“This is coming together quite nicely,” said Poppy. She had made good progress in cleaning the ground floor. Her initial idea had been to clear out the first level and convert that into living quarters, but the discovery of the fireplace had seen a quick change to her plans.
The warehouse had a large enough footprint for her to be able to set up a small office for conducting business and handling company accounts just inside the front door.
Her amended plans included erecting a temporary wall a few feet to the left of the office space. On the other side of that, she would set up her private quarters, utilizing the fireplace to both cook and keep warm.
A knock at the door disturbed her from her happy musings.
That had better not be one of the crew coming to ask for yet more coin.
She would have firm words with Jonathan if that was the case. Him demanding money from her was one thing; sending the men to beg on his behalf was another. Her patience had some limits.
A second knock came, and with a resigned huff, she set the broom down and headed for the door. To her surprise, the clerk who had handed her the keys at the superintendent’s office the previous morning was waiting on the threshold. He wore a worried expression on his face.
This doesn’t look good.
“May I help you?” she asked. It was always a good idea to be accommodating with port officials—even ones that had been on the end of your tired temper.
The clerk glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the warehouse next door. Poppy poked her head out and was relieved to see that the barrels were still in front of the Saunders Shipping Company, right where she had left them the previous night.
“Could I please have a moment of your time, Captain Basden?” asked the clerk.
Those words rarely meant good news. A pensive Poppy stepped back and ushered the man inside. He closed the door behind him.
Just listen and get the problem straight in your head. Whatever the matter is, you can deal with it. But it must be bad if he is addressing me as Captain Basden.
“We have had a complaint,” he said.
Oh, no. What has the crew done?
It wouldn’t be the first time the men from the Empress Catherine had caused trouble while on shore leave. Sailors arriving into port always gave the booze a hard nudge, and what followed was often a bloody disaster. Yet Jonathan hadn’t made mention of there having been any trouble. While he wasn’t the most reliable person in her life, Jonathan usually kept an eye on the crew.
“What has happened?” she asked. The sooner she knew the situation, the quicker she could deal with it.
The clerk scowled. Whatever news he had come to impart, he was clearly uncomfortable with telling her. “When I say complaint, I mean more of an enquiry. Have you met your next-door neighbors yet? The people in number twelve?”
“No, I haven’t. But we do appear to be having a silent tussle over some barrels and ropes. They are clearly marked as belonging to the Saunders Shipping Company. So, if that is the problem, let me tell you that I am well within my rights to move them out of the way of my property,” she replied. That had better not be what this was about. If it was, the Saunders didn’t have a leg to stand on.
“I don’t know anything about the barrels, Captain Basden. But I thought you should know that one of the gentlemen from next door, Mister Francis Saunders, paid a visit to the superintendent’s office this morning. He was looking to see if your ownership papers were in order,” he whispered.
Considering they were in her warehouse, and the door was closed, the man’s behavior struck Poppy as rather odd. Who were these Saunders people? And how much power did they wield around the London Docks?
“I trust that your employer explained that all the titles were clear of any encumbrances and the Basden Line Shipping Company are the rightful owners,” she replied.
He nodded. “Yes. Mister Francis Saunders was none too pleased. I just thought that you should know. Rumor has it that he has been wanting to lease this building for some time. Your arrival has not gone down at all well.”
This wasn’t the first time Poppy Basden had had to deal with a male trying to muscle her out of the way. She didn’t respond well to threats, but she most certainly didn’t take them lying down. If this Francis Saunders person wanted a fight, she would gladly give him one.
But who was he? If she had a bright and shiny new nemesis, it made good business sense to understand as much as she could about him.
“These Saunders people. Who are they?” she asked.
“They are well connected. The older gentleman, Mister Charles Saunders, is married to the sister of the Duke of Strathmore. That family, the Radleys, are one of the richest and most powerful families in all of England.”
Poppy could understand why the clerk felt it necessary to warn her, but it didn’t explain his motivation. Had his employer sent him, or was this a personal matter?
“Why are you telling me this?”
No one trusted a tattler, and the hairs on the back of her neck shifted as her sense of unease grew. The next words out of his mouth had better not be asking for money.
