“Let’s do a spot of hunting after this,” Millie the Monster suggested as she dipped toast into a soft-boiled egg.
“Jolly grand idea!” Frederick exclaimed. “Just the thing to stir the blood!”
“I’m glad you agree,” Millie said. “Your footmen look like sprightly chaps—my blood is stirring already. How much of a head start shall we give them?”
Across the room from her, two footmen shuffled nervously.
“Ah,” Frederick said with a startled laugh. “I supposed you meant out in the fields, shooting grouse and whatnot.”
“How barbaric, killing defenseless animals in such a manner!” Mrs. Ogden exclaimed through a mouthful of bacon. “It behooves us as ladies and leaders of society to be more civilized. I for one will not be hunting any small, fluffy creature. It’s dignified indoor pursuits for me, thank you.” She scrutinized the footmen with a widow degree of interest. “I say five minutes should be enough. I’ll take the one on the left.”
Alice tried not to tap her fingers against the tabletop with frustration. She did not want to be caught up in mindless games all day. There was a weapon to be found, the Queen to be saved, and the rest of her current reading to be finished in peace and quiet back in London. Leaning closer to Daniel, who sat beside her, she murmured, “I fear I have not much appetite. Would you like my crumpet?”
She watched his eyes darken as he stared back at her, and understood that he had recognized the code forLet us escape the company as soon as possible and scour the damned castle in hopes of finding the weapon, for the sake of Her Majesty’s life, not to mention my sanity.
“It is shaped rather like a cat, don’t you think?” she added—i.e.,I have an enchanted petticoat on today in case we need to be like cat burglars and climb in through windows again.
Daniel blinked rapidly at this—but before Alice could decipher what he meant, Jane tapped a spoon against her teacup.
“How clever is Mrs. Blakeney?” she said. The company paused in their eating to stare nonplussed, first at her, then at Alice. “I will be busy this morning in conference with the housekeeper—which reminds me, Frederick, where did you put my thumbscrews?—but why don’t you all take inspiration from Mrs. Blakeney’s creative vision and tour the castle’s artworks?”
The excellence of this idea was generally agreed upon, and Alicecongratulated for it. Her nerves twitched at the attention—but since the sober contemplation of art was second only to reading in her esteem, by the time she left the table she was prepared to be happy indeed.
Had she instead prepared to be exhausted, confused, and nearly stabbed to death, that might have been more helpful.
The company tramped through corridors and galleries, not so muchcontemplatingthe art as calculating its value, measuring it for theft, and, in the case of smaller pieces, stashing it inside hidden pockets. (They weren’t particularly sober either, since Millie the Monster had secretly spiked the breakfast tea with rum.) Several gaps in the collection caused irritation, as pirates do not like having missed out on anything. Daniel and Alice hovered awkwardly at the edges of the group, receiving suspicious looks for their law-abiding behavior.
“Perhaps we should try to steal something,” Alice whispered.
“Or perhaps we should sneak off,” Daniel whispered back. “We could search Frederick’s office while everyone is busy.”
“Very well,” Alice agreed. “Let’s go now, bef—”
“And that is why I consider Rembrandt a fraud!”
Their heads whipped around.
Mrs. Rotunder was sneering at a group of oil paintings. “Complete fraud,” she averred.
“Surely you jest,” Miss Darlington said sternly.
“Why should you think so?” Mrs. Rotunder answered. “Just look at this portrait of Danaë. Leaving aside the matter of her outrageous nudity (which, you may be sure, I do not approve of), where is the golden shower come to have nooky with her?”
Miss Darlington gasped. “I cannot believe you said such a rude word, Gertrude! A lady never mentions”—she whispered loudly—“nudity. I must protest. En garde!”
Mrs. Rotunder scoffed at the rapier Miss Darlington had drawnfrom inside her walking stick. “Really, dear? Before ten in the morning? How déclassé.”
Now the entire company gasped. Metal rang out as swords and daggers were presented. Forget contemplation: the art was now catapulted across the room to emphasize various point of debate.
“Such offensive language is unacceptable in our polite company! I’m going to teach you a bloody lesson!”Thud!Miss Darlington smashed a painting over Mrs. Rotunder’s head, denting the hat thereon.
“The ‘impasto technique’ just means the artist ate a lot of spaghetti while he painted, do you know nothing?!”Clang!Hadiza the Horrible sent a miniature landscape bouncing off the edge of Mrs. Etterly’s sword.
“Look you, the woman is wearing a wedding ring, therefore cannot be Danaë!”Smack!Bloodhound Bess applied Danaë’s portrait emphatically to the face of Essie Smith.
“Your dress is ugly! Oh yes, and I also disagree with whatever you said about the painting!”Crash! Ping! Ping! Ping!Millie the Monster smashed a vase against a wall, causing shards to ricochet about the chamber.
Daniel watched in a state of silent disapproval. But Alice found herself tapping her fingers and clicking her tongue. “Really,” she declared at last, to no one in particular, “it isobviousthe illumination of Danaë’s figure alludes to the golden shower.”
