Joy V. Sheridan writes

Charity Amour

CHAPTER THIRTY, part 1

". . . . YOU’VE WHAT??? ... ” bellowed Lord Rispian to a sheep-faced Jarvis. “He escaped us, with the two wenches, your lordship. Believe me, there was naught a single man could do, to carry out yer request, like. Not after... the ghosts appeared, Sir.”  Jarvis’s voice became very low, almost a whisper. “Ghosts? What's this you're telling me, man? Ghosts: frightened off by spooks. Pah! What are you? Fighting men or midgets with large weapons and even bigger opinions of your capabilities . . . Talking of men, where’s Hinches?”    

 “I got separated from ’im your Lordship. And that bunch whom Mellors fixed us up wif was no 'elp whatsoever. Superstitious yellowbellies.”

“You say that Jarvis, but I see very little evidence that you are any better than them yourself. Why wasn't Hinches right up front with you?” Lord Rispian was furious, his face was alternately livid with purple rage and white with ill-controlled frustration. 

“’e thought he’d do a sortie on ’is own, like, jus’ to make sure they couldn't take any short-cuts away from us. But, as I said your lordship, once those spooks appeared, - and believe me, they did look mighty eerie and not the kind to be tangled wif – Well, we didn't stand a chance! Why, they fair walked through the strongest of the crew there and we backed off eventually. No, your lordship, there was no way those ghostly varlets was gonna let us be ’aving His Lordship, nor the two wenches wif ’im.” “Where’s Mellors?” “I don’ know your lordship. I thought he’d be wif you, like.” “Well, you're very much mistaken.” “Did I hear someone mention my name?” 

Mr Mellors appeared, fresh-faced and optimistic, in the doorway of the reception room where the proceedings of interrogation had been taking place. He looked very much like a man who is in possession of the goose that laid the golden egg and knew the schedule of that bird’s next delivery. “Mellors! I want more than a word with you, my man!” “Before your lordship proceeds any further, maybe I might just impart that I have news as to where His Lordship, Lord Clover, may at this present time, be located.” Lord Rispian turned glittering eyes upon him. “You have? Well, speak up man! This is a matter of life and death!” 

Mellors was basking in his keener wit which had laid such information so neatly between his ears. He coughed as only the true showman would cough and began to orate once more. “He is, your lordship, Lord Rispian, at this very moment, headed towards the harbour of Paulliac, there he ’opes to be transferred, along with ’is two ladies, by small skiff to a merchant man which ’is man, Fibbins, has been able to secure a passage home on fer ’em all.” Lord Rispian flashed a look of cold steel towards Jarvis. “Jump to it, man, what are you waiting for now? You know the direction, get to it and if you secure what I desire, I shall treble the amount I promised you.” 

Darko Jarvis clicked his heels together and gave a quick but courteous bow. “I shall depart hence, your Lordship.” 

Mellors was patting the sides of his rounded stomach, a happy grin of pleasure upon his features. “Shall you need any assistance Jarvis? I could always lend an ’and...” Jarvis, stung by aspersions concerning his own courage and valour, glowered in Mellors’ direction. “No thank ee, Mister Mellors. I believe, without a bunch o’ liver-bellied Frenchies, hired by suspect means, I can much better achieve his lordship's requirements on me own!” 

With a clanking of offended weaponry weighing down his own feelings of goodwill and confidence in himself, Jarvis left the house to seek both his horse and the aforementioned hamlet.