Knightley Acadamy 01

by Violet Haberdasher

  "If it takes that long," Viscount DuBeous said with a dismissive sniff of his massive red nose.

  Henry looked to Adam and breathed a sigh of relief. The decision on their expulsion would have to wait another day. And perhaps in that time, Henry's discovery of the combat training at Partisan would not only save the two of them from being expelled but save them all from being unprepared for war.

  Still, waiting was never easy, and without schoolwork as a distraction, the next twenty-four hours promised to be excruciating.

  When Henry and Adam returned to their room that evening, the window was open, and a small clothbound book sat on the windowsill.

  The book, when Henry examined it, turned out to be a collection of poetry. And written in the inside cover was this message: I sat in a clearing two hours after sunset and waited to say good-bye.

  Frankie.

  Henry showed Adam the inscription. Adam, who had been in the middle of taking off his coat, shrugged back into it. "Let's go," he said.

  And they did.

  There was a layer of frost on the bench by the hedge maze, as though discouraging their clandestine meeting. The trees, which had been full of brilliantly hued leaves only weeks before were now picked-over bones, skeletons of their former glory.

  In the faint moonlight, Henry shivered and drew his wrists deeper inside the sleeves of his jacket.

  Suddenly, they heard footsteps crunching over the icy grass.

  "Hello?" Frankie called.

  "We're here," Adam called back.

  She was just a shape in the distance, and then she was there, grinning at them from beneath a fur wrap, her blue eyes determined.

  "Hullo," Henry said.

  And it shouldn't have been uncomfortable, the three of them, but it was.

  "We heard about the reformatory," Adam said. "Bad luck."

  Frankie shrugged and smiled ruefully. "It's not so bad. At least the girls there won't giggle incessantly."

  But Henry could tell that Frankie was just as scared as they were about the reformatory.

  "So, what was the verdict?" Frankie asked. "Are you expelled?"

  Henry and Adam exchanged a look.

  "Come on, tell me!" Frankie pleaded.

  "Not exactly," Henry said.

  "Oh, well, that clears things up," Frankie said with a snort.

  "Sir Frederick's evil!" Adam blurted.

  "Nice one," Henry muttered.

  "Well, he is," Adam insisted. "Frankie doesn't know what happened. We can't very well start at the end."

  "The end?" Frankie asked, arching an eyebrow and drawing her wrap tighter around her shoulders.

  "Adam's right," Henry said. "Sir Frederick is the one who's been sabotaging us and doing all of those things. Well, Lord Havelock helped, but it was mainly Sir Frederick."

  "Sir Frederick?" Frankie asked skeptically.

  "Really," Adam said. "He'd be headmaster if your father got fired. And he's a maniac. Completely off his nut. He wants us to go to war with the Nordlands so the Nordlands can win."

  "What?" Frankie asked.

  And so Henry explained. He told Frankie how Sir Frederick had spoken reverentially of the Nordlandic cause and Chancellor Mors. How Sir Frederick had asked them to help run a military hospital. How Sir Frederick believed in abolishing the aristocracy no matter that the alternative was worse, and how Sir Frederick had threatened them and nearly come to blows with Lord Havelock.

  "I just can't believe it," Frankie said, shaking her head as though stunned.

  "That's not the best part," Henry said wryly. "Sir Frederick didn't show up to our hearing. So we told the board of trustees what I'd seen in the Nordlands, and they sent this one man, Viscount Something-or-other, to see for himself before they decided anything."

  "But if he does find evidence of combat training, then what?" Frankie asked.

  "Dunno," Adam said with a shrug. "But maybe we won't be expelled. And they could rewrite the Longsword Treaty."

  "And rename it the Grim-Beckerman-Mehta-Winter Treaty," Henry joked.

  "Oi, how come your name's first?" Adam complained.

  "Francesca!" Grandmother Winter's voice trilled, and all three friends groaned.

  "No," Frankie said angrily. "Let her find us here. I don't care."

  "When are you leaving?" Henry asked.

  "Day after tomorrow," Frankie said, trying to sound brave.

  "We could take the train into the City together," Henry said with a sad little smile.

  "And join the circus," Adam joked. "Run away. Disappear into the backstreets and alleyways, travel with the freak show."

  "Maybe just you," Frankie teased.

  Henry laughed.

  "Francesca Winter, you shall catch your death of cold!" Grandmother Winter shrilled, and in the distance, Henry could make out her silhouette marching angrily through the grass.

  "You'd better go," Henry said.

  "I don't know," Frankie demurred, "catching my death of cold sounds like an awfully big adventure."

  "Please, no more adventures," Henry said with a groan.

  "Define 'adventure,' " Adam said. "Because joining the circus, for example--"

  "Do shut up, Adam," Henry and Frankie said at the same moment.

  And then, without really saying good-bye, Frankie ran off into the night, toward the scolding sound of her grandmother's voice.

  NEWS FROM THE NORDLANDS

  Henry Grim stood at his bedroom window the next afternoon, watching a sleek black car follow the twists and turns in the driveway of Knightley Academy. On his bed sat his suitcase, fully packed, just in case. Adam was sprawled on the floor, playing a complicated game of solitaire with a deck of cards that turned out to be missing the king of diamonds.

  "Stupid cards," Adam muttered, smearing the columns of cards into a pile.

  "Someone's coming," Henry said.

  Adam looked up. "Viscount Whoever?"

  Henry nodded, and Adam joined him at the window. Their breath fogged the panes of glass, and Henry wiped away the condensation.

  Outside, the driver of the automobile hopped out and opened the door for Viscount DuBeous, helping the pale and trembling man onto the front steps.

  "Oi, what's wrong with him?" Adam asked.

  Henry shrugged, remembering the Viscount's red nose. "Caught a chill?" he suggested.

  "Maybe."

  "Well," Henry said, smiling tightly, "shouldn't be long now until our hearing."

  And it wasn't. Within the hour, Lord Havelock rapped smartly on the door to their room.

  "Ah," Lord Havelock said, frowning at Henry and Adam. "I see you've packed your things. Given up already?"

  "Preparing for the worst, sir," Henry said, straightening his tie in the glass.

  "They're ready for you. Come along," Lord Havelock snapped, turning on his heel.

  The board of trustees sat around the same table as they had before, and if anything, their disapproving frowns had deepened.

  Headmaster Winter resumed the hearing with all of yesterday's formalities, and then turned to Viscount DuBeous, who looked as though his chill had become flu.

  "Erm, right," said the viscount. "The Nordlands."

  And then he broke into a fit of coughing.

  "I found no evidence of combat training," the Viscount said with a shudder. He put a hand to his forehead, exposing a wrist chafed raw and encrusted with blood.

  "What's this, DuBeous?" asked Lord Ewing, seizing the viscount's arm and pushing back his sleeve. "These look like rope marks."

  Viscount DuBeous shuddered again, his right eye twitching.

  "What's going on here?" Headmaster Winter asked with a frown.

  "I found no evidence of combat training," Viscount DuBeous repeated, tugging his sleeve down over his wrist.

  "How about evidence of torture?" Lord Ewing squeaked, revealing a matching raw band around the viscount's other wrist.

  At the word "torture," the room buzzed with furious whispers, and Henry caught
the name Dimit Yascherov as it passed between Lord Ewing and the storklike gentleman to his right.

  Suddenly, Henry remembered where he'd heard the head of Partisan School's name--in that very first newspaper clipping he'd received about the Nordlands. With some concentration, Henry dredged the passage out of the recesses of his memory:

  According to High Inspector Dimit Yascherov of the Nordlandic Policing Agency, and head of Partisan School, the women and children were half frozen, and nearly all suffered from terrible dysentery, and preparations were immediately made for transport to a nearby hospital. Despite the inspector's claims, the hospital holds no records of treating any women or children who match the description.

  "Well, Viscount, is this true? Have you been treated poorly during your journey to the Nordlands?" Headmaster Winter asked.

  Viscount DuBeous stared at his lap. He bit his lip. The dark circles under his eyes seemed to deepen, and the cracks in his dry lips seemed to spread as he shook his head.

  "Right," Headmaster Winter said. "Lord Havelock, can you please take the viscount to see our sick matron and make certain he is looked after?"

  "Of course," Lord Havelock said with a bow, helping Viscount DuBeous to his feet and leading the man from the room.

  As the door clicked shut, the remaining members of the board of trustees sat in silence, and Headmaster Winter sighed and rubbed at his ginger beard.

  "Can anyone tell me," Lord Ewing asked, breaking the silence, "what has happened to Sir Frederick?"

  Henry and Adam rather wondered the same thing.

  Headmaster Winter shook his head sadly. "Sir Frederick has disappeared without explanation, no doubt to tend to some emergency."

  Henry exchanged a significant look with Adam. Emergency indeed. Sir Frederick had fled, fearing exposure.

  "That's not true, sir," Henry said, unable to stop himself.

  "I beg your pardon?" Headmaster Winter asked with a frown.

  "I'm sorry, sir," Henry said, "but that's not true, what you said about Sir Frederick. Yesterday, Adam and I confronted Sir Frederick, and he admitted to plotting against us and trying to get us kicked out of the academy."

  " 'Plotting against you?' " Headmaster Winter asked.

  "It all started with the threatening newspaper clippings in the morning post," Henry began, listing their grievances against Sir Frederick, and ending with Sir Frederick locking them inside the library reading room.

  Finally, Henry turned to Adam and asked, "Have I missed anything?"

  "That about sums it up," Adam said.

  The board of trustees was very quiet. They looked to one another, at a loss for what to say or do. Because, clearly, something was happening in the Nordlands. And it was unlike Sir Frederick to disappear so suddenly, without even a hint as to his whereabouts.

  "Surely you can't believe these boys, Headmaster?" Lord Ewing said.

  "I can confirm their story myself," said a deep, sneering voice. Lord Havelock had returned from the sick bay.

  "Truly, Magnus?" Headmaster Winter asked.

  "I'll admit that it is a bit hard to believe," Lord Havelock said, striding to the center of the room, his master's gown swirling around the legs of his best tweed suit, "but it is true, every word. I myself heard Sir Frederick admit guilt yesterday, and I had wondered why these boys seemed to have such particularly bad luck. Naturally, I told Sir Frederick that he had committed high treason and I planned to turn him in to the authorities, but with your arrival, gentlemen, things became a bit, dare I say, muddled."

  Lord Havelock clasped his hands together and smiled dangerously, then continued. "I planned to accuse Sir Frederick at the hearing yesterday, but he never arrived. Guilty conscience, I can only surmise. But the matter on the table is not Sir Frederick's betrayal and, might I add, subsequent disappearance, but rather the expulsion of these two boys."

  Henry caught Adam's eye and gave his friend a small, brave smile. This was it.

  "Taking into consideration all of the facts," Lord Havelock continued, "I believe it would be an enormous error to expel Mr. Beckerman and Mr. Grim from the academy. If anything, they have shown an excess of chivalry in handling the unfortunate incidents Mr. Grim has just described. They are neither of them at the bottom of their year academically, and I am to understand that Mr. Beckerman shows great promise in fencing, while Mr. Grim has remarkable facility with languages. It is unfortunate, yes, that Miss Winter was found in their room, but as there is no indication of any impropriety, I recommend, as both their head of year and as their professor, that these boys be allowed to stay on as students at Knightley."

  Henry had never thought he would feel gratitude toward Lord Havelock, but at that moment, he nearly threw his arms around their head of year. Adam looked as though he felt the same.

  "Thank you, Lord Havelock," Headmaster Winter said. "It takes a majority vote exceeding two-thirds for expulsion. We will vote now, first in the case of Mr. Adam Beckerman. All in favor of expulsion?"

  One gentleman promptly raised his hand. And another. And another. And no one else.

  Adam grinned.

  "Mr. Beckerman, I expect to see you at chapel bright and early tomorrow morning," Headmaster Winter said with a small smile.

  "Yes, sir," Adam said, beaming.

  "And now," Headmaster Winter continued, "all those in favor of the expulsion of Mr. Henry Grim?"

  Again, three hands.

  "The same goes for you, Mr. Grim," Headmaster Winter said, and Henry sighed with relief.

  He was allowed to stay at Knightley!

  But there was just one thing.

  "Sir?" Henry said. Headmaster Winter looked up. "What about Rohan?"

  Headmaster Winter frowned.

  "I mean," Henry continued, emboldened, "Rohan should be reinstated, as his expulsion was due to Sir Frederick's sabotage. Rohan's no thief, and Lord Havelock might be willing to take back the accusation in light of recent evidence."

  Everyone in the room turned to stare at Lord Havelock, who frowned distastefully at the attention, his mouth a thin, angry line. And just when Henry had nearly given up hope, their head of year cleared his throat.

  "The act did seem a bit out of character," Lord Havelock said. "Not to mention that no student would dare to steal from me, especially a worthless trinket such as the one I found in Mr. Mehta's school bag. I hereby revoke my accusation against him."

  "Very well," Headmaster Winter said. "A majority vote, I believe, in this case? Mr. Mehta was expelled on the spot, with the evidence against him so compelling that there was no need for a vote, but now that he was evidently made to look guilty for a crime that was not his, I put it to you: All those in favor of reinstating Rohan Mehta to the first-year class and removing the offense from his school records?"

  Slowly, Lord Ewing raised his hand.

  And then the storklike man next to him.

  And the man with the mutton-chop whiskers.

  And the portly man who smelled of snuff.

  And the man to his left.

  And the man to his left.

  And finally, Headmaster Winter.

  "A majority," Headmaster Winter said. "Rohan Mehta is officially pardoned and reinstated as a member of the first-year class."

  Henry and Adam grinned triumphantly.

  Headmaster Winter's eyes twinkled as he said, "Sir Roberts? Can you please send a telegram to Holchester informing Mr. Mehta and his family of the good news?"

  And with much good cheer, the hearing came to a close. The members of the board rose from their seats and offered their hands to Henry and Adam in congratulations. The room emptied, until only Lord Havelock, Henry, and Adam remained.

  "Are you meaning to stand there all day?" Lord Havelock asked. "Or were you planning to unpack your things in time for supper?"

  "Sorry," Henry murmured, and then, knowing that it had to be said, added, "and thank you, sir."

  "Whatever for?" Lord Havelock asked with an all-too-familiar Havelook of Doom.
<
br />   "Speaking on our behalf," Henry said, "and on Rohan's."

  Henry elbowed Adam.

  "Right, thanks," Adam said.

  "There are some things that need not be mentioned," Lord Havelock said with a significant look at Henry and Adam. "Gratitude, in this case, is one of them."

  Lord Havelock swept out of the room, his master's gown billowing behind him.

  "What was that about?" Adam asked, frowning.

  "A bribe," Henry said, making a face. "Lord Havelock had been helping Sir Frederick to get us kicked out of the academy, remember? But now that Lord Havelock has spoken on our behalf to make things right, we can no longer accuse him of anything without seeming horribly ungrateful. Think about it."

  "You're right," Adam said. "The git is blackmailing us."

  "It's not blackmail," Henry said with a sigh, "not when both sides benefit. It's more like ... an understanding."

  On the way back to their room, Henry and Adam ran into Valmont coming the other way down the corridor.

  "Why haven't you been at lessons?" Valmont demanded.

  Henry shrugged. "We were suspended."

  "Right," Valmont said. "I heard about the hearing from Theobold. Are you really expelled? For trying to steal from the headmaster's armory?"

  "What?" Henry protested. "That's ridiculous."

  "I told Theobold I didn't believe him," Valmont said, scuffing the toe of his boot into the carpet.

  "Well, the board voted, and we're not expelled," Henry said.

  "Really?" Valmont asked, surprised.

  "And Rohan's coming back," Adam blurted.

  "Congratulations," Valmont said sourly.

  "Listen, mate, can I ask you something?" Adam asked. "Why are you being, well, nice? Nicer than usual, anyhow."

  Valmont scowled. "Uncle Havelock told me to."

  "Oh," Adam said.

  But Henry wasn't so sure that was the reason. He remembered how Valmont had laid off tormenting them over the past few weeks. How Valmont had nearly stuck up for them at Partisan.

  "Just because I'm being nice doesn't mean I like you," Valmont said.

  "Good, the same goes for us," Henry said, edging past Valmont in the hallway.

  "Chess match tonight?" Valmont called after him.