The Very Nearly Honorable League of Pirates #1 (31 page)

“She won't try to keep me from treasure huntin', will she? If ye muck about in the affairs of pirates, yer sure to find yerself walkin' the plank. That goes for Enchantresses, same as the rest.”—B. M
CCORKLE
, M
IDDLEBY

“If the Enchantress really has returned, I hope she's planning to give back all the magic she took from us. All my family's got left is a magic cheese knife, and it doesn't even cut cheese
very well.”—T. G
ARCIA
, S
UMMERSTEAD

“I don't care to have an Enchantress interfering with my private life and stopping me from doing as I please. I dearly hope the Enchantress has not returned—and if she has, she had better stay away from my antique magic shoehorn.”—G. T
ILBURY
, N
ORDHOLM

“How did you get on this ship? Remove yourself
at once!”—E. P
IMM
, P
EMBERTON

H
ILARY FOUND
A
DMIRAL
Westfield waiting for her in the cabin Miss Pimm had lent him, which had formerly been occupied by the embroidery mistress. He sat stiffly among heart-shaped cushions on a small pink sofa adorned with ruffles, and when Hilary entered the cabin, he did not stand up. The hearts and ruffles surrounding him did very little to soften the expression on his face.

For a moment, Hilary wanted nothing more than to turn around and dash back through the cabin door, but such behavior hardly suited the temporary Terror of the Southlands. She would have to do her best to behave as Jasper would—without most of the cursing and grog swilling, of course. She settled herself on a round pink tuffet across from Admiral Westfield. “You wanted to speak with me, Father?”

Admiral Westfield picked up a ruffled bolster pillow and leaned forward. “Running away,” he said, tapping the bolster pillow against his open palm for emphasis. “Consorting with villains. Attempting to claim my treasure for yourself. And worst of all, going directly against my wishes. Hilary Westfield, I am deeply embarrassed. An admiral whose own daughter disobeys him—if this gets out, I'll never hear the end of it in High Society! And just think of your poor mother, who will surely faint when she hears of your impudence. I assure you, this is not how a young lady behaves herself.”

Hilary steadied herself on the tuffet. “I know that, Father. It's how a pirate behaves herself.”

“A pirate! Haven't you tired of that nonsense yet?” Admiral Westfield tossed the bolster pillow to the deck. “My dear, you must stop being foolish. You may have stowed away with those scoundrels—and how you managed that, I'll never know—but you are certainly not a pirate.”

“I did quite a bit more than stow away! Why, I defeated your senior officer in a duel! And besides that—”

“I'll hear no more of it,” said Admiral Westfield. “You're to return to finishing school and stay there until you've learned to behave like a young lady. I am fully aware that such a task may take decades, but I can't allow you to keep running about with the scum of the High Seas. Although I suppose I won't have to worry about that once I've abolished piracy.”

Hilary sprang up from the tuffet, which went skittering across the deck behind her. “You couldn't!”

“Ah, but I could! And what's more, I will. Of course, I've still got to find that old biddy's treasure”—here Admiral Westfield frowned—“but once that's taken care of, I'll have enough magic to send the queen and her advisers somewhere damp and distant, and then piracy shall go down the drain at last.” He propped his boots up on a heart-shaped cushion. “Pirates are the very height of impropriety, you know, always ignoring one's orders and trying to steal one's magic. I shall be the ruler who locks up those scallywags once and for all, and Augusta will be well rid of them.”

Had her father thought Augusta was well rid of Charlie's mam and pa, then, when he'd sunk their ship and helped himself to their treasure? The thought lodged like a rough bit of hardtack in her throat. “I can't imagine,” she said, “that the queen will be fond of being replaced.”

Admiral Westfield shrugged. “I suppose not. But it is my duty, as a High Society gentleman, to do what is best for Augusta. Scoundrels mustn't be permitted to sail about freely with no regard for my authority, and magic can't be allowed to fall into untrustworthy hands. If the queen is unable to keep the kingdom shipshape and orderly, I must take charge of it myself. All for the good of Augusta, of course.” The admiral leaned forward and dared to offer up a smile. “I imagine you understand that better than anyone, my dear. Haven't I always done what is best for you?”

It was fortunate, really, that Admiral Westfield had taken Hilary's sword away. Challenging one's own father to a duel would have been horribly improper, even by the standards of piracy. “You do realize,” she said, “that I could leave this room right now and tell Miss Pimm exactly what you're up to.”

“Of course you could, my dear,” said Admiral Westfield, “but even the old biddy isn't foolish enough to listen to a child's fanciful stories.”

This, Hilary realized, was most likely true. Even the Terror of the Southlands would need more than a good tale to convict the admiral of the Royal Navy of thievery. “Then I'll have Miss Pimm search Westfield House, and she'll find the magical objects you stole.”

“Oh, come now. Do you think I'm foolish enough to store my treasure in my own home? Besides, if young Oliver does his job properly, several of those objects will soon decorate the shelves and tabletops of a certain bungalow. Twenty-Five Little Herring Cove is the address, is it not?”

He knew perfectly well that it was. “You intend to frame Jasper?”

“My dear, I do not
intend
to frame him. I
am
framing him.”

“But that's horrible!”

“Perhaps,” said Admiral Westfield, “but it is undeniably convenient. You know, I should pop down belowdecks and thank Fletcher for being the first to stumble into the old biddy's trap. I shudder to think how unpleasant it would have been if she'd caught me instead.”

Hilary nearly pointed out that
she
had been the first to stumble into the Enchantress's trap, and Jasper had merely been following her lead, but this piece of information was hardly likely to impress Admiral Westfield. In fact, he seemed more impressed by the lace ruffles on the pink sofa than by Hilary. “I'm sorry, Father,” she said, “but you must excuse me. I can't endure this conversation for another moment. As I will make every effort to avoid you for the rest of the voyage, I hope you have a pleasant journey.” She strode to the door, letting the heels of her boots slap against the deck.

“All right,” said Admiral Westfield. “Run along, then, and be a good little girl.”

Hilary paused in the doorway. Surely Admiral Westfield would never tell the real Terror of the Southlands to be a good little girl. “If I'm going to be good,” she said, “I'd prefer to be a good pirate.”

Her father sighed. “I can't imagine what you mean by that.”

“A good pirate finds treasure,” said Hilary, “and a good pirate fights back.”

T
HE FIRST STEP
in fighting back, Hilary decided, was to alert Miss Pimm to her father's villainy. If anyone could capture Admiral Westfield and free the crew of the
Pigeon
, it was the Enchantress of the Northlands—even if she
was
retired. With Claire and the gargoyle by her side, and Fitzwilliam hovering anxiously over her head, Hilary rapped on the door to Miss Pimm's cabin.

The door swung open so suddenly that Hilary, Claire, the gargoyle, and Fitzwilliam all tumbled inside in a most uncivilized way. “My goodness,” said Miss Pimm, “what a menagerie! Good afternoon, Miss Westfield, Miss Dupree, gargoyle.” She looked up at Fitzwilliam. “Good afternoon, bird.”

Fitzwilliam squawked.

“This is most unusual.” Miss Pimm shut the door and returned to the chair where she'd been working at embroidery. “Is there something I can do to help you all?”

“You can free my friends,” said Hilary.

“And capture the villainous admiral,” said Claire.

“And save the kingdom!” cried the gargoyle.

Miss Pimm frowned. “That does sound like quite a lot of work. Perhaps you'd better explain yourselves.”

So Hilary did, accompanied by clarifications from the gargoyle and encouraging nods from Claire. But no matter what Hilary said to convince Miss Pimm that she had captured the wrong group of scallywags, Miss Pimm simply sighed and lifted her eyes toward the heavens. “Your father is an honorable gentleman,” she said at last, “and a valued member of High Society. We have already captured the magic stealers and locked them belowdecks. I fear those villains have muddled your wits, my dear: I simply can't believe there's a bit of truth to your tale.”

The gargoyle puffed out his chest. “Enchantress,” he said, “do you mean to say that you don't believe your own gargoyle?”

“You were always fond of fanciful stories,” said Miss Pimm. “This one is no different. My treasure has been perfectly safe for centuries, and I assure you all, there is no need to worry about it. This trip to Gunpowder Island has been rather exhausting, and I intend to deposit the villains in the Royal Dungeons and wash my hands of this nonsense once and for all.” She peered at her embroidery and unpicked a thread. “I certainly don't intend to worry anymore about magic. I left the post of Enchantress long ago, and I have no wish to return to it.”

“Well, that's just silly!” said Claire.

Miss Pimm arched an eyebrow.

“I'm terribly sorry,” Claire hurried on, “but who wouldn't want to be an Enchantress? Traveling all through the kingdom, using magic, bossing people about—it sounds very grand.”

Miss Pimm was silent for a moment. Then she put down her embroidery. “As you all are so fond of storytelling,” she said, “I shall tell you a story of my own.” She turned to Hilary. “It concerns a long-ago relation of yours, my dear.”

Miss Pimm rummaged through her traveling trunk and pulled out a square object wrapped in purple silk. When she unwrapped the silk, Hilary saw it was the same silver-framed sketch Miss Pimm had kept in her office, the sketch of the old-fashioned gentleman in the balloon basket. “Simon Westfield was a great explorer and a kind man. We were to be married—but this was all many years ago, of course.”

The gargoyle sighed happily. “I love a good romance.”

“I hardly think
good
is the proper word for it,” said Miss Pimm. “I was very young when I first became the Enchantress, and even then, there were plenty of scoundrels like Mr. Fletcher. They wanted all the kingdom's treasure for themselves, and they certainly didn't want an Enchantress telling them what to do with it once they'd gotten it. When they realized that challenging me with magic was useless, they went after Simon instead.” She looked down at the gargoyle. “I tried to protect him, of course, but Simon didn't care for magic. He thought it was unnecessary. All he would allow me to do was carve a gargoyle for Westfield House, where Simon could ask him for protection if he was ever in danger.”

The gargoyle's ears perked up. “That's me!”

Miss Pimm nodded. “But it didn't matter in the end—the scoundrels came for him when he was out in his balloon, with no protection to speak of. They conjured up a fearsome wind, and that was the end of it.” She wrapped the purple silk around the frame once more. “After that, I wanted nothing more to do with magic. I couldn't tolerate being the Enchantress for another moment. But there was no one suitable to take my place, and I couldn't leave all the kingdom's magic sitting about without someone to look after it, so I gathered up as much as I could and hid it away.” Miss Pimm tucked the picture of Simon Westfield back in her traveling trunk. “And I can't say I'm sorry. Magic has brought me nothing but misery, and we are all better off without it.”

“I don't understand,” said Hilary. “If you've washed your hands of magic, why do you give magic crochet hooks to all the girls at Miss Pimm's?”

Miss Pimm pursed her lips tightly, as though she wanted to keep the words inside from tumbling out. “If you must know,” she said at last, “I am still searching for the next Enchantress. I'd like nothing more than to put magic aside, return to my home in the Northlands, and get a bit of rest, but I simply can't abandon my treasure until I'm sure it is in good hands. Being the Enchantress requires something of a knack for magic, you see. I felt sure that a High Society girl with that knack would pass through my finishing school one day, and the responsibility for overseeing the kingdom's magic would fall to her. So far, however, I have been utterly disappointed. All my girls are more talented at crocheting than they are at enchanting.” Miss Pimm smoothed her skirts and cleared her throat. “But I've said far too much. You girls mustn't start spreading any rumors, do you hear?”