The captain poured himself some more wine. “There are three mail bags, you see, and two of them were left gaping open, ready to be destroyed by the pests and the elements—” he could hardly finish the thought. “Several small parcels were left lying about in the cargo hold. I could be fired for this. They’ll give my beautifulLady Maryto Captain Barton.Barton!”
Captain Wentworth frowned. “Come to think of it, shouldn’t the mail bags be kept on deck? It is still a time of war.”
“Yes, but the storage chest was found to be rotted yesterday—at any rate the wood had softened and chipped right through. That was bad enough, for it ought to have been noted when we refitted in Falmouth. For safety’s sake, I moved them to the cargo hold. The mail bags are always the last thing on the ship when it sets sail and the first thing off—I know my business.”
“We believe you. But—what is your theory then?” Anne asked. “If one could get money in the mail, as Caroline suggested…”
“There are any number of reasons, but the direst, by far, are the army dispatches. They will be sent on in Lisbon to our forces in Portugal and Spain—Cadiz, Madrid, Vitoria—but Icannotbelieve any of my men are French sympathizers. Why, there’s not a one that’s been with me less than three years. I can’t and won’t believe it.”
“The ship is still at sea, sir,” Mrs. Scott put in. “Can you not instigate a search for any concealed contraband? And if the sailors are aware, will they not police one another? If one man has gone astray, it is likely his fellows will notice.”
“Yes, I shall do so, ma’am, but I don’t like to cast shadows and suspicions about. It’s bad luck on a boat, and it turns the men surly and angry. Ship life is already difficult; it don’t go better when the men gets antsy.” His pronunciation and grammar slipped as his emotions got the better of him. “And I don’t like to ask this—e’en more than the rest!—but I shall need leave to search your cabins.”
“Now, I say,” said Sir Mark. “That is a bridge too far. I hardly think you can accuse any ofusof having designs on your wretched mail. The effrontery!”
“It is policy, sir. Every inch of a packet is to be searched in the event of stolen mail. It is always possible… Well, if a dispatch to our armieswastaken, there is no saying who might be theculprit. With our armies fighting that madman Napoleon, the most stringent measures are in force.”
“As is proper,” said Richard. “Only lately I have been made terribly aware that there are spies even among the highest-ranking in Britain.”
“But surely none ofus—” Caroline cut herself off. Beyond Anne and Wentworth, Caroline did not know the others at all, did she? The Marstons did not seem the sort, and how would Mrs. Scott—obviously somewhat indigent and acting as a companion—have any unsavory contact in Portugal or Spain? It seemed most unlikely. But Mr. Belvedere, although he looked and acted like a young man just released from the halls of academia, might be capable of anything. He was careless, but she suspected he was intelligent under his boisterous bonhomie. He had beenveryquiet during this brouhaha.
Apparently she was not the only one who had followed that train of thought. His mouth fell open. “Why,Ihave no French sympathies, I swear it!” He was half-amusement, half-shock. “You may start with my cabin, if you please. I have naught to hide.”
Richard cleared his throat. “I thought at the time that your letters were dodgy. The wording was odd, the signatures overly dramatic. Forged, perhaps?”
“Why—I am wounded. Pierced even, Colonel! You said nothing of this to me.”
The captain looked between them with clear hope writ on his face. “Is this so? You don’t create this merely to give me hope, do you, Colonel? It would simplify everything?—”
“It would not!” spluttered Mr. Belvedere.
Wentworth inclined his head. “Richard did tell me his suspicions, Captain, but since the journey had begun, he saw no benefit in catechizing or accusing the young man. But if there is other havey-cavey business afoot—it is worth addressing.”
Mr. Belvedere’s eyes flicked quickly between Richard, Wentworth, and Captain Smythe, and to Caroline he looked momentarily both older and more shrewd. He was really a very handsome young man, and a very big man, when one came to think of it. As a youth, he was like a puppy who didn’t know his own size, but as a man—he would be imposing. But as fast as that impression struck her, it was gone, and he shook back his hair and laughed.
“This is the most absurd thing! But no, it is entirely my fault for giving my tutor the go by. I submit this plan: do, please, one of you, go and search my cabin this very minute. I won’t move an inch from the table before it is done.” He spread his hands on the table. “I will turn out my pockets if need be. And you will all be witnesses that I would have had no warning before this happened, no chance to hide anything.”
With some awkwardness, they accepted his offer, and Richard and Captain Smythe went “to turn his cabin over.” Mr. Belvedere was in good humor, and it was impossible to think his manner was fake—wasn’t it? He truly seemed confident they would find nothing, and he was rather hurt—in a joking fashion—that he was the prime suspect.
Anne, whose compassionate heart could not bear the possibility of false accusations, touched his sleeve just briefly. “Don’t take it too hard, sir. If you are exonerated, they will feel dreadfully.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Wentworth. I suppose it shall be an excellent tale in future times.”
“I, at least, have no more to say. Goodnight all.” Lady Marston rose to leave the table, but Anne—to everyone’s surprise—stopped her.
“I really think thatnoneof us should leave the table until our cabins have been searched.” She turned to Wentworth. “Don’t you think, my dear? If itisn’tMr. Belvedere—shan’t we have theexact same problem we do now? It seems to me only fair, onlyjust,that we all submit likewise.”
Captain Wentworth smiled, as he invariably did at Anne, but he shook his head. “Do you really think the captain will want to search my berth—a captain of the British navy—or Richard—a respected colonel?”
“Do you imply that weareto be suspected then?” inquired Lady Marston coldly. “Merci du compliment.”
“Or me?” put in Mrs. Scott.
“Well, no?—”
“You see, it must be all or none,” Anne said. “That is the only thing that is fair. Besides, who is to say—if someone has done something unfortunate—that they did not hide it in a cabin not their own?”
“There are keys.” Caroline did not like the idea of anyone entering her small refuge on the ship.
