Chapter 7 #2
“Well!” she said, for really, what else was there to say?
“W-Who was he, do you think?” Clara whispered, as if the fellow might still hear them, though the fast hoofbeats had long since faded away.
Anne considered this, glancing up at the inn thoughtfully. “Someone we ought not to know or speak of,” she replied, feeling quite certain of that.
As if her words had been underscored by speaking them aloud, a sudden cacophony of hoofbeats rang out from up the hill and Clara gave a squeal of alarm as a dozen horsemen burst into view.
She gathered Benny up and hurried to stand beside Anne as they gazed upon the soldiers, their red coats vivid against the grey morning.
They dismounted, some running to the front door of the inn and pounding upon it as others ran around the back.
At their head rode a figure she recognised, and he hailed her, riding over as he removed his hat. “Mrs Adamson, good day to you. I hope we did not alarm you, but we had word that Boreas was in the town this day. Can you tell me, have you seen anyone about?”
“Good morning to you, Captain Underwood,” she said politely.
“Indeed, you gave us rather a scare, but we forgive you for it as you are going about your duty,” she said evasively, instinctively feeling that she did not wish the charming young man who had so recently left their company to fall into the hands of these soldiers.
“That we are, madam,” Captain Underwood said, smiling at Anne and at Clara, who was doing her level best to disappear behind Anne, hugging Benny tightly to her. “Did you see anyone, ma’am?” he asked again, looking at them, and then at Clara once more.
Clara just stared at him mutely, too startled to speak at all, so Anne replied lest he should think them guilty of hiding anything from him.
“No, sir. We were just on our way to pay a call on the new residents of Seagull Heights. We would not usually take this road, for reasons I am sure you understand, but at this hour of the day we believed ourselves safe. Are we not?” she asked, wondering if she could gather some information about the mysterious stranger.
“I would not like to say, Mrs Adamson,” Captain Underwood replied sincerely. “The man we seek is the head of a smuggling gang, and whilst I understand the folk of this town have some romantic notions about such fellows, they are criminals and nothing more.”
“Not just this town, Captain,” Anne replied with a smile. “And are criminals only criminals and nothing more? That seems rather unlikely, don’t you think?”
The captain stiffened, looking at her with a harder glint to his eyes. “A fellow who thinks himself above the law might do just about anything, don’t you think, Mrs Adamson? And that outweighs any other consideration.”
“Oh, well, I’m sure you understand such matters far better than I,” Anne replied soothingly, knowing well enough how to settle the feathers of men who disliked having their notions or their authority questioned.
“But I’m afraid we have no information to give you.
I am sorry,” she added, giving the man the benefit of her most disarming smile.
The captain regarded her with a curious glint but did not question her words. The soldiers reappeared from the building, shaking their heads. The captain’s jaw tightened in annoyance, but he showed no further sign of dismay.
“Carry on the search,” he instructed them. “Make certain everyone knows of the reward. I will catch you up presently.”
“Sir,” replied one of the men, saluting before returning to his mount as the others followed.
The captain returned his attention to them as his men rode off. “You say there are new residents at Seagull Heights? Since when?”
Anne shook her head. “I am afraid I do not know precisely, but not for very long, I think. A young woman and her brother, as I understand it. Should you like me to ask them?”
“No, I thank you,” the captain replied thoughtfully. “I can call upon them myself. There’s a marvellous view along the coast from up there, I’ll warrant.”
“No doubt,” Anne replied with a smile. “The lady is an artist and so I imagine the view appealed to her, for it is a remote location and would not recommend itself to many people. Now, if you will excuse us, we will leave you to your, er, quest.”
“Good day,” the captain replied with a nod, as Anne took Clara’s arm and guided her firmly away and up the hill.
They said nothing for a good ten minutes until they were far out of earshot.
“Don’t ask me,” Anne said, shaking her head as Clara glanced at her with wide, questioning eyes. “I do not know why I didn’t tell him. Do you?”
Clara shook her head. “No. But if I could have sp-spoken a word, I would not have done so either,” she admitted dolefully.
With that, they burst out laughing and carried on up the hill, gasping for breath as the way became increasingly steep.
King admitted himself disappointed to discover Mr Cogger’s gnarly old face presiding over breakfast rather than Mrs Adamson’s when he presented himself in the dining room.
His own fault, he supposed, for he was rather later than he had intended, but Repton had brought two messages to him whilst he was shaving, both needing immediate responses.
The first was from Miss Marwick, informing him that her brother had returned late last night, should he wish to call upon him that morning.
She indicated he would do well to go early, for she did not know how long he intended to stay put.
Knowing Alfie Marwick could be as slippery as an eel, King lost no time in thanking her and sending back the information that he would call upon her brother directly after breakfast.
The second had been from the Reverend Honeywell, informing him he would like his company later that same day, around four o'clock, should he be available to meet with Tommy Tanner. It was politely written, but King was under no illusion. It was a summons and one he’d do well not to ignore.
Heaven alone knew what guilt would be heaped upon his head if he did not do as the reverend wished.
Having had his spirits restored by another excellent breakfast, King went back to his room to collect his coat before leaving the hotel. A tumble of grey clouds greeted him as he walked past the once familiar shop fronts, chasing away any remnants of sun for the moment.
Finding the Marwick residence, he rapped smartly upon the door knocker and waited. A few moments later, the door opened, and a pretty maid with a pristine white apron peeked out at him. Her eyes widened upon seeing him and a rather cheeky grin spread over her face.
“Good morning, sir, and what might you be wanting?” she asked, with a bold twinkle in her eyes.
King, not immune to the attention of a pretty girl, smiled. “A word with Mr Marwick. I take it he’s at home?”
“He is, but having breakfast, I’ll—”
“Show the gentleman in, Lill,” called a voice from inside the house.
“Right you are,” the irrepressible Lill called back, opening the door wide and gesturing for King to enter.
King walked into a small but comfortably furnished dining room to discover Alfred Marwick tucking into a breakfast of ham and eggs.
“King! Well, well, this is a surprise,” the young man said, springing to his feet and crossing the room to shake his hand, smiling affably all the while.
“Morning, Alfie. Did your sister not tell you I was in town?” King asked in surprise.
“No,” Alfie replied, shaking his head and sitting down to breakfast. “I came in late and she went out early, so we’ve not yet spoken. Would you care for some breakfast?” he added, gesturing to the abundance on the table.
“No, thank you,” King replied before sending the maid, who was dithering in the doorway, a meaningful look.
“Hop it,” Alfie told the maid succinctly. “And close the door behind you.”
Sighing, Lill did as she was told and hopped it.
“Like that, is it?” Alfie replied, his expression a touch more serious now.
“I’m afraid so,” King replied. “Do yourself a favour and stay out of London for the foreseeable.”
“Oh?”
“What were you thinking, you reckless devil?” King added, shaking his head.
Alfie shrugged and returned a rueful grin. “Couldn’t help myself.”
“Couldn’t do anything but help yourself more like,” King replied with a snort.
“That too,” Alfie admitted, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “But Mourney’s men were so obviously going to mess the job up, I saw no reason not to make hay while the sun shone. It wasn’t like they were innocent lambs that got taken up, they were caught red-handed.”
“Well, Silas is fit to do murder. There’s a reward of one hundred pounds on your head,” King said grimly.
Alfie whistled, not looking entirely displeased by this information. “A hundred pounds, eh?”
“It’s not a good thing! Unless you’re looking forward to the day you’re found dead in some foul back alley.”
Alfie sobered and shook his head. “I’m not, I swear it, and I’m most grateful for the warning, King. Do you mean to say you came down here just to tell me that?” he asked, looking rather startled.
“That’s right, and now we’re even. You risked your neck for me last year. I’ve not forgotten it, and I’ve put the information you gave me to good use, I promise you,” he said, his tone dark.
Alfie nodded, sipping his coffee thoughtfully. “Has Lawson made his move yet?”
“No. But I’ve given him enough rope, and with me being absent for a time he should have enough of an inducement to hang himself,” King replied with a smile even he knew was unpleasant.
Alfie swallowed his coffee, looking at King with a combination of unease and admiration. “Tricky, that’s what you are. Remind me not to get on the wrong side of you,” he said with a soft chuckle.
“You need no reminding,” King said gruffly, for he liked Alfred Marwick, who was, strangely enough, an honest fellow, if one overlooked his propensity for lifting jewellery from private houses. “Did you sell the items you acquired that night yet?”