“Is this really a wise idea?” Catherine paused to readjust her hold on the pigeon carrier. “What if Mama notices we’ve taken them?”

Julia shook her head. The wicker basket holding the pigeons dug into her fingers. The animals could not wait to be unleashed and they kept moving and disrupting her hold. “She will not notice. She is seeing Mrs. Reilly this afternoon and you know how long they like to gossip. By the time we are done, the pigeons will have returned. Anyway, since when did you care about getting into trouble with Mama?”

“Since I ended up dragging a load of pigeons through the woods to try to scare a man away.” Catherine shook her head. “Honestly, I have done some strange things for my sisters but this has to be the strangest.”

“Stranger than dressing Amelia up as a boy?” Emma asked.

“Yes, stranger than that.” Catherine huffed.

“We can let them loose soon. We shall stop here and wait.” Julia scanned the woods for any sign of the surveyor. Their servant, Flora, had mentioned that Mr. Woodbury would be visiting the river to see what work would need to be done for the mill today. They might have to wait a while but the longer the better as far as she was concerned. Then the pigeons would be wildly anxious to be free and cause quite a fuss.

“Is this really the best we could do?” Catherine asked, setting the basket down and dropping down on the ground beside it. “Surely we could scare him away some other way? Pretend to be ghosts or something?”

Julia eyed her sister. “You think ghosts are easier than pigeons?”

“It would be more fun anyway,” Catherine grumbled.

“I do think we should have spent a bit more time thinking this through. Poor Mr. Woodbury is only doing his job,” Emma commented.

“A job that would see the woods torn up and otters homeless,” Julia reminded them. “I regret that he has to be involved but if we can scare him away, it will delay the project and I can figure out some other way to stop Lord Weston.”

“How do we even know this will work?” Emma leaned back against a tree.

“Remember when Catherine unleashed the pigeons when she was fifteen because cousin Adam was being obnoxious?” Julia looked pointedly at Catherine.

A slow smile worked across her face. “Oh, yes, I forgot that. He screamed like a girl.”

“And the pigeons pooped on his shoulder.” Julia smiled in remembrance.

“Both shoulders,” Emma corrected.

“It’s funny how he has not stayed at Luckington since.” Julia froze at the sound of crunching twigs. “This could be him.”

They ducked behind the trees and peered around. “So what is the plan?” Catherine asked.

“As soon as he’s near, we let the pigeons go. They will hopefully cause enough disturbance that Mr. Woodbury will rush home.” Julia knelt near the hamper and indicated for her sisters to do the same. They had brought their father’s entire homing pigeon collection so she hoped it was enough. They would be raring to race home by now.

The crunching grew nearer and she spotted a top hat and a brown jacket. From the man’s gait, it was certainly Mr. Woodbury. He was short and walked in a funny manner that had always amused Catherine.

“Wait until he is nearer,” she whispered to her sisters. “I want to make sure the pigeons fly right over him.”

Her heart pounded faster as they waited. It was, as Catherine had pointed out, not her most sensible idea, but there had been little time for clever plans when she had heard the news from Flora. All she knew was that she had to delay the survey for as long as possible. If no survey was carried out, then no mill could be built.

Mr. Woodbury was so close now that all he would need to do was turn around to spot them. “Now,” she ordered.

All three of them opened the baskets. A great flurry of gray wings rushed out of the carriers. Over twenty pigeons unleashed themselves upon Mr. Woodbury. He froze at first when he heard the flutter of wings. He spotted them and his mouth dropped open at the sight of pigeons heading directly toward him.

“Good Lord,” she heard him utter as one bird skimmed over his head. Julia watched, fingers crossed.

“Look!” Catherine pointed as one bird let loose on him. Another followed, then several more as they flew over him. By the time the birds had gone, his brown jacket had suffered the wrath of at least five pigeons and a trail of white and brown trickled down the side of his face. He remained frozen for a while.

“Poor Mr. Woodbury,” murmured Emma.

Catherine clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.

Mr. Woodbury tugged out a handkerchief and dabbed the poop from his face. “Bloody hell,” he muttered. “Damned pigeons.” He glanced around and shook his head to himself. “Bloody surveying will have to wait.”

Julia could not smother her triumphant grin. She waited until he had turned and left before standing. “It worked!”

Catherine removed her hand from her mouth. “The pigeons did an excellent job. I hope you’re going to give them a treat tonight.”

“I had no idea they would leave their mark on him quite so much, but it did work well, did it not?” Julia grinned. “He shall be wary of coming back now. Hopefully he might not want to come back at all.”

“Lord Weston is a powerful man,” Emma cautioned. “I am sure he will not give up just like that.”

“No, perhaps not,” Julia agreed, “in which case I must prepare. But for now, let us celebrate our win. Who wants lemonade?”

“Lemonade?” Catherine began trudging in the direction of home and Julia and Emma followed. “Is that all we get for battling at your side?”

“I shouldn’t even have to reward you. You are my sisters. We stick together, that’s how it is.”

Emma banded an arm around Julia’s waist and Catherine linked her arm through Julia’s. “Of course we do,” Emma agreed.

“But I’m going to remember this next time I need help,” Catherine declared.