Chapter 22 #2
“Never fear,” he said. “I am at your disposal whenever you need my company-keeping.”
“You will regret that offer soon enough, when I over-utilize your time.”
“You couldn’t possibly.”
She gave him another of her mind-melting smiles before leaving.
Henry began to follow, but Trumble returned with a footman in tow. Henry moved aside as the housekeeper relayed her directions and left again. The footman made for the table, gathering up the items there. Henry watched him. He’d not had much opportunity to speak to the staff yet.
The door clicked closed, and Henry paced back to the servant, grabbing a stack of papers and handing them to him.
“Thank you, sir,” the boy said. He was younger. Maybe thirteen or fourteen.
“Of course. Say, what is your name?”
“Jimmy, sir.”
“Jimmy, have you worked here long?” Henry asked, stoppering the bottle of ink.
“Some three years now.”
“My, old hat, you are. I am sure you know everything there is to know about the estate then. Have you lived on the island all your life?”
“Yes, sir.” The boy began putting the items into a basket.
“Do you like it here? I far prefer it to London, but perhaps a young man like yourself would want for more adventure?”
“There’s plenty a’ adventure to be found here, sir.”
“Oh?”
The boy nodded, adding the last of the things to his basket. “Some a my friends like to swim in the caves down at the shore. I join them on my days off.”
“Sounds like a lark. All I had growing up was a pond, and the sheep used it to bathe, so it was more an adventure in avoiding disease than anything.”
The boy chuckled, hefting the basket into his arms. “We don’t ’av to avoid disease in the ocean, but”—he looked at the door, then lowered his voice conspiratorially—“there are the smugglers to watch out for.”
Henry’s brow rose, his lungs constricting with repressed triumph at how soon he’d managed to lead the conversation exactly where he wished. “Sounds far worse than my sheep pond.”
“As long as you stay out a’ their way, it ain’t so bad. Sometimes we make a game of it. Don’t tell my ma, though.”
Henry shook his head. “Us adventurers have to stick together. I wouldn’t dream of giving you up. How do you make a game out of it all?”
“Tommy and Gil like to count the barrels before we’re spotted. Gil once tried to blend in with them, pretend he was one, ya kn—It was nothing bad, a’ course. He’d never help the smugglers. We don’t consort with those folk.”
Henry kept his expression neutral. “Of course not.”
“Me ma’s a righteous woman. Raised me to care more ’bout following the law than brandy or good tea.”
“Yes, of course. I can see you’re a good kid.
” Henry wondered how much longer he’d have before the boy had to get back to work.
He didn’t want to push, but . . . “Everyone I’ve met on the island seems to be that same sort.
Makes it shocking to think that there’s an underbelly of something more nefarious going on beneath it all. ”
“You’d be surprised, sir, what people would do for a bit of extra blunt or some good brandy. Especially when the mistress makes it so hard to come by.”
Henry lowered his voice, but let his natural eagerness infuse his tone. “Even some of the guests?”
The boy shifted his weight and glanced at the door before nodding. “I don’ wanna get anyone in trouble, though.”
“Of course not. Who would I tell? I’m simply fascinated by it all. It’s an entirely new world I know nothing about.” He sat on the edge of the desk, eyes trained on the footman.
“There’s more than a few leaving the house at night, is all. Can’t think what anyone’s doing at night, can you?”
Henry shook his head. “It’s certainly suspicious.”
The boy nodded, setting down the basket as if he didn’t even notice the movement. He stepped forward eagerly. “Saw two men just the other day sneak off. And a man and woman the night before.”
Henry wasn’t about to tell the boy that the man and woman might have been enjoying a romantic tryst. But there could still be something here.
Henry needed to pay closer attention to the comings and goings.
Maybe watch from his window when he could.
He had a good view of the gardens, which he now knew opened at the back to a trail down to the beach.
“The brandy,” Henry asked, picking up a book from Mrs. Seymour’s desk and flipping it open. “How long has it been this way? Hard to come by, I mean.” Carruthers had told him, but Henry had another question he was getting at.
“Since the master died, far as I can tell. They say the mistress used to try to limit what came in—she hates the smugglers much as my ma, I swear, but Commander Seymour had none of ‘that foolishness’ as Mrs. Trumble says.”
And there it was, evidence of what had been hinted at and what he’d seen. “I imagine it must be hard, having your housekeeper and mistress at odds.”
The boy suddenly seemed to remember himself and snatched back up the basket. “I couldn’t say I’ve noticed. I should be going with this, sir.”
Henry clapped his hands together and nodded. He’d pushed too far, gotten too specific. “Certainly, certainly, feel free to lay all the blame at my feet if anyone becomes upset with you. I was far too entranced by your stories; I’m afraid I’ve waylaid you from your work.”
The boy’s furrowed brow relaxed with a grin as he hitched up the basket. “I wouldn’t do that, sir. Have a good afternoon, sir.”
“You as well.”
But just as the boy reached the door, Henry called out, “What caves do your friends like to swim in? I’ve been looking for a spot myself. Something better than the old sheep pond.” He winked.
“Oh, it’s not far from here at all. You can get to it through the gardens by a trail that winds to the beach. It’s mighty rocky, though.”
“The rose garden?”
“No, not that one. It’s not easy to find, but if you go past the hedge maze, you enter it beside an ugly old statue that’s lost its left hand.”
On the south part of the home, then. The exact location of the beach Henry had found on Commander Seymour’s maps, but not on those that he’d brought to the island.
“Thanks,” he said to the footman, who was watching him curiously. The boy nodded and left.
Another few pieces to the puzzle. But he was a far cry from putting it all together.