The air seemed to ring with undrawn swords, unthrown vases. Captain Lightbourne spoke quickly before someone said or didsomething that brought war to London, or at least to the Pettifer drawing room.
“It is true the two communities are not exactly simpatico—”
Everyone stared at him in bewilderment.
“Sympathetic,” he clarified.
“Ah yes, Captain Lightbourne is half Italian,” Mrs. Rotunder said in the same way one explains that a person has fungal infections.
“Mr. Pettifer is half French,” Mrs. Pettifer said, and the sigh she gave made everyone shift uncomfortably in their seats.
Cecilia cleared her throat. “Ned is trying to say that, although our communities do not all agree on... well, anything, we nevertheless have something in common now.”
“And what is that, pray tell?” Miss Plim asked, clearly offended by the very idea.
“As you know, Beryl’s amulet has been stolen—”
Cutlery crashed as Mrs. Pettifer and Miss Plim both grasped the table in horror. “Stolen?” they chorused.
Cecilia, growing pale, stated the obvious: “You don’t know.”
“We were attempting to feed orphans all day, but could not find the little blighters,” Miss Plim explained. “We have not been to the museum.”
“The amulet was stolen by Lady Armitage,” Cecilia said.
“No!” Constantinopla cried, flapping a handkerchief dramatically. “Lady Armitage stole Tom, who was holding the amulet.”
“What? Why?” Mrs. Pettifer reeled from shock to confusion.
Miss Plim ground what remained of her custard slice into a gritty puddle. “It would be bad enoughanypirate running off with our amulet,” she said, “but Armitage embodies pure evil. Such power in her hands could prove catastrophic. She is the Wisteria Society’s responsibility—you must stop her!”
The visitors looked grim. “That is true,” Ned agreed. “However, not only has Beryl’s amulet (along with Tom) been stolen. The difficulty we all share is that a male pirate has flown off with an alleged witch.”
The sisters gasped.
“No witch would keep company with a pirate,” Miss Plim averred.
“Surely none would be so incautious, so careless of her reputation, and more than that, so dismissive of her family’s reputation,” Mrs. Pettifer agreed. “Your information must be wrong, Captain. I appreciate you don’t understand our society, since you are of the piratic inclination yourself. But I know of no witch, alleged or otherwise, who would do such a thing!”
“It was your daughter.”
Mrs. Pettifer would have swooned, but Miss Plim hastily muttered words from the incantation to keep her upright.
“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Pettifer, bringing you such tidings,” Ned continued. “But several witnesses confirm Miss Pettifer entered the premises of Alexander O’Riley, an Irish pirate of ill-repute, and remained on board as it flew away.”
“At least he is of ill-repute,” Mrs. Pettifer said weakly as she grasped for a cup of tea. Ned, frowning a little in confusion, glanced at Cecilia, who shrugged. But before he could speak further, Miss Plim cleared her throat with what was an attitude of either authority or obnoxiousness, depending on who heard it.
“Clearly Charlotte has kidnapped Captain O’Riley and forced him to pursue the amulet.”
“Not at all,” Mrs. Rotunder said tightly. “Clearly Captain O’Riley has kidnapped Miss Pettifer.”
“She is too powerful to succumb to kidnapping.”
“He is too rude to be kidnapped.”
Cecilia frowned delicately. “Every indication points to Miss Pettifer having entered the house willingly, and we all know if Captain O’Riley did not want her there he’d have expelled her.”
The two older ladies exchanged a look that would have been a skirmish had they possessed fewer manners (and less cumbersome clothing). Eventually, both blinked. “Someone kidnapped someone!” they insisted, their voices merging in reluctant alliance.
