The Terror of the Southlands

by Caroline Carlson

  Miss Pimm stirred, and her eyes flicked open. She stared at Hilary, blinked twice, and stared again. “Is that Hilary Westfield?” she murmured. “No, it can’t be; she’s wearing a ball gown.”

  “It’s me, Miss Pimm,” Hilary said. “I’ve come to rescue you.”

  “And so have I,” said the gargoyle. “Hurrah! Sound the trumpets!”

  Hilary pulled out her cutlass and set to work cutting through the thick ropes around Miss Pimm’s wrists and ankles. A third rope, she noticed, held Miss Pimm firmly to the chair. “I’ll do my best not to slice you to bits,” she said cheerfully, and Miss Pimm gave her a weak smile. “Do you feel quite all right?”

  “I am two hundred and thirty-nine years old,” said Miss Pimm, “and right now, I feel every bit of it.” Her voice was shakier than Hilary had remembered, and she looked rather pale and thin inside her violet traveling clothes. “But that’s what comes of being kept apart from my magic pieces. I haven’t been able to restore my health for goodness knows how long.” She paused. “How long have I been here?”

  “It’s been weeks,” said Hilary. The cutlass sliced through the last rope around Miss Pimm’s wrists, and Hilary began to work at the bindings on her ankles. “We came as fast as we could, but it took us ages to track down the Mutineers. They’re the ones who kidnapped you—but I suppose you probably know all about it.” She looked at the dark circles under Miss Pimm’s eyes. “I don’t want to exhaust you, but if it’s not too much trouble, perhaps you could tell us what you remember.”

  Miss Pimm closed her eyes again. “I’m afraid I don’t remember much,” she said. “I’m quite sure, though, that it was Midsummer’s Eve. I was on my way to visit a friend.”

  “Cannonball Jack!” the gargoyle interrupted.

  Miss Pimm smiled. “Yes, that’s right. The weather was lovely that evening, and I thought I’d walk. I was nearly to Pemberton Bay when an unmarked carriage pulled up alongside me and three people leaped out. They had quite a few large magic pieces with them, and they ordered me to get into the carriage.”

  “Three people?” Hilary frowned. “One of them must have been Mrs. Tilbury, I suppose.”

  “Yes, Georgiana was there.” Miss Pimm stopped to take a shaky breath. “I’m afraid I didn’t get a good look at the other two, but of course I heard their voices. I think one of them was Philomena, and the other was someone I didn’t recognize. A man’s voice—quite young, really, and pleasant. He seemed rather apologetic about the whole ordeal. If he hadn’t been a villain, I’d say he’d been well bred.”

  The gargoyle frowned. “That doesn’t sound like Captain Blacktooth.”

  “You’re right about that,” said Hilary. “Captain Blacktooth is hardly a pleasant young man, and he wasn’t accompanying Philomena that evening.” She snapped through the ropes around Miss Pimm’s ankles. “It does, however, sound quite a lot like Sir Nicholas Feathering.”

  “Oh, drat,” said the gargoyle. “But I liked him!”

  “I didn’t,” Miss Pimm said firmly. “All three of them were trying to order me about with magic, and they were really quite strong. I’d left my most powerful magic pieces at home, for they’re much too heavy to carry, and all I had with me was my golden crochet hook.” She sighed. “It was enough to irritate the Tilburys, but then a whole crowd of gentlemen charged out from the trees. They wore silly little hats and smelled of the sea, and they were shouting something.” Miss Pimm put a hand to her forehead. “I believe it might have been ‘Arr!’”

  “Now, that sounds like Captain Blacktooth,” said the gargoyle.

  “I tried to stick them to the ground with my crochet hook,” Miss Pimm continued, “and I did stop a few of them, but the others pulled the hook out of my hand. They picked me up, which must have been quite a challenge for them, since I confess I was kicking and scratching in a terribly unladylike way. Then something hit me directly on the head, and I don’t remember any more. The next thing I knew, it was daylight, my magic piece was gone, and I was sitting here in this chair, letting some silly maid feed me chicken soup.” She scowled. “I detest chicken soup.”

  “Well, you won’t have to eat it ever again once we’ve gotten you out of this place.” The rope around Miss Pimm’s waist came free, and Hilary stepped back. “Do you think you can stand?”

  Miss Pimm put her hands on the chair’s armrests and pushed herself up, but she immediately sat right back down again. “I’m afraid I’m very weak,” she said. “The magic has kept me going for quite some time, you see, and the Tilburys wouldn’t allow me to get within twenty yards of the stuff.”

  “Here.” Hilary pulled her magic coin from her purse and pressed it into Miss Pimm’s hand. “Will this help?”

  Miss Pimm murmured a few words to the coin. For a moment, she was entirely still, and then she took a long breath that wasn’t nearly so shaky. “I’m certainly not myself,” she said, “but perhaps you won’t have to carry me back to Pemberton. It would be most undignified for both of us.”

  “It would be even more undignified,” the gargoyle pointed out, “if you had to travel in a fancy handbag.”

  Hilary helped Miss Pimm out of her chair. “I was hoping you’d be able to blast magic at any Mutineers who try to stop us on our way out of Tilbury Park,” she said. “Do you feel well enough to manage that? I’ve got a few more magic coins if you need them.”

  But Miss Pimm shook her head. “Blasting,” she said, “is out of the question, I’m afraid. I’m not strong enough to attempt anything of the sort, and I doubt a mere handful of coins would be much help against the Tilburys’ magic pieces in any case. They’ve got quite a vast collection.”

  “I’ve seen it,” said Hilary, “and I don’t believe I’d enjoy having it used against me. But there’s got to be more than one way to rescue an Enchantress.” Hilary looked around the room. “Perhaps we can slip out the window,” she said, pointing to a small pane of glass above Miss Pimm’s chair.

  “Georgiana Tilbury assures me that her best guards are stationed directly outside that window,” Miss Pimm replied. “And I’m not sure I’m in any condition to climb out of it.”

  Hilary’s gown was beginning to feel far too warm, and she tugged at its satin flounces. “In that case,” she said, “we’ll simply have to walk out the front door and hope nobody notices. There’s such a crush of party guests that we might be able to manage it without getting ourselves skewered by Mrs. Tilbury’s guards.”

  “That,” said the gargoyle, “sounds like a terrible plan.”

  Privately, Hilary rather agreed with the gargoyle, but she certainly wasn’t going to let him know it. “It’s a bold and daring plan,” she said instead. “The Terror of the Southlands wouldn’t sneak away into the night, would she?”

  “Maybe not,” said the gargoyle, “but a gargoyle would. Gargoyles are very good at sneaking.”

  Hilary offered Miss Pimm her arm, and together they inched forward down the hall. Miss Pimm pressed down on Hilary’s shoulder from above, while the gargoyle in his purse tugged at her shoulder from below. If Hilary had been a High Society girl, she might have had the luxury of complaining about the pain, but a sore shoulder was supposed to be nothing at all to a pirate, so she kept her mouth shut.

  The gargoyle, however, seemed to be feeling quite chatty. “Sir Nicholas Feathering, a Mutineer,” he said for at least the third time. “I can’t believe I let him pat my wings.”

  Then there was a great fluttering of feathers in the air in front of them, and Fitzwilliam the budgerigar came to rest on Hilary’s free shoulder. He squawked, dropped a scrap of paper into Hilary’s hand, and nestled himself in the layers of her ball gown as she read the note from Mr. Stanley.

  “Curses,” Hilary muttered. “If we run into any queen’s inspectors, Miss Pimm, could you tell them that I’m not a villain?”

  “I can certainly try,” said Miss Pimm, “but those gentlemen have a maddening tendency to disregard every word I say. A few years in finishing s
chool would do all of them a world of good.”

  They had reached the end of the hallway, where Jasper and Charlie were still standing guard. Hilary tapped Charlie on the shoulder, and he turned around and grinned when he saw Miss Pimm. “Well done, Terror,” he whispered. “But what are you doing here?”

  “There’s no other way out. I thought if we left while everyone was dancing, we might not be noticed.”

  But Jasper shook his head. “You’d better wait, then,” he said. “They’ve just started clinking the champagne glasses, and I think someone’s going to give a speech. If we leave now, every soul in the ballroom will notice us.” He turned and tipped his hat to Miss Pimm. “By the way, Enchantress, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

  “Likewise,” said Miss Pimm. “I do hope you pirates know what you’re doing.”

  Claire and Miss Greyson hurried over to join them and greet Miss Pimm. “They’re all coming up the stairs,” Claire hissed. “Philomena, I mean, and her mother, and Nicholas Feathering.”

  “He’s a Mutineer, you know,” the gargoyle said.

  Claire’s mouth fell open. “But he has such lovely manners!”

  Then Mrs. Tilbury appeared at the top of the staircase, draped in an imposing midnight-blue gown that seemed to take up half the hall. She was flanked by Philomena and Nicholas, who looked, in Hilary’s opinion, more nervous and embarrassed than Mutineers had any right to look. “They’re all villains,” Hilary whispered, “the whole lot of them, and Captain Blacktooth too. It’s a shame we can’t send them all directly off the plank.”

  “What are they doing now, do you think?” Charlie asked. “Have they got some other mutinous plot up their sleeves?”

  “I believe,” said Claire, “that they’re about to announce the betrothal.”

  Hilary groaned. “That’s just marvelous. We may never get Miss Pimm back to the Pigeon, but at least Mother will be pleased that I attended the most thrilling event of the season.”

  Mrs. Tilbury looked out over the ballroom and waved a silken-gloved hand in the air. In an instant, all of Tilbury Park fell silent. “Thank you, my dear friends,” she said, “for joining us today as we celebrate my daughter Philomena’s entrance into the grand world of High Society. I know I speak for Philomena when I say that we have been looking forward to this day for quite some time.”

  Philomena smiled, but not kindly, and Hilary wondered if Philomena had ever tried to stick her own mother to the floor, or turn her into a toadstool. If anyone deserved to be a toadstool, it was Mrs. Tilbury.

  “As I’m sure some of you have guessed,” Mrs. Tilbury continued, “we are here not only to celebrate Philomena’s debut but also to share some delightful news about her future. I am simply thrilled to announce that my daughter is betrothed to Sir Nicholas Feathering, of the Queensport Featherings. They plan to be married next year. Go ahead and curtsy, dear.”

  Philomena followed her mother’s instructions, but Hilary was nearly certain she rolled her eyes as she did it. In the ballroom below, the throngs of guests clapped and cheered.

  “Thank goodness that’s over with,” Charlie murmured. “Perhaps now we’ll be able to leave.”

  “But wait!” said Mrs. Tilbury, and the guests muffled their cheers. “I have more good news to share. As you are no doubt aware, our beloved Enchantress has been missing for several weeks. Perhaps she wandered off one evening—perhaps she is no longer even in Augusta!—but whatever the case may be, I’m sure we can all agree that Miss Pimm’s disappearance is most unfortunate indeed.”

  The pirates exchanged scathing looks, and the gargoyle ground his teeth. “I certainly agree,” Miss Pimm said weakly. “I, for one, have been terribly inconvenienced.”

  “What has she got planned?” Hilary whispered back, but Miss Pimm simply closed her eyes and leaned against the wall.

  “Magic users are running wild throughout the country!” Mrs. Tilbury said. “Thieves and villains abound! The queen’s inspectors have not been able to locate Miss Pimm, nor have”—she paused—“other persistent individuals.”

  “Do you think she means us?” the gargoyle whispered. “Am I a persistent individual?”

  “I believe you are,” said Hilary.

  “Now that magic has returned in full force to Augusta,” Mrs. Tilbury was saying, “it is clear to all responsible citizens that our kingdom must have an Enchantress, and we cannot waste any more time waiting for the old one to return. I am happy to report, however, that I have corresponded with the queen herself.” Mrs. Tilbury smiled. “She has just agreed to appoint my darling Philomena as the next Enchantress!”

  “What?” cried Hilary, but her voice was buried under the gasps and exclamations that filled the ballroom. There were several cheers, and a few polite-sounding claps, but quite a lot of murmuring as well. Claire clenched her fists, Jasper uttered a pirate curse under his breath, and the gargoyle spit a few pebbles into the hall.

  “Do you suppose that’s what the Mutineers have been plotting all along?” Hilary whispered. “Getting Miss Pimm out of the way so they can install their own lovely little Enchantress who’ll let them do whatever they please with their magic?”

  “But Philomena’s not lovely,” Charlie said darkly. “Not by a long shot.”

  “No,” said Hilary, “and I don’t intend to let her take Miss Pimm’s place, no matter how much certain people would prefer it.” She glanced over at Miss Pimm, who was in no position to do anything about the Mutineers: her eyes were still closed, and she had turned rather gray. Hilary sighed. “Miss Greyson, do you have anything to write with?”

  Miss Greyson raised her eyebrows. “Of course,” she said, producing a pencil from her reticule. “What are you doing, Hilary?”

  “Sending a letter.” On the back of Mr. Stanley’s note, Hilary scribbled a few words.

  * * *

  Mr. Stanley,

  Come at once. Bring the others.

  H.

  * * *

  Then she put the scrap of paper into Fitzwilliam’s beak. “Fly back to the Pigeon, please,” she whispered, “as fast as you can.” Fitzwilliam flapped away, and she turned to the others. “I hope you’re all ready to fight.”

  “Fight?” the gargoyle asked, but Hilary had already stepped out into the main hall. She drew her cutlass quickly, before she had any time to think about what she was doing, and she held it in front of her as her feet marched her toward the staircase where the Tilburys stood. Captain Blacktooth had wanted boldness and daring, hadn’t he? Well then, boldness and daring he would get, even if Hilary had to dig to the very soles of her pirate boots in order to produce it.

  Mrs. Tilbury hadn’t noticed Hilary yet; she was still addressing the crowd. “My dearest friends,” she was saying, “as Philomena accepts the responsibilities of the kingdom’s highest magical post, may I ask you all to lend her your support?”

  “No, Mrs. Tilbury,” Hilary called, “you can’t. You Mutineers won’t be getting a smidgen of support from me.”

  * * *

  an extract From

  The Gargoyle: History of a Hero

  BY THE GARGOYLE

  AS TOLD TO H. WESTFIELD

  In dangerous situations, a gargoyle knows exactly what to do: hide in your bag, keep your ears down, and hope your trusty assistant doesn’t get you both killed.

  * * *

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THE BALL GUESTS gasped, and champagne glasses smashed to the ground as Philomena, Nicholas, and Mrs. Tilbury all turned to stare at Hilary. Philomena’s face was tight with fury, and Nicholas looked rather panicked, but Mrs. Tilbury remained calm and composed, and that worried Hilary most of all. “Philomena, dear,” said Mrs. Tilbury, “do you have the slightest idea who this young lady might be?”

  “That’s Hilary Westfield,” Philomena said sharply, “and I’m quite sure she wasn’t invited.”

  “Why, so it is!” Mrs. Tilbury smiled. “I nearly didn’t recognize her in last season’s fashions.” Her voice
carried across the ballroom, and several of her guests chuckled. “Miss Westfield, whatever is the meaning of this outburst?”

  As she looked down at the ballroom, Hilary caught a glimpse of her mother pushing through the crowd, trying to reach the staircase. At least the sight of Hilary holding a cutlass hadn’t caused her to swoon on the spot. Captain Blacktooth was also making his way toward the staircase, and several of the peacock-clad guards were heading straight toward her; she didn’t have much time to spare. Oh, Fitzwilliam, Hilary thought, please hurry.

  “You know perfectly well what I mean,” she called to Mrs. Tilbury. “Philomena can’t be the Enchantress.”

  Mrs. Tilbury sniffed. “And why not?”

  “Because,” said Hilary, “I’m afraid the position’s not vacant. You see, Mrs. Tilbury, I’ve found Miss Pimm.”

  She nodded toward the doorway, where Jasper and Miss Greyson were helping Miss Pimm walk forward. As the Enchantress came into view, a new wave of murmurs rose up from the crowd, and a handful of people actually applauded, though Philomena whirled around to glare at them.

  Hilary was pleased to see that Mrs. Tilbury looked genuinely startled at last. In a matter of seconds, however, she had donned her most pleasant High Society expression, and she clapped her hands together with something very like delight. “How wonderful!” she cried. “Miss Pimm has finally reappeared! But I must say, Miss Westfield, that she doesn’t look at all well. I hardly think she is fit to return to her post.”

  “Of course she doesn’t look well,” Hilary said. “You kidnapped her and kept her locked up here for weeks. Or is that how you treat all your houseguests?”