Chapter Two
“L adies, if you’ll excuse us.” Rockford and Adam stepped out of the tearoom and were greeted by the crisp autumn air. The tree lined streets of Sommer-by-the-Sea were busy with activity. Shops and market stalls lined the cobblestone streets on Westmore Commons, the hum of conversation mingled with the scent of fresh baked bread and roasted chestnuts. Meanwhile, townsfolk went about their daily routines, greeting each other with friendly nods. Altogether, it created a comforting, cozy atmosphere.
“Unless you’ve drastically changed, you don’t strike me as a man to take a seaside holiday. What’s brought you here?” Adam asked, stepping aside to avoid a woman carrying packages.
An autumn breeze caught the trees, sending a cascade of red, orange, and yellow leaves raining down.
“Barrington’s request. Even though I am retired from the service, when your former commanding officer invites you to visit, you visit as quickly as possible.” A hint of a smile played on Rockford’s lips.
Adam nodded. “I can imagine. Barrington has always had a commanding presence.”
Rockford fingered the gold coin in his pocket, a tangible reminder of his duty. “He sent me this three days ago.” He removed the coin from his pocket and showed it to Adam. “My invitation . Barrington is a man of few words.”
Adam turned the coin over in his hand, his thumb brushing lightly over the engraved initials. “BB, for Barrington’s Brigade.” There was a note of respect in his murmured voice. “I’ve heard tales about the Brigade’s exploits.” He handed the coin back to Rockford, fully aware and in awe of Rockford’s sense of loyalty and responsibility.
“Yes, some were adventures.” Rockford tucked the coin back in his pocket. “Without a militia near Sommer-by-the-Sea, the magistrate often turns to Barrington for help. Even though we’re no longer in the service, we all took an oath to answer his call whenever we are needed.”
Adam’s eyes widened. “And each of you received a coin?”
“Yes,” Rockford nodded. “Barrington’s father, Duke Northwood, gave them to us the evening Barrington walked into the drawing room on his own for the first time, his mother by his side. Each of us helped him recover. The coin symbolizes our commitment and now serves as a silent call to duty.”
Adam looked thoughtful. “It’s quite a responsibility. No, let me rephrase that. It’s an outstanding honor.”
“That it is,” Rockford agreed. “As the second son, Barrington has the privilege and means to take on such commitments. It works well for him. And here,” Rockford looked around, “Barrington prefers North Sea and the cliffs of Sommer-by-the-Sea to the formality of London.” Rockford glanced at the shops, the people, and the masts of the large ships at the dock in the distance. “And so do I.”
“I agree. Sommer-by-the-Sea is a beautiful place. I prefer it in the summer, although I do look forward to London during the season,” Adam said as they approached the apothecary. “Here is where I leave you.”
Rockford glanced at the bottle glass window. He raised an eyebrow, concern flickering in his eyes. “If you don’t mind me asking, are you ill?”
Adam paused, debating whether to share more. After a moment, he sighed. “Thank you for your concern, but no, thankfully, I’m not ill. It’s about Lora’s project.”
“The clinic?” He glanced at the apothecary. “I do not understand the connection.”
“She’s facing some serious opposition. Someone is preparing to send a message to the king asking him to oppose the expansion. I wouldn’t be surprised if they attempted to shut the clinic down completely. Lora feels she must take action to counter it.”
Rockford’s expression grew serious. “What reasons are they giving for their opposition?”
Adam exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “It is not one grievance but several, each tangled with the next. Some physicians and apothecaries claim the clinic threatens their livelihood, though it serves those who could never afford their services to begin with.”
Rockford’s gaze flicked toward the apothecary’s shop. “That is why you’re here.”
“Yes. He once supported the endeavor, but something has changed. I intend to hear his reasoning directly.”
Rockford crossed his arms. “Surely that alone does not warrant a message to the king.”
Adam shook his head. “No. Others claim the clinic upsets the natural order, encouraging dependence on charity. And then there are those who care nothing for the clinic itself but fear the wider implications. If one successful reform is allowed to flourish, it may embolden calls for more.”
Rockford’s expression darkened. “So it is not truly about the clinic at all.”
“No,” Adam agreed grimly. “It is about control.”
“That is your most damning reason.” Rockford considered this for a moment. He nodded, determination clear in his eyes. “In my capacity within the government, I can advocate for the clinic’s expansion, build alliances, and counteract the opposition’s arguments with solid evidence and public support.”
Adam nodded. “Your influence and connections in London could be crucial in presenting a strong case to the king. Dr. Manning’s reputation with the Royal College of Physicians and the clinic’s initial success should also work in our favor.”
Rockford’s expression softened. “I’ll see what I can do. I have heard the odd comment or two. In general,” he quickly added, “not concerning Dr. Manning’s project. We must take care. If there is opposition and it’s organized, we’ll need a solid plan.”
Adam’s face lit up with relief. “I don’t know how to thank you. I’ve been concerned that Lora would do something rash.”
Rockford placed a reassuring hand on Adam’s shoulder. “You don’t need to thank me. Lady Lora’s dedication is admirable, but I understand your concern. She never was one to sit still when she thought action was necessary. I’ll do my best to help protect the clinic and support her efforts.”
Adam’s tension seemed to melt. He reached out to Rockford, firmly clasping his forearm. “I appreciate it, Rockford. Truly. With your help, I’m certain we can secure the clinic’s future. I admit I need to see to Father’s holdings in Brighton and was concerned about being gone under these circumstances.”
“You gather the information you need,” Rockford nodded toward the apothecary, “I’m off to Barrington’s.”
“Before you go, our family is hosting a gala in several weeks at our estate. We would be honored if you would join us.
“Thank you.” It had been a long time since he’d been to Fallsmith Manor. He silently chuckled. A long time indeed, another lifetime since he filched a tart from Mrs. Kelly’s kitchen. The thought of the warm, sweet aroma of apple tarts tickled his memory and made his mouth water. “I would be delighted to attend.”
“That’s wonderful.” Adam clapped Rockford on the shoulder. “You take care.”
Rockford nodded, his expression serious. “I will, my friend. Farewell.”
Adam’s expression grew serious. “One more item. I know I mentioned it before. Lora is taking the clinic issues personally. If you become involved, be gentle with her. She’s passionate and driven. This project is close to her heart.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.” He chuckled as a distinct picture of a very independent young girl came to mind. “I’ll keep that in mind. You have my thanks for the warning.”
Adam touched the brim of his hat and headed toward the apothecary’s door.
Rockford continued along South Wickham and up King’s Way to Barrington’s manor, his mind swirling with thoughts. He admired Lady Lora’s dedication to the clinic, but his mission required his full attention. Barrington had called him to Sommer-by-the-Sea to uncover who was influencing government officials, and Rockford couldn’t afford any distractions. He would, of course, do what he could, but despite a pang of regret, he pushed thoughts of the clinic aside. Helping Lady Lora felt right, but his duty to Barrington came first.
As he approached the entrance of Sommer Chase, Barrington’s home; Sanderson, the butler, opened the door.
“Good afternoon, Your Grace. Welcome back to Sommer Chase. Lord Barrington is in his library.”
“Thank you, Sanderson. It is good to see you. I’ll find my way.”
“Very good.” The butler let him pass and closed the door behind him.
Rockford made his way through the familiar halls of Sommer Chase, his footsteps echoing softly on the polished floors. He entered the library and was immediately at ease. Large familiar cases filled with books stood on two walls and surrounded the fireplace on the third. A sideboard with goblets and decanters adorned the fourth wall. Over the sideboard hung a map of the area.
Reese Barrington’s bearing spoke of a man who carried the weight of leadership with quiet confidence. Fair and just, he was respected not only as a commander but as a protector who stood shoulder to shoulder with his men. During the Peninsula War, Barrington was the first to charge into battle and the last to leave the field, ensuring no man was left behind.
The scars of war marked him, both physically and emotionally. Severely wounded in action, he fought relentlessly to regain his strength, his determination allowing him to recover with only a limp and a few noticeable scars. The most pronounced one carved across his right cheek, discreetly softened by the clever trim of his valet’s handiwork.
His jet-black hair, now streaked with silver, lent him an air of distinguished wisdom, while his sharp Nordic blue eyes seemed to see straight to the truth of a person. Whether in the crisp lines of a uniform or the understated elegance of casual attire, Barrington’s presence commanded respect, his every move a reflection of the discipline and resolve forged in battle.
“Rockford, welcome.” Barrington rose from behind his desk, stepped forward, and extended his hand. “It’s been too long. I trust London hasn’t worn you down?”
Rockford shook Barrington’s hand firmly. “Not yet. The sail from London was pleasant enough, though I could have done without the endless political debates.” He smirked slightly. “How have you been?”
“Busy, as always,” Barrington said with a knowing nod. “And, unfortunately, dealing with a rather pressing matter.” He gestured toward the chair by the fireplace. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”
Rockford settled in as Barrington took the seat beside him.
“I’ll get right to the point,” Barrington continued. “There has been some thievery of late. A highwayman of all things. We haven’t seen one in this area for a while, but his activities have become brazen. He is a picky thief, targeting only couriers carrying messages for the King.”
“He only targets the royal courier.” Rockford paused. How odd. “No one else?”
Barrington shook his head. “No one else. He is very selective.”
Rockford leaned forward, his interest piqued. “Selective? Do we know what information the messages he’s intercepting contain?”
“He’s a clever one,” Barrington admitted. “We sent decoy messages, he ignored them. Even when we hid the message to the king among council documents, he took only that and left the rest for us to find.”
A smile tugged at the corner of Rockford’s mouth. “Decisive and deliberate, this highwayman isn’t just after money or random opportunity. He’s hunting something specific. A man with a purpose.” He leaned back, fingers steepled as his mind worked through the implications. “The message to the king… that he ignored a decoy and targeted the real one… This suggests an inside source. Someone who knows what to look for and when.”
“It’s possible there’s a connection to recent events in the area, including the opposition to the clinic project.”
Rockford’s eyes widened in surprise. “The clinic project? That’s quite a leap.”
“Perhaps,” Barrington conceded. “But we can’t rule anything out at this point. We need to investigate further.” Barrington drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. “As you mentioned, we, too, have concluded that the thief must have someone informing him on who to stop and who to let pass.”
Rockford’s eyes narrowed. “Do you have anyone in mind?”
“There are a few who could be helping him,” Barrington replied. “But we need solid evidence before we dare approach anyone.”
“I understand your predicament. It is definitely a sensitive one.”
“The route through Baycliff Woods provides several convenient areas for our highwayman to strike. We’ve found no pattern to where he stops the courier. We thought to send the courier with an escort but all that did was make the culprit more creative. He struck at night and left a note. We decided to change the couriers but that didn’t help either. We need to stop him once and for all. I called you here because I need someone with your skills and connections to lead this investigation.”
Rockford glanced at the map, his mind already working through the possibilities. “With a secret informer working on this from the inside, we’ll need to be careful.”
“Agreed,” Barrington said grimly. “And with the king arriving on October 21st, we have little time. His visit was unexpected, but Parliament insisted on his presence to address concerns over recent political unrest. If this highwayman is after more than mere coin, His Majesty could be walking into a trap.”
Rockford’s mind raced. A highwayman with such precision and foresight wasn’t just a thief, this was someone with a mission. The note left behind suggested a brazen confidence, almost as if he enjoyed taunting his pursuers. But taking only certain messages? That pointed to something deeper. Someone’s betrayal.
Was the highwayman working alone, or was he a pawn in a larger scheme? If there was an insider, the stakes were even higher. Who stood to gain from disrupting royal correspondence, and, more importantly, why?
The king’s visit wasn’t just a deadline. It was a clue. If this highwayman had a greater motive, October 21st might reveal his endgame. Rockford would start with Barrington’s list of potential informants. Someone knew too much, and he would find out who.
“Political unrest. Nothing else?” Rockford asked.
A hint of intrigue appeared in Barrington’s eyes. “There are whispers of various reasons. Some say it’s political, others suggest economic interests or even a personal retreat. It’s an unusual visit, indeed.”
Rockford stared at Barrington intently as the urgency of the situation became clear. “Understood. Adam Wesley spoke with me about the clinic project.”
“Yes, the planned clinic improvements have been a beacon of hope for many. However,” Barrington sat back and drew a deep breath, then released it slowly. “Wesley is correct. It’s also drawn significant opposition.”
“Wesley mentioned that some influential people are writing against the project. They must not have sent anything off yet. If they had, it would have crossed my desk. His Majesty has me review anything related to health issues. He also went over the reasons for the resistance to the project. What more do we know about this opposition?”
Barrington hesitated before answering. “We have reason to believe someone is working hard to convince property owners and influential people to oppose the clinic by playing on their concerns.”
“Yes,” Rockford was glad he had stumbled upon his old friend. “Those being competition, fear of creating a dependent population, and spreading social unrest.”
“Adam is well versed in the issues. He’s planning to go to Royston Mills to talk to the textile mill owners. Dr. Manning’s clinic services the mill workers and their families. Uncovering the highwayman’s identity is one of our top priorities.”
Rockford glanced at the map, a thought forming. “Do you think there could be a link between the highwayman’s activities, the opposition to the clinic, and the project I’m working on in London?”
Barrington looked thoughtful. “It’s possible. The issues involve influential people and sensitive information. We need to consider all possibilities.”
“I’ll see what I can find. If there’s a connection, we’ll find it.” He glanced at Barrington, a smile playing on his lips. “At first, I thought your invitation was to make me look more guilty than people already think I am. Leaving London at the height of the scandal doesn’t exactly put me in a good light.”
“There was no way to avoid it.”
“I never thought our contrived monetary malfeasance scandal would come in handy here. Whoever is behind the highwayman may try to compromise me or invite me to participate, thinking they can use me to their advantage. We couldn’t have planned this better.”
Barrington’s eyes lit up with interest. “That’s clever. They might be more willing to reveal their plans if they think they can get your cooperation. Until we know who is involved, you must be careful.”
With a surge of determination, he turned to Barrington. “It appears I’ll be helping Lady Lora, after all.”
Barrington’s expression softened. “Your involvement could make all the difference.”
“You’re difficult to say no to.” They both chuckled.
“There is one final item.”
Rockford stared at his former commanding officer. The man was a master of strategy. What else could there be?
“We must agree that we will not disclose the identity of the secret informer under any circumstance. Everything could be lost if we reveal their identity before we have all the evidence to bring it to the King.
“On my oath.” Rockford put his gold coin on the table and slid it toward Barrington.
Barrington nodded and slid the coin back to him.
“Your word is all I need. Return this to me when our mission is completed. Now, let me show you the information I’ve been able to gather so far.”
*
Later that evening, Rockford arrived home with the day’s discussion still buzzing in his head. He spotted a sealed envelope on his desk as he entered his study. The Fallsmith family crest was unmistakable.
He picked up the envelope, broke the seal with a practiced hand, and read the elegantly scripted invitation.
The Right Honorable, The Earl and Countess ofFallsmith,
requests the honor of yourpresence
at a Gala to be heldat
Fallsmith Manor
on the 20th of September1822
at 7 o’clock in theevening
Hosted by Lady Lora and Viscount AdamWesley
RSVP by the 10th ofSeptember
A smaller note was tucked inside, written in Adam’s familiar hand.
Rockford,
My apologies for the late notice. The family hopes you can attend.
Adam.
A slight smile touched his lips. “That will be an interesting evening.” He placed the invitation on his desk along with other correspondence that needed his response.