“That’s not the impression I got,” Mrs. Pettifer replied with a sniff. “My point is, no doubt Lottie also threatened to blow Captain O’Riley up.”
There was a slight pause at an interesting juncture of that sentence, causing everyone to glance at each other.
“Mrs. Pettifer,” Cecilia said cautiously, “am I right in thinking you actuallywantCharlotte’s reputation ruined?”
Mrs. Pettifer flushed. “Heavens no, dear! Egads, the very thought! My antisocial, bookish daughter being forced to marry a man who ishandsome, owns his own home, and is presumably rich?” She cast an inquiring look to Ned, who shrugged then nodded.
“Rich,” she repeated, rolling the word around her mouth as if it were a bonbon. “And I think I already mentioned handsome. Lottie could do worse.”
“No, she couldn’t!” Miss Plim fumed, her topknot of hair reverberating with the force of the words. “He’s a pirate! She’s a witch! Imagine if they had a big, joyful wedding! Or worse, children whom everyone adores! If this goes on, Delphine, we’re risking an end to two centuries of successful hostilities!”
Her face had become so red, she looked almost healthy. But Mrs. Pettifer remained unconvinced. “A wedding would be an opportunity for exciting trouble,” she argued. “Brawling. Poisoning each other. Screaming.”
“Dancing. Sharing food. Laughing,” Miss Plim retorted.
An unhappy murmur went through the company.
“Captain O’Riley won’t marry Miss Pettifer,” Ned said somberly. “His father dallied with a witch, and it caused his mother such distress she died from a broken heart. Well, and a broken neck after throwing herself down the stairs. The father then married the witch and...” He shrugged uncomfortably. “It’s a bleak story, too bleak for ladies’ ears—even if the ladies are witches and pirates. Let’s just say O’Riley hates the Wicken League perhaps even more than the Wisteria Society does, and certainly for better reason.”
Mrs. Pettifer frowned anxiously at this news, but Miss Plim was gleeful. “Thank you, sir, this has eased my mind.” She bestowed upon Ned the tight, brief twitch of lips that she liked to consider a smile. He stared back at her coldly. “Charlotte will come home with her own heart broken and should behave more cautiously from here on. I consider that a win.”
Mrs. Pettifer made a small sound of dismay. Cecilia and Nedlooked grim. Even Mrs. Chuke seemed rather aghast. But Miss Plim continued blithely. “It should not be hard to trace them farther. Someone must have witnessed which direction they headed after leaving.”
“East,” said a quiet voice. Everyone turned with surprise to see Miss Dearlove standing by the open doorway, where she had gone unnoticed the entire time. She lowered her eyes shyly. “I beg your pardon. The innkeeper just now informed me he saw a battlehouse flying that way.”
“Battlehouse.” Mrs. Rotunder spat a laugh. “You mean shack.”
“Authentic historic cottage,” Cecilia corrected, unable to help herself.
Mrs. Rotunder gave her such a contemptuous look, Ned half-raised his sword. The older woman stepped back, hat feathers quivering.
“Well I never!” she huffed. “Young people these days quite astonish me. Running off together, standing up for each other! Mr. Rotunder would never consider defending my honor in such a gallant way!” She paused, realizing her outrage was perhaps misdirected, then the feathers shook once more. “I for one am in agreement with Miss Plim. The hooligans must be stopped and brought to justice—er, I mean, returned to the bosom of their communities. We simply cannot tolerate this kind of romance! Who will join me in heading eastward to find them?”
“I will!” Miss Plim declared in a ringing voice. “Delphine, go home and wait in case further information comes there. Mrs. Chuke—”
“I’m coming too, darling! My breakfast muffin this morning was in an unusual shape, which seemed to predict travel for me.” She snapped her fingers. “Dearlove, fetch my purse and poisons from the carriage.”
Mrs. Pettifer stared in amazement at her sister. “You’ll fly in a pirate’s house?”
“For the sake of the Wicken League,” Miss Plim replied, lifting her chin heroine-fashion.
“And for the sake of Charlotte,” Mrs. Pettifer added.
“Of course.” Miss Plim dismissed the concern with a wave of her hand.
Cecilia turned to Mrs. Rotunder. “You’ll allow witches in your house?” she asked incredulously.
“It might be fun,” Mrs. Rotunder replied with a shrug. “Besides,” she added in a whispered aside, “have you seen their jewelry? If I don’t make a profit out of this trip, I’ll relinquish my black flag in shame.”
And so the ladies trooped out of the inn room, dresses flouncing and hat feathers swooping, leaving Ned and Cecilia alone. The young pirate couple looked at each other in dazed silence.
“You know we’ll have to catch Alex and Miss Pettifer first,” Cecilia said. “We cannot leave them to the machinations of that woman. She makes my aunt Darlington look like a small, fluffy kitten.”
Ned frowned. “I hope you’re not harboring any romantic ideas about the pair. You know Alex has sworn to never marry.”
“And Miss Pettifer is destined to lead the Wicken League,” Cecilia added, “therefore would never choose a pirate.”
“It’s a doomed relationship.”
