Even in a place as civilized as Torquay, there were stories of how townsfolk were told to “look at the wall as the Gentlemen went by” so they could truthfully deny seeing any smuggling activity when the Revenuers came calling.Here in Sidmouth was probably no different.
Holding her torch high, she paced the perimeter of the cavern.Dry.No bones, no stray rocks indicating the ceiling was in danger of collapsing, and unexpectedly free of bats and bat guano.No barrels or crates of contraband, either.Henry stood up on his hind legs, sniffing at something on a natural ledge, the longest of several ledges at varying heights in the cave.
Worried she’d been too hasty in thinking there were no human remains in the cavern, she forced herself to join the dog at the ledge.“What have you found, boy?”She let out a relieved breath when she saw it was just a tattered wool blanket.When she lifted it, half expecting small multi-legged creatures to crawl out, she found a pair of tin soldiers that fit in the palm of her hand.One had a rifle, the other a broken sword, both with enough nicks and scraped paint to show the toys had been well played with.
Mrs.Digby and her husband had no children, so these must belong to a visitor, possibly from a neighboring property or a boy who had ventured far from his family on holiday down the beach in Sidmouth.How long had they been here?Many years, judging by the musty-smelling blanket.
Sophia set the tin soldiers back down and covered them with the blanket again.“Come along, Henry,” she said, patting her leg, and they went back up to the house.
In the kitchen, Mrs.Bickford paused in arranging freshly baked tea cakes on a platter and held it out, offering them to Sophia.
“Thank you,” Sophia said, taking two.Ooh, delicious.She was about to take the steps up to the main level, but Henry sat in front of a bare section of wall, looking at her expectantly, his tail thumping on the floor.
“Is this the shortcut?”Sophia ate the other cake and peered at the wall.Henry thumped his tail faster.There … a slight smudge where the paint had worn a little thinner.Giving that section a light push, she heard a click, and the previously hidden door swung open.
Henry dashed in.Sophia followed more slowly, trying to take in every detail.In the small space she felt the age of the house, almost heard the echoes of previous generations who had lived here.Like the tunnel to the beach, sections branched off.Now she understood better why the house seemed smaller than it should, why it took so many turns to get anywhere.Had priests hidden in here back in the days when it could be deadly to be a Catholic?Had household members hidden smugglers or contraband?Engaged in smuggling themselves?
Henry waited for her at the door to the library.She fumbled a bit in the deep shadows before she found the latch.
“Perfect timing,” Mrs.Digby said from her seat by the window, utterly unfazed to see how Sophia made her entrance into the library.On the small table beside her, a lamp with a glass chimney had been lit to offset the gloom, as rain continued to lash against the window, the sky a solid mass of dark grey clouds.“Shall we begin?”
* * *
A week had passed since her arrival at Hobart Grange.Lulled by the crashing waves, she slept soundly every night.In the evenings, Henry often sat beside her in the drawing room, apparently drawn to the music she created on the newly tuned pianoforte or harpsichord.She and Mrs.Digby were making steady progress on the memoir.They were up to 1772, still garrisoned near Boston.
As soon as Mrs.Digby and Mrs.Royston went for their lie-down after lunch, Sophia hurried to the beach.The rain had finally let up and she hoped to see Miss Burrell.
She took the outdoor path down to the sea, marveling anew at the stunning views of the Channel and the beach all the way to Sidmouth.How lucky she was to have found a position here, even if it was temporary, after the months she’d spent at her cousin’s home with no access to the sea or music, her future uncertain.Though she’d applied for several positions since the Academy closed, only three had replied so far.All had informed her the positions had already been filled.Her cousin had agreed to forward any other replies to her here.
As Sophia picked her way across the rocky headland that stretched further out into the Channel, she heard a faint voice calling her name.Shielding her eyes, she turned in a full circle to see who was calling her.
An elderly woman, her back hunched, using a cane to assist her slow progress up the beach, waved a hand at her.
Torn, Sophia looked to the east, but did not see Miss Burrell.She walked west, wondering who could possibly know her here in Sidmouth.
“Miss Walden!”the crone called as they neared each other.“Oh, I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you at last, Miss Walden.”
The old woman’s voice sounded vaguely familiar.“Well, here I am.”Sophia held her hands at her sides, at a loss as to the woman’s identity.
The crone chuckled, a raspy sound.“You truly do not recognize me?”
They now stood within arm’s reach of each other.A black veil hid much of the older woman’s face, and a shapeless grey gown and woolen shawl disguised her figure.But she wore no gloves.The hand clutching the top of the cane had smooth skin.No age spots marred it, nor were any joints swollen from arthritis.“Should I?”
This time the chuckle was entirely familiar, and sounded nothing like the raspy laugh of before.As she pulled the veil up on to her bonnet’s brim, the woman stood up straight.Despite the heavy powder and rouge and wrinkles drawn on with a charcoal pencil, the blue eyes sparkling with humor were entirely familiar.
“Miss Ebrington?”In shocked delight, Sophia pulled her former student in for a quick embrace before holding her by the shoulders and giving her another look.“What on earth are you doing here, dressed like this?”
Noting the small group of people strolling up the beach getting closer, Miss Mildred Ebrington tugged her veil back into place and hunched her shoulders once more.“It is a long story.Can we go sit on those boulders while we catch up?”
Playing along with the charade, Sophia offered Mildred her arm to help her across the rough ground.As she was selecting suitable boulders for them to sit on, she saw Theo had arrived at her dig site.
Sophia gestured toward where they now heard the rhythmic sound of metal on rock.“Miss Burrell is here.Would you like to speak with her, too, or is your story only for me?”
“Oh, yes, let’s do,” Miss Ebrington said, picking up speed.“This is even better than I had hoped.”
Theo was quick to set down her mallet and chisel, and exchange surprised but delighted greetings.The three of them settled on a boulder and a log that had washed ashore, their heads close together so the breeze could not carry away their conversation.
“You may consider me entirely intrigued,” Sophia said, gesturing at Mildred’s costume and makeup.
