A Storm in a Teacup (Ebook)

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Chapter 1

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.