The Unmapped Sea (21 page)

T
HE FRONT DESK CLERK AT
the Left Foot Inn was already in a dreadful state of anxiety. He soon excused himself to lie down, complaining of a vicious headache brought on by “the presence of guests,” as he explained.

Penelope was sorry for his headache but deeply relieved that he would not be on hand to greet the Babushkinovs. “As Agatha Swanburne once said, ‘When an unstoppable force meets an immovable post, it is bound to create quite a ruckus,'” she remarked to Simon. (As the philosophers among you know, a collision between an unstoppable force and an immovable post is an example of a “paradox,” which simply means an idea that contradicts itself: a hotel clerk who cannot abide guests, for example, or a doctor who cares nothing for the sick. Paradoxes are great fun to ponder and even more fun to invent: What if a shoelace that could never be untied met up with a scissor that could cut any shoelace? What if a dessert so delicious it could never be eaten met up with a hungry Incorrigible? And so on.)

Happily, the Left Foot Inn had been made ready
exactly as Penelope had requested, with plenty of extra staff hired for the day. The tallest of these were assigned to help the Incorrigibles with the decorations, while Penelope checked the dinner menu. It was a good thing she did, for they had planned to serve Napoleon pastries for dessert. Penelope liked Napoleons very much (as any sensible person would, for they are delicious), but given Captain Babushkinov's strong feelings about the name, she thought it best to have the kitchen prepare a tasty tiramisu instead.

By half past four, the preparations were complete. There was even time for a relaxing cup of tea before dinner, as well as a few biscuits for the hardworking children. Penelope regretted not having a dress more appropriate for the evening's event, but alas, she had not packed any sunbonnets or summer gowns suitable for the Italian Riviera. “Ah, well,” she thought as she took a soothing sip of her tea. “It is Lady Constance who must be convinced, and she is unlikely to notice what anyone is wearing other than herself. I do hope Lord Fredrick holds up for the evening!
Can
he have misread his almanac, I wonder?”

At five o'clock, the guests began to arrive. When they had all gathered beneath the sign of the foot, Penelope gave a brief welcoming speech reminding them of the
rules for the evening. “In order for our masquerade to succeed, from this moment on, you must not think it is a masquerade at all, but entirely real. Let your imaginations leap! It ought not to be difficult, for I think you will find the ‘vessel' you are about to board quite convincing. One last point: No party is complete without a dance. Tonight we shall be doing the Sea Sway. It is a simple step, which I shall now demonstrate.” She did so. “Now, your turn.”

“No party is complete without a dance. Tonight we shall be doing the Sea Sway.”

On her signal, all the guests swayed to the left.

“Well done. Now, one to the right!”

They obeyed. Truly, when everyone swayed at the same time it was hard not to believe that the ground itself was a ship's deck, rolling from side to side with the waves.

“Superb. Are there any questions?”

“Are there lifeboats aboard?” Jasper joked.

Penelope lifted an eyebrow. “We expect fair winds tonight, and following seas. However, in the event of a shipwreck, women and children first. Now, smooth sailing to you all, and welcome aboard the good ship
Riviera
!” she concluded, and stepped aside to let them proceed into the hotel.

What they saw was a tribute to the power of the imagination, for through the skillful application of
stagecraft, the Left Foot Inn had been transformed. Rope ladders and complicated rigging was strung here and there. A tall mainsail hung from the ceiling, and the farthest walls of the lobby had been covered with panoramic paintings of the sea.

“Why, I could swear I hear the crash of the waves!” Mrs. Clarke exclaimed. This was thanks to the use of what Simon called an ocean drum, which was simply a large quantity of dried beans swirled rhythmically inside a box. The Incorrigibles had made one according to Simon's specifications and hidden themselves behind the rigging to contribute this sound effect as the guests arrived. This, too, was Simon's suggestion. “If you hook the audience right away with something that has a bit of truth in it, their imaginations will do the rest,” he had explained. “They'll follow you anywhere!” (Interestingly, the idea that the imagination of the audience can be relied upon to accept even highly unlikely plots was invented by the same Mr. Coleridge who wrote “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.” He called it “the willing suspension of disbelief.” To this very day, most of us are more than willing to suspend our disbelief if it means we can enjoy a rollicking tale about gloomy supernatural birds, angry wolves that spew curses, seashells with romantic insight, or other, well . . .
unusual
topics.)

“Naturally, you can hear the sea. After all, we are aboard ship,” Penelope said with conviction.

“Whoops! Of course, Miss Lumley, you are quite right,” Mrs. Clarke said quickly, and that was the one and only time any of the guests slipped up that evening.

With the stage set, so to speak, it was time to bring in Lady Constance. At Penelope's nod, Jasper went out to the carriage to signal to Lord Fredrick. Moments later, the lady was brought in. She wore a blindfold and was led by her husband. He was still twitching and scratching, but not so severely that he could not play his part.

“Forgive all the cloak-and-dagger, my dear,” he said, patting her arm. “But I know how you love a good surprise. Watch your step, now, we're about to come on board—”

Obediently Lady Constance raised her feet extra high as she walked, like a pony trained to prance. “Did you say ‘on board'? And is that the roar of the ocean I hear? Why, Fredrick, aren't you clever! I
do
love a surprise, and I assure you I have absolutely no idea what you have planned!”

“That's a relief! It's not easy keeping a secret in a busy household, believe me. You can take off your blindfold
now,” said Lord Fredrick, with a nod to Penelope.

As the blindfold fell, Penelope signaled a Double Sea Sway: first to the right, and then to the left. The ocean drum played its low roar. For someone as passionately inclined to suspend her disbelief as Lady Constance, the illusion of being at sea was already complete.

“Welcome to the good ship
Riviera
, my dear,” Lord Fredrick said, tugging at one ear. “Tonight we sail for Italy.”

“Italy!” Lady Constance brought both hands to her heart, and her mouth fell open in a wide O of surprise. Truly, it was a performance worthy of the West End. “Italy! Why, Fredrick, I am shocked! Shocked as a person could be!”

“Thought you'd like it, what?” Lord Fredrick rocked on his heels and grinned. Like nearly everyone else in the room, he knew her surprise was an act, yet there he stood, blushing with delight.

Lady Constance slipped her arm through his and broke into a radiant smile. “
Bella Italia
, here we come! And to think, all this time I have been
utterly
convinced that we were staying in Brighton!”

T
HE
T
WELFTH
C
HAPTER
The full you-know-what makes itself known.

P
ENELOPE LINGERED NEAR THE DOOR
and marveled at how well her scheme had worked. “It seems that a knack for suspending one's disbelief may be the true key to happiness in this world,” she thought. “To judge from the example of Lady Constance, it is not what happens, but what we believe to be happening that governs our mood. A topic that surely deserves further study—but not now.”

She turned to Simon, who was dressed in a snappy first mate's uniform that suited him distractingly well. With effort, she kept her thoughts on the task at hand.
“Dinner will be served in a quarter of an hour. Is the captain ready?”

“He's all dressed and raring to go,” he answered, tugging his cap to a jaunty angle. “But I hope he sticks to the script! Speaking of captains, where do you suppose the Babushkinovs are? They're likely to miss the boat.”

She frowned, for her instructions had specifically said to be punctual. Once the imaginary ship had left the imaginary dock, latecomers would not be easy to explain. “If they arrive during dinner, I suppose we can say they sailed to sea on a different ship, and came over in rowboats to join us for dessert. . . .”

“Or to borrow some rope,” Simon suggested. “You can never have too much rope on a ship.”

Luckily, the Babushkinovs arrived moments later, just as Simon took the brass bell from the front desk and began to ring it.

Clang clang! Clang clang!
“All ashore that's going ashore!” he shouted, which meant the ship was about to sail. Madame Babushkinov dropped her fur cloak into the waiting arms of a footman and tossed her head like an impatient horse. “The customs of the English are so strange. Imagine, making such a performance out of dinner!”

“All customs are strange. Every dinner is a
performance,” the princess Popkinova said darkly. She was being wheeled by Master Gogolev. He was all in black except for a scarlet cravat tied loosely around his neck, but his hair was as wild and wind tossed as ever.

“Indeed, Princess. ‘All the world's a stage,'” he said.

“‘And all the men and women merely players.' Shakespeare!” finished Alexander with a bow. The Incorrigibles had run to greet their friends the moment they smelled the captain's bearskin cape. Alexander took Veronika by the fingertips and led her daintily inside. Tonight she wore a dress of ocean-blue silk, with a diamond brooch in the shape of a whale pinned to the collar of her matching coat.

“Shakespeare! Did you hear that, Ivan Victorovich?” Madame said confidentially to her husband, in Russian. “And the way that strange English boy bowed to our Nikki! How well mannered and well educated these Incorrigible children are. I am bursting with our news; I can hardly stand the wait!”

The captain put a finger to her lips. “Not yet, my love. We shall tell her tomorrow morning, as we planned. No need to spoil the party! Ah. Ha. Hah!”

P
ENELOPE INSTRUCTED THE
I
NCORRIGIBLES TO
quickly teach the Sea Sway to the Babushkinovs, who had
missed the earlier demonstration. As first mate of the good ship
Riviera
, Simon then gave a brief safety talk about how to use the lifeboats if needed. This made Margaret squeak with fear, until Jasper whispered to her. Her face went blank; then she giggled, stopped herself, and abruptly looked far more frightened than before, but in a fake and overwrought way, like a bad actor in a play.

At last the guests were ushered to the dining room. Here the windows offered a different view than the ones on “deck.” Miraculously, it appeared that the ship had already sailed far out to sea, and there was water, water, everywhere. If one looked carefully, faint outlines of mermaids could be seen in the waves, and a smiling walrus with whiskers that perfectly resembled those of Captain Babushkinov did the backstroke over a distant swell.

Everyone
ooh
ed and
aah
ed over the absurdly swift rate of travel, and Penelope threw in a few Sea Sways for verisimilitude. “That was a powerful big wave that just hit the ship, my, my!” Mrs. Clarke exclaimed each time they leaned to the side. Margaret used these episodes as an excuse to hang on to Jasper's arm, which seemed to please them both. By now it seemed as if even the guests half believed
that they were, in fact, at sea.

The Ashtons' table included Dr. Martell, Captain Babushkinov and his wife, and the princess Popkinova. Two chairs remained empty. “Those must be for the captain and first mate,” Lady Constance said gaily to Madame Babushkinov. “Then we shall have two captains at the table. I hope it does not spark a mutiny! Look, here he comes.”

Madame Babushkinov turned to look, as did everyone else within earshot. The old fellow wore a crisp white uniform with a broad scarlet border around the collar and cuffs, and rows of shiny gold buttons down the front. He leaned on Simon's arm as they walked, but there was still plenty of swagger in his rolling sailor's gait.

“Good evening, honored guests!” Simon announced. “Allow me to present the captain of the good ship
Riviera
—”

“
Capitano
Giuseppe Pomodoro!” Pudge interrupted. He waved and blew kisses to all the guests, and bowed to each of his tablemates in turn. Finally, he sat down, and Simon took the chair beside his.

Penelope and the children were at the next table. The Incorrigibles recognized “Capitano” Pudge right away, but happily suspended their disbelief.
Penelope had to hold back a smile. Clearly the old sailor's knack for things theatrical had prompted him to embellish his role, but as long as he did nothing to spoil the evening's illusion, she saw no harm in him enjoying himself. “It is the captain's dinner, after all,” she thought.

And what a dinner it was! There was antipasto, which simply means the food that comes before the pasta. Then the pasta course was brought out, followed by a main course of meat and fish dishes. The guests ate and drank and laughed and enjoyed themselves thoroughly, especially the staff from Ashton Place, for it was a rare treat for them to have an excellent meal that they did not have to prepare and serve and clean up after themselves.

The waiters made heroic efforts to speak in Italian, as they had been told to do. In practice this meant a lot of nodding and saying
“Bellissima!”
and
“Magnifico!”
and making enthusiastic gestures with their hands. Their pronunciation was poor and the accents were dreadful. However, Lady Constance knew only a few words of Italian herself and had never heard the language spoken by a native, so it was all the same to her.

“Hold on, everyone!” Mrs. Clarke bellowed, clutching the table edge. Penelope had just signaled a Sea
Sway to keep the illusion going during the meal.

“Rough seas,
woof!
” Lord Fredrick remarked. His itching and barking seemed to be getting worse. During the main course of a tender osso buco, he gnawed helplessly on the bone of his veal shank.

“I have heard it said that impending fatherhood can make men as hungry as their expectant wives, but Fredrick, you are attacking your dinner like a hungry wolf!” Lady Constance observed.

“Sorry, my dear,
woof!
It's just all very—
woof!
—tasty,” he mumbled as he continued to gnaw.

Dr. Martell put down his fork. “Are you feeling all right, Lord Ashton? It sounds like you've got a nasty whooping cough coming on, or something of that ilk.”

“
Woof
ing cough? Nonsense. Just a bit of—
ahem! Ahwoo!
—phlegm.” Lord Fredrick cleared his throat loudly, to demonstrate, and promptly picked up another bone to chew.

A
FTER THE MAIN COURSE CAME
a salad course, and then a fruit and cheese course. As the dishes were cleared, the headwaiter came by the Ashtons' table. “Sig-nora,” he said, mistakenly pronouncing the G in “signora” so that it rhymed with “ignore-ah.”
“Dolce? Dolce, si?”

“Yes, bring on the
dolce
, please!” Lady Constance
turned to her husband. “That means cake, hoorah! It must be time for dessert.”
Dolce
(cake) and
cioccolato
(chocolate) were two of the Italian words Lady Constance had managed to learn. The others included
spaghetti
,
Colosseo
,
regali
(which means “presents”), and, of course,
bambino
. She also recognized but could not yet pronounce the sentence
“Il vestito ti sta benissimo,”
which means “That dress fits you perfectly.” She had thought it might come in useful while shopping.

The
dolce
was served, along with tiny cups of very strong Italian coffee. Pudge downed his in a single shot and babbled joyfully in vowel-heavy gibberish while waving his hands for emphasis.

“Such a lovely language,” Lady Constance remarked to Madame Babushkinov. “I believe he is complaining about the high cost of cheese.”

When Pudge stopped to catch his breath, Simon jumped to his feet and struck the brass bell to get everyone's attention.
Clang clang! Clang clang!
“First Mate Harley-Dickinson here, with an update as to our course and bearing. Thanks to some exceedingly fair winds, I am pleased to announce that we have already arrived at the port of—

“Rome?” Lady Constance cried in hope. Rome was hundreds of miles from the Italian Riviera and
nearly fifty miles inland from the nearest port, but such minor details no longer mattered. “Port of Rome! Port of Rome!” the guests shouted merrily, and clinked their coffee cups in the air.

Simon shrugged. “I was going to say Genoa, but I stand corrected. The port of Rome it is.
Benvenuti
, everyone! Welcome to Italy!”

A
ND SO THE
SOSPENSIONE DELL
'
INCREDULITÀ
continued. That the good ship
Riviera
could set sail from England just before dinner and arrive in Italy by the time the
dolce
was cleared was impossible, navigationally speaking, but no one cared. The guests were well fed and enjoying themselves, and Lady Constance was over the moon with delight.

“I am utterly, totally, completely surprised! By everything!” No doubt she had convinced herself of that, too. “Fredrick, you are the best husband a woman could wish for! And this is the most wonderful night of our lives, so far, at least.”

Lord Fredrick scratched behind his ears and beamed with pleasure. The mood of affection that swirled around these two was so genuine, and so unexpected, that many were deeply touched by it. Mrs. Clarke wiped away a tear, and Margaret and Jasper
exchanged shy, tender smiles across the table. Veronika closed her eyes and clasped her hands to her heart, as if imagining the most romantic ballet ever devised, while Alexander gaped at her in ardent wonder. Poor Julia kept stealing looks at Captain Babushkinov as she wept quietly into her napkin, while Master Gogolev ran his hands through his hair, muttering, “Julia, Julia!” Then he gritted his teeth until the muscle in his jaw twitched.

Without meaning to, Penelope found herself glancing at Simon, only to catch him looking at her at the same time. Embarrassed, she tore her gaze away—that unruly hair! that gleam of genius! and, oh, that uniform!—and fixed it on her employers instead. No magical mollusk was needed to pry the truth from their hearts, for it was plain to see. Despite Lord Fredrick's uncontrollable woofing, and his wife's immeasurable foolishness, and the fact that everything around them was made of paint and papier-mâché, they looked, in a word, happy. Happy, and in love! This imaginary voyage had served its purpose so well that Penelope found herself wishing real, true contentment for this moon-crossed couple, and for the Barking Baby Ashton, too.

“But not at the expense of anyone else,” she thought stubbornly. “I know what the curse said, but no one
ought to be thrown to the wolves to assure the happiness of others. No true happiness can be purchased at such a terrible price.”

“Bella Italia!”
Pudge crowed. In the absence of rum, he had drunk several glasses of
vino
with dinner, and was ready to start singing.
“O sole mio!”
he bellowed, one hand upon his heart.

“Ahwoo, ahwoo!”
Lord Fredrick howled in answer.

Lady Constance clapped her hands. “Fredrick, your Italian is much improved! ‘Ahwoo-ahwoo.' Hmm! I know that word, let me think. Has it got something to do with olive oil?”

Penelope discreetly signaled a Double Sea Sway, to indicate the boat taking its berth at the port. In unquestioning imitation of the others, Lady Constance leaned first one way, then the other. “Hold on, everyone!” she sang out. “We have crossed a whole ocean, and I was not seasick once! I must be a natural-born sailor.”

The party proceeded through a hallway that had been made to look like a gangplank connecting ship to shore. The painted ocean behind them gave way to vistas of the Italian countryside. Within these panoramas, the squirrels of Italy perched in the olive groves, squinting against the bright Mediterranean sun.