A storm in a teacup, p.1
A Storm in a Teacup, page 1
A Storm in a Teacup
Kate Pearce
Contents
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1. Chapter One
2. Chapter Two
3. Chapter Three
4. Chapter Four
5. Chapter Five
6. Chapter Six
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Note for Readers
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Chapter One
Mr. Hezekiah Makepeace sniffed appreciatively at the salt-laced sea air as he walked down Castle Street toward the harbor. The sun was sparkling off the white-topped waves, and the sky was a broad expanse of periwinkle blue. Rigging twanged like a badly played lute as the fishing fleet bobbed in the shelter of the bay, and the reek of gutted fish wafted over the rooftops.
Hezekiah hadn’t been back to the Cornish coast since he’d stopped tutoring Locryn Pendarvis. He’d often accompanied Locryn on visits to his cousin, Mr. Gryff Cardew of Lancarrow, during the summer months. He suspected his pupil’s love of nature had been inspired by the exotic flora and fauna of Lancarrow, and had encouraged his protégé’s current career as a naturalist and a scholar of rare plants.
He couldn’t be more proud of his former pupil, and returning to Cornwall to see Locryn marry Lady Gwyn Hambly was indeed an honor. After tutoring Locryn for several years, Hezekiah had secured a teaching position at Cambridge, and was now happily established as a professor, writing books and lecturing at regular intervals. In truth, despite his difficult start in life, he had every reason to believe his career was progressing very nicely indeed.
In a few years when he turned forty, he hoped he would have saved enough money from his book sales to buy himself a small house. He might even turn his attention to acquiring a comfortable wife who would tolerate his eccentricities, and give his children all the security he had lacked in his early years at the foundling hospital and with his adopted parents.
He had a candidate in mind, a certain Miss Aurelia Pickleton who was quiet, virtuous, and approaching the age when an offer of marriage from even a man such as him might be welcome.
A coaching horn blared behind him, and he moved out of the way as the mail coach he had exited by the castle keep came slowly down the cobbled street. After being cooped up inside the coach for hours, he had decided to walk to his destination rather than endure the bone-shaking rattles for another second. The coach turned into the yard of the Mermaid’s Kiss inn where Locryn had arranged for him to stay during his visit.
He couldn’t remember entering the inn during his previous trips to Bocka Morrow except to pick up the London post, and that had been a rare enough occasion. From the street, it looked like a substantial, well-kept building with a stone exterior, a mixture of window styles that he guessed dated back several centuries, and an archway leading into the cobbled stable yard within.
He stepped through the arch, his eyes adjusting to the shade, and in through the low-beamed entrance of the inn itself.
“Good day, sir, and what can I do for you on this fine morning?”
Hezekiah jumped as a man emerged from the shadows. He hastily removed his hat and bowed. “Good morning. I believe Mr. Pendarvis has booked a room for me here for the next week? I am Mr. Hezekiah Makepeace.”
“Indeed he has, Mr. Makepeace. Welcome to the Mermaid’s Kiss. I am Mr. Mallachdan, the proprietor of this fine establishment. Would you care to follow me up to your room now, sir? I’ve put you at the back, away from the noise of the street and the stables.”
“Thank you. I believe I will go up and deposit my belongings before I take a stroll around the village.”
“Mrs. Mallachdan can provide you with some victuals in the dining room if you wish, sir?” the innkeeper offered.
“I’d rather take them with me.” Hezekiah smiled at the landlord as they climbed the stairs. “If that wouldn’t be too much trouble?”
“Not at all, Mr. Makepeace. I’ll go and speak to the missus right now. When you come down, sir, call into the kitchen, and she’ll have a basket ready for you.” Mr. Mallachdan unlocked a stout oak door, handed over the key, and stepped out of the way with a flourish. “Your room, sir.”
“Charming,” Hezekiah said. “Quite charming.”
There were two small windows set deep into the stone wall that looked out over the sea. They were both open, and the brightly patterned curtains fluttered in the breeze. Hezekiah placed his luggage on the chest of drawers and admired the carvings on the four-poster bed that took up most of the room. The walls were white plaster with wide beams crisscrossing them at angles up to the uneven pitched ceiling.
Hezekiah methodically took out his modest possessions and placed them in an orderly fashion within the drawers of the chest and the cupboard concealed in the wall. Being of a somewhat careful nature, he hadn’t purchased a new suit for the wedding, but he had bought a new cravat and a rather daring blue waistcoat with silver buttons. The habits of economy drilled into him by his foster parents had never quite left him, along with the anxiety that he might one day be penniless and alone again.
Determined to enjoy his visit to Bocka Morrow and Castle Keyvnor, Hezekiah briskly washed himself, combed his fair hair, and tied it back with a new black ribbon. He put on a clean shirt, and headed back down the stairs. He paused at the bottom in the semi-darkness, unsure of his direction, heard the most glorious deep-throated laugh, and instinctively followed the sound.
He found himself in the kitchen facing two women who were obviously sharing a joke. The older of the two looked past the other and smiled brightly at him.
“Are you Mr. Makepeace, sir? Mr. Mallachdan said you’d be wanting a lunch to take out with you.”
“Indeed I am.” Hezekiah smiled back. “I assume I am addressing Mrs. Mallachdan?”
“Yes, sir. And this is Malakia.”
The second woman turned around, and Hezekiah forgot how to breathe. She was gloriously buxom with sandy-colored hair coiled on the top of her head like a crown. Her eyes were the same blue as the Cornish sea.
“Ma’am,” Hezekiah stuttered. “Your name.”
She wrinkled her brow. “What of it, sir?”
“It is rather unusual,” Hezekiah said hesitantly. “Greek, I believe?”
“I have no idea.” She smoothed down her skirts. “It’s just my given name. Miss Clovelly will do just fine if you don’t like it.”
“But I do like it—it’s a beautiful name. In some translations it means the dead calm of the sea.” Hezekiah told himself to stop talking. It was most unlike him to babble.
“Then feel free to use it.” She turned to Mrs. Mallachdan. “I’ll be off, then. I’ll be back at five to serve supper and help out behind the bar.”
“I wonder… Miss Clovelly, whether I might prevail upon you to accompany me down to the harbor?” Hezekiah blurted out. “I haven’t been in these parts for several years, and I would appreciate a local guide.”
Hezekiah wasn’t sure why he couldn’t keep his mouth shut, but it was too late to withdraw his impulsive offer now.
Malakia Clovelly looked him up and down and nodded decisively.
“I’d be happy to do that, Mr. Makepeace.” A small smile played on her lips. “Can’t have you falling into the sea again now, can we?”
Hezekiah shuddered. “Good Lord, no. I can’t even swim.”
Both women stared at him as if he’d cursed unrestrainedly in front of them.
“If you’d grown up here, sir, you’d swim like a fish.” Mrs. Mallachdan passed over a small basket covered with a cloth. “Now, be off with you. It’s a beautiful day, and I’m sure Mally will be glad to show you all the sights.”
Five minutes later, after Miss Clovelly had put on her straw bonnet and a shawl, they were on their way. A flock of seagulls flew low overhead, briefly darkening the sky before descending on the fishermen mending their nets. Hezekiah concentrated on navigating the uneven cobblestones, far too aware of his companion. She was tall for a woman, easily reaching his height and perhaps an inch more.
“You’re here for the wedding then, sir?”
“Yes, indeed. I tutored Mr. Locryn Pendarvis for several years and was most gratified to receive an invitation from him on the occasion of his marriage.”
“He’s not a local man is he?”
“When we came here, we stayed with his cousin at Lancarrow.”
“Gryff Cardew, then.” She nodded, setting the cherries nestled in the ribbon of her hat bobbing. “And the wedding is being held up at the castle. I’m supposed to be helping out at the evening ball.”
“It promises to be quite a sumptuous event,” Hezekiah said. “And held on summer solstice eve, which means the evening celebrations will take place in daylight.”
He didn’t miss her quick frown.
“You don’t think it is an auspicious day for a wedding?”
“I think…” She paused. “That such a celebration on such a day is asking for trouble, but whether it will be good trouble or bad, I cannot yet tell.”
Hezekiah chuckled. “Locryn often told me tales of the fairy folk around these parts. Are you suggesting they might suddenly appear and wreak havoc?”
She stopped walking and turned to face him. She had freckles on her nose and her mouth was shaped like a bow.
“Do you not believe in such things, Mr. Makepeace?”
“As a man of reason, logic, and science, no, Miss Clovelly, I do not.” He could
He watched in fascination as the corner of her mouth turned up.
“Then you should find your time here in Bocka Morrow rather interesting.” She started walking again. “Do you want to start with the harbor? It is much quieter during the day when the fishing fleet are moored up.”
“I would like that immensely.” Hezekiah fell into step beside her. “Is fishing still the main industry of the village, Miss Clovelly?”
“Yes, indeed.” She looked out over the sea with a proud smile. “We are blessed to have the abundance of the sea to sustain us.”
They reached the stone quay, and she walked through the gathering of fishermen to the sea wall. She hoisted up her skirts, offering Hezekiah a scandalous view of her striped stockings, and climbed up. She glanced down at him, a smile playing on her lips.
“No need to look so shocked. I’m just checking the weather. If you look out toward the horizon and along the coast, you can sometimes smell what’s coming.”
“Smell the weather?” Hezekiah frowned as he shaded his eyes to look up at her and then out at the sea. “I doubt that is possible.”
“Ah, but you aren’t a sailor or a fisherman are you, Mr. Makepeace? How would you know?”
Hezekiah let out his breath. “I suppose you are right.” He set the basket down on the top of the wall and heaved himself up alongside her.
She smelled like the sea and the warmth of the sand. She took hold of his elbow and rotated him toward the right. “See over there? Those dark clouds forming?”
“Yes, what about them?”
“They’ll be a storm coming our way in the next few days.” She inhaled slowly. “Can’t you smell the fear and confusion?”
Hezekiah took a deliberate sniff and immediately started sneezing, which caused his companion to burst out laughing. After a moment, he reluctantly joined in. When was the last time someone had laughed at him? When was the last time he had laughed at himself?
“You must be used to storms, being on the coast. Surely this is just another one?” Hezekiah asked because she still looked worried.
“I’m not sure. I don’t like it. I’ll have to consult with my friends.” She gathered her skirts. “Shall we continue? You can see the caves from the cliff path and get an excellent view of the castle.”
He leapt down off the wall and offered her his hand, aware that she wore no gloves, and that her strong capable fingers were as tanned as the rest of her.
“I have been invited up to the castle tomorrow for a gathering of the wedding guests. Perhaps I will see you there?”
“I doubt it. People like me don’t get asked to fancy weddings, Mr. Makepeace.”
She didn’t sound as if it bothered her, so he could hardly justify the flash of disappointment that wove through him.
“I have to confess that this is probably the first and last fancy wedding I will ever be invited to myself, Miss Clovelly. I hardly move in exalted circles.”
She tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow as they walked onward to the sound of gulls circling overhead and the gentle slap-slap of the waves hitting the harbor wall.
“What do you do for a living, then Mr. Makepeace?”
“I am a professor of Literae Humaniores at Cambridge.” Try as he might, Hezekiah couldn’t quite suppress the pride in his voice. “The study of the classical world of both Greece and Rome.”
“Fancy,” Miss Clovelly said brightly. “I can’t imagine why anyone would be interested in such things, but each to their own.”
“The ancient world has much to teach us in the modern age,” Hezekiah countered earnestly. “If we only adhered to some of the ideals of such men as Socrates, Plato, Aristotle…”
“Men.” His companion snorted and tossed her head.
“I beg your pardon?” It was Hezekiah’s turn to stop walking.
She looked up at him and blinked, her eyes as wide and innocent as a calm blue sea. “I didn’t say anything. Please go on. I do so enjoy your pontificating.”
Hezekiah resumed walking, reminding himself that Miss Clovelly was probably ill-versed in the literature and thoughts of the greats and was hardly responsible for that lack of knowledge.
“I consider myself very honored to hold a position at Cambridge,” Hezekiah said. “The Pendarvis family was instrumental in helping me obtain my post. I will always be grateful to them for that.”
“They are good folk,” Miss Clovelly agreed and pointed toward the edge of the cliff. “Shall we stop here to eat? The view is quite glorious.”
Hezekiah followed her off the path toward a flat patch of grass that looked out over one of the coves that dotted the coast. He’d been told that there were smugglers hereabouts, and having seen the caves on his previous visits, he had no doubt of it.
“Look!” Miss Clovelly pointed to the sea. “Do you see that school of mackerel?”
Hezekiah narrowed his gaze and saw the swaying and shining glint of thousands of metallic shapes dipping and cutting through the sea.
“How extraordinary,” he murmured. “How do they know when to turn?”
“That is a very good question,” Miss Clovelly said demurely. “I will ask them next time I go swimming.”
This time he was ready for her and smiled immediately. “Please do.”
She reached for the basket at the same moment that he did, and their hands touched.
“Ouch!” He jerked backward as something zapped through his skin. He jammed his fingers in his mouth. “Was I just stung?”
She was staring at him, her mouth slightly open as she massaged her own hand, and he had a strange sense that she was assessing him anew.
“If you were, I was stung, too,” she finally spoke. “I’ll check the basket.” She cautiously opened the cloth and peered inside. “I can’t see anything except food, but perhaps we should lay it all out on the cloth, and make sure there are no wee beasties lurking within.”
“An excellent plan. I do hope you will join me in my repast?”
“If you wish.”
Hezekiah helped her set out the still-warm paper-wrapped pasties, the slices of pork pie and the apples, along with a stone bottle of cider. There was more than enough for both of them, although they had to share the cider as there was no cup. He sighed happily as he ate and looked out over the sea. He much preferred it from a distance. Even walking on the beach caused him some distress.
“You should come swimming with me,” his companion said, displaying sharp white teeth as she bit into one of the apples. “I go every morning at dawn. It is very beneficial to one’s health.”
“I beg to differ.”
“You don’t like the sea?” She turned to observe him, untying the ribbons of her bonnet and setting it down beside her.
“I like it very much as long as I am not near it, on it, or in it.”
“Why is that?”
“Possibly because I was discovered on the seashore as a baby.”
“All by yourself?”
He nodded. “The fisherman who saved me believed I somehow survived a shipwreck and was deposited on the shore by a freak wave.”
“How exciting.”
“Hardly.” He shuddered. “It proved impossible to discover who my parents were, or if I had any family, so I was sent to the local foundling hospital to be cared for. I was lucky to survive the experience and ended up being fostered by a fine and godly Quaker family in Lyme Regis.”
“Presumably the Makepeaces.”
“Indeed. They named me Hezekiah after the King of Judah who was known for his piety and fidelity.”
“A fitting name.” Miss Clovelly nodded.
“As I no longer practice more than the rudiments of my Quaker faith.” Hezekiah sighed. “After my foster parents passed away, their older children asked me most politely to leave their house and make my own way in the world—with their blessing and five gold sovereigns.”
“That hardly seems very Christian.” Miss Clovelly wrinkled her rather adorable nose.
“It could have been worse. At least I had the money, and due to their careful teachings of economy, I was able to make it last until I secured employment at a boys’ school. Once I had my first position as a teacher, I was able to gradually improve my lot.”
