The Perilous Journey of the Not-So-Innocuous Girl Read Free Page A

a death mission.
    “She’s for you, Marguerite.” He smiled down at his childhood friend. “I wanted you to have more than a cricket to remember me by.”
    “Oh, Claude.” She felt numb all over so she fell back on basic manners “I don't know what to say. I’ve never thought of having an automaton for a lady’s maid before.”
    “Well, you should. She’s the perfect watchdog for when you-know-who is on the warpath. She can even walk you into town if you decide you want to have lunch there after all.”
    “Wait, I thought that was settled … ” Vivienne looked confused.
    Marguerite cut Vivienne off. “That is very thoughtful of you, Claude.” She touched Outil’s highly polished forearm again, wondering at the sheer genius of her friend. She bit her tongue hard as her mind raced with arguments against his leaving. Eventually she couldn’t hold back, “She will never replace you.” Her voice sounded harsher than she meant for it to be.
    “No, of course not. But she will be able to help you out when I can’t. You’ll see. She’s very useful. I’d love to give you a complete demonstration, but I don’t have time. I literally have to get these pots scooping before the end of the day or my hide will be under your daddy’s boots tomorrow. Take her to town, have lunch. We’ll talk later.” He clapped Marguerite on the back like she was one of his coworkers and strode off toward the back of the forge.
    Marguerite looked at the bot and at Vivienne, then at Claude’s retreating back. This was not exactly how she’d planned on celebrating her freedom for the afternoon, but it could be worse. She could still be stuck in the classroom with Pomphart.
    “All right, let’s go.”
    Vivienne clapped for joy and bounced a few times like a five-year-old before the three of them headed out the door.
     
     
    ***
     
     
    The short walk into La Rochelle proper consisted mainly of Vivienne chattering and Marguerite deep in thought. The salty sea air clung to their faces and teased curls out of the loose tendrils of hair that spilled around their rose-colored cheeks. Outil followed behind them, skillfully angling a parasol to protect their delicate skin from the warm sun.
    Marguerite had a bottomless change purse that every merchant in town coveted when she started dropping by Main Street the year before. Some even stood at their stoops flinging desperate compliments in her direction, hoping she would patronize their shops. But she wasn’t in the mood to buy anything today. However, the attention lifted her spirits a bit and she nodded congenially toward everyone who smiled her way, freely giving out false hope.
    She let Vivienne set the pace, stopping wherever she did to glance at the latest fashions. Normally her interests lay in brass creations brought by ship from faraway lands. The merchants’ windows buzzed with whirling cogs and fanciful creations catching the sunlight as they demonstrated their usefulness. Normally she stared, taking it all in with hungry eyes, and purchased a few odds and ends to be sent back to the estate. But today every carefully crafted piece reminded her of Claude. She kept her gaze away from the brass contraptions and purposefully didn’t think once about the cricket tucked in her pocket.
    After a while, Vivienne asked, “Are you worried about Claude?”
    “No!” Marguerite snorted. “I'm worried about me.” This was not completely a lie.
    “You? What have you to worry about? Claude is the one heading off into the unknown.” Vivienne’s tone was incredulous. “You just have to try not to step on anyone's feet at the ball. Well, not anyone you'd be interested in anyway.” She giggled at her own joke.
    “Vivienne, I don't want Claude to leave, but I can't stop him. He's right, we aren't children anymore and he's free to go where he wants.” Saying the words out loud again seemed to help dissipate the sting, if not remove it altogether. “But his leaving has made my ball