Scepter of the Ancients Read Free Page B

take this opportunity to say that, in my own way, I love you all, even those I don’t particularly like. That’s you, Beryl.’”
    Mr. Fedgewick took off his spectacles and looked up.
    Stephanie became aware that everyone was staring at her, and she hadn’t a clue what she was supposed to say. Fergus was again doing his startled-fish impression, and Beryl was pointing one long, bony finger at her, trying to speak but failing. Her parents were looking at her in stunned surprise. Only Skulduggery Pleasant moved, walking behind her and gently touching her arm.
    “Congratulations,” he said, and moved on toward the door. As soon as it clicked shut behind him, Beryl found her voice.
    “Her?”
she screamed.
“Her?”

Three
L ITTLE G IRL, A LL A LONE
    T HAT AFTERNOON S TEPHANIE and her mother made the fifteen-minute drive from Haggard to Gordon’s estate. Her mum opened the front door and stepped back.
    “Owner of the house goes first,” she said with a little smile and a bow, and Stephanie stepped inside. She wasn’t thinking of this house as her property; the idea was too big, too silly. Even if her parents were, technically, the custodians until she turned eighteen, how could she own a house? How many other twelve-year-olds owned houses?
    No, it was too silly an idea. Too far-fetched. Toocrazy. Exactly the kind of thing that Gordon would have thought made perfect sense.
    The house was big and quiet and empty as they walked through it. Everything seemed new to her now, and Stephanie found herself reacting differently to the furniture and carpets and paintings. Did she like it? Did she agree with this color, or that fabric? One thing that had to be said for Gordon: He had a good eye. Stephanie’s mother said there was very little she would change if she had to. Some of the paintings were a little too unnerving for her taste, maybe, but on the whole the furnishings were elegant and understated, exuding a class that befitted a house of this stature.
    They hadn’t decided what they were going to do. Any decision to do with this house was left up to Stephanie, but her parents still had the villa to consider. Owning three houses between them seemed a bit much. Her father had suggested selling the villa, but her mother hated the thought of letting go of a place so idyllic.
    They had also talked about Stephanie’s education, and she knew
that
conversation was far from over. The moment they had left Mr. Fedgewick’s office, they warned her not to let all this go to herhead. Recent events, they had said, should not mean she could stop studying, stop planning for college. She needed to be independent, they said; she needed to make it on her own.
    Stephanie let them talk, and nodded occasionally and muttered an agreement where an agreement was appropriate. She didn’t bother to explain that she knew she needed college, knew she needed to find her own way in the world, because if she didn’t, she’d never escape Haggard. She wasn’t about to throw her future away simply because she was going to come into some money.
    She and her mother spent so long looking around the ground floor that by the time they got to the bottom of the stairs, it was already five o’clock. With their exploring done for the day, they locked up and walked toward the car. A first few drops of rain splattered against the windshield as they got in. Stephanie clicked her seat belt closed, and her mother turned the key in the ignition.
    The car spluttered a bit, groaned a little, and then shut up altogether. Her mother looked at her.
    “Uh-oh.”
    They both got out and went around to the front and opened the hood.
    “Well,” her mother said, looking at the engine, “at least that’s still there.”
    “Do you know
anything
about engines?” Stephanie asked.
    “That’s why I have a husband, so I don’t have to. Engines and shelves, that’s why men were invented.”
    Stephanie made a mental note to learn about engines before she turned eighteen.