Petronella Saves Nearly Everyone by Dene Low

Author:Dene Low [Low, Dene]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

Chapter Fifteen

In Which More Than One Is All Wet

WHEN ONE HAS BEEN RASH enough to commit oneself to performing a risky task in the service of one's country, quite outside of one's experience, one is at the mercy of all kinds of irrational thoughts while waiting to perform said task. For instance, I thought of my relations' violent disapproval of my decision, the protests of James and Jane, that Uncle Augustus tucked into Insectile Creatures a centipede he found in the corner of Mr. Berwick's office, and that the cloak supplied to me by the Yard to ward off the chill of the night was at least ten years out of fashion. Fortunately, not many people would see me wearing it, since I was to deliver the ransom at midnight.

I now stood at the base of the statue of Charles the First across from Lord Nelson's Column on Trafalgar Square as the pea soup that is London fog swirled about me. Through the thick mist I could faintly see glowing circles of light; they were the street lamps surrounding the square. My hands felt cold even through my gloves, mostly from apprehension.

Although I couldn't see it, I knew that near the closest edge of that square, across from where I stood, reared the tallest Corinthian column in the world, of which we English are justly proud, and on top of that column stood the statue of Lord Nelson—he who had saved Britain from Napoleon at the Battle of Trafalgar. I hoped he could, figuratively speaking, help save us again—this time from another enemy trying to destroy Mother England.

Mist-muffled footsteps sounded next to me, and my heart shuddered in alarm.

"Hello, old egg," said James from near my ear.

"What are you doing here?" I whispered, my heart fluttering both from the unexpectedness of his presence and his presence. Through my cloak, I could feel the warmth of his arm against mine.

"Scouting about a bit. Did you know your aunt, the Duchess of Worffingdon, and her two offspring are armed with walking sticks over by the plinth supporting King George's statue?"

I groaned.

"Oh, it doesn't stop there. Your aunt Cordelia is bravely holding down Sir Charles Napier's plinth on the opposite corner, only she has an umbrella. She says the end is quite sharp."

"And Cyril?" I asked.

"Cyril is cowering next to the base of the empty fourth plinth. I don't think he likes fog. He keeps sniveling."

"What about the inspector?"

"Inspector Higginbotham and Sergeant Crumple keep slinking from plinth base to plinth base trying to convince your relations to leave or at least hush. You can imagine their lack of success. There is no sign, however, of your uncle." James sounded a trifle worried over the last bit.

I was worried too. "Not knowing where he is does little to calm me, and neither does knowing where my other relations are. I might have guessed they would try something like this. I am surprised you found anyone in this pea soup. However, you haven't mentioned Jane."

"I've ensconced her safely in the Savoy with a late supper.

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