by Lisa Samson
Linus shrugged and pointed to the dark face of the digital clock on the counter.
Walter, still in sweats and a T-shirt walked in, looking as if sleep refused to give him up completely. “Hey, mates. Power’s out.”
Milady walked in. “What a beautiful morning.”
“Power’s out,” said Ophelia.
“What?” She looked around. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
“The lights don’t work,” said Walter.
“Oh.” She sat down at the kitchen table. “I was thinking I’d better get back in my dress before going back.” She shuddered, turning to Linus. “Are you sure …?”
“I have no idea what to do. I wish I could. But after last night, I’m not taking any chances.”
“You did the best you could,” Milady said. “Figure it out, but dear heavens, boy, stop feeling sorry for yourself. That’s never done anybody any good at any time.”
“True,” he said.
Ophelia felt a little bold. “Well, the gas stove still works. I’ll make us some tea and get out some cookies.” She stood on a chair.
Walter looked at her in horror. “You’re getting your uncle’s shortbread? Ophelia! Why take that kind of chance?”
“Just one. For Milady. She should get to taste them.”
Walter didn’t mention Milady was from France where they made the best food. Ophelia’s heart was in the right place.
She also took down a bag of butter cookies, the kind shaped like a little flower. What a delightful little snack! If some of those don’t cheer you up, I’ve got nothing to offer you. You’re on your own.
“That was quite a storm last night, wasn’t it?” Milady said.
“What storm?” Ophelia filled the kettle at the sink.
“You didn’t hear it?”
The trio all shook their heads.
“No,” said Walter.
“It was amazing. Like God and all the angels decided to hold a party,” she said.
“How did we miss this?” Walter sat down at the kitchen table.
“It’s your youth.” Milady smiled. “You all sleep like the dead. Enjoy it while you can.”
The sound of footsteps running up the steps alerted them to the doorway. Clarice came rushing through. “I just saw Johann heading into the school with two gas cans!”
Everybody did the math.
“It was him!” Ophelia cried.
“I knew it!” said Walter. “Ophelia, call 9-1-1. Let’s go!” (The lad is a quick study.)
Everyone else ran down the steps, including Milady.
Ophelia ran to the phone hanging on the kitchen wall, picked up the receiver and put it to her ear. “It’s dead.” Which also meant all the phones on the street were dead too. She looked around, cursing the fact that none of them had cell phones, not even Clarice, who didn’t want one so her parents had to contact her through the school.
She hurried down the steps, hoping against hope that someone, anyone, was home.
By the time the rest of the group made it to the school, Johann had sloshed the fuel around the living room.
“No!” Walter yelled as Madrigal’s brother set a match to the fuel.
Johann turned toward the group. “You should never have gotten involved.”
“You’ll be arrested. You won’t get the house,” said Clarice as the blaze began to spread up the heavy velvet drapery.
Linus said, “Never mind that!” And he ran back to the kitchen to get water.
“Oh, you’re right,” said Johann. “But neither will she.”
He slipped away through the garden doors.
“The linen closet!” said Walter. “Soak the sheets and towels!”
Clarice ran up the steps behind him, and a minute later they were throwing all manner of linen over the edge of the balcony.
Linus slid into the room with two buckets filled with water. All he could think of was the word smother. He dunked the linens into the water and hurried into the living room, trying desperately to stamp out the flames with the sopping fabric.
Where is the fire department? he wondered. Come on!
Ophelia careened out onto the street like a wolf was at her heels. She ran up to Birdwistell’s door. Rapped as hard as she could. He opened it ten seconds later, saw her, and frowned.
“I need to use your phone! Do you have a cell phone?”
“Of course not!”
“What time is it?”
He frowned yet further. “Typical of you to not even know that.” He plucked a gold watch from the pocket of his vest. “10:20.”
“Thanks!” She ran to the next place. Ronda’s hair shop. The pretty lady had already taped a sign to the door.
“Sorry! No power! Closed. Call to Reschedule. We Appreciate Your Patronage.”
Drat!
Father Lou! Why didn’t she think of him sooner?
She ran across the street and down the walk to the back of the manse. “Father Lou!” She beat on the kitchen door with her fists. “Father Lou!”
He opened the door a full fifteen seconds later, fifteen seconds that felt like five minutes. “Oph —”
“Call 9-1-1. Johann set the school on fire!”
“It was him!” Father Lou reached into his pocket for his phone, then punched in the numbers.
He’s so calm! How can he be so calm?
D’Artagnan entered the kitchen. “Did I hear the school is on fire?”
“Yes!”
“Then let’s go see what we can do!”
“Where’s the fire department?” Clarice hollered in frustration.
“Where’s Madrigal?” Linus asked, flinging a blanket on top of a blazing portion of carpet.
Walter did the same. The heat was almost to the point of unbearable. “She’s always gone on Saturday mornings.”
Milady ran back and forth from the buckets, dunking towels and bringing them to the other three.
She could work. She was industrious. Laziness was never the woman’s problem. Let’s face it, dear ones, it takes a lot of work to be a proper villain.
She went back to the kitchen to fill the buckets once more.
Clarice wiped a forearm against her forehead. “It’s getting dangerous, you guys.”
Walter hated to admit it.
Just then Ophelia, D’Artagnan, and Father Lou burst into the room. Flames danced in greater numbers than before.
“We’re barely making a dent!” cried Linus.
The smoke began to thicken.
Father Lou looked around. “I’m calling it. Everybody outside!”
“But Madge,” shouted Walter as the roar of the fire increased.
“Would rather everybody be alive. Now let’s go!” the priest yelled.
They all filed outside to the garden, shutting the door behind them.
Clarice began to cry. Linus put his arm around her shoulder.
Milady became enraged. “Why that … that pig of a brother of hers!”
“Where’s the fire department?” Ophelia cried.
As if on cue, the shrill sound of a siren split the air between the school and the firehouse.
Nobody thought to look at the time.
twenty-three
In the Nick of Time Is Much Better Than In the George of Time, Don’t Ask Me How I Know That
The blaze took hold just as the fire trucks screeched to a halt on the street. With lightning speed, the firemen hooked up the hoses to the hydrant and pushed their way through the door for the second time in a week. The sitting room would be ruined certainly, but everyone stood there hoping and praying the rest of the building would sustain little damage.
Father Lou shook his head. “This isn’t like the other one. He was playing for keeps this time.”
“It can’t burn down,” said Clarice. “Where will I go?”
“I know what you mean,” said Walter. He sat down on the grass and stared at the school. “This is horrible.”
Ophelia sat next to him and put
her arm around him. “It will be all right, Walter. It will work out. Madge will think of something. And if she doesn’t, we will. Right?”
“That’s right,” said Linus, finding that speaking more than a couple of words was actually all right. “We’re with you. Rickshaw Street is our home” — he looked at Father Lou—”for all of us.”
“And it always will be,” said Milady, leaning into d’Artagnan. “No matter where we find ourselves.”
“Oui,” said d’Artagnan.
Every pair of eyes snapped toward him. He spoke in French!
“The portal!” Ophelia cried. “What time is it?”
“Oh dear.” Father Lou looked at his cell phone. “It’s 11:07!”
“Four minutes!” Walter cried.
“What are you talking about?” said Clarice.
There was no time to explain. She’d have to know because none of them wanted to hurt Clarice by excluding her. True friends do that sort of thing, you know.
“Let’s go!”
Everyone ran toward the bookstore.
Milady followed, tears glistening in her eyes. It was time. Her heart was breaking. How in the world would she survive in the world Dumas created for her? Even if she tried to do the right thing, nobody would believe she was doing it for the right reason.
They entered the room with only two minutes to spare. Father Lou’s eyes glistened. “This is the first time I get to see this!”
“What?” asked Clarice.
“Just watch,” the priest said. “They’ll explain afterward. From what they’ve told me, this is always the saddest moment of the adventure.”
“What —”
“Shhh,” he said. “Just watch.”
The two stood on the outskirts of the room.
Cato Grubbs stepped out from the corner, and with him the three musketeers themselves. Porthos, Athos, and Aramis. “Well, well, well!” He held up the brooch with a wicked smile.
Milady, throwing her gown over her Real World clothes, gasped. “Give that to me!”
“No, no, no,” Cato replied.
The three musketeers stepped forward, hands automatically reaching for and resting on the hilt of their swords. “Thievery, still, you devil of a woman!” One of the three musketeers said in a deep voice. It was Athos, clearly the leader of the small group, and his eyes were heavily lined, etched with a hardness, and, Ophelia thought, perhaps a hint of sadness.
Tick, tick, tick.
“I need that!” Her eyes flashed like the lightning of the night before.
D’Artagnan eyed her suspiciously, then sadly.
“Don’t tell me you’ve been taken in again by her wily ways,” said the broadest of the three, Porthos.
“Ah, young love bites again with its bittersweet sword,” replied the third, who had to be Aramis. “I will pray for your deliverance.”
Yes, Ophelia thought, definitely Aramis.
D’Artagnan set his jaw, then he nodded to his similarly clad compatriots.
They drew their swords.
“No!” cried Linus.
“What are you doing?!” shouted Walter. “Put those things away! You’ll hurt someone.”
Cato nodded. “It’s all right, gentleman. I don’t think it will come to a swordfight here.”
Ophelia ran to Milady’s side and took her hand.
“Wait!” D’Artagnan yelled,
“You don’t need that, Milady,” Ophelia said.
“Yes, I do!” She shook off Ophelia’s grasp and threw herself at the mad scientist.
“It’s all right, fair maiden,” said Porthos. “You are not the first to be taken by Milady’s deception.”
“No!” Ophelia cried. Had everyone misjudged Milady? Had she really just been pretending to change? Was it all a masquerade? Wait, did Porthos just call her a fair maiden?
Ophelia’s heart sank. No, it couldn’t be. She loved Milady. They had become each other’s friends. How could this be?
Milady tried to reach Cato’s now hidden hand. Cato Grubbs laughed a cruel, evil laugh.
“Thirty seconds,” said Father Lou, looking at his cell phone.
The struggle continued. Cato laughing, Milady stifling a scream of frustration.
Finally d’Artagnan had enough. He walked over, grabbed Cato’s arm and removed the brooch from his hand. “Here!” He handed it angrily to Milady. “We’ll deal with this on the other side. Now get into the circle, Madam.”
He pulled her inside the white confines of the enchanted circle. “You three as well,” D’Artagnan said, his eyes flashing anger. “And thanks for showing up on time.”
Fifteen seconds. But the three musketeers didn’t move into the circle.
Milday took d’Artagnan’s hand, placed the brooch on his palm, and said, “Take this back to the queen. My days of stealing and lying are over.”
“Oh, Milady!” Ophelia jumped in and hugged her as the countdown started.
Eleven. Ten. Nine.
“You saved my life, Ophelia, and I will always love you,” the Countess de Winter said.
Six. Five.
“I’ll always love you too.”
Three.
“Get out! Now!” shouted Walter.
Ophelia jumped out. “Good-bye! Good-bye friends.”
The pair bowed and held hands as the circle began to glow through the prism.
The rest of the group waved and shouted their regards as the sparks flew from the circle and the smoke began to thicken. The countess’s smile was the most beautiful thing any of them had ever seen.
And when the smoke swirled and collected with the great snap, they were left with an empty circle, a hollow sense of loss, and a great relief that two more travelers had made it back safely to their world.
Ophelia opened her mouth to tell her second cousin thrice removed a thing or two. But he’d disappeared as well.
The three musketeers looked at one another, mystified. “What sorcery is this?” Aramis cried. “Get behind me, Satan!”
“No sorcery,” Linus said. He sounded a bit deflated as well. “We’ll explain everything, but first … wait … look!” Linus hurried over to his worktable. “A note!” He read it aloud.
“Now you’ve made me really angry, cousins. That brooch would have given me enough money to live on for quite some time. Relatives or not, I will not let you get away with it. What’s more, you get a double dose of Dumas. I’m leaving these fellows here with you for the next two days. Have a ball!”
“What in the world is going on?” Clarice looked as if she’d been hit on the head with a big, fat stick of mystery.
“Let’s go get hot dogs,” said Linus. “And we’ll tell you all about it.”
Ophelia pointed to Athos, Porthos, and Aramis. “What about these guys?”
“You’ll figure it out, sis.” He took Clarice’s hand and they exited the attic.
Walter grabbed Ophelia’s hand in his own. “We’ll figure it out together.” He looked at the musketeers. “Well, gentlemen, have a seat. We have a lot of explaining to do.”
Great. Just great, thought Ophelia, until she realized that Walter had yet to disengage his hand from hers. Oh! Well … Really great!
If you, dear reader, want to know what happened to these three, you’ll have to get the update in the next book. Tom Sawyer, that young wheeling, dealing upstart will be along for the ride. So there’s nothing more to say, really, other than, for heaven’s sake go outside! Have a milkshake with your friends! Paint a picture! You can’t sit around reading all day, can you?
Questions to Ponder
1. The gang was expecting a “good guy” to come through the circle, and Milady showed up instead. Have you ever met someone you thought was a good person and they ended up being hurtful? What happened?
2. Can people really change? Why did Milady come to a different conclusion about how to live her life?
3. D’Artagnan swooped in and saved Milady’s life. Can you think of a person who helped you when you c
ouldn’t help yourself?
4. The love of money is the root of all evil, the Good Book says. How was this displayed by Johann?
5. Madrigal Pierce is not an easy-going person. What was revealed in the book that shed some light on why she might be this way?
6. Is Cato Grubbs a good guy or a bad guy?
7. Is Linus playing with fire by trying to duplicate Cato’s experiments? What would you do?
8. Ophelia is jealous of Milady. Is it because of her beauty, or something else?
9. Who would you bring through the enchanted circle and why?
10. Do you have to do chores like the ones Uncle Augustus assigns the twins?
11. Eleven is a very important number in the Sandwich/Easterday family. What’s your favorite number?
About the Author
L.L. SAMSON lives in Kentucky and has been writing far longer than anyone needs to know. Suffice it to say, L.L. has been reading even longer, loves to do it, and hopes you will too! Chickens, children, and a cat live in Lexington with L.L. and spouse, Will Samson, who writes too. Despite this, it’s difficult to find a pen in the house.
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ZONDERKIDZ
Dueling with the Three Musketeers
Copyright © 2013 by L. L. Samson
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EPub Edition © DECEMBER 2012 ISBN: 978-0-310-72800-9
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Samson, L. L., 1964–
Dueling with the three musketeers / L.L. Samson.
p. cm. — (The enchanted attic)
Summary: Twins Linus and Ophelia and their friend, Walter, hope to rescue their friend’s school from the headmistress’ greedy brother with help from D’Artagnan of The Three Musketeers, but their plans go horribly awry.