Chapter Thirty-Three
They’d come atlow tide. From Eli’s vantage point in a rocky formation surrounded by scrubby trees, mudflats extended on both sides of the sloping peninsula. The ship—for it had indeed been a ship he’d sighted the night before—lay at anchor in a small inlet, listing a bit to the side in low water fifty feet away.
The sleek, two-masted vessel—a sloop, Eli thought—had been built for speed, but in these waters, it would wait for high tide. He narrowed his eyes, wondering whether it was waiting or hiding.
Absurd, Benson. What makes you think this vessel has anything to do with the pernicious trade in bodies?Nothing. Not one clue, except there was no good reason for such a ship to anchor in a place like this. At very least it demonstrated that a seagoing vessel could avoid port authorities and find a spot to—
Movement caught his eye, two men climbing out onto the deck. They stepped out into full sun, and Eli stopped breathing. He recognized them both.
Bateson! He discerned Grimsley’s associate without any doubt. Of the earl he saw no sign, but given the conversation he had overheard at Danburys’ garden, he doubted Grimsley lurked below. He suspected the sloop—the entire operation—belonged to Bateson. The rogue, head and shoulders taller than his companion, gesticulated angrily, while the other man seemed to shrink in front of him. Shrinking was no small task for the hulking brute Eli recognized from the Happy Cock. Holliday hadn’t described the man he sought, but Eli knew he had just stumbled on the missing Everhard.
Eli sank down against a rock, filled with elation. A vision of himself descending on Bateson like an avenging angel and clubbing the snake to the ground transfixed his imagination. He removed his pistol from the pack in which he carried it and checked that it was armed and dry.
“What are we going to do, Mr. Benson?” Tommy, who crouched next to him, attentive and waiting, asked, wide-eyed. Eli studied the young Clarion groom, fear and bravery in his eyes in equal amounts. The fire drained out of Eli. If he asked the boy to charge down the bank with him and attempt to take that ship, he’d likely get them both killed. They couldn’t guess how many men were belowdecks, but a ship of that size required a somewhat large crew. Everhard alone could probably subdue both of them.
Sinking back to earth, Eli realized a glorious but ill-fated stab at heroism wouldn’t do Fanny any good, either. He gazed at Tommy. “You are going to ride to Manchester—the faster, the better.”
Eli pulled out his notebook, the ever-present weapon of a steward, and scribbled a message to Holliday. “Located Everhard. And ship.” He described the situation including tides, named Bateson as the likely leader, folded the message, and added Holliday’s direction.
He had no idea how long it would take Holliday to bring reinforcements, whether the ship would sail, tides permitting, or when such a tide might occur. He handed the message to Tommy and urged speed.
When the boy scurried off through the protection of the clump of trees, Eli scrambled to his feet for another look. Bateson now lounged against a railing, watching the sun rise high above the estuary, unconcerned. He didn’t look like a man in a hurry. An hour later, Eli still studied the sloop when two roughly dressed crew members slipped over the side on a pully of some sort. They went to work on the side. Whether they were cleaning, repairing, or removing barnacles, Eli had no idea, but it appeared they weren’t going anywhere soon.
He had done what he could do; he considered perhaps his place was to keep his appointment with the bishop. He might have left then, if a rough-looking seaman hadn’t blocked his way.
“Watchin’ Mr. Bateson’s ship, are you?”
One man?Eli thought so. He didn’t see any others. He stepped to his right, eyeing the cudgel in the man’s hand. “What are you doing over here?” Eli accused in his most authoritarian tone.
The man blinked, enough to tell Eli he’d made a hit.
Eli took another step to his right. “I saw you over at the tavern last night.” He hadn’t actually; it was a stab in the dark.
A flash of guilt rewarded him.
“Bateson won’t like that,” Eli continued, taking a third step. The ruffian mirrored his actions, sliding to the left as though moving in a circle. The man’s gaze darted around nervously. He didn’t speak.
“What will he do to you for being late?” Eli pretended to glance at the ship but kept his attention on the man and his weapon. “They’ve already started work on the hull.”
The ruffian turned to look at the ship, and Eli broke into a run, making for the hotel and his horse.
*
Fanny lifted herpen and stared at the page in front of her.
The End, it said.
She dried it and added the last sheet to the rest ofThe Elusive Earlpiled on her desk, her mood far from celebratory. She would make a fair copy, ready to send it off to a publisher, but she wasn’t entirely certain she wanted to do that. The golden earl of her initial imagining had turned into a dark figure until the heroine had had to be rescued from his clutches by a mysterious man in black.
She glowered at the manuscript. Rubbish—or at least not her best work—and yet she feared it would just meet Minerva’s preference for gothic gloom. They might especially like the part where the mysterious stranger finds the heroine lost in the dark forest, hiding her just before the evil earl arrives. A rueful smile touched Fanny’s lips. That sort of adventure was more uncomfortable in reality than it sounded in fiction.
Fanny rose and stretched, twisting her back to and fro to loosen it. She had spent more time than not all week alone in her room, writing. What she needed was a good, long walk or a ride, if only she could convince Clarion or the others to allow it. She set out to find her brother, knowing he likely hid in his library this time of day, corresponding about parliamentary business. She found it empty.
Harris, quickly summoned, told her, “Sir Robert came over. He and the earl decided to take advantage of the day, to ride across the estate.” Rob had been in Ashmead three days. With Lucy engaged in the business of overseeing Willowbrook, he had come to the hall every day. Now the two of them had gone for a ride. Without her.
Fanny hurried to her room, grateful Lucy had insisted on a riding habit. If they could take advantage of the weather, she could take advantage of their presence.
She strode through the kitchen garden, toward the path that led through trees to the stable yard.
