Free The Charmed Children of Rookskill Castle by Janet Fox Page B

in a house haunted by
evil magic, and we’re being enchanted,
she thought, but didn’t want to say that out loud.
    She wanted to pry the puzzle apart, piece by piece, attack it logically. But what if there was no logic to it? What if this castle
was
haunted and there
were
ghosts?
    For once, Peter said nothing. She didn’t want him to think she was being silly, with her imagination running wild.
    â€œIt’s the only thing that makes sense,” she said. “You just don’t see how important it is because America isn’t in the war.”
    â€œOkay,” he said with a sigh. “I get it. If there is a spy about, we’ll unearth something eventually. Then we can make your Mr. Churchill happy.”
    Marie appeared at the end of the hallway and began knocking on doors. “Breakfast. Come at once. Come along, now, all of you.”
    As a still-sleepy Isabelle, silent Colin, and staggering Jorry joined the other four to troop downstairs, Kat whispered to Peter, “I wouldn’t drink any chocolate.”
    â€œI don’t think . . .” he began, but when she cast a look his way, he shrugged and said, “Okay, fine.”
    At any rate, there was no chocolate at breakfast, and no Lady Eleanor, either. Mr. Storm was there, however, heaping food from the buffet onto his plate.
    â€œHistory lessons straight after breakfast,” he said in a blustery voice, sounding every inch the tutor. “The other instructors will be up later today, and then we’ll fix our permanent schedule.”
    It was Robbie who spoke up. “You have the strangest accent.” When Mr. Storm turned his head sharply toward Robbie, Robbie added more softly, “Sir.”
    Mr. Storm smiled with his teeth. “I’m Welsh. But I was raised in a far corner of the country, so my accent is unusual.”
    â€œMr. Storm lost his small sailing vessel on the rocks off the point.” They all turned as one as the Lady Eleanor entered the hall. “It was quite propitious. I was seeking instructors as I set about to open my little academy, and the sea brought us Mr. Storm. He was on a circumnavigation of the British Isles at the time. A naturalist’s hobby. Quite extraordinary that he should wash up here, and that he should have this expertise in history and natural sciences,” the Lady continued. “Later this afternoon, thanks to referrals from Mr. Bateson, a Miss Gumble and a Mr. MacLarren will be arriving to instruct you in grammar and maths.”
    Robbie raised his hand. “Will we be learning any fighting skills?”
    The Lady looked puzzled. “Fighting skills?”
    â€œYou know, fencing and archery, that sort of thing. We need to be ready for the Jerries.”
    â€œI don’t think—” she began.
    â€œJust the thing!” spouted Mr. Storm. He grinned like a madman, and once again Kat had the feeling that he was in on some private joke.
    â€œWell, perhaps,” said the Lady with a dark sideways glance. “Maybe Mr. MacLarren—”
    â€œNonsense! I can assist. Fighting the Jerries, eh? I have all the necessary skills,” said Mr. Storm.
    Robbie grinned and shot a look at Kat.
    The rest of the meal was conducted in silence. The Lady didn’t appear to touch her food. The same could not be said of Mr. Storm, who ate like a trooper.
    Straight after breakfast they were shown into the morning room off the entry hall. It was made up to serve as a classroom, with a handful of desks and a chalkboard up front. They chose seats and they found small notebooks and pencils ready, but no textbooks.
    â€œRight, then,” said Mr. Storm, rubbing his hands and marching back and forth at the front of the room. “Who can tell me something of the geography of Scotland?”
    After geography Mr. Storm gave a rambling lecture on recent history of the British Isles, and then more ancient history, and then he launched into something