed and in full view of each other, my guests' behavior ran the gamut from stoicism to histrionics. The Countess of Wilberforce fainted twice. (The second time was undoubtedly because not enough people noticed her the first time.) She would not have wanted them to watch her had she seen the strawberry trifle slathered down her gown and dotting her hair, although the trifle was almost invisible among her curls. The stoic ones, led by James, helped other victims escape from the debris.
One of the last to emerge was Uncle Augustus, looking dazed. Bandages trailed from his hands, leaving his fingers
unfettered. A moth fluttered by, which he absently plucked from the air and deposited in his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully as he surveyed my catastrophic coming-out party.
"Oh, Uncle Augustus," I said, shaking my head. I felt as if I might weep at any moment. My perfect night was ruined.
Uncle Augustus turned toward me with the expression of a small boy caught with a sack full of wet cats ready to be deposited in his governess's bed. At least I imagine that is what a small boy with a sack full of cats would look likeâmy education is woefully lacking in some areas.
"So sorry." He gulped.
I shuddered.
Jane walked up to me and slipped her arm through mine. How she managed to look exactly the same as she had before the calamity, I shall never know. But then, Jane always appears to have stepped out of a band box. I was surprised to see her laughing.
"This is the most splendid party I have attended in simply ages. It will be all the thing to talk about for six months at least. Everyone will have to claim to have been here if only to top everyone else's stories of how they barely managed to escape with their lives. We must keep an account of the stories and notice how they grow with each telling. It will keep us vastly amused."
I managed to smile a little. "Even so, one does not like to be the provider of such stories, no matter how entertaining." But I did feel better. Jane has that effect.
Uncle Augustus appeared to recover his spirits as well. He flitted into the shrubbery after another moth, seemingly without a care in the world except the pursuit of dinner. As it happened, I was beginning to feel the first pangs of hunger myself, having been deprived of the strawberry trifle and punch.
"I cannot find Dame Carruthers or Generalissimo Reyes-Cardoza. We must find them soon. My superiors in the Home Office will have my head if anything happens to him," James announced quietly as he came toward us.
At that moment I noticed a piece of paper nailed to a nearby tree and illuminated by the fairy lights strung about the garden. James and Jane both looked in the direction of my gaze.
"By George. I wonder..." said James, and we all approached the tree as if hypnotized.
Rather shaky handwriting wobbled across the paper, spelling out an ominous message:
Dame Carruthers and Generalissimo Reyes-Candoza are in our power. You will follow the directions that will come to you exactly or they will be doomed.
At the bottom of the page was a purple and turquoise splotch with wings and feelers.
"What is such an unusual butterfly doing affixed to the paper?" I asked James and Jane, pointing to the splotch.
At that instant, Uncle Augustus leaped between us and the tree. His right hand, trailing bits of bandage, snatched the butterfly from the message. He swallowed it in one gulp. Then, without so much as an apology, he leaped back into the shrubbery and vanished.
Chapter Four
In Which There Is an Inspector in the Garden
ALTHOUGH ONE MAY HAVE STACKS of money, not to mention an impeccable social position, there are times when one wishes for the homely pleasure of encircling parental arms. Such was the case when I surveyed the scene of the crime in the brightening dawn while being interrogated by Scotland Yard. I only hoped Inspector
Once freed and in full view of each other, my guests' behavior ran the gamut from stoicism to histrionics. The Countess of Wilberforce fainted twice. (The second time was undoubtedly because not enough people noticed her the first time.) She would not have wanted them to watch her had she seen the strawberry trifle slathered down her gown and dotting her hair, although the trifle was almost invisible among her curls. The stoic ones, led by James, helped other victims escape from the debris.
One of the last to emerge was Uncle Augustus, looking dazed. Bandages trailed from his hands, leaving his fingers
unfettered. A moth fluttered by, which he absently plucked from the air and deposited in his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully as he surveyed my catastrophic coming-out party.
"Oh, Uncle Augustus," I said, shaking my head. I felt as if I might weep at any moment. My perfect night was ruined.
Uncle Augustus turned toward me with the expression of a small boy caught with a sack full of wet cats ready to be deposited in his governess's bed. At least I imagine that is what a small boy with a sack full of cats would look likeâmy education is woefully lacking in some areas.
"So sorry." He gulped.
I shuddered.
Jane walked up to me and slipped her arm through mine. How she managed to look exactly the same as she had before the calamity, I shall never know. But then, Jane always appears to have stepped out of a band box. I was surprised to see her laughing.
"This is the most splendid party I have attended in simply ages. It will be all the thing to talk about for six months at least. Everyone will have to claim to have been here if only to top everyone else's stories of how they barely managed to escape with their lives. We must keep an account of the stories and notice how they grow with each telling. It will keep us vastly amused."
I managed to smile a little. "Even so, one does not like to be the provider of such stories, no matter how entertaining." But I did feel better. Jane has that effect.
Uncle Augustus appeared to recover his spirits as well. He flitted into the shrubbery after another moth, seemingly without a care in the world except the pursuit of dinner. As it happened, I was beginning to feel the first pangs of hunger myself, having been deprived of the strawberry trifle and punch.
"I cannot find Dame Carruthers or Generalissimo Reyes-Cardoza. We must find them soon. My superiors in the Home Office will have my head if anything happens to him," James announced quietly as he came toward us.
At that moment I noticed a piece of paper nailed to a nearby tree and illuminated by the fairy lights strung about the garden. James and Jane both looked in the direction of my gaze.
"By George. I wonder..." said James, and we all approached the tree as if hypnotized.
Rather shaky handwriting wobbled across the paper, spelling out an ominous message:
Dame Carruthers and Generalissimo Reyes-Candoza are in our power. You will follow the directions that will come to you exactly or they will be doomed.
At the bottom of the page was a purple and turquoise splotch with wings and feelers.
"What is such an unusual butterfly doing affixed to the paper?" I asked James and Jane, pointing to the splotch.
At that instant, Uncle Augustus leaped between us and the tree. His right hand, trailing bits of bandage, snatched the butterfly from the message. He swallowed it in one gulp. Then, without so much as an apology, he leaped back into the shrubbery and vanished.
Chapter Four
In Which There Is an Inspector in the Garden
ALTHOUGH ONE MAY HAVE STACKS of money, not to mention an impeccable social position, there are times when one wishes for the homely pleasure of encircling parental arms. Such was the case when I surveyed the scene of the crime in the brightening dawn while being interrogated by Scotland Yard. I only hoped Inspector
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