Chapter 5
Five
The following morning, the weather had turned fine, with the North Sea doing its poor best to resemble a mill pond.
Thom was delighted for the sake of his salvage, and disappointed at a personal level.
Brewster had been enthusiastic about taking visitors and interested locals on a tour of the unused parts of the inn, and had scheduled the event for the early afternoon, but Thom, Jim, and their divers would have to leave the fishing harbor in the inlet by ten to catch the tide.
Their modified fishing ketch, even with its flat bottom, still drew at least nine feet with the diving bell aboard, and parts of the channel that led out to sea were half that when the tides were low.
He set aside the temptation to postpone the salvage operation for another day. Conditions couldn’t be better. They could not count on the weather to repeat the following day.
Sighing, he called Brewster aside and presented his apologies.
The thought of leaving a note for Miss Westbrook crossed his mind, but he dismissed it.
If a gentleman wrote to a lady who was neither his sister nor his betrothed, he risked the damsel’s reputation, and Thom wouldn’t do that for the world.
He could only hope he would have the opportunity to make his explanations and apologies to the lady herself.
They were unlikely to be using the diving bell today.
First, they had to narrow down the search area.
Early indications were that the Havspray had broken up in the storm.
Their first look, on the day they arrived in Fenwick, had confirmed that wreckage covered a broad area, but how much of it was from the Havspray, and how much from other wrecks, they couldn’t know until they looked.
Today, the divers would go down in pairs and search the sea bottom.
Half an hour for the first pair, and then another half hour on deck mapping out what they had seen while the second pair continued the search.
Turn and turn about between the pairs for three hours, an hour’s break, then another three hours before they returned to harbor on the incoming tide.
The diving bell would come into use once they were able to pinpoint an area that seemed to have what was left of the captain’s cabin, for that was where he had locked up the box with which he’d been entrusted.
Precisely what that box held, the Duke of Haverford did not say, but Jim had a sealed envelope to be opened only if they found that the box had been broken open and were able to collect the scattered contents.
Thom assumed it held a list of said contents, but if they found the box intact, he might never know.
“You shall come, too, Brownlee,” Mama commanded, as she put on her bonnet prior to leaving for the tour of the inn. “If I need to rest, you can accompany Arianna. She will be disappointed if I cut her pleasure short. You know how she loves these old dusty things.”
Arianna wondered what her mother was up to. That Mama would not last for the entire tour was a given. She had no interest in old buildings and even less interest in walks. Arianna had fully expected to have to leave part way through.
But no, Mama was apparently being considerate.
She was, most unusually, thinking of Arianna’s pleasure.
Then they arrived at the inn and found Mr. Mills already waiting with the small tour group.
Arianna immediately understood. Mama knew she would not want to complete the tour, and did not intend to give Arianna an excuse to abandon it should Mr. Mills become a nuisance.
Brewster performed the introductions. First, he introduced the two Westbrook ladies to the two elderly gentlewomen who were staying at the Queen’s Barque.
The Misses Wilson had come to Fenwick because of an article in The Teatime Tattler, which claimed the well water had been blessed by fairies.
They had, as they confided to Arianna, believed in fairies all their lives.
“Even if we do not see one, Miss Westbrook, we shall see a place they have blessed. Isn’t it wonderful? ”
Next, the four men were presented to the ladies.
“Mr. Edwin Mills of London, Mr. Arthur Richardson, of Somerset, The Honorable James Beaumont, of Carterford Hall, and Lieutenant Bradley Wilson, of Portsmouth. The lieutenant is the nephew of Miss Wilson and Miss Clara Wilson,” said Brewster.
Mama tried to smile at all four men at once.
“We have three other gentlemen visitors,” Brewster said.
“Mr. Thomas Medlock and Mr. James Benniston are guests here at the Queen’s Barque, and their friend, Mr. Paul Arkwright, is staying on his yacht in the harbor.
Today, they have taken advantage of the lovely weather for a nice sail, but I know Mr. Medlock was very disappointed not to be able to join the tour.
It was he who gave me the idea, you know.
The Queen’s Barque is a wonderful old building. ”
He continued to talk about the inn’s history as he led the small party through a door at the back of the inn’s entrance hall, apparently oblivious to the little drama taking place behind him as the four gentlemen all tried to position themselves to offer their arm to Arianna.
She had no illusions that they admired her in particular. It was just that the other three ladies were all over fifty. Also, Arianna had noticed before that men seemed inclined to make a contest of everything, even providing escort to an aging debutante with rust-colored hair.
Mr. Richardson was fastest and was already extending his elbow when Arianna felt a shove from one side. Her mother had knocked her off balance and in the direction of Mr. Mills.
Lieutenant Wilson stepped forward at just the right moment, catching her arm and helping her to regain her footing. Arianna accepted his escort, leaving the other three men to the other ladies.
The door led to another foyer, this one with a staircase in the corner and a wide passage leading away at a right angle to the main building of the inn. A couple of planks prevented access to the stairs.
“We have three more wings,” said Mr. Brewster, proudly. “In due course of time, the inn will be returned to its former glory, but I am sorry to say this staircase is not currently safe.” He walked past it into the passage, still talking, and Arianna and Lieutenant Wilson followed.
Behind them came the other three couples.
All of them were chatting. Mr. Mills, Arianna noticed, was with Mama, their two heads close together.
Brownlee brought up the rear. Arianna was pleased to be with the lieutenant, for he did not bother her with inane chatter when she was trying to listen to what Mr. Brewster was saying.
Either he was interested in the historical and technical details that the innkeeper was so generously sharing, or he had enough empathy to realize that she was.
The wing that continued straight ahead was the first addition to the inn and not much younger than the original building.
According to Mr. Brewster, it had been added to accommodate Queen Elizabeth and her court.
However, he also hinted that the Queen’s visit was the result of an unexpected storm, which led to the royal ship taking refuge in what had, at that time, been a thriving harbor, making it unlikely that the first story was true.
A short distance along the passage, double doors led into the second wing, which ran parallel to the main inn and at right angles to the first wing.
This one had been built when James I was on the throne.
“This was before the inlet silted up,” said Mr. Brewster.
“The inn was often full in those days, and the Brewster of the time, my ancestor, found he was turning away custom even with the new addition. But before I show you the third wing he built, step this way. Some of the rooms in this wing have been refurbished for use, and from one of them, you will have an excellent view of the back garden, and the well that has been blessed by the fairies.”
“Mr. Brewster, I find I am very tired,” said Mama.
“You will excuse me, please. However, my daughter shall stay. Her maid shall provide enough countenance. And Arianna, Mr. Mills has such a good idea. He is going to escort me back to Mrs. Peabody’s and then return to take you for a walk on the shore. Brownlee, you know what to do.”
Mr. Brewster suggested a rest and then rejoining the tour, but Mama insisted that she must take to her bed, with a damp cloth over her eyes. “My wretched head, you know,” she said, and left to a chorus of sympathetic good wishes from the two Wilson ladies.
The tour continued. Lieutenant Wilson made a couple of attempts to engage Arianna in conversation, but had sufficient tact not to speak when Mr. Brewster was doing so, which was most of the time.
Mr. Brewster’s historical facts and stories were interesting and informative, even if some of them showed clear signs of embroidery.
A fairy blessing on a well! How predictable. How ridiculous.
Arianna kept her opinion to herself and even traipsed out into the garden with everyone else to see the well close up. It was just a well. At least a century old, but nothing special. Mr. Mills joined them at that point.
“I see the tour is over, Brewster,” he said. “Miss Westbrook, I suggest we follow that path.” He pointed away from the inn. “It will take us through the sand dunes to the shore.” He winged his elbow at Arianna, clearly assuming she would fall in with his plans.
“Aunties,” said the lieutenant, “we are going to the shore. Would you like to come?”
But the two ladies both expressed their intention of returning to their room for a glass of sherry and a little nibble of something. “Run along, Brad dear,” said one. “Have fun with the young people.”
Already amused at the discontent on Mr. Mills’ face at Lieutenant Wilson’s brash self-inclusion in the excursion, Arianna had to choke back a chuckle when the other two men declared that a walk on the shore was just what the afternoon needed. Poor Mr. Mills looked disgusted!
Her amusement continued when all four men besieged her with compliments as they strolled along the path.
With her mother not there to notice, she indulged herself in a lecture about the invention of chimneys in Tudor times, and how the chimneys in the main inn building must be a later addition, since the early Tudor chimneys had no mortar and were inclined to fall down when heated by a fire.
Some were even constructed of wood and plaster!
Lieutenant Wilson had the good manners to show an interest. Mr. Richardson and Mr. Beaumont fell back, and she could hear them talking about the way Mr. Beaumont had knotted his cravat.
As for Mr. Mills, he had gone ahead, and was standing on the crest of the path where it led down out of the sand hills to the shore.
He had produced a spyglass from somewhere and was staring through it at a ship that was anchored off the cliffs some distance to the south, well beyond the outlet to the inlet.
Arianna stopped, too, narrowing her eyes to try and sharpen her gaze, wondering what was so interesting that it distracted Mr. Mills from his determined pursuit of her. Not that she was complaining.
The ship seemed to be an odd shape, and why was it anchored there, where the cliffs prevented access to the shore?
“That looks like the Cormorant,” commented Lieutenant Wilson. “So that is where Medlock, Benniston, and Arkwright went. I wonder what they are after that is worth the cost of salvaging?”
Mr. Beaumont came up beside them. “Salvage?” he asked. “Is that what they are about?”
The lieutenant nodded. “They’re known for it. Very good at it, too. Medlock and Benniston have been together since Eton, and they’ve recently brought Arkwright into the partnership. He’s an old acquaintance. We served on the same ship once, back during the late war.”
Arianna listened avidly to the lieutenant’s answer, though she could not have said why Mr. Medlock’s profession mattered to her.
But now she was being duplicitous—and to herself, which was not only pointless but against her principles.
She was attracted to Mr. Medlock and was interested in anything to do with him. That was the truth.
The sad truth, for why would such an intelligent, capable man be interested in Arianna?
And if he was, nothing was more certain but that Mama would be against the match.
Mr. Medlock worked for a living, which was in his favor as far as Arianna was concerned, but would be a huge black mark against his name for her mother.
Besides, Mama wanted to conspire with her future husband to steal her dowry.
Mr. Medlock, Arianna was certain, had far too much integrity for such a plot.
“Miss Westbrook,” said Mr. Mills, “I must offer my apologies. I have remembered another obligation. I shall leave you in the care of your loyal handmaiden and hope you shall be gracious enough to show your forgiveness by walking with me tomorrow. Thank you. Farewell. Farewell.”
He pushed past Beaumont and hurried back along the path, soon disappearing out of sight among the dunes.
“Who set fire to his pants?” asked Mr. Richardson, and then blushed and begged Arianna’s pardon for his injudicious mention of gentlemen’s netherwear.