“Kidnapped!” Mrs. Tilbury laughed. “Whyever would I do such a cruel thing to dear Miss Pimm?”
Hilary wasn’t entirely sure about this, but she could make a decent guess. “Because Miss Pimm won’t let you do whatever you like with your magic,” she suggested, “and Miss Pimm thinks people like you shouldn’t have all the kingdom’s magic for themselves. You thought if you simply removed her, you could pop your daughter into her place easily enough—which I have to admit you very nearly did. And I expect you thought you’d be able to order your darling Philomena about once she became the Enchantress.”
Hilary felt quite sure she’d guessed correctly, for Mrs. Tilbury’s smile flickered, and Philomena flinched. “What an absurd suggestion, Miss Westfield,” Mrs. Tilbury said. “Surely you can’t expect anyone to believe it.”
“I expect Philomena and Sir Nicholas to believe it. They helped you, after all, and so did your brother.” Hilary pointed her sword at Captain Blacktooth. “Do your High Society friends know that you’ve been plotting with pirates, Mrs. Tilbury? Or that you’ve been sending threatening notes to me and my friends?”
The murmurs from the crowd grew louder, and some of the guests began to inch toward the doorways, as though they were not sure whether it was entirely polite to leave a ball during the hostess’s confrontation with a pirate. Captain Blacktooth had reached the bottom of one staircase, and Mrs. Westfield was scrambling up the other. Hilary waved her cutlass at the guards who hovered behind her, but they refused to step back. Charlie and Jasper had drawn their swords now as well, and Miss Greyson was clutching her magic piece, but they were terribly outnumbered by the Mutineers and the entire crew of the Renegade, not to mention the additional pirates Captain Blacktooth had hired especially for this occasion. Hilary tried to take a breath to calm her nerves, but the dratted cabbage-colored dress felt tighter than ever around her waist.
Mrs. Tilbury came close enough that Hilary had to wrinkle her nose against the wilting lavender scent of her perfume. “Your father warned me you might be a nuisance,” she said, and she wasn’t smiling any longer. “You may have flung him into the Dungeons—”
“I didn’t fling him anywhere,” said Hilary through her teeth.
“—but I believe you’ll find the rest of us won’t be defeated so easily.” Then she turned back to her guests. “I’m afraid,” she said, “that this villainous young pirate has disrupted our gathering with her ridiculous tales, but please don’t be alarmed. My guards shall keep us safe by escorting Miss Westfield away at once.” She nodded to the guards behind Hilary. “You may lock her in the conservatory if she promises not to spoil the good furniture.”
Hilary scanned the guards’ faces, looking for familiar scallywags, but the only pirates she recognized were the ones who had confronted her at the Salty Biscuit. “Stop!” she shouted as one of them took hold of her elbow. “Are you quite sure you want to attack the Terror of the Southlands?”
“She’s the most fearsome pirate on the High Seas,” Charlie called from somewhere outside the knot of guards.
“And the rest of us are hardly boiled porridge, either,” said Jasper.
“Stay back,” the gargoyle cried, “or I’ll bite. Would you mind telling me which of you tastes the best?”
The guards hesitated, and the pirate who’d been holding Hilary’s elbow let go. “I don’t know, ma’am,” one of them said to Mrs. Tilbury. “She is the Terror of the Southlands. She doesn’t look like much, but she might still be dangerous.”
“And she’s a League member,” another guard pointed out. “Are you sure we’re allowed to lock her up?”
The others shook their heads and began to back away. “That’s very wise of you,” Hilary said. “Now my friends and I won’t have to blast you all to bits.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” said Mrs. Tilbury. She turned to glare at Captain Blacktooth. “Can’t your men do anything right? Or must I do it all myself?”
“That’s not fair,” said the guard closest to Hilary. “We grabbed that Enchantress for you well enough, didn’t we?”
“Quiet!” Mrs. Tilbury snapped. She reached into the folds of her gown and removed a golden shoehorn that glinted in the light of the chandelier. Hilary nearly stepped backward at the sight of it, but there was no point in trying to hurry away; Mrs. Tilbury would probably use the magic piece to stick her to the floor. Besides, the guards were surrounding her friends now, and Miss Pimm did not look very steady on her feet. Hilary rather feared her rescue plan was riddled with holes and likely to capsize.
Mrs. Tilbury peeled off her evening gloves. “Philomena,” she said, “and Nicholas, I expect your help.”
Philomena put her hands on her hips. “Mama,” she said, “you mustn’t take that tone with me. I am a High Society lady now, aren’t I?”
“Perhaps,” Mrs. Tilbury said, “but you’ll still do as you’re told.” She tapped the shoehorn against her palm.
Philomena sighed and produced two golden candlesticks from her reticule.
“Er, Philomena,” said Nicholas, taking a few steps toward the door, “I’m not sure I’m entirely comfortable with this. I was told there wouldn’t be any more villainy, and Miss Westfield is a very pleasant pirate—”
“Mr. Feathering,” Mrs. Tilbury snapped, “our circumstances have changed. If you wish to marry my daughter instead of being left penniless in the Dungeons for the rest of your days, you will assist me at once.”
Nicholas froze. Then, looking quite reluctant, he walked back to Philomena’s side and pulled a solid-looking ball of magic from his pocket.
“You slime!” cried Alice Feathering from somewhere in the crowd below. “Don’t you dare hurt the Terror! Oh, please let me through so I can kick him!”
“I’m terribly sorry, Pirate Westfield,” said Nicholas. “I don’t have much of a choice, you see, but I’ll certainly miss you when you’re gone.”
“When I’m gone?” Hilary cried. “Do you truly think you can make the Terror of the Southlands disappear?” If only she could keep them talking for a few moments longer, perhaps Fitzwilliam would have enough time . . .
“Setting her adrift in the sea would be appropriate, don’t you think?” Mrs. Tilbury said to Philomena. “I’m sure we could manage it between the three of us.”
“No!” cried the gargoyle. “I’ll sink!”
Then several things happened at once. Mrs. Tilbury, Philomena, and Nicholas all raised their magic pieces in the air. Hilary raised her cutlass. The gargoyle bared his teeth. The floor shook as dozens of queen’s inspectors marched into the hall, pursued by dozens of guards in peacock blue. And above it all, the great glass ballroom windows smashed to pieces.
The Tilburys’ guests shrieked and dodged falling bits of windowpane as thick ropes flew through the empty window frames and wrapped around the staircase railings, the balconies, and the chandelier. Then, with a great cheer, a multitude of pirates swung into the ballroom. They were eye-patched and elbow-patched, snaggletoothed and scraggly; they waved their cutlasses in the air and overturned the punch bowls. Hilary nearly applauded as Mr. Slaughter and Mr. Stanley sailed in, accompanied by Fitzwilliam, who was perched on Mr. Stanley’s head and looking rather pleased with himself. A dozen pirates from the far north arrived, dressed all in furs, followed closely by the crew of the dread ship Matilda. And last of all came Cannonball Jack.
“Arr!” he cried. “We be here to help the Terror of the Southlands—and to skewer the Mutineers!”
Hilary grinned. “I’d suggest you put down your magic pieces,” she said to the Mutineers, “for if you enchant me into the sea, you’ll displease quite a few scallywags, and I believe they’ve just sharpened their swords.”
Mrs. Tilbury spun around. “They’re heading for the magic!” she cried, pointing to half a dozen pirates who’d caught sight of the glass-paneled cabinet in the ballroom below. “Stop those uncivilized villains at once!” Then she rushed down the staircase into the crowd of party gues
ts and pirates. Nicholas Feathering ran in the other direction—in search of an escape route, Hilary supposed—but Alice had fought her way up the staircase, and she hurried after him with her hair ribbons flying and her fists clenched.
Philomena, however, didn’t move right away. “I won’t forgive you for this, Hilary Westfield,” she said. “You let pirates trample all over my debut.”
“If it’s any consolation,” said Hilary, “I’m sure High Society will be buzzing about it for weeks.”
Philomena turned several interesting colors in a row, beginning with rose and finishing somewhere around mauve. Then, without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed down the staircase after her mother.
Hilary itched to go after the Mutineers and show them the sharpened side of her cutlass, but she couldn’t do anything of the sort until she’d gotten Miss Pimm safely back to the Pigeon. She began to push her way through the crowd of guards and inspectors that had gathered in the hall, but before she had taken more than a few steps, Mrs. Westfield was at her side, taking very deep breaths and fanning herself to keep from fainting. “Whatever is going on, Hilary?” she asked. “Why has dear Miss Pimm been lodging with the Tilburys? And who are all these gentlemen running about with cutlasses? It’s scandalous!”
She began to tip forward, but Hilary caught her arm. “Mother,” she said, “there’s simply no time to swoon. You’re the finest hostess here, so you’ve got a very important job to do.”
Mrs. Westfield stopped fanning herself. “I have?”
“Yes,” said Hilary. “Could you gather all the party guests who aren’t Mutineers or pirates and take them somewhere safe?”
“I suppose I could!” said Mrs. Westfield. Then she raised her voice. “Attention!” she called. “Would anyone who is not a Mutineer or a pirate please join me on the front lawn immediately? I believe it’s a lovely night for stargazing.”
Several High Society guests hurried gratefully toward the exits as Hilary made her way over to the crew of the Pigeon. Jasper and Charlie were fighting off the guards who’d surrounded them, and Miss Greyson was using her crochet hook to blast several of them off their feet, while Claire jabbed all the guards within reach with two of her very sharp hairpins. Miss Pimm sat on the floor against the wall, still managing to look proper and imposing with her legs straight out in front of her and her violet skirts arranged neatly around her. “I’m sorry about the delay,” Hilary said to her, “but I’ll take you back to the Pigeon now. We’ve got quite a lot of magic on board, and perhaps it will help you feel better.”
Miss Pimm nodded. “Thank you, Hilary. That sounds rather pleasant.”
Hilary helped Miss Pimm to her feet and began to lead her toward the door. In front of them, Mrs. Westfield shepherded a gaggle of High Society ladies out to the lawn as pirates and queen’s inspectors fended off the Tilburys’ guards. To Hilary’s great annoyance, some of the inspectors were trying to fight the pirates as well. Swords, magnifying glasses, and little dusting brushes flew through the air, and Hilary caught a glimpse through the crowd of Inspector Hastings kicking a guard in the shin. She guided Miss Pimm as well as she could around the worst of the battle, ducking every few seconds to avoid a magic piece or a cutlass blade. “I’m sorry about all this, Miss Pimm,” she said. “I hope we’re not sliced to ribbons.”
“I can help ye with that, Terror.” Cannonball Jack pushed through the crowd. “Here, Eugenia. Rest yer other hand right here on me shoulder. ’Tis a bit soiled with parrot leavin’s, but I apologize fer that.”
Miss Pimm gave a hint of a smile. “I should apologize to you for missing our last meeting. I’m afraid I was unavoidably delayed.”
“Ah,” said Cannonball Jack, “but I knew the Terror would find ye, and I were right.”
As they pushed toward the doorway, Hilary looked out over the battle that raged in the ballroom. At one end of the room, Mr. Slaughter chased a guard around a shattered punch bowl. At the other, Fitzwilliam was doing his best to build a nest in Philomena’s hair. Charlie was making an impressive show of disarming guard after guard, and a small crowd had gathered around him to cheer him on. Nicholas Feathering leaped out of one of the shattered ballroom windows and headed toward the forest, but Alice followed close behind, swinging a sword she must have borrowed from another pirate.
All in all, Hilary thought, it was proving to be quite a satisfactory evening. A fierce battle swirled around her more delightfully than any High Society ball, she was rescuing Miss Pimm, and she’d be away on the Pigeon before her mother could discover the sorry state of her ball gown. Its train was being ripped to shreds under the boots of careless inspectors and guards, but Hilary hardly cared, for with every rip, she felt less like a cabbage and more like the Terror of the Southlands.
Then something sharp and cold was pressed against her back. “Turn around slowly, Pirate Westfield,” Captain Blacktooth said in her ear. “I’d truly hate to run you through.”
HILARY DID AS Captain Blacktooth ordered. He held his sword frighteningly close to her chin, and his expression was so fearsome that she froze with her hand on the hilt of her cutlass. “I can’t possibly let you leave with the Enchantress after all the work my men and I did to bring her here,” Blacktooth said. “It would be terribly inconvenient.”
Cannonball Jack drew his own sword. “Ye scurvy traitor,” he thundered. “When I heard they found me eye patch at the scene o’ the crime, I guessed ye were behind it all. Ye stole that patch when ye came to visit, didn’t ye? Ye tried to frame me—yer own fellow pirate! An’ I gave ye shortbread!”
Captain Blacktooth’s sword inched closer to Hilary’s neck, and she swallowed. “That’s enough, Jack,” he said. “Unless you want to harm Pirate Westfield—and I’m quite sure you don’t—you’ll leave us be. And don’t you dare let that Enchantress out of this room, or I’ll send you both off the plank.”
Cannonball Jack hesitated, but Hilary nodded at him as well as she could without cutting herself on Blacktooth’s sword. “It’s all right,” she said. “You take care of Miss Pimm, and I’ll deal with Captain Blacktooth.”
“Spoken like a true Terror of the Southlands,” Captain Blacktooth observed as Cannonball Jack retreated. “I have to admit I’m impressed.”
“You should be,” said Hilary. “I told you I’d find Miss Pimm, and now I’ve done it, so you won’t have to send me off the plank.” Her heart was beating fast, and the sword at her neck certainly wasn’t helping matters. “Do you still think I’m unpiratical, sir? Do you still doubt my talents?”
“You certainly have a talent for making trouble,” said Blacktooth. “I wish you’d gone off to slay a sea monster or fight a pirate king, for then we wouldn’t be in this unpleasant situation.”
“You mean you wish you’d gotten rid of us,” the gargoyle said, “the way you got rid of Jasper.”
Blacktooth frowned. “That’s rather blunt.”
“Too bad,” said the gargoyle. “Maybe I’d be friendlier if I were a parrot.” He grinned up at Blacktooth. “But I doubt it.”
“Pirate Westfield,” said Blacktooth, “I didn’t pull you aside to bicker with you and your pet.” He lowered his sword slightly. Then, to Hilary’s astonishment, he smiled. “I hoped we could settle this battle captain to captain, in a friendly sort of way.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t think we’re friends.”
“But surely your mates don’t intend to fight forever. Pirates battling pirates, delicate High Society ladies being dragged into the melee—it all seems rather unnecessary.”
“You’re right,” Hilary said. “It wouldn’t be necessary at all if you hadn’t kidnapped Miss Pimm.” She brushed her hair out of her face, wishing it were back in its practical pirate braid. “Do you really want Philomena to be the Enchantress, Captain Blacktooth? Do you honestly believe it’s a good idea?”
Captain Blacktooth’s eyes narrowed. “I am very fond of my niece,” he said. “And I can’t say I’m very fond of Mi
ss Pimm. She wants to control our treasure—how much of it we can have, and what we can do with it once we’ve plundered it.” He put a hand on Hilary’s shoulder. “Surely you understand that I must do what’s best for my fellow scallywags, what’s best for the League.”
Hilary stared at the rows of silver buttons that marched obediently along the front of Captain Blacktooth’s tailcoat, not a single one out of place. “I suppose you must,” she said at last.
“And so must you,” said Captain Blacktooth. “If you’ll agree to call off your pirates, we can put this business behind us at last, and I’ll ask my secretary to remove those warnings from your VNHLP record. No one on the High Seas will dare to challenge you once I’ve told them you have the League’s full support. After all, Hilary, you are quite piratical—even in that dreadful ball gown.” He chuckled and held out his hand. “Do we have a truce?”
Captain Blacktooth’s hand was rough and scarred from years of sailing and swashbuckling. Hilary had shaken it when he’d welcomed her into the VNHLP, and she’d shaken it again when she’d promised to do something bold and daring. She had done everything she could to prove herself to him—and to the rest of his dratted scallywags—but truthfully, she was growing rather tired of shaking Captain Blacktooth’s hand.
“No,” she said. “We don’t.”
The smile disappeared from Blacktooth’s face.
“I won’t agree to a truce,” Hilary said, more loudly this time. “I swore I’d rescue Miss Pimm, and that’s what I’m going to do, even if you and your men don’t like it.”
“I’m afraid the League won’t look kindly—”
“Oh, blast the League!” Hilary cried, and the floor of Tilbury Park seemed to give way below her like a ship’s deck during a storm. “If all the scallywags in the VNHLP support you, Captain Blacktooth, then I can’t be a member.”
Captain Blacktooth stepped back and stared at her. “What do you mean?” he asked.
The great hall rocked back and forth, or at least it seemed that way to Hilary. “Perhaps I’m not always as bold as I could be,” she said, “or as daring. I’m not much good at swordplay, I’ve never buried a treasure, and I don’t even want to own a parrot. I feel absolutely horrid that I’ve put my own father in the Dungeons, and sometimes I don’t know if I’m any good at being the Terror of the Southlands.” She felt herself sway as the words broke over her. “But I know I’m nothing like you, Captain Blacktooth. You may be bold and daring, but you’re not honorable—not even very nearly—and you don’t have my respect.”
The Terror of the Southlands Page 21
