“But—” Cecilia began.
“An unmarried woman has absconded with a bachelor,” Mrs. Rotunder explained in the slow, carefully enunciated manner that seems desirous of promoting comprehension but suggests its listener is incapable of such a thing. “This has occurred in public view. Under ordinary circumstances, a marriage would be required. But clearly a pirate cannot marry a witch! Kidnapping is a far more palatable scenario.”
“I concur,” Miss Plim said. “The idea of Charlotte marrying any—er,thatman is not to be entertained!”
“Well...” Mrs. Pettifer said, having been fortified by tea. “It actuallymightbe entertaining.” She caught Miss Plim’s scowl in much the same way a person catches a primed grenade, and hastily added, “But of course it is entirely wrong. Abysmal. Insupportable. Even if the captain is a very handsome gentleman.”
“Hmm,” Ned murmured, in lieu of mentioning all the other things Alex O’Riley was.
“I have only met Miss Pettifer briefly,” Cecilia said. “But it seems to me she and Captain O’Riley would be well suited.”
Her observation cast a chill over the gathered company. Even Woollery arriving with tea and cake reinforcements did not dispel the mood. Ned threw Cecilia an exceedingly married look.
“Imagine if they wed,” Mrs. Rotunder said. “All the opportunities it would offer for goodwill between our two societies!”
Everyone shuddered.
“Charlotte must be retrieved,” Miss Plim declared, smacking her hand against the tea table, “before the perfectly lovely feud we have enjoyed these past two hundred years is ruined.”
“Captain O’Riley must be censured,” Mrs. Rotunder added. “And also made to paint his windowsills, but that is perhaps less urgent.”
“Furthermore, the amulet must be recovered from that ghastly Lady Armitage before she can make a mess with it,” Mrs. Pettifer said.
“And Tom must be rescued!” Constantinopla cried—although by this time everyone had become occupied with teacups and slices of ginger cake, so her addition went unnoticed.
Mrs. Rotunder sat forward in her seat, teacup held like a sacred object before her. “I understand that you, Miss Plim, are not the leader of a nonexistent league of alleged witches. In this non-capacity I assume you do not have the authority to speak for those others who are not in the hypothetical league?”
“No,” Miss Plim agreed.
Mrs. Rotunder nodded. “Excellent. As a member of the Wisteria Society, I am taking it upon myself, with no jurisdiction whatsoever, to approach you and suggest our two societies call a temporary truce, and combine forces in order to hunt down”—she paused at a startled look from Mrs. Pettifer—“er, I mean ascertain the location of the two fly-aways, and restore them to their proper spheres.”
“And rescue Tom!” Constantinopla added vehemently.
“Of course, dear,” Mrs. Rotunder said, smiling at her. She turned back to the adults. “And retrieve the amulet.”
“A temporary truce in the interest of preserving the feud seems like a sensible idea,” Miss Plim said. “I would authorize it if I was in a position of power over a group of witches.”
“I think I’m getting a headache,” Ned murmured to Cecilia.
“Sh,” she whispered, trying not to smile, and they shared a glancethat Miss Plim, happening to notice, felt go through her like sunshine. She grimaced with disgust.
“And so we are agreed,” Mrs. Rotunder declared. “This is not a romance; it is a cautionary tale.” She chuckled in the tone of an interfering old woman, which is even more chilling than that of a pirate. “Parting those two shall be sweet, even if it causes them sorrow. I shall let the Society know our plan, and be in touch with you again regarding details. If we manage this truce carefully, it should lead to a swift return of hostilities.”
She quaffed tea then stood, a ravaged cushion dropping down behind her. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on whose perspective you favor), Mrs. Pettifer was too distressed about Charlotte to notice. The pirate maven snapped her fingers at the others. “Tally ho!”
The younger pirates rose to go. But after nods and murmured farewells, suddenly Mrs. Pettifer stepped forward and caught Cecilia’s arm.
“Please,” she said, her voice almost quavering. “My Lottie is a fragile girl, tender of heart and sensitive of spirit. Will she be safe with this Captain O’Riley?”
“I’m sure she will,” Cecilia said, discreetly putting away the dagger she had instinctively drawn. Out of kindness, she refrained from mentioning that perhaps Captain O’Riley was the one who should be cautious. Charlotte Pettifer had seemed fierce enough to overawe a pirate, no matter how big and scary he might be.
“You needn’t worry,” Ned added with a smile that eased Mrs. Pettifer’s heart, despite his waistcoat. “I’ve known Alex O’Riley for years. He’s a blighter and a rogue, with no respect for any rule and no consideration of manners... indeed, he once robbed the Princess Royal while wearing nothing but a bathrobe... and when someone accused him of burning down three police stations in Ireland he threatened to shoot them because in fact it was four... then there’s his habit of—”
“Ahem,” Cecilia interrupted quietly, having noticed the increasing pallor of Mrs. Pettifer’s face.
“Er, yes, well.” Ned grimaced an apology. “That’s all to say he is ultimately a good man. Rest assured, madam. I am absolutely certain no harm will befall Miss Pettifer.”
10
