On Dark Shores: The Lady & The Other Nereia

Chapter 6

Copeland woke, once again, in an unfamiliar room; but this time after a moment’s brief panic, he remembered that he had stayed at the Mermaid, in the interests of furthering his acquaintance with Lord Westford. They had stayed up late talking, last night - or rather, Westford had talked and Copeland had greedily drunk in his stories of court life, visualising the splendours which went along with it, and which might be falling into Copeland’s hands in a matter of a few short months. The young lord had sipped his brandy and chattered on well into the early hours with no signs of flagging, and in the end, Copeland had had to excuse himself and go to bed.

He yawned. It seemed that he had slept late again, though normally he woke well before dawn. He heaved himself out of the bed and threw the shutters open, blinking at the sudden sunlight as he dressed himself in his best suit. Going downstairs, he called for breakfast. Jem, the landlord, came out of the kitchen and as he took the order, Vansel appeared.

“Ah, Vansel,” Copeland greeted him jovially, “and how is his Lordship this morning?”

“Abed these two hours past, sir,” Vansel returned.

“I beg your pardon? He went to bed two hours ago?”

“Aye, he generally retires around dawn.”

“What time does he get up?” Copeland could not decide whether the valet was making fun of him or not.

“On the stroke of midday, sir.” Vansel regarded the little moneylender’s suspicion, and added “In Mardon it isn’t done to breakfast before eleven at earliest, sir; but few gentlemen will leave their entertainments much before dawn. A couple of hours, maybe, but to return home before midnight would be terribly embarrassing for any but a schoolroom party. Country hours are a little earlier, but a gentleman would hardly retire before midnight even in the country.”

Copeland shook his head, as Jem came back in with bread, butter and small-beer. Mardon was a very strange place.

“Will that be all, sir?” Vansel enquired; at Copeland’s dismissal he walked out of the room, catching Jem’s eye as he went. He waited in the taproom. Before long, the landlord hurried in.

“Any news?” Jem asked.

“Nothing yet. I went to see if there was any sign last night, but there was none. Can you get in touch with them?”

“I’ll try, Captain. Don’t you worry about Alaric, though; the man’s got more lives than a cat, and it won’t be the first time he’s had an entire regiment after him and still got away. He’s probably holed up somewhere waiting for the fuss to blow over, while we’re running about like headless chickens trying to find out what’s happened.”

“Oh, I know Alaric will be fine, but he has a very special cargo with him this time, and one I’d rather keep out of the Colonel’s sight. He’s not a stupid man, and he reacts predictably sometimes.”

“Colonel Lowry? Is he in charge again?” Jem was alarmed at this new information.

“I know, Jem, I know!” Vansel shrugged. “There’s nothing I can do about that except make sure we don’t get caught.”

“And the Lord Westford with you, too!” The landlord wrung his hands in worry.

“Yes, and that’s the devil in it. If anything happens to him - well, his sister would kill me, if no-one had beaten her to it.” Vansel shook his head. “The young fool would stow away on my ship the one time when I’m smuggling something more perilous than brandy. I’ve sent the Susan on to finish her run without him, but I couldn’t very well leave him here on his own. Still, I suppose it was just as well, or we wouldn’t have found out that Alaric had disappeared for another three days, or that Lowry was back in the game.”