The only sound I heard then was my own rapid breathing.
No spectral vision appeared as I crept along the corridor gripping my pistol. I returned to my room to fumble for the tinderbox. With practiced ease, I struck the steel against the flint, a shower of sparks leaping onto the tinder. I blew gently, coaxing the glowinto a flame. Once it caught, I lit the candle, the room filling with a reassuring light.
No spirits lurked within the halls, nor intruders. When I spoke to Mr. Whittle about the affair in the morning, he merely shrugged.
“I heard nothing, sir. Nothing at all. Of course, my wife swears that I snore.”
Without answers or much sleep, I refused to give in to Lucy’s maudlin fears. Still, fear crept in. I wasn’t a gambling man, but had I pushed fate too far to save the Hawthorn heritage and my tenants? Lewis’s face and that of his widow haunted me. What if I could no longer send her funds? So many relied on me, and I felt as useless as my namesake. Surely, I was just tired and imagining things.
By late morning, I resolved to banish any idea of ghosts with work. Inside the stifling brewery, I mopped my brow as the youngest Dixon boy scampered up the walls with the help of a ladder and painted the overhead beams with white limestone, transforming the dingy space. How he could sit there, swinging his legs on such a beam while whistling a ditty and not keel over, was beyond me.
So engrossed I was debating with Mr. Spencer the best position for the cider press, I didn’t see the new arrival until the other men stilled.
Miss Littleton waited at the entrance, her green gaze lifted to the ceiling where the Dixon boy tipped forward with his brush, daring as he dragged it across the ceiling.
“Good heavens, he’s going to fall,” she cried.
“No, he’d be suited for climbing the mast while a ship slices through rough water. It takes a lad or a man with balance,” I reassured her.
As if to prove the point, the Dixon boy stretched even farther on the beam, winking at Miss Littleton and causing a splatter of whitepaint to hit the floor. “See, Miss Littleton, it’s not that frightening being up so high. If only you could try it yourself.”
“Careful, man,” I called out. “Or you’ll be painting us too.”
She self-consciously touched her bonnet. “No, thank you. I like my feet firmly on the ground.”
“Or deep in the mud,” I teased her.
Her smile lit her face, bringing twin dimples on each side. “Ha, very true, sir. I’ll take the trenches over the sea any day.” Then her gaze sobered, as if a cloud passed over it.
I held out an arm for her to take, the action natural, and after a pause, she slipped her arm through mine as we hurried to the abbey where Mrs. Whittle awaited. Yet my pulse sped at the thought of being alone with Miss Littleton. The gentle pressure of her fingers on my arm lingered even when she removed her hand.
A spot of rain splashed against my cheek. Above, dark clouds roiled, stirred like a bubbling caldron. I didn’t like the look of the storm.
She didn’t seem to notice, her expression troubled. “You are a military man. Perhaps you can answer a question.”
Bracing myself, I led her into the abbey’s main entrance, away from the sound of the hammers.
“If the navy presses a young man, and he...” She paused.
I froze. Was there another suitor? Why had I so foolishly assumed she was unattached?
She halted, swallowing visibly. “And the navy arrested him for rebellion. Will he face a court martial, or... far worse?”
“It would depend on the circumstance,” I said carefully. “When was your friend taken?”
Her brow furrowed. “Men stole my brother, Daniel, during a trip to London with two friends, and now he resides within a hulk. Please, I share this news in confidence. Precious few know about his predicament.”
Sweet relief and sharp regret filled me at the admission. She was not spoken for. But her grief over her brother concerned me. Prime Minister William Pitt required each county to provide a quota of men willing or unwilling. London alone was required to round up nearly six thousand men. Her trust touched me since she had shared something so carefully hidden.
She sighed. “Daniel is too much like Father and me. Stubborn. Opinionated. And not at all impressed with the rules. I have shocked you, I see, especially considering a military man as yourself.”
A man not at all impressed with the rules. A grim prognosis for anyone trapped within the Royal Navy. I sensed there was much more to the story than I had been told, especially considering our conversation when I had asked if she believed a man could change.
I had wondered then at her hesitancy.
The sudden sheen in her eyes made me want to erase her sorrow. “You have not shocked me.”
“Then, I fear I must tell you more. You will learn of it regardless. A riot occurred.”
