Percy abhorred parties. He detested balls and shunned gatherings. He hated card games and gambling dens. He avoided everything from intimate dinner conclaves to sporting events. Anything, in fact, where one was forced into regrettably uncomfortable clothing, assembling in numbers greater than six, and making a show of being entertained by other people.
But Percy reserved his true and utter ire, his loathing above all other loathings, for weddings.
Quite apart from everything else, they were the one social event for which a gentleman couldn’t readily form an excuse. Add that to the fact that weddings inevitably included flocks of young ladies driven to twitterpations, with marriage on the brain, and Percy within their grasp – pure torture.
It wasn’t the young ladies’ fault per se. Percy found the society of most people tedious. The exchange of meaningless pleasantries required by polite society was an insult to his intellect. If he had to discuss the weather one more time he might… well, there was no knowing what he might do. No doubt he would find out at this event, because weddings brought out the worst in everyone.
The only upside of a wedding was that during the first part one wasn’t required to do anything but sit in an uncomfortable pew.
It occurred to Percy, while he shifted about to keep the blood flowing to his nether regions, that he was profoundly relieved his sister had a preference for her own sex. He’d have to thank her later. It meant that the chances of Percy ever having to actively participate in one of these blasted things was slim.
Percy brought along a book about jellyfish migratory patterns, which was quite fascinating. He spent the entire ceremony reading that. He wasn’t a fool, though. He’d selected it in part because the outside was red and gilt, making it look biblical. The sacred jellyfish pilgrimage. He amused himself imagining the presiding bishop, a well-bearded elderly gentleman with unfortunate ears, wearing a mantle of jellyfish.
No doubt it was a perfectly nice ceremony. Percy chose not to notice.
As they left the church, Percy with Primrose on one arm and Tasherit on the other (for the sake of appearances), he realized his sister was crying.
“What’s wrong, Tiddles? Surely it wasn’t all that awful.”
“It was beautiful.”
“Uh?” He looked hopefully at Tash for support, but even she seemed slightly overcome. Most un-catlike of her.
Prim dabbed her eyes with an embroidered handkerchief. “It went so smoothly. And everyone is here. Well, not Rue’s blood parents or our mother but that’s probably for the best. Although I’m certain Rue misses her paw most awfully. Lord Akeldama did a glorious job of escorting her, don’t you feel? He looked so proud and beautiful. That outfit. Extraordinary. Like a great sparkling aspic jelly.” Apparently, Lord Akeldama’s apparel was sufficient to start the waterworks again.
Percy looked around, bewildered. He caught sight of their too-lovely new doctor, who seemed mostly amused at being thrust unexpectedly upon a wedding. This was good. She’d need to be relaxed about getting thrust into things, if she were to survive The Spotted Custard. Then he realized he was staring at her – again! – which was vexing and, evidently, a new failing of his. He looked quickly back at his leaky sister.
“Lord and Lady Maccon aren’t here? I hadn’t noticed.”
“You hadn’t noticed? You hadn’t noticed that the bride’s parents were in absentia? Oh Percy, for goodness’ sake. It’s not as if Lord Maccon could be mistaken for Lord Akeldama, and you know they would have both led her down the aisle if he were present. And it’s not as if you can overlook Rue’s mother, either, if she’s in a room. I mean Aunt Alexia isn’t exactly quiet. Of course they aren’t here! Rodrigo is here. Aunt Alexia wouldn’t even be able to be in the same city as him, remember? I think that’s the general breadth of preternatural effect, the weather being clear and all. We’re lucky, it being springtime.”
Marvellous, thought Percy, we’re on to the weather already.
“We’re off to see them next,” Prim continued in a tone suggesting Percy ought already to know this.
Percy considered. Did I know? Sometimes people made plans around him while he was thinking about more important things. Like whether time travelled in waves, lines, or cycles, or if it was a particulate gas, like aether. Hummm …
“Percy? Percy!”
“What? Oh yes, where are we going next?”
“Casually floating to Egypt.” That was Tasherit’s amused addendum.
Percy glared at her. “I missed the part where Rue’s parents weren’t invited. That isn’t odd? In a wedding? No parent?”
Prim clasped her free hand to her chest and glared at him. But at least she’d stopped crying. They’d joined the bride’s side and were waiting to throw flowers (or shoes, or small bits of bacon, or something equally ridiculous) at the wedded couple. Peculiar custom.
Percy made it a point never to throw anything.
He looked around, avoiding Prim’s exasperated frown, and nodded at Madame Lefoux and Miss Imogene, who stood on the groom’s side. Miss Imogene was beaming and even Madame Lefoux was showing dimples. They clearly approved the match. Percy wondered if he could bend Madame Lefoux’s ear about Floote’s tank at some point. His calculations suggested a few modifications might be in order. He didn’t want to discuss this with Quesnel, because, well… Quesnel was irksome.
Prim kept talking, unfortunately. “Not invited! Of course they’re invited! But you know Rue’s father can’t leave Egypt anymore.”
“He can’t?” Percy had lost the conversational thread.
“Oh my goodness, Percival Ormond Tunstell! Must you be so tiresome? Remember the whole trip where we floated them to Egypt and how we had to keep Lord Maccon in the tank because he was going mad?”
Percy nodded. “Oh yes, that’s right. I see, well, good thing they didn’t attend the ceremony, isn’t it? Why didn’t you say so at the start? Wouldn’t do to have an insane werewolf at a wedding.”
Prim emitted an exasperated wheezing noise.
“What was that, young Percy?” A warm voice spoke behind them.
The Alpha of the local werewolf pack and his Beta had joined their party.
Primrose turned to the two gentlemen in evident relief. “Oh, Lord Falmouth, what a pleasure. Do save me from my brother? He’s so impossible. And Professor Lyall, what a delight to find you back in London at long last. Are you enjoying the move to Blackheath?”
Lord Falmouth, otherwise known as Biffy, gave Prim a small polite smile. “We are indeed. It suits the pack well. Thank you for asking. A very pleasant evening to you too, my dear, and you, Percy. And Lady Tasherit! I’d no idea you’d be staying with the Custard. Surely all that floating about can’t be good for the supernatural constitution?”
“I manage.” Tasherit looked as smug as only a feline could when confronted with a lycanthrope. Werecats are superior to werewolves in this matter. She didn’t say it, but even Percy, who wasn’t a perceptive person, heard her unspoken words. Fortunately, she wasn’t looking to tease the wolves too much, as she quickly added, “The little one here gave me good reason to stay.”
“Did she indeed?” Biffy’s eyes ran approvingly over the two ladies. “Excellent. Lovely hat, by the way, Miss Primrose.”