He leaned against the wall as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to be in Blake's bathroom. “I returned about ten minutes ago.”
“We had a few matters to discuss,” Blake added.
“In the washing room?”
“Brings back memories of Eton and all that,” James said with a devastating smile.
“Really?” Penelope did not sound convinced.
“No one had any privacy there, you know,” Blake said. “It was really quite barbaric.”
Penelope pointed to the pile of blankets on the floor. “What are those doing here?”
“What?” Blake asked, stalling for time.
“The blankets.”
He blinked. “Those? I have no idea.”
“You have a pile of blankets and pillows on the floor of your washing room and you don't know why?”
“I suppose Perriwick might have left them there. Maybe he meant to have them cleaned.”
Penelope scowled. “Blake, you're an abominable liar.”
“Actually, I'm a rather good liar. I'm just a touch out of practice.”
“Then you do admit you're lying to me?”
“I don't think I admitted any such thing.” He turned to James with a guileless expression. “Did I, Riverdale?”
“I don't think so. What do you think, Penelope?”
“I think,” Penelope growled, “that neither of you is leaving this room until you tell me what is going on.”
Caroline listened to the conversation through the door, holding her breath as Penelope grilled the two gentlemen with the skill of an executioner.
Caroline let out a silent sigh and sat down. The way things sounded in the bathroom, she might be stuck in the stairwell for hours. Penelope certainly exhibited no signs of giving up her interrogation.
Time to look on the bright side, she decided, dismissing the fact that it was dark as pitch in the stairwell. She might be trapped in the most bizarre of situations, but it was still heads and tails above being stuck with the Prewitts. Good heavens, if she hadn't run off, she'd probably be a Prewitt herself by now.
What a hideous thought.
But not nearly as hideous as what happened next. Maybe she'd stirred up some dust when she sat down, maybe the gods were simply aligned against her, but her nose began to tickle.
Then it began to itch.
She jammed the side of her index finger up against her nostrils, but it was to no avail.
Tickle, itch, tickle, itch.
Ah…Ah…Ah…
AH-CHOO!
“What was that?” Penelope demanded.
“What was what?” Blake replied at the very same moment James began to sneeze uncontrollably.
“Stop that ridiculous act,” Penelope snapped at James. “I heard a female sneeze, and I heard it distinctly.”
James started sneezing at a higher pitch.
“Cease!” Penelope ordered, striding toward the door to the stairs.
Blake and James made a mad dash toward her, but they were too late. Penelope had already wrenched the door open.
And there, on the landing, sat Caroline, hunched over, her entire body wracked by sneezes.