"Then why are you sitting there like an imbecile?" Lord Havelock roared.
Valmont clenched his fists at his sides. "I can't open my textbook, sir," he whispered.
"Show me." Lord Havelock folded his arms and, in his billowing black master's gown, rather resembled a bat staring down at Valmont as though poised to attack.
Valmont handed Lord Havelock the book.
Lord Havelock tried to open it, failed, and then examined the book closely.
"This has been plastered shut," Lord Havelock announced, and although the class was too terrified to laugh, they all exchanged amused glances.
Someone had plastered Valmont's textbook shut!
Henry wished Frankie were there to see the results of Adam's expedition into the common room to borrow the textbook, Rohan's foray into the kitchen for the ingredients, and his own replacement of the pilfered text into Valmont's unsuspecting satchel.
"I suppose you'll have to share with Mr. Archer," Lord Havelock said, and Theobold shrugged indifferently. "You can do the odds while he does the evens."
This time a murmur rose up from the class. It wasn't fair! Valmont's and Theobold's assignments had been halved.
Henry exchanged a horrified look with Adam and Rohan, then bent over his notebook and scratched out the answers for the next ninety minutes, wondering why the perfect plan had backfired.
***
"Thanks, Grim," Valmont said after class.
"I haven't a clue what you're talking about," Henry said.
Theobold caught up with them and flexed his hand.
"Yes, I'm awfully in your debt, Grim," Theobold said. "I can't imagine how cramped your hand must be after having to write out the whole assignment."
Theobold and Valmont drifted ahead, laughing.
"That was horrible," Adam said, shuddering. "Bloody horrible. It didn't work!"
"Really?" Rohan said. "Because I thought it definitely worked. To the opposite effect."
Collectively, they groaned.
"Was it you?" Edmund whispered to Henry as they practiced parry-riposte exercises in fencing that afternoon.
Henry grinned.
"I knew it!" Edmund said, missing a beat with his riposte so Henry's sword landed a hit. "Sorry, let's go again. I wasn't ready. But anyhow, Luther said he thought it was some second years putting Valmont in his place for the business with the library, but I knew it was you and Adam."
"Shhh," Henry said, parrying again. Edmund's riposte connected and they switched roles, Edmund parrying this time. "It wasn't just the two of us."
"Not Rohan?" Edmund whispered, with a parry so anemic that Henry nearly lost his balance on the riposte.
"And Frankie," Henry admitted.
Edmund's grip went slack.
"The girl?"
"It was her idea."
"No!"
"Mr. Grim! Mr. Merrill! Have you perfected the move already?" the fencing master snapped.
"No, sir," Henry said.
"Sorry, sir," Edmund said fearfully. "It just takes some getting used to, fencing a left-hander."
Good save, thought Henry.
"Then watch me," the fencing master said, taking Edmund's place opposite Henry.
Not so good save, thought Henry with a gulp.
Henry adjusted his stance and saluted the fencing master.
"No need for formalities," the fencing master said. "And riposte!"
Without warning, the fencing master's sword shot out, and Henry deflected the blow, then came back to center and struck, the master turning away Henry's sword.
"Good," the fencing master grunted at Henry, moving on to the next pair of beginners. The intermediates were in the corner, doing lunges in full gear. It looked horribly painful.
LOCKED IN THE LIBRARY
The textbook incident should have been the end of it. Henry, Adam, Rohan, and Frankie should have shrugged, chalked it up to bad luck, and gone on with their evenings as usual--playing cards, helping with one another's homework, telling jokes, and generally pretending that they had never declared war on Valmont in the first place. There should have been a stalemate.
But that isn't how it happened.
The letters, although not specifically addressed to Henry, Adam, and Rohan, continued to arrive in the morning post.
For "the occupants of the triple room, first-floor corridor, Knightley Academy," there came an envelope containing a note quite possibly written in human blood. The message: your time here is finished.
Henry flushed it down the toilet, but the next morning, another letter arrived, stuffed under the door to their room: you're going to fail.
Henry, Adam, and Rohan tried their best to ignore it. After all, what else could they do? Reignite a prank war that could get them all in trouble? And anyway, it was just silly messages--it wasn't as though Valmont had done anything to back up the threats ...
Two days later, Lord Havelock kept Henry after lessons.
Henry gave his friends a brave look and waved them ahead as he approached Lord Havelock's desk at the front of the room.
"Can you tell me," Lord Havelock began, and Henry nearly forgot how to breathe, "on what topic you chose to write your quarter-term essay?"
"On the plague, sir," Henry said, puzzled.
"Just on 'the plague'?" Lord Havelock asked with a threatening smile.
Up close, Henry could see the graying stubble on Lord Havelock's cheeks, could smell a sinister, spicy pipe tobacco clinging to the professor's tweeds.
"No, sir," Henry said. "Specifically, I wrote about how Eastern and Western military conquest led to the opening of trade routes, which, in turn, brought the plague to the West and thus killed so much of the population that anyone left over was no longer restricted by the rigid class system, because there was no competition for land or resources."
Lord Havelock frowned. "I received no such essay from you."
Henry was horrified. What had happened to the essay? He'd worked so hard on it, staying in the library even long after Adam had left, and Adam always took forever because he pooled ink when he was nervous.
"Well, I turned it in, sir, yesterday, along with everyone else."
Henry tilted his chin up, eyes meeting Lord Havelock's, willing the professor to believe him.
"I received no such essay from you," Lord Havelock said again, and Henry hung his head.
He wouldn't be kicked out of Knightley Academy--he'd flunk out. Just like the letters had warned. Just like Valmont wanted.
"But there has been some tomfoolery as of late," Lord Havelock continued, and Henry glanced up, hardly daring to hope, "and from your description, I have no choice but to conclude that you did indeed complete the assignment and hand it in on time."
"Thank you, sir," Henry said, feeling a rush of gratitude toward Lord Havelock.
"However," Lord Havelock said with that dangerous smile, "as I have nothing to grade, you must do the assignment again. And I'll want a different topic. Whatever happened to your essay, I'm sure its disappearance was provoked, and this will teach you not to let it happen again."
"Yes, sir," Henry said, relieved and yet exhausted at the thought of redoing the essay. "When shall I rewrite the paper?"
"Tonight," Lord Havelock said. "I shall inform our librarian that you are to stay as late as you'd like past curfew."
"Yes, sir," Henry said.
And then Henry spent a far from delightful free hour in the library, going through the books to find a new topic for his essay.
At supper, Rohan asked Henry where he'd been.
"The library," Henry said with a sigh, indicating the pile of books at his side.
"I'm guessing this has something to do with Lord Havelock?" Rohan asked.
"And Valmont," Henry said darkly, stabbing violently at his pork tenderloin until it was full of little holes from the fork tines. "It seems my quarter-term essay was misplaced, so I'll have to do it over, on a different topic."
"That's really awful, mate," Ada
m said. "If I had to do mine over, I'd die."
"I worked so hard," Henry said. "It isn't right. It isn't as though he got in trouble for the textbook either. I mean, he said it himself: we did him a favor. So he does me this nasty turn in response?"
Henry shook his head, upset and disgusted at Valmont. The letters he could take. The letters were nothing, really. But this? He could have been expelled.
"At least Lord Havelock didn't give you a zero," Edmund said, sliding closer on the bench so that he joined Henry and his friends.
"True," Henry said. "But that isn't the point. Just look at him over there, drinking his cider like he hasn't a care in the world."
They all looked.
"He's only a bully," Edmund said, shaking his head. "Theobold's by far the worse of the two. I promise you."
"How do you mean?" Rohan asked, but Edmund just shook his head.
Henry wrote his essay in the study room off the second level of the library, the one Edmund had told him about. It was a small room, the size of his dormitory, with an oval table and squashy upholstered chairs going bald in the seats. There was one small window near the ceiling, heavy wooden paneling, and a wall of bookshelves nearly bare save for a few dictionaries and a decaying book of maps.
Hours passed, and Henry fell into the rhythm of his paper, not noticing that the cup of tea he'd brought had gone cold hours before, not noticing that a moth fluttered in the corner by the dictionaries, not noticing that the side of his hand had become gray with ink stain.
Finally, Henry capped his pen and read over his essay.
It was good. Possibly even better than the first. And he was exhausted.
If Henry owned a pocket watch, he would have checked the hour. Instead, he gathered his things, stretched his stiff legs, and turned the doorknob.
The door was locked.
Oh no, thought Henry.
He tried the knob again, but it was no use. He'd been forgotten, and worse, locked in for the night.
"Hello!" Henry called, pounding on the door.
No answer.
For a good ten minutes, he pounded and yelled. But no one came.
And no one was going to come, he knew, so he better make himself comfortable for the night.
With a sigh, Henry pushed two of the squashy armchairs together into a makeshift bed and climbed in, covering himself with his coat. From that angle, the small study room looked spooky, with its dark walls cast in shadow. Henry closed his eyes, wondering what time the door would be unlocked the next morning, and if Adam and Rohan would wake up and realize he hadn't been back to the room.
Henry woke to the sound of a muffled click, a soft creak, and then the rather louder sound of a maid shrieking.
Henry bolted upright.
It was Liza, from the kitchens, a thick ring of keys attached to her belt.
"Hello, Liza," Henry said, stretching and running a hand through his sleep-rumpled hair. "Could you tell me what time it is?"
"Quarter past six," she said. "Whatchoo doin' sleepin' in the library, Master Henry?"
"Got locked in," Henry said, picking up his satchel.
"Not overnight?" she asked, horrified.
"Overnight," Henry said. "So thank you for coming along to unlock the door."
"I only come because Mary said she 'eard rattlin' and howlin' las' night and the library was prob'ly haunted."
"That was me," Henry said, and then, with a sinking feeling, asked, "so what time is this door usually unlocked, then?"
"Jus' before lunch," Liza said.
"I have to wash up before chapel," Henry said. "You can tell Mary the library isn't haunted."
And before his expression could betray him, he slipped out the door and back to the first-year corridor.
When Henry got back to his room, Adam was fastening his tie while Rohan looked on and tapped his foot impatiently.
"Where were you?" Adam asked.
"The library."
"All night?" Rohan asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I was locked in overnight," Henry said miserably, changing into his spare uniform with no time to wash up.
Rohan shot Henry a tortured look.
"Chapel's in five minutes, and you tell us this now?"
"Sorry," Henry said. "Go on ahead. I'll tell you about it at breakfast."
Adam and Rohan exchanged a look.
"Go," Henry said.
At breakfast, Rohan was horrified.
"We should have waited up for you," he said. "We should have known something was wrong."
"Well, we did think it was strange when you weren't there in the morning," Adam amended. "But you wake up so early sometimes, I figured you'd gone back to the library to finish your essay."
"It's fine, honestly," Henry said.
It was touching that his friends were so concerned, but the worst that could have happened hadn't--he hadn't missed Lord Havelock's class and lost his chance to hand in the new essay.
And anyway, Henry hadn't mentioned his suspicion that he'd been locked in on purpose, thanks to one Fergus Valmont. It sounded silly, and besides, he didn't want to put ideas into Adam's head, since Adam was so prone to dramatics.
"Frankie's upset with you, did I mention?" Adam said.
"Why?" Henry asked, gulping coffee.
"She had to memorize some awful poem in French last night and wanted you to correct her pronunciation."
"I'll tell her I'm sorry that I was too busy being locked inside the library overnight," Henry muttered, and Rohan began to cough.
"You all right?" Adam asked.
Rohan shook his head.
Henry put down his coffee, and even Edmund looked up from his copy of the morning news.
Henry grabbed for the pitcher of water and hastily poured Rohan a glass, splashing water onto the tablecloth. Rohan gulped at the water, but his face had turned purple.
"Nuts," he wheezed.
"Nuts?" Adam asked, raising an eyebrow.
Rohan drew in a tortured breath and indicated the muffin he'd been eating. It looked like ordinary blueberry--the same thing Rohan always had for breakfast--but sure enough, it was dotted with finely chopped nuts.
"You're allergic to nuts?" Henry asked.
Rohan nodded.
Henry shot Adam a look and they helped Rohan out of his seat.
"Want me to come?" Edmund asked.
"No, thanks," Henry said. "We're just taking him to the sick matron. But could you take my satchel to military history and give Lord Havelock my essay?"
"Of course," Edmund said. "I'll tell him what's happened."
Henry glanced at the High Table. Lord Havelock stared sourly down at them, watching as Henry and Adam dragged Rohan to see the sick matron.
"There's never nuts in the blueberry muffins," Henry told Adam after first lesson, as they ran toward the sick bay to check on Rohan before medicine.
"I know. It's really strange," Adam said.
"Strange how?" Henry asked. "Clearly Valmont did this."
"But how?" Adam asked.
"He could have paid off the cook," Henry said, and then affected Valmont's nasty drawl. " 'Oh, I do wish there were nuts in the blueberry muffins, like there are in all the best city restaurants.' "
"But how would he have known that Rohan was allergic?" Adam asked. "I mean, we didn't even know. It must have been a coincidence."
But Henry wasn't so sure.
They'd reached the sick bay, and the matron, a severe old woman with a hairy mole on the exact center of her chin, glared at them from beneath her nurse's cap.
"You're supposed to be in class," she said witheringly, hands on her wide hips.
"We know, ma'am," Henry said. "We've only just come to check on our friend."
"He's resting," she said, as though they'd insulted her by asking. "No visitors. Go back to class."
"Yes, ma'am. Sorry," Henry said, backing down the hallway.
"I ... have ... an idea," Adam panted as they sprinted toward medicine.
"Let's fix up ... let's fix up Sick Matron with Lord Ha-Havelock."
Henry laughed until his sides hurt.
Most of the time he wanted to give Adam a good smack, but sometimes Adam was the only one who made life at Knightley bearable.
Rohan missed the rest of that day's classes. He showed up for supper, though--a little pale, but smiling.
"Did I miss anything extraordinary?" he asked, pouring himself a glass of cider.
"Just a scintillating lecture on the Reformation," Adam said. "Why didn't you tell us that you're allergic to nuts?"
Rohan shrugged.
"Well, you're all right now," Henry said, even though Rohan didn't look all right at all. There were purplish bruises under his eyes, and his hand trembled as he lifted his cup of cider to take a tiny sip.
"Good as new," Rohan said, nibbling at the edge of a roasted potato.
Rohan kept up the facade of being recovered for the next hour, until he fell asleep directly after supper, fully dressed, on top of his bed.
"Should we wake him?" Adam asked.
Henry shook his head.
"He's really ill, Adam. I bet he lied to the sick matron to release him."
"Well, he did look a bit peaky at supper," Adam said.
There was a scratch at their window. Henry pushed it open.
"How's Rohan?" Frankie asked, propping her chin on the windowsill.
"Asleep," Henry whispered. "Meet you in the library?"
Five minutes later, they'd claimed the study room that Henry had been locked inside the night before.
With a small shudder, Henry left the door open a crack.
"Well, what's going on?" Frankie asked. "You two dragged Rohan out of breakfast this morning as though he was dying, and then he shows up at supper looking like death warmed up."
"He's allergic to nuts," Henry said.
"So why did he eat them?" Frankie asked.
"It seems Cook created a new dish this morning: the blueberry and nut muffin."
Frankie winced. "Bad luck," she said. "And speaking of, I made Professor Stratford cringe with my poetry pronunciation this afternoon. Where were you last night?"
"Here," Henry said.
"He was locked in," Adam added.
"All night?" Frankie asked.
Henry nodded. "They should do a plaque. 'This room is the historic site where Henry Grim was forced to spend the night,' " he said.
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