And the amulet went with her.
25
sisters in arms—the witches are back—a clash of opinions—charlotte makes a new friend—partings—an unwelcome visitor—a fateful note
The pirates’ feelings would not be repressed. They allowed each other to tell how ardently they had hated and despised Lady Armitage. And yet, oh, for a house of fire, that would ascend the brightest heaven of Clacton! Armitage House had gone down soon after its mistress, and the fact it would never again menace England, parking in the middle of traffic intersections, luring in bachelors, was almost impossible to comprehend.
Together the pirates stood shoreside, staring out across Clacton Harbor. Or, rather, squinting, since the morning sun shone on their faces in a decidedly unfunereal manner. Lady Armitage would have been outraged. They made somewhat of a crowd, since several members of the Wisteria Society had arrived unnoticed during the aerial battle and now joined the stunned gathering. Servants had set out lace-clothed tables laden with tea, cakes, and little crustless sandwiches, as is done in times of community grief, albeit not usually in the middle of the street and guarded by gun-toting butlers.
The locals, on the other hand, had rapidly dispersed. Pirates dueling aloft in flaming battlehouses was one thing; pirates standing quietly on the footpath, murmuring amongst themselves and drinking tea, was altogether more terrifying. Doors had been locked and then barricaded with various pieces of furniture. Jewels had been hidden and children told to come away from that window at once. On the harbor, fishing boats headed rapidly out to sea, even those with holds full of fish. An eerie peace lay upon Clacton.
“This does not seem a fitting end for Aunty Army,” Cecilia said with a sigh. She was swathed in scarves and shawls, which Miss Darlington had insisted upon and Cecilia had patiently allowed, despite now being at risk of fainting in the midsummer heat. After all, Miss Darlington had just suffered the loss of a nemesis who tried for decades to kill her; she needed whatever comfort could be provided.
“I don’t know,” Ned argued gently, slipping an arm around his wife and easing her close. “It seems to me only the sea is vast enough to contain Isabella Armitage.”
Charlotte glanced surreptitiously at the pirate couple. She felt an odd stirring in her heart, and she tried to define what it might be. Not jealousy of their intimacy, for she had her own with Alex, who had dressed her in his coat and now stood behind her, arms about her shoulders, chin resting on her forehead, his strength and warmth encompassing her as he sheltered her from the prying eyes of lady pirates. Nor was it a desire to steal their jewelry. She suspected it might be that rarest of delights: comradeship.
The thought she might experience this with someone other than Alex, and to a milder extent Bixby, was utterly wondrous. And also disconcerting. It was one thing to like a pirate captain with seductive blue eyes who knew just how to soothe her heart and inflame other parts of her anatomy. Charlotte defied any witch to ignore her own womanhood to such a degree. But likingseveral otherpirates, and forthe very things that made them pirates—the fervor, the histrionics, and the ridiculous joie de vivre—this was something altogether different.
Just exactly what kind of witch was she?
The kind that was a little too similar to Beryl Black, she realized worriedly. And look what the Plims had done to her.
Even so, she could not stop herself from wanting to smile at Ned and Cecilia. So she turned away—and saw Constantinopla on the other side of her, holding hands with Tom. The pirate girl winked.
Overwhelmed, Charlotte nodded briskly in reply, then frowned out at the water, which had the decency to not smile back. Alex seemed to sense her emotion; he tucked her in even closer, kissing her temple.
Charlotte sighed, more happy than she’d ever thought she had the right to be.
She ought not allow his embrace in public. Every moment, she awaited opprobrium from the elder pirates surrounding them. It appeared, however, that riding the roof of an airborne popcorn stall had earned her some respect from the Wisteria Society—or perhapsdisrespectwas more accurate, for they treated her like a fellow pirate, even if (maybe because) she had been instrumental in the death of one of their own. Several ladies had shaken her hand, and others had actually gone so far as to not steal her bracelet of bee charms or the pearl buttons on her dress. Charlotte did not know whether to grimace or smile at the thought of how this would horrify the Wicken League, were they aware of it.
In fact, witches were present and watching Charlotte’s behavior with disapproving eyes. The amulet retrieval team, having recovered from Bixby’s booby trap, not to mention the night they’d been forced to spend in a cheap hotel room with only one bed (which is not so romantic when it has to serve five women who all had the garlic prawns for dinner), had been drawn to the shore road with the instinct for trouble all witches shared. But they remained cautiously back by the teatable, restraining themselves to tight smiles and criticism of the silverware. While witches were not worms, as has previously been established, neither were they about to confront Charlotte in the middle of a pirate crowd without the express permission of Miss Plim. Stretching racks and ducking stools had nothing on what Judith could do with a mildly inquiring smile.
Charlotte, for her part, did not notice their presence, not even when Miss Gloughenbury accidentally spilled the contents of a teapot, thereby nearly starting a war. But then, no one ever noticed anything except pirates when in the company of pirates.
“Now that Lady Armitage is gone, it’s the closing of an era,” Constantinopla said with a dramatic sigh.
“Excuse me?” Mrs. Rotunder set her teacup down in its saucer with an indignantclink. Everyone near her shuffled a few steps aside. “I am the same age as Isabella, and just as notorious. You may be assured that the era remains open.”
Constantinopla gave no reply, but smirked and rolled her eyes at Tom. Everyone near her shuffled a few steps aside, including Tom.
Noting the smirk, Mrs. Rotunder bristled. “Now see here, young lady...”
Charlotte found herself being abruptly pulled away by Alex. Behind them came Ned and Cecilia, glancing over their shoulders and murmuring for Alex to hurry.
“What is the matter?” Charlotte asked testily, not liking being manhandled in this way (although other ways, involving sheets and pillows, were fine).
A clash of steel answered her.
“Upon my word!” she gasped as Constantinopla and Mrs. Rotunder began to parley. “Cannot pirates restrain themselves for even one hour?”
Alex, Ned, and Cecilia exchanged a glance. “No,” they chorused.After all, the collective noun for pirates was “a quarrel.” The air rang as a dozen more swords came into play.
“But Lady Armitage has just died!”
“And now this is a fitting end for her,” Cecilia said, ducking as a teacup flew past. “I, however, would rather like to leave before Aunt Darlington breaks my leg so I am forced into months of bed rest.”
“Come on, my love,” Ned said, taking her by the hand. “Let’s go steal some liver cleansing tonic in Aunty Army’s honor.”
