Mr. Rotunder and his crack troop of chambermaids did attempt to overcome their foes, but this resulted in the house crashing into a cow byre near Buckerell. Morvath’s crew were defeated but the house was on its side and Mr. Rotunder in need of a glass eye and several wooden teeth to add to his collection of replacement body parts. Therefore the household played no further role in the coming drama and instead had their own spin-off, wherein they reoriented their house with much hilarity, fixed the byre, dallied with the local gentlemen in humorous fashion, thwarted the robbery of the local tavern (and then robbed it themselves), and enjoyed bacon and eggs every morning thanks to the obliging farmer and his wife, who had been saying only the day before that the byre needed a new roof, and took these events as the generosity of the heavens.

The other households wisely surrendered and were transported unharmed to Morvath’s secret domain deep within the Blackdown Hills.

Ned watched the piracy from beneath an oak tree where he had established himself as supervisor of events, and where he sat drinking wine from a bottle and laughing every now and again to himself. It had all been too easy. Considering these people were professional thieves, they had pathetically inadequate defenses against theft.

Ned would rather have been involved in hijacking The Ancient Mariner, to ensure it went safely, but Morvath assured him his mole within the Wisteria Society would have everything in hand—subduing the ladies with a sleeping potion in their tea, securing the premises, removing the premises—and the more Ned argued, the more suspicious Morvath became.

“Are you not employed by me?” the captain asked. “Is not your role to do whatever I require?”

“Of course,” Ned lied smoothly. “But as regards to your daughter, I thought—”

“You thought.”

“—that I was meant to—”

“Get her to me long before now. Yes. I grew tired of waiting. So now I have her, and the entire Wisteria Society as well, in one foul swoop. That is how a real captain does it.”

“I’m a real—”

“I mean a captain with an abbey, not a house currently at the bottom of the sea.”

“Actually, it’s still on the beach.”

“Broken into pieces. As you will be if you don’t obey me, Edward. But I am not cruel. I am not vicious. After I’ve tortured and killed the Wisteria ladies, I’m more than happy to give you one of their houses as a reward for your service.”

“Thank you,” Ned said with appropriate gratitude.

“And you will receive the honor of an invitation to Cecilia’s wedding, although you’ll need to hire a decent tailor.”

“Cecilia is to be married?” Ned inspected a smudge on his thumbnail as if it was of more consequence to him than the answer to that question.

“Indeed. I have in my house the Bassingthwaite heir—”

“Her cousin?”

“Yes. Frederick is a sniveling jellyfish, but upon marrying him Cecilia will become mistress of Starkthorn Castle, the greatest man-o’-war in England, not counting my own abbey, of course.”