The Very Nearly Honorable League of Pirates #1 by Caroline Carlson

rich—at least, I don’t think they are.” She had never really thought about it before, but it had to be quite expensive for her parents to employ all the cooks and servants and stained-glass-window cleaners, not to mention Miss Greyson. She blushed. “I don’t really know. My father works for the queen.”
    â€œOh, he’s not Admiral Westfield?” Claire dropped the petticoat she was holding. “He’s always on the front page of the papers. We try not to wrap fish in him.” She picked up the petticoat and dusted it off. “My parents sell fish, and I help at the market most days. Or I did, until now. My parents are very excited for me; they say that once I leave Miss Pimm’s, I’ll be able to enter High Society and never wrap fish again.” She sighed and placed the petticoat in a drawer much more neatly and tenderly than Hilary had done. “But you’re probably used to much grander sorts of people.”
    â€œGrand people,” said Hilary, “are mostly horrid, and I can’t stand High Society. At least fish are friendly.”
    â€œI suppose they are,” said Claire, “when they’re not dead. But if you don’t want to be in High Society, what do you want to do?”
    â€œActually,” said Hilary, “I’m going to be a pirate.”
    â€œOh, that’s brilliant!” Claire hopped up and down again. “It sounds so thrilling. And you could meet all sorts of dashing sailors.”
    Hilary squirmed. The only sailor she knew particularly well was Oliver, and he was only dashing in the sense that whenever she was near him, she wished he would dash away as quickly as possible.
    â€œAnd there’s treasure, of course,” Claire continued. “But girls aren’t allowed to be pirates, are they?”
    â€œApparently not.” Hilary tried to close the drawer, but it had been stuffed too full of stockings and petticoats. It would just have to stay open. “I’ll find a way, though.” She wished she felt as sure as she sounded.
    â€œThat explains the sword, then,” said Claire cheerfully. She pulled Hilary’s sword from the bottom of the trunk. “I’m afraid I don’t know where this goes.”
    â€œIt should be safe in the wardrobe. You don’t think they come around and inspect our rooms here, do you?”
    Claire shuddered. “I hope not. I absolutely cannot stand making my bed. It’s too similar to wrapping a fish.”
    â€œMaybe we’ll have to take bed-making classes here. Or petticoat-folding classes.”
    â€œUgh.” Claire closed the lid of the traveling trunk and sat down on it. “I’m awfully glad you’re not one of those stuck-up girls. I had nightmare visions of being the most awkward young lady at school. Oh, goodness, not that I mean—” She clapped her hands over her mouth again. “I’m so sorry. My sister, Violet, says I don’t think before I speak, and you know what, she may be right. She was a student here, too, before she entered High Society. She’s more or less perfect.” Claire kicked the thing nearest to her foot, which happened to be Hilary’s canvas bag.
    â€œHey!” the gargoyle yelled as the bag skidded across the floor. “What do you think you’re doing?”
    Both Claire and Hilary leaped up at once, and Claire turned pale. “I think,” she said, “your bag just spoke to me.”
    Hilary rushed to the bag and snatched it up. “It’s—well—”
    â€œIt’s me !” cried the gargoyle. “The gargoyle! And,” he added, “I do not enjoy being kicked.”
    Hilary sighed and unfastened the bag. “Now you’ve done it,” she said to the gargoyle. “Have you already forgotten what Miss Greyson said about unscrupulous people?”
    â€œClaire doesn’t look unscrupulous,” said the gargoyle,