Archer stared at his grandfather. “The jars inside your trunks.”
His grandfather nodded. “During the journey south, your grandmother discovered that crate aboard our ship. She hid the jars inside her trunk, not realizing a jar of Doxical Powder was missing. It’s one thing for Mr. Birthwhistle to buy Captain Lemurn. It’s another to buy his entire crew. Their job is to get you somewhere safely. Can you imagine Cornelius harming anyone?”
Archer couldn’t imagine that. “The captain used Doxical Powder on them?”
“I’m certain he did. I don’t know if the crew is aware of that, but they know what they did. And now, fearing punishment, they’re lying.”
Archer gripped the cold metal railing. “Do you think Benjamin knows any of this?” he asked. “Do you think he knows what his father did?”
“I can’t see any reason Mr. Birthwhistle would have told him about the iceberg,” Grandpa Helmsley replied. “And you mustn’t hold it against him if he doesn’t believe you. In situations like these, the best we can do is what we think’s right, and hope others will do the same.”
Archer kicked a bit of snow and watched it cascade onto the frozen canal. “What happens now?” he asked.
Grandpa Helmsley smiled wryly, pointing a finger into the air. “The Helmsley Inquiry begins! We have lots to figure out. And I’ll let you in on a well-known secret: your grandmother is far wiser in these matters. For my own part, I’ve always found, especially on an expedition, that difficult decisions are best put off till the morning, when everything is less dark. So let’s get ourselves back to Willow Street.”
Archer released the railing and followed his grandfather into the truck. Few things might be fair, but he couldn’t swallow this one. His grandparents didn’t want to banish Wigstan Spinler. They were trying to protect the Society from Mr. Birthwhistle. They ended up on an iceberg for asking a question he didn’t want answered.
Archer watched from the window as they left the cobbled piazza. He could just make out a thin sliver of glass sparkling with moonlight—the greenhouse. And for the entire ride home, all he could do was think about Benjamin, happily poking away at his plants, while in the Grand Hall, Mr. Birthwhistle feasted with delight.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
♦ MURDER IS KIND OF SERIOUS ♦
Letters had been sent out. Phone calls had been made. The Society gathering had begun. And life inside Helmsley House had become terribly tense. The day after the disastrous night at the Society, when Archer’s grandparents told his parents the whole truth about the iceberg. Archer was sent upstairs, so he wasn’t sure exactly what they said, but if he hadn’t known any better, he’d have thought the house had caught fire.
After a great deal of shouting, there was a meeting at the Glubs’. Archer was under strict instructions to remain home, but that didn’t happen. As soon as his parents shut the front door, he bolted to his room, climbed the ladder to the snowy rooftop, carefully hopped over the crack between the houses, and slid down the icy ladder to Oliver’s balcony. Oliver was punching his radiator knob when Archer ducked inside.
“Do you know what’s happening?” Oliver asked, rubbing his shivering hands. “Everyone’s downstairs. My parents told me to stay up here.”
“My grandparents are finally talking,” Archer explained. “They told my parents everything. I want to hear what my mother has to say.”
They crept down the stairs, which creaked loudly, as stairs always do when you’re trying to be quiet, and continued down a narrow hall to where all that separated them from the adults was a double-hinged door.
“Your parents sound calm,” Archer whispered, setting his ear against it.
“Your mother doesn’t. She might sprain her tongue.”
“Richard always suspected there was more to this iceberg story, but this?” Mrs. Helmsley said, nearly shouting. “Are you honestly telling us there’s someone at that Society who wanted you both dead?”
“It’s complicated,” Grandma Helmsley said. “But that’s the gist of it.”
A heavy silence followed. Archer and Oliver backed away from the door, thinking it might blow off its hinges with whatever came next.
“There’s a crazed iceberg lunatic out there and you’d not thought of telling us sooner? Are we in danger? Is Archer in danger?”
“I’ve already told you, Helena,” Grandpa Helmsley said mildly. “No one is in danger.”
“Now let’s all calm down a moment,” Mr. Glub urged. “Why haven’t you involved the authorities?”
“Shouldn’t there be an investigation?” Mr. Helmsley agreed.
“The Society handles its own investigations,” Grandpa Helmsley explained. “You know that, Richard. We don’t allow outsiders to meddle in our affairs.”
“So why did that President Birthwhistle speak to the Chronicle?” Mrs. Glub asked.
“The effort is not only to banish us from Society but, if possible, from Rosewood itself.”
“Let’s fight paper with paper,” Mr. Glub said. “Come to the Doldrums Press. You know the address—just off Howling Bloom on Tullery. Let me write your story.”
“Breathe, Helena!” Mrs. Glub cried. “You’re going to explode. Here, have another cup of tea. Now take a big sip.”
“How much does Archer know?” Mr. Helmsley asked.
“He knows enough, Richard,” Grandma Helmsley said. “But he won’t be told any more.”
Archer had a feeling this was said more to his grandfather than his father.
“Finally, some sense has been spoken!” Mrs. Helmsley exclaimed. “Now let me make myself very clear. You two must sort this mess out. Archer will be on a train for Raven Wood in two and half weeks. In the meantime, if I have even the slightest reason to think he’s in danger, I’m taking him out of Rosewood. For good.”
Chairs slid backward and footsteps sounded. Archer and Oliver dashed up the stairs. Oliver shut his bedroom door and stared at Archer, not saying a word.
“I think they need help,” Archer said, pacing the floor. “What can I do?”
“You can’t do anything,” Oliver replied. “Mr. Birthwhistle tried to kill your grandparents, Archer. If you get yourself involved, he wouldn’t think twice about coming after you.”
♦ PRESSING MATTERS ♦
Early the following morning, Archer woke to a knock at the front door. From the alcove window above it, he saw a Society truck parked outside. He unlatched the window and leaned out. Beatrice Lune and Cornelius were on the front steps with his grandparents.
“The Inquiry will happen in two weeks,” Beatrice was saying as she handed his grandfather a note. “Birthwhistle pressured Suplard. He wants it over as quickly as possible. Suplard’s been frantic. The other Orions wanted to come and lend their support too, but it’s difficult. Don’t take it personally.”
“We don’t,” Grandpa Helmsley assured her. “And I don’t want you two getting yourselves into trouble either.”
“We’re here for more than that.” Beatrice lowered her voice. Cornelius looked concerned. “The ostricization vote passed because the hall was stacked with Magellans. Banishment won’t be that easy. The other orders are not so against you as Birthwhistle would like to believe.”
“Why aren’t you saying that like it’s a good thing?”
“It’s not, Ralph.” Grandma Helmsley sighed. “Birthwhistle doesn’t want us back. And he’s going to do whatever he needs to do to ensure a reinstatement doesn’t happen.”
Cornelius scratched his eye patch and nodded. “Right now it’s your word against Captain Lemurn’s. Birthwhistle needs something more. I don’t know what that something is, but I’ll keep my eye out.”
“We’re telling our story to the Doldrums Press,” Grandpa Helmsley said.
“We’ll make sure it circulates throughout the Society,” Beatrice promised.
Archer shut the window as Beatrice Lune and Cornelius sped off.
Late that evening, when shop owners on Howling
Bloom Street turned off their lights and locked their doors, the Doldrums Press was still aglow. Mr. Glub gulped his coffee, and throughout the night, his press spat out hundreds of papers. The following morning, they were flung onto every single doorstep in Rosewood, whether they were subscribers or not. The only doorstep without one was Archer’s. Mrs. Helmsley must have crept down in the early morning hours and fed it to the garbage disposal. But her efforts were in vain. That same morning, Oliver and Adélaïde stepped through Archer’s balcony door with a copy in hand. Archer sat on his bed alongside Adélaïde, listening intently as Oliver read the front page aloud.
THE DOLDRUMS PRESS
HIDDEN PARTS OF THE ICEBERG
Once upon a time, everyone thought the earth was flat. It’s not. Once upon a time, everyone thought the sun revolved around the earth. It doesn’t. Once upon a time, two explorers were called deranged frauds. They’re not. Truth does not stop being true because you believe something different. So what really happened on that iceberg? This is the story you’re not supposed to believe.
Ralph and Rachel Helmsley embarked on an expedition to Antarctica with the intention of documenting the relational habits of penguins. During their voyage south, Ralph spotted an iceberg hosting two separate colonies of penguins.
“We must get close,” he said. “I’m getting on that iceberg.”
After an hour observing the penguins, Ralph and Rachel returned to their dinghy—only to discover that their ship had left without them. They shouted and waved. The ship vanished over the horizon.
“That was no accident,” Rachel said as Ralph secured their dinghy to the iceberg.
They dug into the ice to make a shelter. Penguins joined them for the evening.
“It was cramped,” Ralph said. “Warm. But cramped.”
Ralph and Rachel spent the following day hoping to spot a ship. But that second day quickly turned into a second night, and they returned to their shelter. Day three. Seeing no other option, Ralph and Rachel got into their dinghy and pushed off from the iceberg with the hope of finding rescue. Ralph chiseled a piece of iceberg to take with them, and the penguins saw them off.
The Helmsleys took turns rowing through the frigid waters. The air grew cold. Day became night and hope became desolation.
“Well, my dear,” Ralph said. “No one can say we haven’t had a lovely go at it all these—”
Ralph’s speech was interrupted by a horn. A ship’s horn. Not their ship, but a French ship. It was members of the French Société. The Helmsleys were rescued and remained alongside the French explorers for what became a yearlong expedition around Antarctica.
Upon returning to France, the Helmsleys went into hiding. Suspecting that what had happened to them on the iceberg was no accident, they took their time plotting a path home, fearing that a misstep or betrayal could lead to another incident. It was to be a winding journey. It was to be a secret journey. Their first message home came in the form of a package. That package arrived in Rosewood and was sorted at the post office, where someone noticed the names of the senders.
“Ralph and Rachel Helmsley are alive?”
What happened on that iceberg was not an accident. It was not a hoax. It was an attempt to dispose of the Helmsleys. That’s the truth, whether you believe it or not.
Aubrey Glub
Editor-in-Chief
“I think that’ll do a lot of good,” Adélaïde said.
“In Rosewood, maybe,” Oliver replied, lowering the paper. “I’m not so sure it will at the Society.”
Archer agreed with Oliver. His grandfather had never directly accused Mr. Birthwhistle. His grandmother had probably advised against it. Like Cornelius had said, his grandparents had no evidence, and without evidence, who would believe them?
“Beatrice Lune and Cornelius were here yesterday. The Inquiry is in two weeks,” Archer said.
“And there are only two and half weeks until you have to return to Raven Wood.” Oliver nudged Adélaïde. “We were talking about something before you got here.”
“Do you remember Oliver telling you about that holiday party at DuttonLick’s?” Adélaïde asked. “We wanted to see if Mr. DuttonLick would let all of us be assistants.”
“Learning how to make chocolates will be fun,” Oliver added, nodding. “It’d be nice to have some fun together before you have to leave again.”
Under normal circumstances, Archer would have enjoyed that. But with everything going on, it didn’t seem right. How would making chocolate help his grandparents?
“We’re going to DuttonLick’s tonight after dinner,” Oliver explained, leaving the paper with Archer and following Adélaïde to the balcony door. “Mr. DuttonLick has a form he wants my parents to sign. I thought we could go together. I’ll wait for you if you decide you’d like to come.”
♦ UNSPEAKABLE ♦
Archer spent the rest of the afternoon on his bed, and he was still there when dinnertime neared. He’d pasted every newspaper article about his grandparents into his journal and was flipping through the pages. When he heard his grandfather out in the hall, he stashed it beneath a pillow.
“We’ll sort it out. We have to.”
Archer went to the door and poked his head out. His grandfather was alone, standing before the polar bear.
“Oh, Archer. I was just coming to fetch you for dinner.”
Archer stared from his grandfather to the polar bear and back again. “Who were you talking to?”
Grandpa Helmsley twinkled. “You might think it a bit strange, Archer.”
He knew it! “You were speaking with the polar bear, weren’t you? He speaks to me too. All of the animals do.”
Grandpa Helmsley’s laugh filled the hall. “Does your mother know? She does? She must have been horrified when she found out!”
Grandpa Helmsley was still chuckling as he stepped into Archer’s bedroom.
“Many years ago, before your mother married your father, they came to Helmsley House for a visit. She overheard me speaking to the zebra downstairs. She’s never looked at me the same way since. But I’ve always had a particular fondness for your mother, Archer. I know she can be a bit strong—but I admire her conviction.”
Archer thought the word strong was a bit weak. His mother had kept his grandparents out of their own home for nearly twelve years.
Grandpa Helmsley approached the dresser. Scattered atop it were many of the gifts his grandparents had secretly sent him when he was little.
“There’s something I don’t understand,” Archer said, watching his grandfather closely. “You were gone for two years. But you were only on the iceberg for three days. Why didn’t you let us know you were alive? Why didn’t you let us know you’d eventually come home?”
“I wanted to, Archer,” his grandfather assured him. “But we were in hiding. We didn’t know who we could trust. And we were afraid our letters might be intercepted. We couldn’t risk that until we decided what to do.”
Grandpa Helmsley began fidgeting with the jade elephant house.
“In a sense, we did want to vanish. We learned Birthwhistle had become president of the Society, and we knew the moment he discovered we were still alive, any attempt to return home would cause a storm. I’m not proud to say it, Archer, but I didn’t want to face that storm.”
“What changed your minds?” Archer asked. “Why did you come home?”
“I had this piece of ice that wouldn’t stop nagging me. Every day it told me I needed to return.” Grandpa Helmsley turned to face him. “There are a great many things I’ve been waiting to show you, Archer. I’ve been waiting nearly twelve years! We’ll have to wait a little longer, but it’s my hope you’ll become a Greenhorn soon. There’s nothing that would give me more pleasure. I think you’d become First Greenhorn in no time. And when you’re a bit older, we’ll embark on an expedition together. Would you like that, Archer?”
Archer swallowed hard. He’d been thinking about Greenhorns ever since he had discovered there
was such a thing. Being a Greenhorn sounded like what he’d always dreamed about. And to go on an actual expedition with his grandparents?
“But what will happen if the Society banishes you?” he asked.
“Let’s not play that game, Archer. We must always hope. Once Dalligold arrives, we’ll put something together.”
“Dalligold?”
“Mr. Dalligold. He’s a dear friend—once head of the Order of Orion. Mr. Dalligold left the Society shortly after we vanished. He knew the iceberg was no accident and searched for us until he found us in France. Your grandmother asked him to represent us during the Inquiry. And let’s not forget that we have the truth, Archer. Mr. Birthwhistle must prove a lie. But I suspect, at this very moment, he’s hard at work doing just that.”
During dinner, Mrs. Helmsley wouldn’t even look at Archer’s grandparents. She didn’t say a word. No one said a word. But the silence said a great deal. Archer ate as fast as he could, eager to get out of there.
“I’m supposed to go to Oliver’s,” he explained, standing up, his mouth half full of mashed potatoes.
“But it’s home by eight at the very latest,” his mother replied, smiling happily.
It was still rather strange for him to see his mother so delighted about him leaving the house.
♦ WAS THAT WHO I THINK IT WAS? ♦
Oliver was standing on the Glubs’ front steps, reading a newspaper, when Archer approached.
“I’m glad you came,” he called, joining Archer on the sidewalk. “Adélaïde didn’t think you would.”
“Why are you reading the Rosewood Chronicle?” Archer asked.
“It’s for my father. It’s garbage, but he needs to keep up on what they’re saying.”
Adélaïde greeted them on the corner of North Willow Street, and she did look pleasantly surprised. Together, they set off for DuttonLick’s sweetshop.
It was snowing less that evening, but it was still very cold, and the wind was swift. Oliver was having a difficult time keeping his newspaper open and steady as they made their way north on Foldink Street.
The Doldrums and the Helmsley Curse Page 9