Summer of the Moon Flower (The de Vargas Family) (6 page)

Dougal and Edward stood and bowed to their
Leader.

They both replied. “Yes, my Lord.”

A soft tap at the door of her boudoir
informed Sofia the first clients for the day had arrived and were waiting
downstairs in her salon. She twisted the final silver ringlet with her hair
steamer and it fell gently to the shoulder of her tunic. Glancing in the
mirror, she frowned at her reflection. Her silver white curls accentuated the
pallor of her cheeks and she reached for her pot of rouge. She was a little
heavier-handed than was her norm and applied more color to her cheeks.

A week had passed since the incident at the
railway station, the cargo being safely delivered to the flower stalls in the
Naschmarkt
as had been arranged. Johann had strolled past the markets situated on the roof
of the
Wienfluss
and purchased his usual bouquet from the stallholder on
his way to the University. The cargo for the laboratory was secreted in the
bouquet amongst the white tulips, bellflowers, and snowdrops. Once the shipment
had arrived at the laboratory, Sofia and the professor had spent the past few
nights deliberating on her plan to visit the Alps.

Ernst had shaken his head. “It was only one
instance, Sofia, and it was obviously a trap. However, I believe we should
continue with the train and the flower market for the delivery of the flowers.

“No. I believe it is fraught with danger.
We are too close to success to risk both losing the cargo and being discovered.
It is time to sit quietly and bide our time.”

“Johann and—”

Sofia cut him off. “Ernst, it is decided. I
have deposited the funds for Johann and Genevieve to embark on their trip. I
expect you will keep writing up your research. She looked at him intently. “It
is imperative you take care of things at the University.”

“And what about you?” he asked, his
beetling eyebrows almost meeting as he frowned at her.

“What about me?” She laughed. “Madam Sofia
de Vargas has a spring showing in her salon to organize. She has three
dirigibles arriving from the colonies over the next week full of New York mamas
and their eligible daughters to outfit for the upcoming season. I shall
continue to be a doyenne of European society. When the show is finished, I will
travel to Cornwall to visit my sister and collect my two scallywag nephews and
take them on a wonderful holiday, skiing in the Austrian Alps.

As the Professor opened his mouth to argue,
Sofia stood and raised her hand

“Enough, Ernst.” She kept her voice
firm.”We have worked for this outcome for almost ten years and we will wait
until we are sure our research is not in jeopardy. One month of rest will not hurt.”

The professor had been unhappy with her
decree and she had not heard from him for several days.

Another soft tap on her door broke into
Sofia’s’ reverie.

“Enter.”

Madam Lucienne de Voisy, the elegant salon
manager stood in the doorway.

“Madame, the dirigible has docked and the
ladies have disembarked and are currently taking refreshment in the lounge.
They will be ready for you in a few minutes.”

“Thank you, Lucienne, I am coming now.”
Sofia stood and smoothed down her close fitting silver tunic.

Following the taller woman into the narrow
perambulator at the end of the hall, Sofia lightly touched the descent cog, and
there was a quiet whoosh of steam as the machine slid noiselessly to the ground
floor. As they descended, Sofia smiled at the memory of her introduction to the
perambulator in Indigo’s ancient manor in Cornwall. The workings of that
machine were so archaic, it was necessary to wear earmuffs to block the noise
of the hissing steam and the clunking cogs.

Stepping out of the perambulator, Sofia
walked to the doorway of the Salon de Sofia and paused, taking in the scene
before her. As always she took a great deal of pleasure in looking around the
business; she had established the salon from her humble beginnings as a
seamstress when she had moved to Vienna, after attending Indigo’s wedding in
Cornwall just before her own twentieth birthday.

The greeting salon was simple and
understated in its decor. Sofia’s signature color—silver—was evident in the
furnishings and the walls were draped with soft gray silk. The morning sunlight
streamed through the long narrow windows at the eastern end of the long room
and refracted from the crystals hanging from the ceiling. The rainbows provided
the only color in the room. Two waiters with silver trays of champagne in
crystal goblets circulated among the excited clients.

Watching the dozen or so women chatter and
laugh as they indulged in elegant
pattiseries
washed down with the
finest of French champagne, Sofia knew this group would be easy to work with.

I hope so. There is much to plan before
the day is out.

She caught Lucienne’s eye and the salon
manager clapped her hands as Sofia stepped into the room.

“Attention, Mesdames and Mademoiselles.”
The women fell silent as Lucienne introduced Madam de Vargas, and Sofia smiled
at them in welcome.

“Welcome to my salon. I trust you had a
pleasant journey in my dirigible?” Sofia spread her arms wide in welcome. “As
you can see we have the latest in exquisite fabrics and accoutrements to
prepare you for the upcoming season in New York.”

Five assistants entered the room as she
spoke, each carrying either a bolt of cloth or a box of adornments. Sofia
reached for a bolt of silk, holding it high as it slipped sinuously to the
ground, the sunlight catching the rainbow colors of the fabric. She smiled with
satisfaction at the many
oohs
and
aahs
from the assembled women.

She had paid a small fortune for that bolt
of fabric from Turkey, and it was the most expensive item in her salon. As she
lightly clapped her hands, another six assistant couturiers dressed in silver
tunics stepped from the cubicles on each side of the salon and Lucienne
introduced each client to their own personal assistant. Sofia would spend time
with each group to ensure they had the attention of the couturier herself to
meet their needs.

Lucienne lightly touched Sofia’s arm and
drew her aside as the women sat with their advisers. “Sofia, are you able to
have a personal appointment this afternoon? A messenger has arrived from the
Earl of Rothmore. He is in Vienna with his wife and they depart tomorrow. He
begs your forgiveness for the short notice and has asked for an appointment for
late this afternoon.”

“The Earl of Rothmore?” Sofia frowned and
tried to remember the name. “Has his wife been here before?”

“His message seemed to indicate his wife
has been here before. Perhaps before they married?” Lucienne replied.

“No matter.” Sofia walked to the back of
the room and slipped behind the velvet curtain, smiling to herself as she heard
a young lady beseech her mother.

“Oh, Mama, I must have the rainbow silk.”

Tapping the alphabet keys in front of the
analytical engine, she searched for Rothmore in her customer list. Her memory
was excellent, and she had no recall of that name and her records confirmed
this.

“It is all right, Lucienne. I shall see the
earl and his lady at four this afternoon.”

“Very well, Madame. I shall send a
messenger.”

Sofia returned to her clients and was kept
busy as many orders were placed.
Salon de Vargas
was becoming known
across the globe and providing the dirigible service to the colonies had
resulted in a tenfold increase in the number of clients who visited and spent
their money each season. She smiled to herself. There would be no problem
funding the upcoming trip to the Alps to collect the next shipment for the
university.

* * * *

Dougal leaned forward in his seat and
lifted the hood from his wife’s head and shoulders. The hum of the dirigible
covered the sound as the hood folded down from the side of the airship and he
secured the straps to the hooks on the wall. He smiled at the automaton and
patted her hand gently. “I will wake you when we arrive, my dear.”

Dawn was breaking, and Edward pointed to
the ground as fingers of sunlight dappled the treetops of the forest below.
They had left the English Channel behind and were moving swiftly over the
French countryside as they made good time to their destination.

“Have you had a reply from the messenger?”
asked Edward.

“Yes,” Dougal smiled. “Sweet Celestine and
I have an appointment at four o’clock.” Dougal pointed to the quiet woman
staring vacantly at the side of the dirigible.

Edward reached over and flicked a lever on
the control panel of the steam-powered air ship. “We had better make haste,
then.”

Dougal looked at the young man and decided
to broach the subject that had been at the forefront of his mind since the
meeting at Castle Dean. Their conversations to date had concerned their journey
and collecting Dougal’s ‘wife’. Edward, surprisingly, was familiar with the
steam propulsion system of this airship and explained to Dougal he had spent
some time in France learning the intricacies of steam-powered travel.

“Edward, may we speak?” The younger man
looked up eagerly.

“Don’t worry, Dougal, we shall arrive in
Vienna before noon.”

Dougal waved his hand dismissively.

“Oh, I have no fear of that Dougal. I need
to have a conversation with you regarding the purpose of our visit.”

The young man’s eyes widened and Dougal
watched with interest, as Edward swallowed nervously and his Adam’s apple
bobbed up and down. The younger man adjusted the large cog on the side of the
control panel and secured it with a brass chain, before turning to Dougal.

“There. Our course is set.”

Dougal leaned back in his set and steepled
his fingers, looking at Edward and he realized the life of this eager young man
was in his hands.

“Edward, tell me about your vows.”

“Well… I understand that I have committed
to this task and my vows will ensure my loyalty to you and the completion of
the task,” he replied. The young man’s reply was cryptic and Dougal sensed he
was not being completely honest.

“And your thoughts on the termination of
Madam de Vargas?”Edward held Dougal’s gaze silently for a full minute, the only
sound to be heard was the gentle whooshing of the steam from the cylinders and
the soft rushing of the air past the side of the airship.

“May I be frank, Dougal?”

“You may.”

“Your father was a very good friend to mine
and they shared a common goal. I am unsure of your allegiance to your father’s
philosophies or if you were indeed aware of his goal before he died. At Castle
Dean when our Leader asked for someone to join you in this task, I prayed to
myself that you were privy to the thoughts of your father. That is why I
volunteered and took the vows.”

Douglas smiled. The expression in the young
man’s voice as he mentioned the vows left him in no doubt that they were of the
same mind.

“Well then, Edward. We have an interesting
task ahead.”

He leaned back and closed his eyes.

“Wake me when we are over Vienna.”

At precisely four o’clock, a carriage drew
to a halt in the
Lindengasse
across from the salon. Sofia sat on a velvet-lined
love seat beneath the window sipping a cup of chamomile tea and glanced across
at Lucienne who waited at the entrance to greet the Earl of Rothmore and his
wife.

“Ah…
merveilleux
,” Lucienne
exclaimed.

“What is it?” asked Sofia.

“We have a very wealthy client by all
appearances.” The petite salon manager peered through the spy hole on the main
door. “He drives one of those new horseless carriages. There are only a few in
the city and they are costly.”

Sofia’s curiosity was aroused. She’d had no
clients from Scotland before and would be interested to hear how a wealthy earl
and his wife had come to hear of
Salon de Vargas.

“
Ooh, la la
,” chirped Lucienne. “And
his wife is very drab. We will have some work to do here.”

Sofia stood and patted her hand over her
hair now coiled in braids around her forehead. A short rest after the departure
of the ladies from the colonies had refreshed her and now she looked forward to
meeting a new client…especially one with a wealthy husband. A substantial sale
would be well received financially, with Johann and Genevieve’s trip to England
looming and her own trip to the Alps in the preparation stage.

The bell on the front door rang and Sofia
stepped back into the shadows at the side of the room to observe her new
customer. Lucienne ushered a short woman dressed from head to toe in black
through the door and into the main salon. Her black dress was fashioned from
Henrietta crepe, a bland fabric Sofia detested. A weeping veil of more black crepe
covered her face and she wore no adornments. Her head was lowered and she
didn’t speak.