The rain had slowed to a drizzle by the time Jack and his officers pulled up in front of the Northshire Manor. It was a dreary, grey building surrounded by ivy-covered walls, and the cast-iron gates creaked horribly as the coachman opened them.
Jack leapt out of the coach, eyes taking in the scene and grin fading. The way the man decorated his house was not promising, (tree, tree, tree, bush! tree, tree, tree) but he had to believe that Northshire had something important to discuss.
Followed by Will and Tom, who made no remarks at the manor but exchanged bored glances, Jack knocked on the door, lifting the creaky brass knocker and giving it three smart raps.
There was the sound of muffled footsteps from within, and then the door swung open to reveal a butler in a neat black suit and a large wig that wobbled when he moved. Pursing his lips like the dry, wrinkled tortoise Dr. Maturin had once studied and brought aboard, he croaked in a wheezy voice, "Can I help you, gentleman?"
Jack took off his hat and tried to look respectful, but couldn't help shuffling his feet like a mid caught doing something wrong under the butler's flat, unblinking gaze. "Yes, we're here to see Lord Northshire. We have an appointment: My name's Aubrey, Jack Aubrey?"
The butler frowned, swallowed several times, and grated, "Just a minute, please." He slammed the door in Jack's face, causing some of the paint on the lintel to fall.
Jack turned to William and Tom and gave a reassuring smile. "I'm sure it won't be long. He's expecting us, after all."
But it was a long wait. There was no sound from within, and the three naval officers found themselves growing colder and wetter from the constant rain. "He didn't even invite us in," grumbled Tom, but he shut his mouth immediately as the butler suddenly opened to door again.
Looking extremely unhappy about it, the butler grunted, "He'll see you now."
Gratefully, the three allowed themselves to be led into the great entrance hall. A majestic staircase curved in a graceful arch, almost curling itself around the massive crystal chandelier. The butler snapped, "This way, please," and led them up the stairs.
They passed several paintings of silent, stern Northshire ancestors before coming to a broad oak door. The butler bowed out, muttering under his breath words that couldn't be made out, and Jack opened the door.
Lord Northshire sat on the far side of a long desk. He was scratching away at a lengthy piece of paper with a flourishing quill, but looked up when he heard the door open. He was immensely fat, with swaying jowls and a permanent pompous expression. He wore a silk waistcoat with a gold watch chain hanging fashionably out of the left pocket, fancy breeches, and stockings that were bursting at the seams, though he seemed not to notice. He wore a powdered wig not unlike his butlers', but he fit his well, in contrast to his staff.
"Jack Aubrey, it's a pleasure," he whined in a high nasal pitch. He extended a pudgy hand across the desk, not bothering to rise.
Jack crossed the room and shook his hand. "An honor, Lord Northshire."
"And they are...?" Northshire said, glaring at Will and Tom. His beady eyes became dark as he frowned slits, and were almost lost on his pouchy face.
"Thomas Pullings, milord, First Lieutenant aboard the H.M.S. Surprise, and this is William Mowett, the Second Lieutenant. It's a great honor to meet you, sir," said Tom, hurrying across the room and holding out his hand as well, but Northshire merely stared at it for a moment as if it was serpent and then pointedly ignored it. Put out, Tom dropped his hand and backed up a pace.
"Be seated," Northshire said with a lazy wave of his hand at the numerous chairs in a rigid row before his desk.
They sat, making an effort not to get the chairs wet with their damp cloaks and failing dismally.
The lord took a deep, shuddering breath that made his jowls quiver. "I have summoned you here today to listen to a proposition. I have heard about your current assignment, and I think a naval captain such as you should not be patrolling our boundaries when he has other potential.
"My lord, I'm flattered-" Jack began, but Northshire waved an impatient hand and he fell silent.
"Please, I'm a very busy man and I have little time for the prattling on of etiquette," he sniffed. "Now, I have recently been appointed ambassador to speak with the French."
Oh God, there goes any hope of ending the war peacefully, thought William, and his lips twitched as he struggled to control his laughter. He bit hard on his tongue and tried to think of other things.
"I'm going to be crossing the Channel to speak with a delegate from Bonaparte himself," continued Northshire proudly. "But I will need an experienced captain with a fine ship with the Admiralty's confidence in his fighting skills, and you are the nearest available one. Tomorrow, if you are willing, we will sail for France."
Jack raised his eyebrows. "To cross over to France, at this time? Well..." He glanced at Tom. "Will there be a fair wind tomorrow, d'you think?"
Tom nodded. "Yes sir, I believe so. The rain should clear up as well."
"Who would be paying for this, sir?" Jack asked.
"Me," Lord Northshire said. "Of course, it's the king's money that I've been given."
"Ah," Jack mused. "Well, this is a bit of a...um..."
"For God's sake, make up your mind, man," Northshire spat impatiently, jowls swaying and eyes narrowed.
"Yes sir, I'll do it," Jack decided. "What time tomorrow will we be leaving?"
"Noon," Northshire said. "I need my beauty sleep, don't I?"
Jack stared at him with revulsion and replied, "Er...if you say so, my lord. See you tomorrow, and thank you."
"You may go," Northshire replied curtly.
Once outside and back in the coach, Mowett burst into uncontrolled roars of laughter.
Half amused, half annoyed, (Northshire's mood had been catching) Jack asked, "What's wrong with you, William?"
"Him...the ambassador to France..." William managed to gasp, and fell over laughing.
Tom sniggered, and Jack managed a wry smile. "We'll see tomorrow," he said. "Maybe he's not as he seems."
But, in contrast to Lurdes, Northshire was exactly as he appeared.
The next morning, Mowett turned sleepily in his hammock. His eyes were bleary with sleep, and at first he didn't notice the dwarf-like figure standing against the wall. But the figure pulling out something long and glittering, like a knife, got his attention immediately.
His questing hand found his heavy saber beneath his hammock at once, and he sat up straight yelling, "Tom! Quick, wake up!"
The figure sheathed the dagger at once and scuttled crablike towards the door, shrouded its face with a deformed hand, and bounded out the door. Quick, quiet footsteps pounded up the hatchway, and then all was silent.
Tom rolled over sleepily in the next hammock over, yawned, and glared at William through the mass of blankets he had somehow managed to pile up around his head.
"Will you shut up? I'm trying to get some sleep here!"
"There was someone here with a knife!" Mowett exclaimed wildly. "Quick! We have to catch them!"
"It was just a dream. Go back to sleep," Tom mumbled and snuggled down further in his cocoon.
"No, really! I was wide awake!" William protested.
A loud snore greeted his words. Hesitantly, William lay back down, but kept his sword in his lap. Perhaps it had all been a dream, but it had been so real! In any case, the sword was clenched tightly in the lieutenant's hand until the hands were piped into wakefulness.
A boring idiot who thinks the world revolves around him...attempted murder...Mowett's best friend not believing him...huh, who writes these stories anyway? Oh yeah, I do. Well, tell me what you think, me lovely reviewers, or I'll let La loose again. And Tom's too tired to run away.
Tom: panting You...evil...gasp gasp
Me: Catch your breath, Tom, I think you may be needed again if the reviews aren't plentiful.
Tom: turns green and moans
An-Cat-Gaelige: Hey, I should use you to threaten Tom! La is getting a bit worn out...
Tom: NOOOO! PLEASE! KEEP HER AWAY!
Me: shrugs The reviews will tell, my friend, the reviews will tell...
Araniel Giledhel: Yes, Lurdes is a rather good actor, isn't he? He wasn't even in his element then...glad Jack made you laugh. We keep him offstage for that very purpose.
Jack: Hey! I thought I was part of the story.
Me: No, we just bring you along to keep reviewers amused.
Jack: pouts
And La is my dog. He made a brief but beautiful performance in The Chase for the Prize.
Itha Arrowland: Thanks for reviewing, Itha, always great to hear feedback from you in the afternoons as well as the day. See ya later!
Miss Flossy: Okay, the poodle is called off! grabs La's collar Glad you like my "serious" writing as well as my funny ones. I certainly enjoy making them meet old friends. "So, there was these two lieutenants and a captain who all walk into a bar..." Okay, maybe I'll save that for later.