Authors: Rebecca King
Tags: #romance, #romantic suspense, #suspense, #historical fiction, #thrillers, #historical romance, #mysteries, #romantic mysteries, #historical mysteries
Jonathan
studied the secretive twinkle in the older woman’s eye. His
interest was piqued at the suspicious glint he saw lurking in her
rheumy depths. He knew what she was hinting at and lifted his brow
in astonishment. “I take it that there is nothing to find?” He
heard the woman cough uncomfortably and saw the shadows shift
inside the shop. Someone murmured something, but Jonathan didn’t
catch what was being said. He studied the excise men piling into
the house and turned to look at the Shipwright Inn.
“I think I may
have been away too long,” he sighed. He glanced warningly at the
woman. “I am going to be around for a while, so will see if I can
find out why the excise men feel the need to check so frequently. I
sincerely hope that there is nothing to hide.” He watched Mrs
Fitzsimmons’ wary nod and knew in his gut that there was something
amiss. “I heard that someone was arrested in the village a few
weeks back.”
“Aye, that
would be Andrew Ransley and Edward Hawkshurst.”
“Smuggling?”
“Further around
the coast. Caught red handed they were.”
Jonathan shook
his head. He wanted to ask if anyone else in the village was
involved, but knew that nobody would answer his questions. Although
he was a villager, he had been away for some time and didn’t
actually live in the village. The locals were friendly and
welcoming but had never really considered him one of their closest.
He had to be very selective whom he asked questions of because with
a village as small as Burnham by Sea, gossip was a mainstay of
village activity. Asking anyone any questions would be discussed
and analysed before he made it home. His thoughts turned toward
Harper Hamilton-Smythe, the local magistrate, and he made a mental
note to pay a visit to his friend at the earliest opportunity.
As a member of
the Star Elite, Jonathan was up to his eyes and ears in smugglers,
and the French spies some of the smugglers brought into the
country. He could only hope and pray that while he had been away
fighting to protect king and country from French invasion,
smuggling of any kind hadn’t been going on right on his very own
doorstep.
He nodded to
Mrs Fitzsimmons and shifted in his saddle to glance back at the
excise men as they moved on to the next house. With a sigh he
headed around the coast in search of home. He puffed out his cheeks
and glanced across at the looming clouds on the horizon. The stiff
sea wind had grown considerably colder and he snuggled down into
his cloak as he took the narrow, winding path up the hill and out
of the village. At the top he rode to the edge of the cliff. It
gave him a perfect view of the harbour. He sat there for some time
studying the small dots that were people, scurry this way and that.
It was only when the excise men departed the last house that he
turned away and headed home.
It seemed that
much had changed while he had been away, and he didn’t like it one
bit. His gut instinct had saved his life on more than one occasion,
and it practically screamed at him that something nefarious was
going on in the village.
He just hoped
to God it didn’t involve Kat.
The following
night, Jonathan finished the last of his meal and settled back in
his chair to savour his brandy. He turned his gaze to his long time
friend, Harper Hamilton-Smythe, and waited while the man finished
his own apple pie. He had gleaned enough from Harper, to know that
there was some vague gossip about a smuggling gang working nearby,
but nobody connected to Bentney on Sea had been mentioned. That
didn’t mean they weren’t involved though, it was just that the
gossips hadn’t passed the news on yet.
Throughout
their meal, Jonathan had garnered that Harper had made a few
enquiries of his own but, as yet, had come up empty-handed except
for gossip that couldn’t be proven. However, Harper had relayed the
villagers’ disgust at the repeated, and increasingly frequent,
inspections by Harrison, and his excise men.
“I need your
help, Harper, in getting to the bottom of what is going on. I know
that Andrew Ransley and his associate, Hawkshurst, were arrested
for smuggling further around the coast. Were they acting alone, or
part of a larger operation?”
Harper sighed
and placed his spoon down carefully. He accepted the goblet of
brandy Jonathan handed him with a nod of thanks, and sat back to
study the contents carefully for several long moments. He wasn’t
lost to the fact that it was ludicrously expensive French brandy he
now held in his hand, but Harper had no doubt that Jonathan had
purchased it legitimately. If there was one person Harper trusted
more than anyone else in the area, it was Jonathan Arbinger, not
least because Harper knew of Jonathan’s work for the extremely
powerful and very effective, Star Elite.
“I think that
the village may very well be involved in smuggling, but I don’t
think it is people they are bringing into the country. I think they
are more involved in the smuggling of goods. The market in
Tattersnell is highly regarded for miles around. Although I have
never found any evidence to support my suspicions, you understand,
I strongly suspect that some of the goods the stall holders are
selling at the market there aren’t exactly over the counter.”
“You mean they
are selling smuggled goods?” Jonathan scowled. His thoughts
immediately turned to Kat’s mother, Agnes, who had a stall there
selling fruit and vegetables. Although he couldn’t envisage Agnes
or Kat, or even Billy for that matter, were involved in the sale of
illegal goods, it wasn’t inconceivable. He had been away from the
area for a long time, and a lot had changed that he had not known
about. He wondered whether the Kat he had come to know, and love,
was really the Kat he wanted to spend his life with. Still, a small
part of him refused to give up on his lifelong dream. He had to
find out for certain just what she was up to, if anything. Then he
could figure out what he was going to do about her.
“I think that
the goods have to go somewhere,” Harper continued, oblivious to
Jonathan’s inner turmoil. “I have yet to see anything untoward
going on myself, you understand, but I strongly suspect that Andrew
Ransley had people in the area who were prepared to accept his
goods. He just won’t admit it though, despite intensive
questioning. His version of events is that he and Hawkshurst saw
the barrels and boxes floating out at sea. There was no ship in
view, and nobody trying to collect the goods, so they decided to
help themselves. He denies any involvement in smuggling but because
he was caught with illegal goods, and Harrison from Excise was in
attendance, I couldn’t exactly let the man off the hook.
Practically the whole village turned out for his trial. I believe
they are supporting his wife and children as much as they can,
while Andrew serves his sentence.”
“The sentence
was quite lenient wasn’t it?” Jonathan sighed. He knew that many
smugglers had been handed lighter sentences because they were
mainly tried by people who accepted ‘grace and favour’ items from
the smugglers and villagers. Jonathan studied Harper, and wondered
if he had been on the receiving end of such expensive items.
Sensing his
friend’s curiosity, Harper sighed. “I don’t,” he replied, not
offended in the least at Jonathan’s instinctive question. He had
been tempted a time or two but, given that his reputation and
livelihood depended on his honesty and integrity, had never
purchased anything that had even the faintest whiff of being
French. “I have no proof there is anything going on in the village
and, whenever I have been to the market, I have seen nothing
untoward, but I strongly suspect that Ransley and Hawkshurst were
working for a larger network.”
“Why?”
“Because the
sheer volume of cargo they had on their boat capsized the bloody
thing,” Harper sighed with a rueful shake of his head. “The excise
men caught them because both Ransley and Hawkshurst were busy
having to swim to get the floating cargo, and were hauling it
ashore bit by bit. The excise men helped bring some of it ashore
before arresting them.”
Jonathan shook
his head and smothered a laugh. “They had people waiting for the
cargo.”
Harper nodded.
“The cargo was transported to the Excise House for disposal, but
there was a lot of it and it took two or three trips before the
beach was cleared.”
“It would be
good to try to get hold of the Seizure Inventory,” Jonathan
replied. His thoughts turned to Kat and her family once more. Was
she involved? “If I know what they are shipping in, it gives me
some idea of what to look for.”
“I warn you now
that you won’t find anything,” Harper warned darkly. “I have been
trying for several months, and have been met with a sea of empty
faces and pleas of innocence that I cannot disprove. Harrison has
searched with the determination of a dog after a bone, but has come
up empty handed.”
“I think that
it is time we paid a visit to Bentney on Sea to carry out a closer
inspection ourselves,” Jonathan mused. He studied his friend and
saw the fine lines of ageing around his eyes. The slight smattering
of grey at his temples reminded Jonathan that they were all getting
older and, as far as he was concerned, it was time to consider a
new future.
There had
clearly been many changes to the village while he had been away,
and not all of them good. It was time to re-assert his position as
Lord Dentham, and be visibly seen to be working with the local
magistrate, Harper Hamilton-Smythe, to protect the reputation of
the village and its people.
“Do you have
any objection to heading down to the Shipwright Inn for a quick
ale? I think it is time we started to make our presence felt.”
Jonathan knew that sometimes the mere appearance of strangers could
draw a halt to smuggling operations. Even if that halt was a
temporary one, it would buy him enough time to find out if Kat was
involved and ensure that she stopped. Having Harper on side would
ensure that if she was caught with illegal goods, he could use his
connections to ensure that she wasn’t sentenced. Still, he hated
the thought of his future wife being caught red-handed with illegal
cargo. He shook his head in disgust and pushed away from the table,
pleased when Harper seemed almost relieved to have Jonathan willing
to help. They paused only briefly while Jonathan penned a quick
note to Hugo, and then headed out into the night.
“How long are
you back for?” Harper asked when they had mounted and were headed
down the drive toward the village.
“I am back for
several weeks this time, but have to come and go. Tell me, have you
ever heard of a man called Dubois in Dadington?”
“That’s a
French name if ever I heard one,” Harper mused and scowled at the
road ahead. In the far distance he could see the twinkling lights
of the fishing port lying at the bottom of the hill. He drew in a
deep breath of crisp night air and searched his memory carefully
for anything that might prove useful. It was reassuring to know
that Jonathan was going to be around long enough to put a stop to
the smuggling. Harper had been doing what he could but, without the
manpower to help, it had been damned near impossible to get any
information from anyone. He knew that if anyone had any chance of
getting to the bottom of what was going on, Jonathan would.
“I don’t
believe so, no,” he murmured. “The name seems vaguely familiar but
I cannot remember why. He certainly has not been through the courts
recently, of that I am certain. Why? Is he important to you?”
“I need to
enlist your help. With Dadington, and Bentney on Sea, and the huge
mound of loose ends I need to tie up with regards to the estate, I
have my hands full and need a bit of help. You will be working for
the Star Elite,” Jonathan murmured quietly.
Harper sucked
in a breath and stared at his friend. On his last visit to the War
Office, he had heard of the legendary activities of the men from
the Star Elite. They were England’s most elite group of
ex-soldiers, and were currently enjoying a run of successful
arrests of some of France’s notorious spies who had been brought
into the country by smuggling gangs. Although the details had been
sketchy, the sheer volume of Frenchmen who had appeared in jails as
a result of the Star Elite’s activities was astonishing.
There were
rumours flying that one of the men had recently turned up with a
group of about twenty Frenchmen, all of whom had been captured by
two of the Star Elite while they had been protecting one of their
witnesses.
Just to be
given the opportunity to work alongside them, even on the fringes
of their activities, was an honour.
“I would be
delighted to help you in any way I can,” Harper replied smoothly
and wondered just what Jonathan was up to. He met and held
Jonathan’s gaze for several moments. “Just tell me what you need me
to do.”
“This is Star
Elite business so the upmost secrecy has to be applied. You will
also be adequately recompensed for your endeavours,” Jonathan
sighed. “Right now, I need you to find out what you can about
someone called Dubois in Dadington. I need to meet with my contact
in Tattersnell, but I think it would be beneficial if you came with
me to begin with. I am due to meet him at noon tomorrow, if you are
available?”
“Of course,”
Harper nodded toward the village. “What do you want to do about
that?”
“God knows.
Because I am Star Elite, and working for king and country to stop
smugglers running rife along the coast, I can hardly turn a blind
eye to villagers in my own parish committing such crimes.” Not only
did he have his own personal reputation to consider, if word ever
got out that he had been even remotely aware of smuggling in his
home town, he would never hold his head up with his colleagues in
the Star Elite.