CHAPTER 17: IN WHICH, TO NO ONE'S SURPRISE, OUR TITULAR PROTAGONIST ACTS SCANDALOUS

~*~

The smoking lounge was drenched in the tangerine haze of the morning light. The sun-drizzled stretch of Snips' slumbering figure was draped next to William's in a manner that might have been described as scandalous if it were not for the several mathematical books and blueprints that lay beside them on the cot.

Those readers familiar with fiction of a more racy sort (though we would never accuse you, dear reader, of such indiscretions) might recall that scenarios such as these are often followed by a rapid succession of disasters leading to the most embarrassing situation possible. As the man awakens, the shock of realizing he has spent the night arm-in-arm with a woman incites him to leap to his feet and trip over a strategically placed feline, landing him straight atop the now-awake companion; the ruckus this produces soon rouses the butler to action, who bursts into the room and, seeing the young damsel in the arms of the gentleman, assumes scandal is afoot. This is followed by the stuttering red-faced explanations, the prideful shouts, the accusations, the inevitable attempts at reconciliation, so on, so on, et cetera, et cetera.

These readers may be both surprised and disheartened to learn that no such event occurred. The reason why can be traced to several facts: William Daffodil slept like the dead, Jacob Watts had neither feline nor butler (he considered both to be beastly creatures), and Snips awoke first and was sufficiently well-versed in fiction of this sort to avoid that very scenario.

Snips withdrew herself from William with all the care she gave to barbed wire, slipping free without disturbing so much as a wheatgold lock. She brushed herself off, straightened her clothes, and paused in front of the mirror.

A dirty silver-toothed vagrant stared back.

"Hmph," she said, arching back to admire her profile. There wasn't much to admire; she was hard where she should have been soft and sharp where she should have been smooth. She looked back to William, sleeping serenely on the cot. She glanced about to make sure neither Miss Primrose or Detective Watts were up and about; she then skillfully slipped back into William's arms.

She wriggled about until she was comfortable, drawing in a slow breath. Then, with great care, she took William's wrist and slapped his hand down to the side of her bottom.

"Ah! Villainy!" she cried, springing from his grip with enough violence to rouse the mathematician from his slumber.

"Scandal!"

William was awake in an instant, flailing about as he fell from the cot. At once, he leapt to his feet, red-faced and surprised.

"Wh—what? What's happened? What's going on?"

Snips pointed her finger at him, her eyes flashing with accusation. "You, sir, are a beast. Taking advantage of a hapless damsel. The shame!"

William stuttered for a reply. "I—I beg your pardon, Madame?"

"No pardon will be given, not today," Snips said. "You have stained my reputation as an upstanding Lady—"

"I beg your pardon?!"

"—and now you must make restitution," she said, and then she darted forward, pinning him. She shoved her palms against the wall, keeping his waist between her arms; she threw her head up, her face looming just beneath his chin. "My honor demands it!"

Rather than try to escape, William grew still. The mathematician watched her with a thoughtful expression that quickly made Snips uncomfortable; she imagined it was the sort of look he gave mathematical equations right before completing them. It made her feel as if he was about to solve her for X.

Snips narrowed her eyes. "What?"

William squinted back. "You are a very peculiar person."

"Yes, yes, I know." Snips dropped her arms and stepped away. "No need to rub it in."

"Oh, no," William said. "I don't mean it like that. I like peculiar people."

Snips peered at him; William did his best not to blush.

"Don't get any funny ideas," she told him. "You're a pleasant sort of fellow, but I don't do relationships. Too complicated. Not worth the trouble."

"You are making a rather large assumption there," William pointed out.

She stiffened. "Well, what I mean is—"

William smiled. "But truth be told, I think that under different circumstances, I'd be quite smitten with you. You're very lovely when you aren't acting like a brigand."

"Um—" Snips shuffled where she stood, taken aback. "—

uh, that is—"

William took her hand; he brought the back of her knuckles up to his mouth and gave them a gentle kiss. It was the sort of silly gesture that was supposed to inspire fancy ladies to swoon; it was the kind of romantic flop-trop best reserved for third-rate plays and guileless Romeos.

"Your pardon, Madame." William straightened back up and headed down the stairs.

For the first time that she could remember, Snips' cheeks burned.

~*~

Miss Primrose was enjoying breakfast out on the makeshift dock. Snips adjusted her hat as she made her way towards her hostess, humming a soft tune.

"Did you sleep well?" Miss Primrose asked, voice buzzing with disapproval.

"Oh, come off it," Snips said, still working off the previous blush. "I didn't do anything. We just fell asleep while trying to iron out the details of Basil's model."

"As you like, Miss Snips," she said, although it was clear that Miss Primrose remained unsatisfied.

"What's our next move?"

"Mr. Eddington is our chief suspect," Miss Primrose said.

"It seems certain he is up to no good."

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking. We're going to need more evidence, though. Right?"

"Correct."

"So I'll head on down to the Steamwork," Snips said. "See if I can't dig anything up that I shouldn't dig up."

"Mr. Eddington is unlikely to cooperate. Besides, the Steamwork is closed today."

"I won't be going there during working hours," Snips pointed out.

Miss Primrose blanched. "You intend to break in?"

"What? Did I say break in?" Snips feigned outrage. "Me?

Break the law? Madame, I am offended by your insinuation!"

"Miss Snips, I cannot condone—"

"Relax. You don't need to 'condone' anything. Just go and tell Susan what we've found so far."

"Susan?"

"Count Orwick," Snips said.

"Very well, then," Miss Primrose said, scowling. "You will go about your own particular 'investigation', and I shall inform our employer as to our recent discoveries. Shall we return here by, say, eight o’clock?"

"Eight o'clock it is," Snips said.

"Very well. Try to get it right this time, Miss Snips."

As Snips turned away from the deck, she caught sight of William picking his way around the manorhouse. Ignoring Miss Primrose's disapproving glare, Snips ran off to catch him on his way out the gate.

"Hey," Snips said. "Wait a moment, eh?"

"Erm, oh, I beg your pardon," William said. "I've only now just realized I'm late for my grandmother's little party—"

"Oh, visiting your grandmum, eh? Mind if I tag along?"

Snips asked.

"I—um. I'm not sure if that's entirely wise," William said.

"Really, now? Afraid I'll scare her off?" Snips grinned.

"Oh, I doubt that," William said. "I doubt that very much."

"Well, I want to talk with you a little bit, before you run off to wherever," Snips said. "So I'll come along, if that's alright."

"I suppose," William said, resisting the urge to squirm about in his clothes. "But, you must understand. My grandmother's very, ah, strange..."

"I'm sure I'll manage."

~*~