Deadweather and Sunrise (10 page)

But something felt wrong about making villains of those tiny, hardworking specks I’d glimpsed from the sea as they toiled away on the far side of the mountain. They didn’t seem ruthless so much as put-upon, and I couldn’t imagine they had much in the way of weapons, so vanquishing them, even in my head, felt less thrilling than sad.

Then I hit on the idea of swapping them out for pirates, who were not only reliably well-armed, but villainous by occupation.

It was a little trickier to work out the specifics—Millicent had said her father controlled the pirates, which I only half believed, but if true, it complicated things immensely. Eventually, I put together an elaborate fantasy in which the pirates, seeking bloody satisfaction from an unpaid gambling debt, infiltrated Sunrise dressed as Rovian businessmen and stormed Cloud Manor, taking the entire family hostage. Armed at first with only my wits, then a length of rope, then a succession of knives, followed by a brace of pistols, a rack of muskets, and finally a sword from the scabbard of Burn Healy himself, I slaughtered a truly staggering number of pirates, until their corpses had piled up like cordwood in the hallways of Cloud Manor and earned me such tearful gratitude from Millicent and her parents that our eventual marriage was decided upon within minutes of Healy’s body hitting the floor.

It sounds crazy now. But that’s how much I loved Millicent—enough to kill pirates for her. And not just a few pirates. A lot of them.

And that was the state of my mind three weeks into my stay, when Mr. Pembroke stopped Millicent and me in the entry hall on our way out for an afternoon ride. He’d left before breakfast that morning on an errand to Blisstown and was just coming back in the door with a sheaf of papers.

“Precious, why don’t you go out alone today? I have some matters I need to discuss with Egg.”

“Make it quick, Daddy. It’s no fun riding alone.” Millicent stuck her tongue out at him. Then she turned to me. “I’ll take the meadow path. Catch up when you can.”

We both watched her go. Then Roger Pembroke placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Come into my study. We’ll be more comfortable.”

B
y the time I sat down in one of the big leather chairs facing Mr. Pembroke’s desk, my stomach was hollow and fluttery, and my whole body felt weak. Something was clearly about to change for me, and for the first time in my life I didn’t WANT anything to change.

Pembroke stood a few feet in front of me, leaning back against his desk with his arms folded.

“It’s been three weeks now since your family disappeared. The last of the search teams I dispatched has returned. Like the others, they found no trace. And…”

He took a deep breath. “Given what we know of wind conditions, and the extent of ocean to our west, I believe… and I want to be completely honest, because as painful as it is, you’re a very intelligent young man, and you deserve the truth… I believe the odds of survival are so small as to be—”

He went on, but I stopped hearing him, because an image had
just flashed in my mind—of my family in the balloon, coming down in a dark and empty sea in the middle of the night, a hundred miles from shore—and suddenly I felt dizzy and scared and sick and I knew I had to force that image from my head and not think about it again or I might break down completely.

Fortunately, Pembroke was still talking, and I was able to distract myself by listening very hard to every word that came out of his mouth, even though they’d stopped adding up to sentences and for a moment I couldn’t understand a thing.

“—leaving you an orphan. I’m sorry… But I want you to know you’ll be taken care of. More than that—given that I feel some responsibility for what happened, and because we’ve all grown to have such affection for you these past weeks—Edith and I have been talking. And I’ve just been down to see Mr. Archibald, the lawyer. And…”

He pulled a document from the sheaf of papers he’d brought back from Blisstown and handed it to me. “We’re hoping you’ll join our family.”

It was a single page of thick, tiny writing, titled
CERTIFICATE OF LEGAL ADOPTION
. There were two lines at the bottom for both of our signatures. Pembroke’s space was already signed.

I stared at the words, but my head was still so addled I couldn’t comprehend them. And I must have looked as confused as I felt, because he repeated the offer, more clearly this time.

“We want to adopt you, Egg. If you sign this document, I’ll be your lawful father.”

All I could do was stare at him. This was too much to handle.

I’m not sure how long the silence lasted, but finally Pembroke moved to take back the document.

“It’s too soon. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s—” I hung on to it, because I could tell he was disappointed, and even though my thoughts were a complete muddle and I couldn’t think straight at all, I knew I didn’t want to disappoint him.

I forced myself to talk. My voice was all quivery. “You’ve been so nice, and you’re all so kind and”—I just barely stopped myself from saying “rich” here—“nice. And…”

The meaning of this was starting to drift into focus.
I would be Roger Pembroke’s son. I could stay here forever…

I stared up at him in disbelief. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Egg. I’m sure. I want you to be my son.”

“Mrs. Pembroke—?”

“Wants to be your mother. She cares about you very much.”

That got the tears rolling. It was madness how easily the Pembrokes made me cry. Before I’d met them, I hadn’t cried in years, not even the time Adonis dislocated my shoulder and Quint the house pirate had to pop it back in its socket using two blocks of wood.

Eventually, I got hold of myself again. “Thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me.”

“I don’t know what else to say.”

“Say yes.”

I nodded, wiping my eyes. “Yes.”

He smiled. Then he dipped a quill pen in ink and offered it to me. I took the pen and tried to sign the document against my leg, almost breaking through the paper.

“Here—use the desk.”

He stepped aside, making room for me. I stood up and
immediately felt the room start to spin. I think I’d forgotten to breathe for a while.

Pembroke looked amused. “Deep breath, Egg. There you go.”

I gulped some air and managed a chuckle at myself. Pembroke gave me a warm smile. I stepped up to the desk to sign my name.

“I can’t wait to tell Millicent she’s got a brother.”

The pen froze in my hand, an inch from the paper.

You can’t marry your sister.
It just wasn’t done. Not even in books.

In an instant, all the new fantasies that had been forming in my head went poof, gone when I realized that I couldn’t have them and still hold on to my other, bigger fantasy. I set the pen down and stepped back from the desk.

“What’s the matter?” Pembroke’s mouth was turning down at the sides.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I can’t.”

“Take some time. I’m sure this all seems very sudden.”

“I’m sorry, but—”

Pembroke was no fool. “If you’re thinking of Millicent, trust me. This is best for you both.”

I shook my head and stared at the floor. “I’m sorry.”

His voice was turning hard and chilly. “What do you think? That you’ll grow up and marry her? That’s not possible. In fact, it’s completely impossible. Now, be sensible.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Stop saying that!”

He paused for a breath. When he continued, his voice was
quieter but just as hard. “Egg, you’re a wonderful young boy with a very bright future. But whether you’re her brother or not, you will never—NEVER—marry my daughter. So why don’t you—”

“What if it’s not up to you?” The words flew out before I could stop them.

“EVERYTHING IS UP TO ME!”

The question had hit some nerve deep inside him, and he exploded in a red-faced fury.

“IT WILL NOT HAPPEN! What the devil is the matter with you? Don’t you see what you’re being offered? And after everything we’ve done for you?”

“I’m sor—I—won’t be any more of a bother. I’ll leave immediately.”

“YOU’RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE!”

We both fell silent as Pembroke slowly pulled his anger back in. He pressed his lips together, his nostrils flaring as he forced himself to breathe deeply. When he spoke again, his voice was carefully measured, but the burning look never left his eyes.

“Why don’t you go upstairs to your room? We could both stand to do some thinking. Stay there until you’re called.”

A butler was at the door, attracted by the shouting. Pembroke motioned for me to leave. I was almost out of the room when he called to me again.

“And, Egg—this is between you and me. If you speak so much as a word of it to Millicent—or to Edith—you’ll regret it.”

I nodded and followed the butler out.

I spent the rest of the afternoon in my room. At first, I just lay on the bed, curled up in a ball while that horrible image of the balloon coming down in a dark sea ran over and over in my head. It
made me sick beyond words, and I hated myself for having spent the past three weeks living like a careless prince, not once stopping to think about how my family must have suffered. Somehow, it felt like it was my fault—like if I hadn’t enjoyed myself so much, maybe they wouldn’t be dead.

And for the first time, I wished they weren’t gone, even my lousy siblings. But especially Dad. I’d never known quite where I stood with him—he wasn’t intentionally cruel like Venus and Adonis, but I couldn’t exactly say he loved me, either. Even so, he took care of things. He was my father. And now he was gone. There was nobody left to take care of things.

I cried over it some. But eventually, I realized I was in a fix, and no amount of feeling awful, either for my family or myself, was going to change that. The only person who could get me out of it was me.

So I made myself get up, and I tried to think the situation through as I paced back and forth across the room.

It seemed impossible. I couldn’t imagine getting right with Pembroke by doing anything short of giving up my hopes for Millicent. And I just couldn’t do that.

So I figured I’d be kicked out of Cloud Manor, which terrified me, because I didn’t know where I’d go. Back to Deadweather, probably. But I didn’t have any money to hire a boat, and anyway, what was I going to do when I got there? Run the plantation by myself?

I was being crazy. I didn’t have to be alone in the world—Roger Pembroke, the richest and most powerful man I’d ever known, had just offered to adopt me. He’d more than take care of me—he’d make me rich! And I turned him down? Ridiculous!

I decided to accept the offer immediately. It was the only sane thing to do.

Except I couldn’t do it. Every time I contemplated signing that adoption certificate, Millicent popped back into my head. The thought of living with her, spending all our days together… and having to think of her as my
sister
, and me her
brother
… it was unbearable.

There was no way out, so I eventually gave up and went back to fantasies of killing pirates. It was the only option that seemed to have a happy ending. If I saved Millicent’s life from a pack of bloodthirsty killers, all bets were off. So when it got on toward evening and I heard distant shouting downstairs, I dared to hope my dreams had come true. But the shouts never turned to screams, and eventually they died away completely.

A little while after that, a butler came to fetch me for dinner. When I got to the dining room, Pembroke was gone, Millicent’s eyes were red with tears, and Mrs. Pembroke wouldn’t look at either one of us.

We ate in silence, broken only by the clink of silverware and an occasional sniffle from Millicent. The gloom was so heavy I could barely get up an appetite for even the jelly bread. Whatever was happening, I was sure it was my fault.

Finally, Mrs. Pembroke excused herself from the table. Millicent watched her go.

“Beast,” she hissed as her mother disappeared through the door.

“What happened?” I whispered.

“They had a huge fight—I’m sure she started it, she always does—then Daddy went out to a meeting, and he not only didn’t
invite me, she wouldn’t even let him tell me what it was about! It’s ALL her fault.”

“No—it’s my fault. I’m sorry.” I’d meant to follow Pembroke’s order not to say anything to Millicent, but I couldn’t stand seeing her blame her mother.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Egg. It’s got nothing to do with you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. Why would it?”

“Your father… got angry with me today.”

“Pffft.” Millicent waved the idea away with her hand. “Daddy gets mad. Then he calms down. I’m sure it was nothing. He thinks the world of you.”

I was desperate to believe this, and hearing it gave me enough hope to finish my jelly bread. I stayed up late that night, reading in the library while I waited for Pembroke to come home so I could confirm for myself that his anger that afternoon was short-lived.

But he never did, and around midnight I finally went up to my room, holding tightly to Millicent’s last words. If Pembroke really did think the world of me, then maybe I hadn’t ruined everything after all.