The Very Nearly Honorable League of Pirates #1 (33 page)

Fitzwilliam rolled his eyes and cheeped.

“No, it's not a private matter!” the gargoyle replied. “My ears tingle when there's magic around. And whenever I'm here at Miss Pimm's, they tingle like crazy.”

Hilary stared at him. “Why didn't you mention that before?”

“I did,” said the gargoyle. “Ages ago. But you told me I was just allergic to finishing school.”

“Oh, gargoyle, I'm sorry. This is a wonderful clue.” Hilary tipped an imaginary pirate hat to the gargoyle, and he tipped his own imaginary hat back. “But do you think you might be sensing the magic from the other girls' crochet hooks?”

“Well, I'm not quite sure,” said the gargoyle, “but I think it must be more than that. Crochet hooks are little—compared to me, of course—and this feels big.” The gargoyle's ears perked up. “Do you think the treasure might be other gargoyles?”

“I can't imagine that Miss Pimm would be silly enough to hide a community of gargoyles away for all eternity,” said Claire. “Just think how cranky they'd get with no one to scratch their heads.”

Hilary stopped pacing. “Hidden for eternity,” she said. “Wasn't there something about that on the treasure map?”

Charlie nodded. “‘May my treasure rest with me,'” he said, “‘hidden for eternity.' I suppose your Enchantress loves her rhymes.”

“Well, that just proves it!” said Hilary. “If the treasure is resting with Miss Pimm, I'd bet anything that she's hidden it somewhere in this building.”

Claire groaned. “I
knew
we'd have to sort through her laundry.”

Hilary tugged a cardigan over her nightgown and pulled on her pirate boots. “This is no time to worry about laundry. I don't care if we have to take this school apart stone by stone: the treasure is here, and we're going to find it.”

“Take that, Admiral Westfield!” cried the gargoyle. “Who's the pet rock now?”

F
OR THREE NIGHTS
they searched every inch of Miss Pimm's. On the first night, Charlie climbed to the cobwebbed rafters of the refectory, Claire dug up the gardening mistress's prize lilacs, and Hilary dove to the chilly depths of the swimming pool. By dawn they were dusty and dirt streaked and blue lipped, but they still had not found the treasure. Charlie hurried back to his room so Admiral Westfield would not notice his absence, and Claire and Hilary prepared themselves for a tedious day of waltzing and embroidering and fainting. Hilary would have preferred to abandon her lessons altogether—a few dozen absence notices were of no concern to the Terror of the Southlands—but she didn't dare give Miss Pimm any reason to be suspicious.

On the second night, the gargoyle hopped on every paving stone in the garden, but his ears refused to tingle. Fitzwilliam flew to the roof of Miss Pimm's and found nothing but an unfriendly flock of pigeons. Charlie nearly smothered himself in an avalanche of clean towels as he searched the housekeeping quarters. Claire peered inside all the cookery pots in the kitchen, and Hilary explored each of the fourteen powder rooms. The treasure was nowhere to be found. As Hilary and Claire made their way back to their bedroom at dawn, they caught sight of Admiral Westfield crossing the grounds, swinging his spade and looking rather grumpy.

“That's a bright spot, at least,” said Hilary. “Father hasn't found the treasure yet, either.”

Claire yawned and rubbed her eyes with a handkerchief. “I'm starting to think,” she said, “that Miss Pimm has a summer house we don't know about, or a vault at the bank in Queensport, and the treasure is
miles
away, and we have absolutely no hope of sniffing it out.”

“I'm sure that's not true,” Hilary said, but she wasn't sure at all.

On the third night, the treasure hunters gathered up their courage and walked slowly past Miss Pimm's sleeping quarters. “Do you feel anything, gargoyle?” Charlie whispered. “Are your ears tingling yet?”

But the gargoyle shook his head. “Not any more than usual,” he said. “There's no magic here.”

They trudged downstairs to the main hall, where they spent a good part of the night searching behind paintings and under carpets. The gargoyle even asked the stones in the walls for advice, but they didn't seem interested in making conversation.

“I had no idea piracy would be so exhausting,” said Claire. She sat down on the floor to catch her breath. “If
I
had a treasure, I believe I'd hide it somewhere friendly and sensible. Under my bed, perhaps, or—oh, horsefeathers! Someone's coming!” She blew out her candle, and the hall was flooded with night.

As Hilary watched, a pinprick of lantern light traveled down the dormitory staircase, growing larger and brighter as it approached the main hall. The light paused in the doorway, and Hilary squinted into it.

“I thought I heard noises down here,” said Philomena. She set down her lantern and sent shadows scurrying across the walls. “Miss Dupree and Miss Westfield, out of bed at a
most
unladylike hour. Well, I can't say I'm surprised—but who's this?” She jabbed her crochet hook in Charlie's direction.

Charlie took a few steps backward. “That's none of your business.”

“You're that pirate boy, aren't you? The one who's been stealing magic from your betters? No, don't move an inch.” Philomena tapped her crochet hook against the palm of her hand “What do you think? Shall I stick you all to the floor until morning? It would make such a splendid surprise for the other girls at breakfast.”

“You wouldn't dare,” said Hilary. “If I had my sword, I'd run you through.”

“Then you'd end up in the Dungeons,” said Philomena, “with those dreadful damp pirates. I daresay you all would fit right in. But I shall be kind.” She tucked her crochet hook back in her pocket. “I won't stick you to the floor this time. I will, however, report your misbehavior to Miss Pimm, and I expect she'll want to see you all in the morning.” The lantern light faded as Philomena turned away. “And Miss Dupree,” she said over her shoulder, “do stop trembling. I'm sure it won't hurt so very much when Miss Pimm takes your scholarship away.”

M
ISS
P
IMM SUMMONED
Hilary and Claire to her office before breakfast had even begun. As they walked through the echoing halls, Hilary dug a piece of hardtack out of her canvas bag and offered half to Claire, but Claire swore she was far too terrified to eat. “Do you think I've truly lost my scholarship?” she said. “My parents will be absolutely furious, and I'll never be allowed in High Society, and if I have to wrap up one more trout I think I shall scream!”

Hilary gave Claire a quick hug. “I suppose it could be worse,” she said. “Miss Pimm could put all our heads on that spiked fence outside.” She did her best to laugh, but Claire didn't join in.

When they reached Miss Pimm's office, Miss Pimm herself was already seated behind the wide wooden desk. Across from her, wearing a freshly ironed suit and looking positively miserable, sat Charlie.

Miss Pimm looked up and tapped her fingertips together. “Hello, girls,” she said. “Please sit down. Miss Tilbury tells me that the three of you have not been entirely virtuous. Is that true?”

Claire squirmed in her chair, and Hilary sat up straight. “It's all my fault,” she said. “I'm a pirate, you see, so it's practically impossible for me to be virtuous. You mustn't blame the others.”

“You can blame me,” said Charlie. “I'm a pirate, too.”

Claire squirmed again. “And so am I,” she said in a small voice. “Oh, please don't put my head on a spike.”

Miss Pimm dabbed her forehead with a handkerchief. “All this talk of piracy is quite ridiculous,” she said. “Miss Dupree, I understand that you are new to High Society. I will remind you, however, that your presence at this school depends upon your good behavior. If you continue to disregard my rules in the future, I see no reason why you should continue your education here. Do you understand?”

Claire's voice grew even smaller. “Yes, Miss Pimm.”

“As for you, Mr. Dove”—Miss Pimm leaned across her desk to gaze at Charlie—“it's clear that even Admiral Westfield is unable to control you. I simply cannot have pirate lads running loose in my school. Why, the thought is scandalous!” She dabbed at her forehead once more. “I've received word from the Queensport Academy for Difficult Boys that they have a place available for you, and you shall be on the first train to Queensport tomorrow morning.”

Miss Pimm shooed away Charlie's protests and began to lecture Hilary about behavior befitting an admiral's daughter. Hilary groaned and slid down in her chair to give the lecture more space to soar over her head. She did not want to listen to Miss Pimm describe the glorious future of High Society balls, charitable works, and good manners that awaited her if only she would try a bit harder. Nor did she want to think about Claire, one slip away from being sent back to the fishmonger's, or Charlie, stuffed into that horrid suit and shipped off to a future far from the High Seas. What sort of pirate couldn't find treasure? What sort of pirate put her friends in danger? The temporary Terror of the Southlands had made a terrible mess of things.

Hilary couldn't meet Charlie's eyes, or Claire's, and she especially couldn't bear to look at Miss Pimm. Instead, she stared at the embroidered sampler on Miss Pimm's wall that warned her to
Beware the dangers of reverie
. She nearly laughed out loud. Villainous fathers and thoughtless Enchantresses seemed quite a bit more dangerous than reverie at the moment. Another motto assured her that
A lady never shrieks
, but Hilary felt quite sure that she
would
shriek if Miss Pimm's lecture continued much longer. The most ridiculous sampler of all, however, was the one directly above Miss Pimm's head, with its rhyme embroidered in clumsy green thread on a stained square of fabric:
The greatest treasure in all the land—the delicate touch of a lady's hand
.

Hilary wished she could give the sampler a hearty kick. Who would have written such nonsense? It certainly wasn't the handiwork of a pirate: No pirate cared one bit for ladies' hands when there was a stockpile of magic to be found. And wasn't Miss Pimm the Enchantress? For goodness' sake, she
owned
the greatest treasure in all the land! She should have known better than anyone that the rhyme was absurd.

Hilary leaned forward to get a better look at the sampler. Embroidered at the bottom of the square, so stained it was hardly noticeable, was a small green figure eight.

“Miss Westfield?” said Miss Pimm. “Are you paying attention?”

Hilary nodded, but Miss Pimm's lecture had faded to a persistent buzz in the background. That hideous sampler must have been Miss Pimm's own work—or, more precisely, the work of the Enchantress. She enjoyed writing in rhyme, the figure eight was her signature, and the sampler mentioned treasure. It couldn't be a coincidence.

“‘The delicate touch of a lady's hand,'” Hilary murmured. Was it truly nonsense? Or—she leaned forward so eagerly that she nearly toppled out of her chair—was it an instruction?

She could hardly sit still, but when the lecture ended at last, she tried her best to look solemn and sorry as she followed Claire and Charlie into the hallway. “I'll never be able to show my face on the High Seas again,” Charlie was saying. “The Scourge of the Northlands wouldn't be caught dead in a starched shirt.”

Claire covered her face with her hands. “And I'll be knee-deep in trout by autumn.”

“No, you won't,” said Hilary. “And Charlie, you won't have to go to that horrid school. By breakfast time tomorrow, we'll all be heroes.”

Claire peered out from behind her hands. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean,” said Hilary, “that I know where the Enchantress hid her treasure.”

T
HE CLOCK IN
Pemberton Square struck midnight as Hilary slipped out of bed, changed into her pirate clothes, and woke the gargoyle. He peered out from under the bedclothes, flapped his wings a few times, and yawned, showing his fearsome teeth. “Did I fall asleep?” he asked. “Did I miss the treasure?”

“You haven't missed a thing,” said Hilary. Then she crossed the room to wake Claire. “You mustn't come with me if you don't want to,” she whispered as Claire rubbed her eyes with the sleeves of her nightdress. “I won't have you getting expelled on my account.”

Claire swung her legs out of bed. “How silly!” she said. “I've never had an adventure before—not a proper one, at least—and I don't intend to be left behind. Just think how thrilling it will be to find treasure! My sister, Violet, will seethe with jealousy.”

Hilary picked up her candle in one hand and her gargoyle in the other, and Claire let Fitzwilliam settle on her shoulder. Then they slipped through the doorway without a sound.

The halls of Miss Pimm's were quite cold and dreary in the daytime, but at midnight they were positively chilling. Hilary's candle flickered in the drafty staircase, and the gargoyle jumped at every small sound that echoed through the school. At the bottom of the staircase, another candle flickered: Charlie was waiting for them.

“All's clear,” he whispered as they walked through the main hall. “The admiral snuck out nearly an hour ago, and I followed him for a bit. I lost track of him when I came to meet you, but I think he's poking about in the library.”

The gargoyle shivered in Hilary's arms. “Where are we going, anyway? You still haven't told me where the treasure is.”

“I have a hunch that it's in Miss Pimm's office,” said Hilary, “but I'll need you to feel around to be certain. Do you think you're up for it?”

“A gargoyle can overcome any obstacle, large or small,” the gargoyle said. “But to tell you the truth, we're much better at overcoming the small ones.”