“Hold on a moment,” said Charlie. He shoved aside the magic coin he’d been staring down for the past half hour. “Aren’t the queen’s guards watching the house?”
“There’s only one guard,” said Hilary, “and he’s apparently not the crispest wafer in the tin. Miss Pimm complains about him in every letter she writes to me. He’s supposed to be keeping an eye on Mrs. Tilbury, but Miss Pimm says he spends most of his time playing dominoes and painting with oils.”
“In that case,” said Charlie, “I’m all for snooping. It sounds like a grand idea.”
“Are you sure it’s allowed?” Miss Greyson asked. “By the pirate league, I mean. Will they disqualify you from battle if you’re caught spying on your adversary?”
Hilary hadn’t consulted the seventeenth edition of Leading the League, but she was fairly sure she knew what it had to say on the subject. “I don’t think we’ll be disqualified,” she said. “Lying and cheating are heartily encouraged, after all. Blacktooth’s certainly done plenty of both already.”
“And we won’t get caught,” the gargoyle added. “I can hop very quickly when I need to.”
“Then it’s settled,” said Hilary. “We’ll spy on Tilbury Park. But we won’t be able to stay long, and we mustn’t catch the Mutineers’ attention. They may not be allowed to harm us before the battle, but if they have a chance to make us thoroughly miserable in the meantime, I’m quite sure they’ll take it.”
“IT’S NOT FAIR,” the gargoyle complained. “When I said I wanted to come along, I didn’t realize I’d be up a tree.”
“If it’s any consolation, we’re all up a tree,” Hilary told him, “and if you don’t stop poking me, we might all fall out of it.”
“All right.” The gargoyle withdrew his tail from Hilary’s side. “But I still say that a tree is no place for pirates. I think I just sat on a pinecone.”
“I’d prefer that to sitting in the Dungeons,” said Charlie, “which is where we’ll all end up if the royal guard hears us. Have you spotted anything yet, Alice? I can hardly see my own nose from down here.”
On the branch above Hilary’s, the pine needles rustled as Alice peered out toward Tilbury Park. “Someone’s just lit a lantern in one of the upstairs rooms,” she whispered. “I suppose it might be a maid, but . . .” Alice scrambled higher into the tree, sending bits of bark raining down on Hilary’s hat. “Terror, could you pass me your spyglass?”
Alice’s hand appeared in front of Hilary’s face, and Hilary stuck the spyglass into it. After a moment, both the hand and the spyglass vanished up into the branches. “That’s better,” said Alice cheerfully. “Yes, there’s a maid in the room, but I think she’s talking to someone. . . . Ah! It’s that grumpy old turnip herself.”
“You mean Mrs. Tilbury?”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it? Now the maid’s leaving, and Mrs. Tilbury is taking something from a shelf.”
“A magic piece?” the gargoyle asked eagerly. “A stolen jewel? A fancy hat?”
Alice groaned. “It’s a book. And she’s settling down with it. It’s probably one of those dreadfully dull Improving Works about budgets or household management.”
Charlie shifted on his tree limb. “I’m not spending an hour in a tree just to learn about the top ten ways to yell at your servants.”
“If Mrs. Tilbury spends her spare evenings reading Improving Works, she’s even more villainous than I thought.” Hilary’s legs were sore from crouching on her branch, and she wished she could move about, but she had one arm around the gargoyle and the other around the tree trunk, and she wasn’t about to let go of either one. “In any case, if she’s just going to sit there, there’s no point in watching her. We might as well head back to the ship before Jasper and Miss Greyson change their minds and decide to join us.”
“Wait!” Alice whispered. “Someone’s just come in! Quite a few someones, in fact. There’s Philomena, and she’s got two gentlemen with her. One’s that horrid smug boy who sneered at you on Gunpowder Island, Terror.”
“Oliver Sanderson.” Hilary nearly forgot all about being sore. “Honestly, that boy is as persistent as a cockroach.”
“That,” said the gargoyle, “is an insult to cockroaches. They can be surprisingly pleasant once you get to know them.”
“Then they’re a good deal nicer than Oliver.” Hilary’s legs wobbled beneath her, and she wondered how much longer she could keep her feet balanced on the branch. “Who’s the other gentleman, Alice?”
Alice sighed. “My infuriating brother, naturally. Oh, I wish I could hear what they’re saying! I don’t suppose they’ll open the window on an evening as chilly as this one. Perhaps I could shimmy up to the roof somehow, or—”
Quite without warning, Hilary’s legs slid out from under her. “Blast!” she cried. She landed hard on the branch below, which made an alarming cracking noise as it met the seat of her breeches. Her hat snagged itself on a pine bough, dangled there for a moment, and fell to the ground.
“Terror!” Charlie whispered. “Are you all right?”
Hilary brushed her hair from her face; her fingers were sticky with sap. “I believe I’ve scraped my pride,” she said, “but at least I didn’t drop the gargoyle. Oh, gargoyle, are you hurt?”
The gargoyle wriggled out from under her arm and twitched his ears experimentally. “I’m fine,” he said, “considering. But I don’t think you should be worrying about me.” He jabbed his tail toward Tilbury Park. “You should be worrying about him.”
“Oh dear.” Hilary watched through the branches as a lantern bobbed across the lawn in their direction. “I suppose there’s a royal guard attached to the end of that lantern.”
The gargoyle nodded. “I told you trees were trouble.”
“What’s this?” The lantern stopped at the bottom of the tree, and the guard bent over to examine Hilary’s hat. “How curious,” he said. “I don’t believe hats usually grow on trees.”
Hilary held her breath and tried her best to be invisible.
“Aha!” cried the guard, peering up at them. “I thought I heard someone shout. What are you all doing up there? A tree is no place for pirates.”
“I told them that, sir,” the gargoyle said, “but they wouldn’t listen.”
The guard shielded his eyes with a paint-smudged hand; Hilary supposed Miss Pimm had been right about the oils. “Well,” he said, “you’ll have to leave. This land is the private property of a convict, you know. She’s difficult enough to keep an eye on even when bands of pirates aren’t roaming about the place.” He scratched his nose with a cadmium-yellow finger. “I really should send you to the Dungeons.”
“There’s no need to do that,” Charlie said quickly. “Just think of all the paperwork you’d have to fill out: arrest forms, transportation forms, and whatever sort of form they’ve got for finding pirates in trees.”
“All that work would distract you from keeping watch over Mrs. Tilbury,” Hilary pointed out. “And your job is only to keep her from leaving the property, isn’t that right? I’m sure you’re not obliged to deal with trespassers as well.”
The guard frowned. “Perhaps I should consult Mrs. Tilbury—”
“No!” cried Hilary, Charlie, Alice, and the gargoyle all at once.
“I’d rather not,” the guard admitted. “She’s terribly critical—always saying there’s not enough orange paint in my sunsets. And she cheats at dominoes.”
Alice leaned down from her branch and cupped her hand around Hilary’s ear. “I thought you ought to know,” she whispered, “that I just looked back at Mrs. Tilbury’s room. She and Nicholas are still there, but Philomena and Oliver are gone.”
Hilary’s heart had barely enough time to sink before a door slammed shut somewhere nearby, and two more lanterns appeared on the lawn. “Who’s there?” Philomena called out. “Where’s that dratted guard?”
The guard stiffened and turned toward Philomena. “I’m over here, Miss Tilbury,” he said. �
��I’m afraid there are pirates in the evergreen border.”
It was a shame, Hilary thought, that she couldn’t see the face Philomena made in response. “Thank you for informing me,” Philomena said at last. “I appreciate your help, but I mustn’t keep you from your work. Mr. Sanderson and I are perfectly capable of taking care of pirates.”
“Blast,” Charlie muttered. “Now we’re in for it.”
Hilary tucked the gargoyle into her canvas bag and scrambled down out of the tree. “I’ll handle Philomena,” she told the others, “and Oliver too, if I can manage it. There’s no point in all of us getting caught.”
Charlie started to say something about not being left behind if he could help it, but Hilary had already plucked up her pirate hat and walked over to Philomena, who was shivering in her silk gown. “It’s a beautiful evening, isn’t it?” Hilary said. “I was just doing some stargazing. I’d heard the trees at Tilbury Park have remarkable views.”
Philomena smiled, not exactly sweetly. “They do,” she said, “but they’re terribly full of pests. Mother really should tell the gardener to do something about it.” She brushed past Hilary and walked toward the tree where Charlie and Alice were hiding. “Don’t let Miss Westfield leave, Oliver.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Oliver grabbed Hilary’s braid and tugged it hard. “It’s been ages since we’ve had a chat, and we’ve got so much to discuss. Your father says you’ve been more of a nuisance than ever.”
“Did that school for impudent boys issue an apology to the kingdom when they set you loose?” Hilary asked. “Or did they simply place a warning in the newspaper, the way they do when a wild beast escapes from the carnival?” She reached for her cutlass, but Oliver shook his head.
“You know you’re not allowed to harm us, Miss Westfield, just as we’re not allowed to harm you. Believe me, I’m as disappointed as you are.”
“Then I’d appreciate it if you’d let go of my hair.” Hilary pulled her braid loose from Oliver’s fist. There was no chance she’d be allowed to linger at Tilbury Park, but if only Charlie and Alice could stay hidden, perhaps they’d still be able to learn something about the Mutineers’ plans. “Why don’t we come to an agreement?” she asked. “I’ll return to my ship, you’ll return to your villainous deeds, and we can all spend the rest of the evening in peace.”
“Don’t be silly, Miss Westfield!” Philomena raised her lantern and peered up into the tree. “You’ve been thoughtful enough to call on us, and the least we can do is entertain you. Now, where’s that dreadful boy you drag about with you wherever you go? I believe I spy his boot.”
Charlie jumped down out of the tree, keeping one hand on his cutlass. He looked from Philomena to Oliver and back again. “I’m not surprised you two are friends,” he said. “After all, you’ve got plenty in common.”
“If you mean we both have the best interests of the kingdom at heart,” said Philomena, “then you’re not entirely dull-witted after all.” She turned back to Hilary. “Are there any more pirates hidden away on our grounds, Miss Westfield? Or haven’t you managed to find anyone else to join your crew?”
“It’s only me and Charlie,” said Hilary, looking up at the top of the tree where Alice was perched, “and we don’t need to be entertained for a moment longer. You can walk us to our ship if you’d like.”
Philomena cast her lantern light on Hilary’s face. “I’d better make sure you’re telling the truth,” she said. “I know pirates are fond of spinning tales, and Mama will make my life a misery if I let you spin one around me.” Philomena held out her hand, and Oliver passed her the golden goblet she’d had with her on Gunpowder Island. “There’s no need to look so accusing, Miss Westfield,” she said. “It’s a family heirloom. Now, magic, if there are any other spies sneaking around Tilbury Park, please bring them here at once.”
“Don’t you dare!” said Hilary. She lunged forward and reached out to knock the magic piece from Philomena’s hands. Just as her fingers brushed the goblet’s rim, however, Oliver stepped in front of her and shoved her to the ground.
“My apologies,” he said, though Hilary was sure he didn’t mean any such thing. “That wasn’t very gentlemanly of me, was it?”
Hilary glared at him and scrambled to her feet, but the goblet was already working its enchantment. A gust of cold wind swirled around them, rustling Philomena’s skirts and making the gargoyle shiver. Then the wind shook the branches of the pine tree, its trunk swayed like a ship’s mast during a storm, and Alice flew from the treetop, tumbling curls over petticoats. With a shout loud enough to alert half the Northlands, she landed at Philomena’s feet.
Charlie cursed, and Hilary ran to Alice’s side. “I’m so sorry,” Hilary said in a rush; “I couldn’t stop her. Are you all right?”
Alice blinked up at her. “I’m not entirely sure about this,” she said in a small voice, “but I don’t believe one’s arm is supposed to snap quite so loudly when one lands on it.”
“Blast it all; that doesn’t sound good.” Hilary tore off her coat and fashioned a sort of sling around Alice’s arm, the way she’d once seen Miss Greyson do after Jasper had been injured in a duel. Philomena stood above them with her hands pressed over her mouth; she had dropped the golden goblet, and she didn’t seem to be in any hurry to retrieve it. “I hope you’re pleased with yourself,” Hilary told her.
Oliver looked down at Alice and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I thought we weren’t supposed to hurt them,” he said.
“Miss Feathering climbed a tree,” Philomena snapped. “The wind knocked her out of it. It had nothing to do with me, and I’ll thank you to remember that in front of Mama.” Her voice was starting to shake, and with her shoulders hunched against the cold, she didn’t look much like a pinpricked and poisonous High Society lady anymore.
“You know,” said Hilary, “your mother may be vile, but that doesn’t mean you’ve got to be horrid as well. You’ve got a choice in the matter, haven’t you? If you left the Mutineers and worked as hard as you could, you might even learn to be kind someday.”
Philomena blinked in the lantern light. She stood up straighter. “I assure you, Miss Westfield, that I am perfectly capable of thinking for myself. And unlike you,” she said, turning away, “I don’t make foolish decisions.”
Alice pulled at Hilary’s sleeve. “Terror,” she said softly, “I want to go back to the ship now.”
“Of course.” Hilary put her arm around Alice and helped her up from the ground. “I’m sure Miss Tilbury will let us leave without making a fuss.” She gave Philomena her most fearsome glare, but Philomena wasn’t watching. Instead she was staring up at the lit window of Tilbury Park, where Nicholas Feathering stood with his face pressed against the glass.
“Don’t think we’ll let you go so easily again,” Oliver was saying to Charlie. “Isn’t that right, Miss Tilbury?”
“Oh, be quiet!” Philomena shoved Oliver aside and stormed back toward the house.
Charlie shook his head as Oliver hurried away after Philomena. “You know,” he said, “I think she knocked the sneer straight off his face.”
“And she knocked my stomach straight into my toes.” Alice winced. “She’s going to be an awful Enchantress.”
“She won’t be an Enchantress at all,” said Hilary firmly. “The next time I see her, I’ll let the gargoyle sharpen his teeth on her anklebones, and I don’t care who knows it.” She looked back up at the mansion window, but someone inside had drawn the curtains. “Now,” she said, “let’s get back to the ship. Miss Greyson will need plenty of time to give us all a proper scolding.”
* * *
Dear Hilary,
I’m sorry to hear that the Mutineers are still being so bothersome, though I can’t say I’m surprised. If they suddenly abandoned villainy in favor of a more suitable hobby, like carpentry or butterfly collecting, I believe I would faint on the spot. (And you know how awful I am at fainting. When a toad peered out from under the em
broidery mistress’s skirts last term, I was the only girl in the classroom who didn’t fall into a swoon.)
I would like to tell you that my magic lessons have been going well, but I’m afraid that would be an enormous fib. Truthfully, Miss Pimm has lost her patience with me five times in the past five days alone. To make matters worse, when she consulted her magical instruments yesterday evening, she discovered that she is no longer able to get even the slightest glimpse of the Mutineers or their activities. (You know how Miss Pimm prides herself on finding out what everyone is up to, so I’m sure you can imagine how injured she feels.) She says that trying to uncover what is happening at Tilbury Park is like peering into a thick gray fog. Perhaps her ill health is to blame, but I fear that someone-a very powerful someone indeed-may be interfering with her observations. Although I don’t have any proof of it, I am sure Philomena is responsible, and the thought has made me more flustered than ever. When I tried to cast an enchantment to harvest plants from the garden, all the carrots sprouted legs and hurried out the gate before I had any hope of capturing them. No wonder Miss Pimm has lost her patience: while Philomena spends her days creating impressive fogs, I am busy chasing vegetables through the town square.
Will you come for tea as soon as you get back to Little Herring Cove? I can’t wait to hear all about your travels in the Northlands. I know that Miss Pimm is eager to see you as well, for she has been saving a special plate of spiders for the gargoyle, much to the dismay of the housemaids.
Your friend,
Claire
* * *
* * *
From
The Picaroon
BEIN’ THE OFFICIAL NEWSLETTER OF THE VERY NEARLY HONORABLE LEAGUE OF PIRATES
PIRATE REBELS GATHER NEAR PEMBERTON. Only one month remains until our noble Captain Rupert Blacktooth faces the treacherous Terror of the Southlands in battle. The Terror and her supporters have begun to gather in Wimbly-on-the-Marsh at the home of the freelance pirate Jasper Fletcher, who is not as bold or as fashionable as he believes himself to be. Reliable sources whisper that if the people arriving in Little Herring Cove are the most impressive pirates the Terror can locate, Captain Blacktooth has no reason to be worried about the outcome of next month’s battle.
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