Mr. Delacorte dashed gamely back upstairs, and Delilah and Angelique made for the Annex, swiftly, through the passage connecting the buildings, and into the corridor.
Angelique stopped sharply and placed a hand on Delilah’s arm. “Do you hear that?”
“That” was a faint keening sound.
“It’s coming from the ballroom, I think,” Angelique surmised.
They cautiously approached it, and this theory was confirmed. The closer they got to the ballroom, the keening evolved into actual words. Terrifying ones.
“HELP! Heeeeellllllp!Heeeeeellp!”
They hiked their skirts in their hands and ran.
“HEEEELLLLP!” It was louder now.
Delilah yanked open the door, and they both burst into the room.
To discover the sky had literally fallen. The ballroom floor was a carnage of stars and nets. And in one of them something, or someone, was thrashing like a great carp.
“Heeeeelllp! It’s me, Dot!”
They ran to her side and dropped to their knees. “Oh Dot! Thank God you’re all right!”
“I’m not all right! I’m in a net!” She attempted to claw it away from her face and only succeeded in trapping her fingers in the gaps.
“You’ll be all right in a moment,” Angelique soothed. “You can stop thrashing now. How on earth did you happen to be in a net?”
“I was admiring the stars,” Dot said through the holes in the net, “and then I thought, well, I thinkthatone would look a little better if it was a little lower. I reached up, and I suppose I tugged too hard, and down it came, and then down everything came. Cor, was I scared!” She brightened a little. “It’s a very good net, however. See how well it works!”
Attempting to free herself had diabolically only entangled her more thoroughly. Her hairpins and hair and apron strings had conspired with the net to hold her fast. Even the newspaper she’d dutifully purchased had somehow become incorporated.
“All right. Hold very still, Dot. You’re making it worse,” Delilah fussed.
It was ages undoing her, and a rather surgical process. Angelique was compelled to go and geta pair of scissors. In the end, Dot lost some blond hairs, and the net gained some blond hairs, but she deemed it a small price to pay for her freedom.
They got her up on her feet, and they both fussed over her and smoothed her skirts. “Poor Dot,” Delilah exclaimed. “How awful for you! Are you scratched or bruised?”
Upon Dot’s reflection and Delilah and Angelique’s external inspection, it was discovered she was just a little dusty.
Also: more than a little blue. Some of the dye had rubbed off on her face.
Delilah had to give Angelique a little pinch to keep her from laughing when they noticed this.
“If we don’t get a lot of paying guests, we can just drop the nets and shanghai the ones we have and make our money that way,” Angelique said.
Delilah stifled a laugh.
“Paying guests” remained a concern. They would learn today from Lucien if they’d sold any more tickets.
“Dot, why don’t you go get cleaned up. Helga needs help in the kitchen. We’ll wait for Captain Hardy and Lord Bolt to return to get the nets back up.”
Good God. Neither of them looked forward to asking their husbands to do that again.
They all missed Mr. Cassidy, who had found heavy work quite soothing and was happy to be paid in scones and good will.
“But I suppose it’s helpful in that we know we ought not let the guests tug on the stars,” Delilahsaid encouragingly. “We’re sorry this happened to you, Dot.”
“I suppose we can put it down to life’s vicissitudes,” Dot said blithely, and departed to get sorted out.
