Chapter Nine
The Queen’s Barque Inn, Three days later
Kit worried through the next two days. Brewster and Beuth both wearied of his carefully worded pleas for news from Sea Grange.
By the third day, he sat alone in the public room awaiting his belated breakfast. He’d tossed and turned most of the night, only sleeping when exhaustion prevented wakefulness.
“Mr. Copefort, sir,” Henry Brewster approached him carrying Kit’s meal. A second tankard sat on the tray. “Mind you, if I sit a bit?”
“Please do.” He was silent while Brewster unloaded the tray, setting it aside on another table. Once the innkeeper sat, Kit began, “Have you any word…”
The innkeeper raised a palm to halt the question. “Do not ask for news from Sea Grange or word of Miss Fenneman. I’ve no more to say than in the past few days.”
“Three days now, since she was allowed to visit the village. I worry for her,” Kit said.
“If I may be so bold, you need productive work to occupy your mind and prevent you worrying yourself to death.”
“You, my friend, are very wise.” Kit stared at Brewster then sighed and dropped his gaze to his mug of cider. “Have you any suggestions?”
“Are you still interested in stopping the smuggling?”
“I’ve already taken steps to that end. I’ve written to my cousin the Earl of Dunitsbane requesting he use his influence to send a troop of dragoons to Fenwick for just that purpose.”
Brewster grinned. “Knew you’d figure out something to help us. Now what must we do to prepare for the dragoons? Have you thought where to house them? If Brookbank gets word of them, he’ll delay any shipments until the troops leave.”
“My cousin will take care of keeping the Dragoons’ presence unknown. He knows why I’ve asked for them.”
“Do you know when the gang’ll bring their next shipment?”
“I have recently received confirmation they plan to ferry goods during the new moon. However,” Kit confessed. “I do not know where they will bring the goods ashore.”
“Then you and George must continue trying to find you a place to live.”
Kit straightened in his chair. “Only now I’ll be searching out locations where the smugglers might work instead of interviewing Fenwick folk about those smugglers.”
“Aye, and I’ve a couple of suggestions for starters.”
“Tell me. I’ve learned a great deal about Fenwick and the surrounding territory in the past week and a half. I’ll begin my investigations today.”
“I’ll tell you all of the best spots, but you’ll still need to check them out for yourself. George can guide you. Might be best if no one realizes how well you know the area.”
“Good idea, but I’ll have to take someone else. George carried my message to my cousin and has not returned.”
“I’ll find you another guide. One of my stable boys, Robbie, is a good, honest, and discrete lad.”
“I’d best change into riding clothes. Send Robbie to me when our horses are saddled.”
“Mrs. Brewster will prepare som’at for the two of you to eat. You may not return in time for luncheon or tea.”
“That’s very much appreciated.”
As Kit climbed the stairs to his rooms, his heart lightened.
He could do nothing to reduce the current risks to Meg without increasing her danger.
However, he could plan how to eliminate all risk by being ready to give the lay of the land to his cousin and the dragoons once they arrived. He prayed that would be soon.
***
Two days later, with the new moon looming on September second, Kit trudged up the stairs. Henry Brewster was right. The activity of criss-crossing the coast from the northern cliffs to a few secluded southern coves definitely distracted him from worries over Meg’s situation.
He still feared for her but felt he was acting in her interests.
If only cousin Reid would arrive. Time was required to convince the Customs Office and other agencies to send dragoons on one man’s say with no solid evidence. If anyone could persuade rule-bound officials to ignore standard policy, ’twas his silver-tongued cousin.
For good reason, Augustus Paul Reidham, Fifteenth Earl of Dunitsbane was widely regarded as second only to the current Duke of Haverford as a man who could get things done.
Kit never understood the trick of it, especially the means by which both Reid and Haverford seemed to gain information before anyone else.
The how and why of Reid’s skills hardly mattered. What was important was those skills could make the difference between life and death for the woman Kit loved.
Preoccupied with his cousin’s arrival, Kit didn’t hear the voices in his parlor before he opened the door.
“Kit!” An average-sized man with russet-brown hair and eyes of a startling blue leapt from the chair nearest to the hearth and rushed at Kit.
“Mmpf.” Impact with his cousin knocked his breath away. The vise grip of Ried’s hug prevented any inhale. Deceptively slight in stature, Reid’s strength rivaled that of the fabled bears from the former colonies.
“Ca’t breef.” Kit grunted.
“Sorry.” Reid released him. “I forget how delicate you are.”
Kit laughed. “Aye, you overgrown ox, you must be more careful of your much stronger cousin. Hug me too hard and you might break the bones in my fragile arms.” Belittling each other was one of their favorite jokes.
Across the room, George, his father, and Beuth sat blinking at the odd interchange.
Reid slapped Kit on the back. “Come sit by the fire. Share some of Brewster’s excellent toddy and tell us what you’ve learned.”
Room was made for Kit, and the innkeeper provided a steaming tankard. Kit drank deeply. “That’s good.” He licked foam from his lips. “I’ve not had a toddy with foam before.”
“’Tis me own special recipe, handed down from Brewster father to son for as long as Brewsters have been tavern keeps.”
“Have you shared the recipe with George yet?” Kit wondered.
“No, and I’ll not until I’m dying.”
The company nodded.
Kit raised his glass with the others following suit. “May your demise be many long years in the future.”
Everyone sipped in toast to Brewster’s longevity.
“Now, cousin,” the earl said. “Have you learned where these smugglers are most likely to land their goods?”
“While a number of likely spots lie scattered about the Fenwick coast, I believe the two islands just to the south of the Fenwick harbor are most likely.”
“Are you sure?” Beuth questioned. “Those islands are very close to the harbor. Watchers could easily discern illegal movement.”
“That’s precisely why Brookbank will move his goods there from the sea. The islets are too obvious. I’ll wager most of the riding officers who come through dismiss them immediately.
“That’s true,” Brewster confirmed. “Riding Officers don’t visit Fenwick often.
They tend to stay closer to Yarmouth, believing the cliffs there more likely to hide smugglers.
I tried once to ask a riding officer to investigate the islands.
He refused. Said it wasn’t worth his time. Didn’t even ask a single question.”
“Does anyone live on these islands, or frequent them for some purpose?” Reid asked.
“A couple of fishermen once lived there,” George Brewster replied. “The April storm destroyed their homes, and high tides drowned several family members. The survivors left Fenwick, claiming it was cursed.”
“So, the islands are deserted.”
“Cousin, I confirmed that today,” Kit informed.
“My guide—thank you for recommending him, Brewster—borrowed a boat. I hid under a tarp, and he rowed out to the largest of the two islands. We spent a good hour investigating them. Found signs of old fires and tracks from a large group of pack animals. I suspect the goods are moved to the island then taken off at low tide, when animals could easily walk the distance to the southern shore.”
“Anyone could make those tracks and fire signs,” Reid remarked.
“Precisely. We found no solid evidence of smuggling on either island,” Kit confirmed.
“Perhaps we should consider setting watchers at a number of places Brookbank might use,” Beuth suggested.
“A good idea,” Kit agreed. “How many village men might serve as watchers?”
“Won’t be many men left in the village,” Brewster said. “Them as aren’t forced to help Brookbank will likely cower in their beds rather than expose themselves to danger.”
“Hmm,” Reid mused. “We’ve only one day before the new moon. Tomorrow, I’d like you, Brewster, to call a meeting of those people who favor the Fenwick expansion efforts. George told me of them.”
“To what purpose, your lordship?” Beuth asked.
“As an excuse to allow me to speak with them. More than any others, that group’ll want the smugglers gone. Thus, their motivation to cooperate may only need a small push from someone whose authority might be trusted to prevent any retribution.”
“I’ll do it.” Brewster slapped his knee. “We’ll have more watchers than we need, with your help, my lord.”
“What of the dragoons, Cousin? Will they come?” Kit queried.
“Most of them are already here.”
“How in the world did you keep sixty armed and uniformed men a secret from this village? That many men should’ve had every Fenwickian talking. Yet when I returned a bit ago, I heard nothing. I didn’t even hear that you’d arrived.”
Reid blew on his fingernails then polished them against his coat. “I am just that good.” He grinned.
Kit rolled his eyes. “You can brag later. If the dragoons are here, we must plan how best to use them.”
“Indeed,” Reid leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“I instructed the troop to travel in small groups wearing civilian clothes. With your valet’s help.
I arranged for the dragoons to gather at Salt Hall.
They began arriving this evening. George and I traveled in similar manner.
I was escorted to your rooms via the rear garden and the kitchen.
Very few people were about, and I doubt anyone noticed the arrival of a travel-weary stranger eager to find his rooms and some rest.”
“So, the troop awaits orders at Salt Hall.” Kit pushed aside the memory of meeting Meg near that manor and the very pleasant afternoon they’d spent.
“George is designated messenger to carry specific orders, once we have a plan. Anyone seeing him will be told he’s visiting Salt Hall on your instructions.”
“You’ve thought of everything.” Kit relaxed into his chair for the first time that evening.
“We’ve yet to decide on the tactics to employ for subduing and arresting the smugglers.”
Beuth stood, stretching. “I’ll be going home, now. I’m of no use in this discussion. When you’re certain, tell me what you need from me, and I’ll do it.”
Brewster stood as well. “I’ll be going too. Best to leave tactical discussions to military minds.”
“I never served.” Reid actually blushed.
“You’ve a blade-sharp mind,” Kit said. “Any contribution you make will be invaluable.”
“Good night then, gentleman.” Beuth’s hand rested on the door latch.
“Likewise,” echoed Brewster.
Innkeeper and shopkeeper left together, ambling down the corridor.
George shut the door after them. “Shall I refill your tankards Captain, my lord?”
“None for me,” Kit declined. “I prefer to plan with a clear head.”
“Thank you, no,” his cousin said. “I am of the same mind as your employer.”
“Then I’ll refrain as well,” George stated.
Kit nodded. “Let us make our plans.”