Hook's Revenge Read online

  The children lay side by side in the grass, giggling as quietly as they could manage. The lateness of the hour made everything seem far more humorous than it otherwise would have been. Their sides ached and tears burned their eyes. Every time one managed to calm down, the other started up again.

  After what felt like a very long time, Jocelyn finally recovered her wits enough to whisper, “What are you doing out here?”

  “Magellan,” Roger replied. “You?”

  “The same. There was no way I could stay in bed.”

  They lay there, sprawled on the lawn, in companionable silence for a time. “You know,” Jocelyn said, “tomorrow is my birthday.”

  “Is it? I’d forgotten.”

  “Oh. You did? Well, that’s no matter. It’s not that important, really. It’s merely…”

  Roger propped himself up on an elbow and looked intently at Jocelyn. “Merely what?”

  “I suppose it’s that I’ll be thirteen tomorrow. I’ve been stuck here for nearly a year, and…I don’t know. Sometimes I can hardly stand it. You know, that feeling—”

  “That there is some great adventure out there, just waiting to be had?” Roger interrupted.

  “Precisely. Uncharted seas, exotic ports of call, jungles filled with wild beasts—”

  “Man-eating plants and cannibals. Things we can only dream of…I know.”

  “Oh, Roger, I’ve read all the books we have. Many of them more than once. I’ve learned to fight. I’m ready. But instead of doing heroic deeds, I’m stuck here. Making pincushions.”

  “The world does need pincushions.”

  “And you need another slipper thrown at you.”

  He smiled his special, just-for-Jocelyn smile. “You’ll have your chance one day, Jocelyn. We both will. I’m sure of it.” Roger lay back on the grass again and they fell quiet, gazing at the stars. “Look up there,” he said, pointing. “See that star? The bright one, second to the right of the Big Dipper? That’s the North Star. One day, you’ll find yourself following it into a great adventure.”

  Jocelyn fixed the star firmly in her memory.

  “Unless, of course, your adventure begins in the daytime,” Roger went on. “In that case, you’ll be out of luck.”

  Jocelyn giggled and nudged her friend with her elbow. “You’re horrible.”

  “I know. So are you. And Jocelyn?”

  “What?”

  “Did you really think I could forget your birthday?” He sat up and reached into his pocket. “I was going to wait until tomorrow, but…” He dropped something small and metallic into her outstretched hand.

  Jocelyn sat up to get a better look at it. By the light of the moon, she recognized a small brass compass.

  “That isn’t your actual present,” Roger said. “It’s more of a loan. I do want it back one day. It was my dad’s—my mum gave it to me before she died—but I thought you might like to hold on to it for a while. That way, you won’t lose your direction, even if you can’t see the stars.”

  “It’s beautiful. Thank you. I’ll take good care of it.”

  “Now, for your actual present.” He looked right into Jocelyn’s eyes. “I don’t have much, but I can give you a birthday promise. One day, hopefully soon, we’ll use that compass together and set sail for a great adventure. I don’t know when or how, but I am certain we will. You have my word on that.”

  The night was unseasonably warm and scented with lilacs. Crickets played their minuscule violins. Up above, those wicked, wicked stars twinkled down on a boy and a girl sitting ever so close together, alone in the dark.

  Jocelyn leaned toward Roger, parted her lips, and—

  You know, if they had been a few years older and more interested in that sort of thing, this is the part where they might have kissed. I’m so glad they didn’t. It would have ruined the whole story.

  As it was, Jocelyn leaned toward Roger, parted her lips, said, “Thanks,” and then punched him on the arm.

  He said, “You’re welcome,” and pulled her hair.

  After that she was forced to throw her slipper again.

  Later, as she climbed the tree to her window, Jocelyn replayed their little adventure in her mind. She was so glad to have Roger as her friend. How terrible it would have been at school without him.

  Preoccupied as she was by such happy thoughts, Jocelyn didn’t notice that her room was far too quiet. Prissy’s usual snoring was missing.

  Most things are obvious in hindsight. That mysterious stranger was not attempting to do you harm; he only wanted to return your dropped wallet. Your parents were not plotting your demise; they were planning a surprise party. The surprise party turned out to be a ruse and your parents were planning your demise after all. Without the benefit of hindsight, innocent things seem wicked. Nefarious things seem absolutely ordinary. Illumination comes only after the fact.

  Perhaps this is why Jocelyn felt unconcerned when Roger was nowhere to be found the next morning. She knew he would turn up eventually; it was her birthday, after all. Yet as afternoon wore into evening with no word from her friend, Jocelyn couldn’t help but feel a little wounded.

  I know he gave me my gift last night, but it would have been nice to see him today, she thought as she prepared herself for dinner.

  Prissy and Nanette were on the other side of the room, talking about boys. “…and my papa said that in a year or two he’d bring me to Boston for a big party so I can meet lots of eligible young men. In the Americas, they call that a coming-out party.”

  If I saw that pinched-up face coming out, I’d shove it back in, Jocelyn thought. Roger would laugh if I told him that. Where is he?

  The window was open, bringing into the room a faint scent of lilac blossoms. Outside, Jocelyn could hear the gardener working. From the noise he was making, it sounded like the back garden was about to get quite a renovating. Perhaps that was where Roger had been all day.

  Even so, it was her birthday.

  In a streak of rebellion, Jocelyn decided not to change her dress for dinner. So what if the seat was slightly grass-stained? She’d be sitting on it; who would notice?

  Her revolt was interrupted by Miss Eliza knocking at the door.

  Jocelyn sighed and reached for a clean dress. “I was getting ready to change, Miss Eliza.”

  “No need for that just now, Miss Hook. I have come to have a word with you. Miss Edgeworth, Miss Arbuckle, please excuse us.”

  Prissy gave Jocelyn a look of gloating satisfaction as she and Nanette left the room.

  This must be bad, thought Jocelyn. Whatever it is, Prissy knows about it. I hope they are not bringing Gerta back.

  “Miss Hook,” the headmistress began, “please sit. I have something rather delicate to discuss with you.” Strange—Miss Eliza was blushing a bit. Jocelyn sat, wondering what could possibly be the cause.

  “When one starts to get older…” The headmistress cleared her throat. “Quite often, girls of your age may begin to go through certain emotional and physical changes. …Rather, you are getting to be old enough where it is, ah, perfectly natural…Oh dear.” Miss Eliza pressed her lips together and drew a deep nasal breath. “You may find yourself having new and exciting feelings.…What I mean to say is, one does begin to notice members of the opposite…” She trailed off and looked at Jocelyn hopefully. “Do you see what I mean, Miss Hook?”

  “Er…no.”

  “‘Er…no’ is not an appropriate—oh, never mind about that. I’ll get right to the point. Is this yours?” She held up a dirty blue bedroom slipper. In the excitement of the night before, Jocelyn hadn’t realized that it was missing. The gardener must have found it outside when he started work.

  Speaking of which, it was getting pretty noisy outside.

  “What is he doing back there?” Jocelyn wondered aloud. “Chopping wood?”

&
nbsp; “What is happening outside this room is none of your immediate concern, Miss Hook. I asked you a question.”

  “Oh, yes, my slipper. Thank you for returning it. Is that all you wanted to talk about?”

  “Then it is yours.” Some of the color drained away from Miss Eliza’s face. “I had hoped Miss Edgeworth to be mistaken. The situation could prove to be very bad, both for you and for my school. If word of the scandal gets out…” Miss Eliza straightened herself up. “Well, we will just have to make certain that it does not.”

  “Miss Eliza,” Jocelyn asked, “why would Prissy care about me losing my slipper? It’s not as if it was a gift from my fairy godmother. What is so scandalous about it?”

  “This is not some fairy tale, Miss Hook. This is serious. Miss Edgeworth reported to me that you were out of bed last night. In fact, not only that you were out of bed, but that you climbed out your window and into the back gardens, where you were seen cavorting with the kitchen boy. Your slipper was recovered there this morning.”

  “There was no ‘cavorting’ going on. But yes, I couldn’t sleep and—what is going on back there?” Jocelyn looked to the window in time to see the cherry tree fall. She leaped to her feet, but Miss Eliza grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her back into her chair.

  “Miss Hook, you do not seem to grasp the gravity of the situation. You were out, late at night, unchaperoned, and in the company of a boy not only well below your station but also completely unsuitable in every imaginable way. Something like this could have serious repercussions in regards to your future prospects.”

  Jocelyn angrily rubbed her wrist. “Something like what?”

  “A young woman of your social position,” Miss Eliza stammered, “choosing a…a…kitchen boy for a paramour—”

  “A para-what?”

  “A beau. A suitor. A conquest. Call him whatever you like, this boy is not suitable for you.”

  A look of horror came over Jocelyn’s face. Now it was her turn to stammer. “You thought that Roger and I…that we were…that he was my…That is disgusting! Roger is only my—”

  “It does not matter what he was. From this point on he is nothing. Your grandfather has plans for you and they do not include poor, uneducated serving boys.”

  Blood pounded in Jocelyn’s head, and two small red spots lit up her blue eyes. She stood and glared down at Miss Eliza. “Those are his plans, not mine. I choose my own friends.”

  Miss Eliza’s face softened. “Miss Hook—Jocelyn—please sit down.” The use of her given name brought Jocelyn up short. “I can understand how you must be feeling. But as women, our choices are limited. Your grandfather will not live forever. It is unlikely that he has shared the details of his estate with you, but perhaps if I do, it will help you to understand.” Miss Eliza paused and looked questioningly at Jocelyn.

  “Well, go on,” the girl said, still standing.

  “Your grandfather’s wealth and property are entailed. This means that they must go to a male heir. As Sir Charles hasn’t any sons to inherit, all of it—his money, his holdings, everything he owns—will revert back to his closest male relation. This relative may take pity and provide a small pension for you to live off, but it is unlikely he would do more. Your grandfather has always known that your only hope for a secure future is to marry well.” She stared, unblinking, into Jocelyn’s eyes. “Marrying well will be difficult to do if there are questions about your conduct.”

  This was news to Jocelyn. A heavy feeling settled in her stomach. That was the reason her grandfather placed such high importance on turning her into a lady? It occurred to the girl with abrupt finality that she would never be able to change his mind.

  “Here is what we are going to do,” Miss Eliza continued. “Though it pains me to resort to this, I’m fairly certain I will be able to keep Miss Edgeworth from speaking of last night’s incident if I provide her with a personal servant or two.

  “The kitchen boy has been dismissed, though I did make other arrangements for him. He was escorted from the premises this morning and given strict instructions that should he speak even one word about you, or try to contact you in any way, I shall go straight to the magistrate and have him shipped off to the Americas like a criminal.”

  Jocelyn could not believe what she was hearing. She tried to tell herself it was nothing more than an awful nightmare, but even pinching her wrist as hard as she could didn’t awaken her.

  “As for you, since you have begun to show an interest in young men, I am arranging for you to have a short visit home to London. I am certain Sir Charles will be in complete agreement when he receives my letter explaining how eager you are to mingle with the right sort of families. I believe you have already made the acquaintance of Ambrose Trottington? He is only one of many suitable boys near your age.”

  Jocelyn was speechless. She stood frozen, quaking with emotion.

  “Don’t get overly excited. This is simply an opportunity for the young gentlemen to meet you and see what a fine young lady you are becoming. You are still a bit young for romance. I know it can feel like a long time to wait, but we’ll lay the groundwork now, and perhaps in a year or two you will be ready to begin a formal courtship.

  “I will call for a carriage early in the morning. You are to remain here for the duration of the night. As for dinner, I will have a tray sent up when the chambermaid comes to take your measurements.”

  Jocelyn’s mind caught on that last part. “My measurements? What for?”

  Miss Eliza smiled for the first time since she entered the room. “Why Miss Hook, I believe you are now ready for more grown-up attire. You must be measured for new dresses.” She gave Jocelyn an appraising look. “And, I think…yes, a set of corsets.”

  When Miss Eliza opened the door to leave, an eavesdropping Prissy fell into the room, her face glowing with malicious glee. Miss Eliza sniffed disapprovingly, but likely feeling that she had enough to handle with Jocelyn’s situation, she kept her tongue and swept from the room.

  Prissy’s tongue, however, would not be kept. “I knew you and that dirty servant boy were up to something, always disappearing together during free time. I could have told Miss Eliza about it months ago, but I had a feeling if I waited, you’d do something really awful. Did you get thrown out of school?” She didn’t wait for Jocelyn to answer. “Really, Jocelyn, I would have never guessed you could stoop so low. It must be in your blood. I mean, look at the kind of man your mother—”

  And that’s as far as she got.

  “Don’t you ever, ever talk about my mother, you stupid cow!” Jocelyn hissed. Then, to make sure that her point was received, she drew back and gave that horrible girl a long-overdue knuckle punch to the eye. Prissy covered her face with her hands and fell to the floor, screaming.

  Rather a bit more loudly than was called for, I might add.

  “And keep your mouth shut about Roger as well,” Jocelyn muttered as she stepped over her. Prissy’s shrieks were bound to bring the headmistress and more trouble. For the second time since her arrival at Miss Eliza Crumb-Biddlecomb’s Finishing School for Young Ladies, Jocelyn ran.

  Jocelyn didn’t have time to formulate much of a plan. She had a few vague notions of escape, perhaps by stowing away on a ship somehow, but nothing concrete.

  To be honest, even then she still held out hope her father would come for her. Sadly, she would soon find more disappointment. Jocelyn was about to discover that the great Captain Hook would never sail her off on a great adventure.

  Much like the first time she considered running away from school, the girl made her way to the carriage house. She cradled a small hope that Roger would be there, waiting. Even if he wasn’t, she would need supplies, and there were plenty of things in her hoard that could be useful. However, once she got to the carriage house, Jocelyn’s drive left her.

  It was clear that Roger had not been there
since the day before. His favorite book (Impress Your Friends, Confound Your Enemies: 1001 Poisonous Jungle Plants and How to Use Them) lay facedown on the sofa where he had left it when Magellan’s history had beguiled him away. Jocelyn sank down next to the book.

  She relied so much on Roger’s friendship. What would she do without him? Jocelyn wondered if he was angry with her for his unfair dismissal. She reached over, picked up the book, and tore out a page. After digging in the couch cushions, she unearthed a lead pencil.

  Dear Roger, she began, right between the entries for cowhage (causes blindness) and devil’s apple (causes delirium and hallucinations), I’m sorry…

  Her pencil paused on the page. Sorry for what, exactly?

  That she’d gotten him dismissed?

  That she hadn’t appreciated him more?

  That he was gone?

  All of that and more, but she didn’t know how to say it. Jocelyn left the note as it was, signing at the bottom of the page From your friend, Jocelyn. She intended to leave it on the arm of the sofa, where Roger would be sure to find it if he ever returned.

  This would have been an excellent time for the girl to form a plan for the future, but she couldn’t seem to wrap her mind around the magnitude of her problem. Where would she go? What would she do? At the moment, all the energy Jocelyn had left was used up wrapping herself in a blanket and turning her face to the window. She felt as if she had spent her entire life looking through panes of glass, waiting for something exciting to happen, but nothing ever did.

  Jocelyn lay on the sofa for quite some time—unwilling even to move in her misery. She knew that Miss Eliza would have people searching for her, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. The sky outside grew dark. From her vantage point on the couch, the girl had a perfect view of the North Star. She closed her eyes and made a wish.

  I do not desire to deceive you—about stars, anyway. The North Star is not a wishing star. In the history of the world, no wishes made on the North Star have ever come true. Unless, that is, it also happened to be the wisher’s birthday.