Page 6 of Master of Paradise

In London, Nicholas found lodging at an inn in an unfashionable part of the city.

He could have stayed with any of a dozen friends or even at his father's club, but deep down inside he knew that anytime anyone gave you free anything, a piece of your pride was eaten away.

Though his plans were vague and unformed, he was sure of one thing: From now on he would have to stand on his own feet.

He rode about the city, thinking, forming a plan, and deciding his future.

As November's cold dampness seeped into his bones, he remembered his tailor on Bond Street was fashioning a new greatcoat for him.

He entered the establishment known as Henley's and as usual the obsequious owner came forward to do his bidding.

"Your lordship, please accept our heartfelt condolences at the loss of your father.

We hope that your new title won't prevent you from still doing business with our humble establishment."

"Thank you, but I'm afraid it's my brother who is now Lord Peacock, not I.

I came to see if my greatcoat was ready, the one with the shoulder capes? Oh, and I wonder if you could affix a black mourning band to the coat I'm wearing? I could wait."

The man seemed suddenly in a dilemma.

He took the well-cut blue broadcloth from Nicholas and brought the greatcoat that fit to perfection, but all the while Nick noticed he cast furtive little glances and made funny, nervous noises in his throat.

The man left Nicholas to admire himself in a three-way mirror and retreated to a high desk in the rear of the shop.

Nick watched the man from the tail of his eye.

He could scarcely credit it when he saw him open a large ledger that looked suspiciously like an accounts book.

Nicholas, who had always had an open, somewhat trusting personality without being naive, was rapidly becoming cynical at the way the world and its inhabitants had begun to treat him.

It's unbelievable that after all the business this smarmy gentleman's outfitters has received from Lord Peacock and myself, I am actually going to be asked to settle my account because I have not been named heir.

One side of Nick's mouth went up with ironic amusement.

He hailed the man with a smooth request.

"Would you be kind enough to make up my bill? I'd like to settle it today."

The man bustled forward with the bill actually in his hand, but tried to hide it behind his back as he began to have second thoughts. After all, if he were willing and able to pay, where was the necessity.

"Ah, Peacock, no need for haste."

The smile left Nick's face.

"My bill sir, if you please."

It was for three hundred guineas and Nicholas peeled off the notes as if he had an unending supply.

As he mounted his horse, glad to have the greatcoat over top of his broadcloth jacket, he laughed at himself for a fool.

A few nights back his pockets had boasted a thousand guineas, and now he was down to less than two hundred.

His bill at the inn for food and lodging would swallow the rest.

Of course, he could always go to one of the clubs and get into a friendly game.

Lady Luck had ever smiled upon him, but somehow he could not bring himself to disport in heavy gambling while he was in mourning for his father.

Bad enough I wasn't allowed to attend the funeral.

Sometimes having pride is a handicap, and at other times it is a downright burden, but it allows me to thumb my nose at the world and tell it to go to hell.

Nick rode along the London docks, delighting in the sights and smells.

He wandered from St.

Katherine's Docks to London Docks, Commercial Docks, and on to India and Victoria Docks.

Some were black with coal or white with flour.

Others were stained purple with wine, or blue with indigo, or brown from tobacco.

A thought stirred as he watched cured tobacco leaves being unloaded off a merchant vessel from the Carolinas.

On impulse he boarded her and spoke to the captain.

He learned that the passage would cost him a hundred pounds, or he could work his way across the Atlantic.

Before he walked back down the gangplank, Nick had secured a berth as second mate on her return voyage to Charleston in the United States of America.

He had his greatcoat, but he would need a sea chest, a hammock, and some blankets for the voyage that embarked in three day's time.

At the chandler's store the first thing he bought was a can of dull black paint.

He carefully painted the pair of gold peacocks so they looked as if they were wrought from iron.

Their heavy weight lent believability, and when the paint was dry he carefully wrapped them in a shirt and stowed them in the sea chest with the rest of his belongings.

He decided to take his supper in the inn's common room, and enjoy the busy scene that unfolded on a Friday night in a London public house.

He was served a copious helping of steak and kidney pie and washed it down with several pints of bitter.

The large, low-ceilinged room filled with men was being worked, table by table, by half-a-dozen prostitutes.

Nicholas had his eyes on a trim little barmaid, who by one means or another, evaded the men's hands as they reached unerringly for her more privy parts.

She had a mop of bright orange curls and a pert little nose.

Her asides to the men were so saucy and amusing, they laughed rather than growled when she denied them.

She paid special attention to Nick's wants, not only because she could see he was well-heeled and would give her a nice tip, but because he was the handsomest bloke she'd ever seen in these parts.

"Another pint, darlin'?" she asked with a wink.

He smiled.

"What's your name, sweetheart?"

She cocked her head on one side and said prettily.

"Nell, sir."

"What time do you get off, Nell?"

"Not until two o'clock in the morning, sir."

He pushed a half-crown toward her across the wet tabletop.

"I bet you're worth waiting for."

"I'm not a whore, but if yer in need milord, the room's full of 'em."

His eyes gave her an amused look that took in the round high breasts, very prominent and tempting.

"If I wanted a whore, I'd buy one. I fancy you, Nell. Will you come? I'm in room number five."

She dimpled and pocketed the half-crown.

"I'll come, but not because I'm a whore, mind! Truth to tell, I fancy you too. It'll make a change to have a gent with a bit o' class."

The candle's glow showed Nell's eyes to be round with wonder as she curled against the strong body in the bed beside her. She whispered.

"I never experienced noffink like that in me' 'ole life."

Nicholas lifted his arms behind his head and smiled into the wench's face as she gazed down at him.

"Well, that's most flattering Nell, but aren't you overstating it just a little?"

"Oh no, Nick. All men want the same thing from you, but you were different. It was like gettin' a present. A rare treat. Will you kiss me again?" she asked, almost shyly.

He pulled her down and complied.

She sighed.

"Most men don't have time fer the preliminaries. It's on with the main event, then shovin' you out o' bed to sleep on the floor. I liked bein' talked to, as well. I didn't understand everything you said, but that didn't matter. You treated me like I was equal to you-- like another human bein'."

He chuckled at her words.

"All men and women are created equal, but somehow in this country some are more equal than others. I'm sailing to America in a couple of days."

"Ooh, aren't you afeared of bein' drownded in the sea, or bein' kilt by savages?"

Nicholas chuckled again.