Hunt for the Panther 3 (9781101610923) (12 page)

“Humphries!” Uncle Daniel hopped out of the carriage and bounded up the steps to meet his old friend. The two men embraced while the other man helped the girls out of the carriage.

“Come in, come in, all of you.” Humphries ushered them up the steps and through the front door. “My wife and daughter are so excited to meet you.” He turned to the man in the black suit. “Fetch Mrs. Humphries and Cecily.” The man bowed and disappeared inside.

“Who’s that man?” Scarlet whispered to Josephine.

“Why, the butler, of course,” Josephine whispered back. “You know, the one who answers doors and fetches things,” she added when Scarlet looked blank.

“Oh. Right. Of course,” said Scarlet, although she’d never heard of a butler before. Judging by the man’s unsmiling face, it couldn’t have been a very fun job.

They stopped in the main foyer, which was even grander than the one in the admiral’s house. The chandelier was twice as big, and the floors and banisters gleamed so brightly that Scarlet could see her reflection in them. The white ceiling was as high as one of the aras’ nesting trees. It made Scarlet feel small in a way the jungle never did. Out there, she was another creature, with a purpose and a role to play. Here she just felt out of place.

“Ah, here they are,” Humphries said, as a woman in a dark red dress strode in, followed by a younger woman in a green dress who looked about five years older than Scarlet. Both had shiny brown curls that bounced as they walked, and Scarlet’s hand immediately crept up to her own hair, still tightly braided. Then she shook her head and dropped her hand. Not that she gave a fig about hair.

“Time for introductions,” said Humphries.

“Of course,” said Uncle Daniel. “You remember my brother, Admiral John McCray?”

“I believe we met once or twice.” The admiral offered his hand.

“Ages ago,” Humphries agreed. “In another world.”

“This is my daughter, Josephine, and John’s daughter, Scarlet,” Uncle Daniel said.

Scarlet concentrated hard on staying upright as she gripped her skirt and curtsied. She wobbled fiercely, but managed, miraculously, not to fall on her face.

“And this is my wife, Mrs. June Humphries, and our daughter, Cecily,” said Humphries.

Scarlet watched as Cecily executed a perfect curtsy, curls bouncing politely. She had a heart-shaped face, a blush of pink across her cheeks, and pale, creamy skin like Josephine’s. But there was something familiar about her. Scarlet was sure she’d seen her somewhere before—maybe in port? Maybe she’d even stolen something from her? She was racking her brain, trying to remember, when Cecily looked over and caught her staring. She narrowed her eyes and looked Scarlet up and down, and Scarlet reddened under her gaze. She didn’t know Cecily one bit, but she was certain they’d never be friends.

Somewhere deep inside the house, a door slammed, and footsteps came running toward them.

“And there’s our boy.” Humphries sighed. “Always fashionably late.”

The boy burst into the foyer, breathless and red-faced, his brown hair damp with sweat. “I’m sorry, everyone,” he said. “I was out supervising the new crew. Couldn’t quite make it back from the fields in time.”

Scarlet’s mouth fell open.

The boy straightened his coat, then bowed to Uncle Daniel and her father. “I’m Ben Hodgins.”

“Shivers!” The word escaped Scarlet’s mouth before she could stop it. She slapped a hand over her mouth, feeling her father’s incredulous eyes on her.

Ben Hodgins turned to look at her, and his lower lip went slack.

“What was that, Scarlet?” asked Humphries.

“Oh.” Scarlet tore her wide eyes away from Ben’s, only to find that everyone in the room was staring at her. Her ears grew hot. “Oh. I’m sorry. I just… got cold. Suddenly.” She shivered for effect and looked down at the gleaming floor, willing it to split open and swallow her. For somehow,
somehow
, she’d ended up in the same house as Ben Hodgins, the former captain of the Lost Souls. The one who’d taken her in when she ran away from home, and then made her captain when he left.

Because he’d fallen in love with a plantation owner’s daughter,
Scarlet remembered.
That
was why she recognized Cecily—she’d seen her with Ben in port one day not so long ago.

“Do you two know each other?” asked Humphries. His shiny forehead wrinkled.

“No!” Scarlet and Ben said in unison.

“Of course not,” added Ben. He smoothed down his flyaway hair and stepped up to shake her father’s and uncle’s hands.

“Why would we?” added Scarlet. She wiped her sweaty hands on her dress, then remembered Rule Number One and tucked them behind her back.

Well, this was a fine mess. Here she was, on a horrible plantation with her former captain and dressed head to toe in ridiculous blue frills. It couldn’t get any worse than this, she was certain.

“Ben is the best plantation manager I’ve ever had,” Humphries boasted. “He and Cecily will be married in… how long now?”

“Less than a month,” his wife said.

“Is it that soon?” Humphries looked at Cecily. She nodded, curls bouncing excitedly.

“Congratulations,” offered Admiral McCray, and Daniel and Josephine echoed him.

“Congratulations,” Scarlet muttered, although she couldn’t imagine what Ben had been thinking, falling in love with a thing like Cecily.

Thankfully, the butler arrived then to let them know that dinner was served, and Humphries ushered them off to the dining hall.

Scarlet hung back, and Ben did the same, but before they could say a word, Cecily turned around and beckoned Ben with her finger.

“Right. Coming,” he said, hurrying to catch up with her.

“Right,” Scarlet said. “Coming.” She waited a moment longer, to see if the floor might still split open and swallow her.

When it didn’t, she gave in and followed.

The table was enormous, draped with a spotless white cloth, set with white dinner plates, and decorated with white flowers. Scarlet took her seat, certain she was going to spill something. Something red. Something that could never be removed.

Don’t think. Just do,
she told herself, remembering Jem’s advice.
Just act like everything’s normal. It’ll all be over soon.

Unfortunately, Ben took a seat right across from her, and Cecily took the one beside him. “What a lovely party we’ll be,” she remarked.

“Lovely,” Josephine agreed, slipping into the chair next to Scarlet.

Don’t think. Just do.

When the first course arrived (a rich red soup, of course), Scarlet went to pick up her spoon, only to find that there were not one, not two, but
three
spoons laid out before her, each a slightly different size. She looked around, wondering if the servants had made a mistake and given her
everyone’s
spoon. But no, every single place had three.

Blimey,
she thought. After studying each one, she picked up the medium-size spoon.

A bony elbow landed in her ribs, and she stole a glance at Josephine, who looked as if Scarlet had unknowingly picked up a snake.

All right, then.
Scarlet dropped the medium-size spoon and moved her hand toward the small one, but Josephine shook her head. That obviously wasn’t right, either. Scarlet pulled back, hand hovering over the large one, and Josephine relaxed.

Scarlet picked up the large spoon, making a mental note to explain to her cousin that in the tropics, spoons usually only came in one size.

“Josephine, my father tells me you attend a fine
finishing school back in the Old World,” Cecily spoke up. “And Scarlet, you’re at boarding school here in the tropics?”

Scarlet nodded, then realized that there couldn’t be
that
many schools in the tropics. Cecily might well have gone to one. “Um, yes. Did you?”

Cecily shook her head. “I completed my schooling back in the Old World, then joined my mother and father here once I was finished.”

Scarlet sighed with relief. “Oh. That’s good. I mean… you must have… a good education.” She sunk her spoon in her soup, concentrating hard on not spilling.

Cecily nodded. “Schools in the Old World are far superior. They teach
real
manners.”

Scarlet paused with her spoon halfway to her mouth. Had Cecily just insulted her?

Ben cleared his throat. “Do you have a favorite class, Josephine?” he asked.

“Etiquette,” Josephine replied, dabbing the corner of her mouth with a cloth. “It’s just
so
important.”

Cecily nodded. “I agree. I don’t suppose they teach etiquette at your school, Scarlet?”

Scarlet set her spoon down, bristling on behalf of her nonexistent school.
Why, you lily-livered…
she thought, then replied, too sweetly, “Of course we do. But we also know it’s not the only course that matters.”

“How fascinating it must be,” Josephine cut in, her voice a bit too loud. “To live on a plantation. We were discussing it in the carriage. It just sounds… very interesting,” she finished, giving Scarlet a nervous glance.

“That’s right,” said Scarlet, staring Cecily square in the eye. “We were wondering about your laborers. Maybe you could explain how that works. We’re just so…
ignorant
.” She silently thanked Jem for arming her with a few big words.

Scarlet’s father shot her a look, but oddly, the anger in it didn’t seem directed at her.

Across from her, Ben’s face clouded over, and he stared hard at his soup.

“Well,” Humphries harrumphed from down the table. “That’s hardly a topic for young ladies to discuss.”

There was an awkward pause, then Cecily spoke up again. “Oh, excuse poor Scarlet, Father,” she said, her lips pressed into a tight, vengeful line. “She goes to an island school where they aren’t taught real manners.”

“You little—” Scarlet began.

“Miss Scarlet!” Ben cried, then lowered his voice. “Y-you were about to tell us about your favorite class at school.” His eyes pleaded her to say something that made sense.

“Oh, that’s right.” Cecily smiled. “Pray tell, what is it, Scarlet?”

“Well.” Scarlet cleared her throat and tried hard to remember classes that Jem had mentioned taking. “I do enjoy… cartology.”

She heard her father sigh.

“Cartology?” Cecily repeated. “Don’t you mean
cartography
? The study of maps?”

Blast.
“No,” Scarlet said. “I mean
cartology
. The study of… carts.”

“Scarlet’s school,” Admiral McCray spoke up, “focuses on… transportation.”

“Really?” Mrs. Humphries asked, looking at Scarlet as if she’d just noticed her third eye.

“Really?” Cecily’s curls bounced suspiciously. Scarlet imagined how satisfying it would be to snip them right off, one at a time.

“That sounds terribly interesting,” said Josephine. “How very… progressive for a school to teach girls about… transportation.”

“Yes,” Scarlet agreed, unsure what
progressive
meant or why the flotsam her cousin was trying to help her. She bet Josephine and Cecily would get along splendidly. “It is.”

After that, she made a good effort to hold her tongue and concentrate on not spilling anything. And eventually, dinner came to an end. The grown-ups stood up and moved to the sitting room to discuss how lucrative Humphries’s plantation was.

“Miss Scarlet,” Ben spoke up before she could follow. “I think there’s a book in the library you might find interesting. It’s about carts,” he added. “Big ones, small ones, ones with… wheels.”

“Oh!” Scarlet stopped. “Good. I do love a good book about carts.”

“I’ll come, too.” Cecily stood up, smoothing out her skirt. Scarlet rolled her eyes.

“But I was hoping you could show me the collection of hair clips you mentioned earlier,” Josephine said. “It sounds wonderful.”

“Oh.” Cecily looked from Josephine to Ben to Scarlet. “Well, all right. It’s upstairs. We’ll just be a few minutes,” she added to Ben.

“Take your time,” he told her, and she tossed Scarlet a tiny glare.

Safe inside the library, Ben shut the door, then turned to face her, hands on hips. “All right, McCray, what the flotsam are you doing?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but he went on.

“Why aren’t you with the crew? And when did you leave them for your father?”

“I didn’t leave them for my father,” she snapped. “How could you think that? I’d never leave the crew. Not like some people,” she added, for she’d had quite enough of being bullied by… by landlubbers!

Ben flinched, then gritted his teeth. “And yet, here you are.” He spread his arms wide.

“Not because I want to be,” she retorted. “This is only for a few weeks. Trust me, I’d never set foot on a plantation if I had a choice.” She glared daggers at him.

Ben tossed them right back. “There’s a new pirate captain out there, you know. He’s planning to take over the entire tropics. They call him—”

“The Rebel,” Scarlet finished. “And I call him Lucas Lawrence.”

Ben’s mouth fell open, and Scarlet rejoiced at having one-upped him. “Lucas?”

“None other,” she replied. “And don’t worry, we’re taking care of it.” That last part wasn’t true, of course, but she couldn’t have him thinking she needed his advice.