Alex and the Ironic Gentleman Read online

  And all of this—the dangerous men, Mr. Underwood’s caffeine addiction along with his home being destroyed, and Alex and her uncle’s not—is all leading to an Important Development in our story. For, late that same night, having nowhere else to go, and not enough money to stay in a hotel, Mr. Underwood arrived at Alex’s uncle’s doorknob shop and asked if he could stay. And this is an Important Development because I suppose you could say that this is where our story Truly Begins.

  THE FOURTH CHAPTER

  In which we learn some Very Interesting Things about Mr. Underwood and his family.

  The three of them, Alex, her uncle, and Mr. Under-wood, sat around the small kitchen table lit only by a small lantern. In each of their hands was a cup of hot cocoa. Mr. Underwood had just finished explaining about his walk and finding his home burned to cinders, and they were sitting in the silence that always follows an extraordinary story. However, it didn’t last long because Alex’s uncle, being an intelligent man, said, “But who would do such a thing?”

  Now there were a few responses that Mr. Underwood could have given but not that many. Either he did know, or he didn’t, or he might have known. But none of those required the amount of time it took for him to answer Alex’s uncle.

  “I have one guess,” he said pushing back his floppy hair from his forehead. “I don’t know if the members of the board of directors know this, but one reason I was hired at the Academy was that my great-great-great-grandfather was Wigpowder himself.”

  “Was he really?” replied Alex’s uncle.

  It’s strange, but when one goes to school with a name like Wigpowder-Steele, the name becomes the school’s name, and one can often forget it was named after someone in the first place. Alex had never really considered the possibility that Wigpowder could have been a real person.

  “Who was Wigpowder?” she asked, intensely curious.

  “Ah,” replied her uncle, with that devilish spark in his eye again. “The Infamous Wigpowder was what he was known as.” He stopped and thought about it for a moment. “Which was admittedly a rather odd name. At any rate, the Infamous Wigpowder was a very notorious pirate.”

  “You’re related to a pirate!” exclaimed Alex.

  “I guess so,” replied Mr. Underwood with a smile. And then he added, “On my mother’s side.” Whether this was supposed to make it better or worse was not exactly clear.

  “Well, the Infamous Wigpowder amassed a huge fortune over his lifetime of pillaging ships. And on his deathbed he dictated his last will and testament. This consisted of instructions for two things. The first was to donate half of his treasure to the town in the hopes of starting a quality institution to further the education of our young people. And the second was that the remainder was to be left to his eldest son, not yet of age,” continued her uncle.

  “So far so good,” said Alex, following carefully.

  “Now you have to understand that pirates are not very trusting. This is why they bury their treasure on islands instead of putting it in banks or investing in bonds. And it was all very well and good for Wigpowder to request his money be handled in a certain way; but it was another thing actually to get hold of the money itself and yet another thing then to persuade whoever did get hold of the money to part with it.”

  “Well, what did he do?”

  “He asked the wealthiest man in town, Alistair Steele, to execute his will. This was a very clever idea because Alistair Steele was not only the wealthiest man in town, but he was also a philanthropist, meaning he often gave to charitable organizations, and therefore he was the least likely person to want to keep the fortune for himself. It was he whom Wigpowder entrusted with his treasure island’s map, and it was he who sailed off to retrieve the treasure.

  “Alistair Steele was indeed a good man. He followed Wig-powder’s will to the letter, using half of the money to create the Academy, and leaving the other half on the island for when Wigpowder’s son came of age. But unfortunately, Steele became very ill all of a sudden and passed away before Wig-powder’s son had fully grown up.” Alex’s uncle looked at Alex to make sure she was still following. Alex nodded for him to continue.

  “However, he did manage to leave instructions with his wife to make sure Wigpowder’s son was given the treasure map when the time came. But Steele, though an excellent man, had not made an excellent choice in his bride, and his wife could not think of a reason why she shouldn’t keep the fortune for herself. Of course, being of a sickly constitution, she never actually went in search of the treasure, but kept the map secretly in her possession until her eldest son was old enough to seek it out himself. And so the two sons of the two men grew up, and then, one fateful day, Wigpowder’s son finally came to claim it, and of course he was refused.”

  “What did he do?” asked Alex, breathlessly.

  “He did what any young man of the time would do. He challenged the young Steele to a duel. Unfortunately, neither man was very good at dueling, and in some way or other they managed to kill each other. Steele’s mother, seeing her son dead, herself perished on the spot. However, the feud didn’t end with their deaths, and their younger siblings continued to fight over to whom the treasure belonged.

  “Now the only one who knew where the map was hidden was Steele’s wife. Both families set about trying to find it, and eventually the feud got quite out of control. The Steeles and the Wigpowders were banished from the town, and the whole thing eventually was forgotten about.”

  “Then why did the school want Mr. Underwood to teach if he was banished?”

  “Good question. Mr. Underwood?”

  Mr. Underwood shrugged. “Time passes. And my great-great-great-grandfather’s generous contribution was never forgotten. Nor, I suppose, was the fact that the money belonged to the Wigpowders and not the Steeles so I guess, I’m a good guy.”

  “Okay. That’s the story then. But who burned down your house?” asked Alex.

  “I think it must have been Steele or his men,” answered Mr. Underwood thoughtfully.

  “His men?”

  “Well, here is the twist to everything. The latest Steele, it turns out, is a pirate. And not only a pirate, but the captain of one of the most infamous pirate ships this side of the equator. The Ironic Gentleman.”

  Alex thought really hard, so hard that she needed to squint her eyes. She said slowly, “So the great-great-great-grandchild of the Infamous Wigpowder grew up to become a respectable sixth-grade teacher, and the great-great-great-grandchild of the philanthropist Alistair Steele became a pirate Captain.”

  “Yes,” replied Mr. Underwood.

  “Neat.”

  “That’s all well and good, but why would Steele attack now? Why would he burn down your house?” said Alex’s uncle.

  “They must have assumed that, because I was in town, I was coming back to reclaim my inheritance. They must have thought I either knew where the map was or knew where the treasure was, and they wanted me out of the way. I am, after all, the last Wigpowder in the line.”

  “Gracious,” said Alex’s uncle, and he leaned back in his chair.

  “Is that why you came back? To reclaim your inheritance?” Alex was wide-eyed.

  “Yes,” replied Mr. Underwood simply. “And they were also right about the map. I do know where it is. Though why they should want to kill me instead of questioning me is something I don’t understand.”

  “Where is it!” asked Alex, hopping up and down in her seat.

  “Where is what?”

  “The map!”

  “Well . . . before my mother passed on, she shared with me the only bit of information that the Wigpowders knew and the Steeles could never be sure of. The map was somewhere in Alistair’s home.”

  “But where is that!”

  “You should know, Alex,” said her uncle. “You’ve visited it three times with your school already.”

  THE FIFTH CHAPTER

  In which Mr. Underwood moves in.

  It came to pass that the rec
onstruction of his home was going to take several months, so after asking her permission, Alex’s uncle invited Mr. Underwood to stay with them in the interim.

  Now I would imagine that the idea of having your sixth-grade teacher move into your home might not be a pleasant one. You would assume you would probably have to be on your best behavior all the time. And you probably couldn’t do things like multiply 12 times 364 incorrectly. Fortunately, however, since they were already Family Friends, Alex was very happy to be living with Mr. Underwood under their roof all of a sudden. And she didn’t worry that this solidified her reputation once and for all as teacher’s pet in the eyes of her classmates, because she knew deep down that she wasn’t one. Besides, what else were you supposed to do when your uncle’s best friend’s house gets burned down by pirates? Honestly!

  Though she enjoyed the new living arrangement, it was not perfect. For one thing, her uncle and Mr. Underwood began to have more and more complicated conversations about things Alex didn’t understand. And while they never ignored her, she kind of felt left out at times. She also was tremendously frustrated that, since the night of the fire, they had not made one mention of the treasure map, nor any plans to find it. Alex, on the other hand, had spent the last two weeks thinking of nothing else and had puzzled over this behavior. She knew that Mr. Underwood wanted to reclaim his fortune. And she knew that Mr. Underwood knew where the map was. But he didn’t seem at all interested in going to look for it. She knew this because when he wasn’t teaching, he seemed more interested in marking three-page essays on “What I want to be when I grow up” than treasure hunting, no matter what he said.

  “Are you frightened of being burned alive?” Alex finally asked him quietly one afternoon in class, pretending she needed help with a math problem.

  “Alex, we are studying fractions.”

  “I was thinking that you might be frightened of being burned alive. Like Joan of Arc. Except that I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

  “Alex, please sit down and do your work.”

  “I’ve finished my work. Here.” She passed him her workbook and he glanced over it. “Listen, I think that there’s more to this than meets the eye. That burning your house down was a mistake. I think that, if Steele wants the map and thinks you have found the map, he wants you alive.”

  “I hardly think this is the time or place to discuss such things. And anyway, who says I am frightened of being burned alive?” he whispered back.

  “Oh, come on, Mr. Underwood, you know exactly where the map is and you haven’t even once left the house to go looking for it. If I were looking for a treasure, I would be more proactive.”

  “Yes, well, thank you for the advice, Alex. Now please sit down and we’ll discuss this at your uncle’s,” and he passed her back her book. “You got number fourteen wrong.”

  Poor Mr. Underwood. There is nothing more difficult to avoid than the questions of an inquisitive child. He had spent two weeks tiptoeing around the subject, but Alex was too headstrong to give up. She just couldn’t see why Mr. Under-wood wouldn’t want to work harder at finding what was rightfully his.

  The only good thing in putting off searching for the map thus far was that Alex was able to use the time to formulate a plan. It wasn’t much of a plan, really. It consisted mostly of Alex going to the old mansion on the hill and searching the library. After all, that seemed the most likely of places a person was going to keep a map. Unless, of course, Steele had had a room dedicated entirely to cartography, which then would have been even more likely. But he didn’t. Of course, the most crucial element for this plan to succeed was going to the old Steele House in the first place. And so finally what it came to was Alex giving Mr. Underwood a direct order: “This Saturday you are going to take me to the manor house on the hill and we are going to do some reconnaissance.”

  THE SIXTH CHAPTER

  In which we visit the manor house on the hill and meet the Daughters of the Founding Fathers’ Preservation Society.

  That is how it came to be that Alex and her sixth-grade teacher, Mr. Underwood, on a wet Saturday morning, finally found themselves trudging up the muddy hill to the manor house.

  “Now, Mr. Underwood,” Alex said as they were climbing, “I think what we ought to do is split up. You can take the bottom floor and the kitchens, and I’ll take the top two floors. We will meet back in the shop in an hour.”

  Mr. Underwood nodded.

  They passed through the doors and approached the little old lady at the desk.

  “Why, hello, dears!” she said, her voice cracking. “My name is Poppy,” and she pointed to her name on her name tag. Underneath her name was printed “Daughters of the Founding Fathers’ Preservation Society.” The tag was pinned to a cable-knit sweater with pink roses sewn into the spaces.

  “Lovely to meet you, Poppy,” said Mr. Underwood. “Two tickets, please.” And he handed her a fiver.

  “Oh, I am sorry, my dear, but I am afraid the price has gone up to four for adults, and two for children.” She smiled, revealing a set of rotting yellow teeth.

  “Oh.” Mr. Underwood dug out a dusty coin from his pocket.

  “Thank you ever so much, my dear. It is a shame, isn’t it? But it takes so much work to keep this beautiful old building shipshape. Now, here are your maps, and there are guides in each room so you can ask them anything you want, and remember: don’t touch anything, and stay behind the red ropes.” She was addressing Alex, who nodded. She had been told this three times before. “Of course, I’m sure you already know this. You look,” she said to Alex, “like a very responsible young man.” She smiled again, the skin around her eyes and mouth contracting in dry, flaking wrinkles. Alex shivered, though she wasn’t exactly sure why.

  “Thank you,” she muttered, and she and Mr. Underwood headed into the main hall.

  They stood there in the decaying room and thought the same thing, which was: “What exactly are the Daughters of the Founding Fathers’ Preservation Society spending the extra money on?”

  The place had definitely deteriorated since Alex’s last visit. Cobwebs hung in dusty, dark corners, the carpets were worn through, and a horrible, musty, dank smell hung heavy in the air.

  “I guess I’ll go upstairs then,” said Alex. Mr. Underwood nodded, again.

  Alex headed up the large wooden stairs to the first floor and quickly entered the library.

  “Hello, dear.” Alex looked up and saw another Daughter of the Founding Fathers’ Preservation Society. “Please ask me any questions you have.” She grinned, her upper teeth falling down to meet her bottom teeth.

  “Uh, thanks.” Alex looked at the room and felt immediately frustrated, the way she would feel faced with a particularly challenging math question. Her obstacle was, of course, the red rope. It ran from the door across the whole room, so that the tiny crowd could only squeeze in at one end. It was a beautiful library, despite the peeling wallpaper and obvious traces of woodworm. On the far wall was a desk and on the desk were piles of papers. And there was also a locked cabinet. And somewhere in all the mess, Alex knew, there lay a treasure map just waiting to be found.

  “So to get away from his family, often the master of the house would come up to his study,” the little old lady squeaked, “and I think you gentlemen would appreciate this,” she added, winking at the two older men in the room. She stepped over the rope and went to the bookshelf on the right-hand side. She pressed a button and the whole shelf opened like a door. “Now this was the master’s secret entrance for his mistress.” There were a few giggles. “So, ladies, I would advise looking for a secret button like this around your house!” And she laughed until she coughed. “Or you could,” she continued hoarsely, “do what the lady of the house did and have a portrait of yourself hung over his desk to remind him where his loyalty lies.”

  Alex was shocked. She had seen the door many times before, and had made up many a story of her discovering a secret door like it somewhere in her uncle’s doorkn
ob shop. But she had somehow completely forgotten this one existed. She now felt she knew for certain that the map must be somewhere behind that door. She stood silently watching as people moved in and out of the library. There was not going to be any opportunity to get through that door today, that was certain. The thought was incredibly frustrating. Suddenly she was almost knocked off her feet.

  “Ow!” exclaimed the little old lady, who had bumped into her. “What do you think you are doing, standing so quietly like that! You really must be far more careful. I could have been seriously injured! Have you no respect for your elders?”

  Alex apologized as she steadied herself. But, she wondered exactly what she was meant to be doing? Jumping up and down and yelling, “Look at me, I’m over here, be careful not to walk into me!”

  She sighed heavily. Since there was nothing more she could do in the library, and since she just seemed to be in the way, she moved out into the next room, which was the lady’s boudoir. Maybe there is a clue here, she thought, rallying her spirits. She smiled at the new old lady, who was much shorter than the rest, with bright-blue hair.

  “Please ask me any questions you have,” she said, her breath smelling of garlic. Alex looked around the room and stopped. There on the wall, just above the desk with the little pots of makeup and a fan and embroidery, was a large framed painting of an island.

  “Um, could you tell me about that painting?”

  “Oh, I am so glad you asked, dear,” replied the little old lady, spit flying out of her mouth. “It is of an uncharted island, somewhere far out to sea. Now I don’t know if you know about the tale of Alistair Steele and the Infamous Wigpowder . . .”