House, the entire household was awake. The gardener was shoveling snow from the paths, and maids were hurrying through the halls with trays and dusting cloths. Hilary slippedthrough a side door into one of the mansionâs long corridors, stamped her feet to shake the snow from her boots, and went along to the breakfast room to say good morning to her mother.
Admiral Westfield sat at the head of the table.
âHilary!â he said. âHow considerate of you to join us. Your mother and I were beginning to worry.â
At the other end of the table, Mrs. Westfield sat in front of an empty plate. She didnât argue with the admiral, but her face was tense, and she held her fork like a weapon.
âWhatâs this?â Admiral Westfield said. âNo warm welcome from my only daughter? I suppose spending your days on Jasper Fletcherâs pirate ship has banished any thought of good manners from your mind.â
Hilary was too furious to speak. From her bag, the gargoyle gave the admiral his most terrifying glare.
âYouâre supposed to be in the Dungeons,â she said at last, ânot eating eggs at the dining table.â
Admiral Westfield lifted his spoon and decapitated his egg in one swift motion. âAnd yet,â he said, âhere I am. The Dungeons were terribly dull, and I have so much to do; I couldnât leave matters up to Georgiana Tilbury and her pirate brother any longer. If one wants to take over the kingdom properly, one must do it oneself.â He slurped the egg yolk from his spoon. âAnd thatâs rather difficult to accomplish from a prison cell.â
âI believe thatâs the point of prison,â Hilary said through her teeth. âIf youâre wise, youâll go back there at once.â
âWhat an absurd suggestion!â said the admiral. âSit down and eat your breakfast, Hilary. Donât bring that gargoyle to the table, though; I donât care for the look heâs giving me.â He set down his spoon. âYour mother may have allowed you to run wild while Iâve been away, but now that I am in charge of this household, you will do as I tell you.â
Admiral Westfield gestured toward the empty place at the table, where an egg identical to his own sat quivering in its cup. Hilary didnât move. Her boots seemed to be stuck to the spot.
âThe childâs as impudent as ever, I see,â the admiral said to Hilaryâs mother. âNever fear, Ophelia. Iâll make sure that by the time sheâs grown, sheâs a Westfield through and through.â
At this, Hilary felt her boots unstick. She walked to the table and picked up her egg cup. âI wonât sit down,â she said, âand I havenât got time for breakfast. The gargoyle and I are leaving.â
âWe are?â said the gargoyle.
âYes. In fact, weâre already late.â
Admiral Westfield frowned. âAnd where do you plan to go?â
âTo the Salty Biscuit,â Hilary said, âand then to theHigh Seas. Iâm going to lead the pirate league, and youâre not going to like it one bit. But thereâs something Iâve got to do first.â Hilary raised her hand and tipped her egg cup onto her fatherâs head.
âBlast it all!â The admiral sputtered and cursed as streams of yolk cascaded down his nose and gobbets of egg settled into his ears. As Hilary turned to leave, she was almost certain she saw a smile slip across her motherâs face.
----
From
The Augusta Scuttlebutt
WHERE HIGH SOCIETY TURNS FOR SCANDAL
The holiday season may be drawing to a close, but in the halls of High Society, the rumors have just begun! The Scuttlebutt can officially confirm that James Westfield, the famous admiral and infamous villain, has abandoned his prison cell for the cozy comforts of his ancestral home.
âI have given up a life of crime once and for all,â Admiral Westfield told
Murder in the Pleasure Gardens