IT IS A TEDIOUS SORT OF DAY AT SPENCE. WE SPEND THE whole of our French lesson conjugating verbs. Frankly, I do not care whether it is I have dined on snails or I shall dine on snails, as I do not intend ever to allow a snail past my lips and so the entire lesson is moot. We repeat the steps of the quadrille until I could perform them in my sleep; we practice our sums so that we might manage the household books someday and be assets to our husbands. Under Miss McCleethy’s direction, we sketch one another in profile; Elizabeth protests that I’ve given her a nose as big as a house when, in truth, I’ve been far too kind. But when it comes to art, everyone is a critic, and there you have it.
When the teachers are not around, the girls fall into excited chatter about their approaching debuts. They’ve stacks of invitations—those tempting promises of romance, elaborate feasts, and new gowns engraved in neat script upon fine cream-colored cards. I should be thinking of my own debut. But I’m far too distracted. That time seems to exist in another world, and I cannot see my way clear to it just now.
Rather than take tea with the others and listen to talk of this party or that ball, I excuse myself on the pretense of practicing my curtsy, and comb the school’s nooks and crannies, hoping I might find the dagger Wilhelmina Wyatt stole or additional clues to its whereabouts. Unfortunately, I discover nothing but dust, empty drawers, and overstuffed cupboards, and the rather unfortunate surprise of an unwrapped toffee gone to goo, which even after three soapings still coats my fingers in a nasty stickiness. I’m at a loss, especially now that Miss Wyatt won’t show herself to me in visions or dreams. It’s as if she’s toying with me, and I recall Dr. Van Ripple’s comment about her enjoying her little cruelties. It casts doubts on her trustworthiness.
I’m just about to give up and return to the others when I spy Kartik’s bandana in the ivy. I reach down and pluck it free. There’s a note attached: I’ve arranged it. Meet me in the laundry. Midnight. Bring five pounds. Dress sensibly.
Tonight. I shall have to thank him for giving me such short notice. Still, it is arranged, and if I can speak with a representative of the Rakshana about saving my brother, I’ll go whenever called.
Felicity’s not happy about my plans. She expects another visit to the realms, and she’s sure Pip won’t forgive her absence—but she understands that I must help Tom. She even offers me the use of her fencing foil in case I need to stab anyone. I assure her that won’t be necessary, and I hope I am correct in this assumption.
Just before midnight, I ready myself for my meeting with Kartik in the laundry. He has said to dress sensibly, and as we will travel through London’s streets at night, I decide there is only one possible solution.
With the magic at hand, I give myself trousers, a shirt, a waistcoat, and a coat. I shorten my hair and am astonished to see myself like this—all eyes and freckles. I make a good boy, perhaps a prettier one than I am a girl. A cloth cap completes the illusion.