Edmund inclined his head. “I shall endeavour not to be a nuisance.”
“You will be company,” Hammond corrected, “and that is a rare thing. Now—your bedroom is up the stairs, second door on the left. Fresh water brought twice a day. Supper at six. If I drift or ramble, ignore me until I return.”
He said it cheerfully, as if forgetting whole conversations were no more troublesome than mislaying a glove.
“Thank you, sir,” Edmund said.
“Good. Now—” The Admiral peered at him suddenly with sharp, startling clarity. “Why have you come here, Mr. Leigh?”
Edmund’s heart jerked—but only for a moment. The Admiral’s gaze, keen as it was, seemed born of curiosity rather than suspicion.
“I am a writer,” Edmund said. “Gathering local tales.”
“Ah!” Hammond beamed. “Then you must have met Mrs. Larkin.”
Edmund froze.
“Indeed.”
“A fine woman,” the Admiral said, nodding. “Larkin was a clever fellow. Too clever by half. And handsome. Yes, yes, very handsome.”
Edmund swallowed. “You knew him?”
“Knew him?” Hammond laughed. “I served with his father. The boy came to me as a midshipman. He always had a book in his hand—always thinking, always writing.”
Writing. A chill slid down Edmund’s spine.
“You were speaking of Mrs. Larkin?” he asked, trying for a casual manner and failing.
“Kindest woman in Devonshire,” Hammond said firmly. “Takes in lost girls, wounded men, stray souls. And—” He tapped his temple again. “Very keen. Sees more than she says.”
Edmund exhaled slowly. That was consistent with everything he had observed.
“And Larkin’s death?” Edmund asked softly. “It was a great blow?”
“To her most of all,” Hammond said. “She wears her grief like armour; but loyal she is—loyal to the bone.”
He paused, eyes clouding. “Though she had enemies once, I think. Yes… yes, there was something. Some trouble. Something concerning London, I believe.”
Edmund’s pulse kicked. “London?”
But Hammond blinked, confusion settling like fog. “No matter. I have forgotten now. It will come back if it wishes.”
Edmund realized the conversation was slipping away like a ship in fog. He would have to tread carefully with this one—there were truths in the Admiral, but finding them would be a labour of patience.
He bowed slightly. “Thank you, sir. You have been very helpful.”
“Have I?” Hammond asked brightly. “Splendid! Then we shall be fast friends. Now go on—settle in. Supper at four bells!”
Edmund took his valise upstairs, found the small but comfortable room, and dropped onto the bed with an exhale that felt far too weary for the hour.
Was it a coincidence that the Admiral had mentioned Mrs. Larkin? This line of work was not conducive to believing in coincidences.
Elise Larkin was unsettling and he needed to discover why. He would stake his life that she knew something—but what?
That evening, after dinner, the Admiral retired early so Edmund wandered about the garden. The light had softened into gold, and the sky above the sea was streaked with pinks and lavender. The cliff path was visible from here, cutting its lonely way along the headland.
He caught sight of movement.
