Page 5 of What the Heart Knows

“Georgie here says ye wish to talk with me.” He patted his son’s shoulder as he pulled out a chair and sat. “How may I be of help, Captain?”

“First, this conversation must remain between the three of us. Second, please do not address me as Captain Copefort.”

“Captain Copefort. I know that name. Thought I recognized it when you took your rooms. You wouldn’t be Captain Breakneck Copefort?”

“No longer. I wish to leave the war and my part in it behind.” Taking care of this business with Fenneman was part of that effort.

“Happy to oblige, sir. You may count on my discretion. I’m a friendly sort, but I know how to keep a confidence when asked.”

Kit believed him. George certainly knew when to remain silent.

“You can trust my father, sir,” George assured.

“I couldn’t avoid overhearing some of your conversation with Mr. Brookbank,” Kit said.

“Is he up to his old tricks, Da?” George asked.

The innkeeper silenced his son with a look. “I am sorry you heard that, Mr. Copefort. ’Tis nothing I cannot handle.”

“I don’t doubt it. What concerns me is the extent of illegal activity here. Do you believe the squire is also involved?”

Brewster pressed his lips together then cast a glance at his son before laying his hands palms up on the table.

“I told Mr. Copefort about the smugglers who went free and the belief that the squire profited from their activities,” George informed.

“I’ve no evidence the squire is involved,” the innkeeper said at last. “However, there’s always been talk, even before Brookbank arrived.”

Kit lifted a brow. “If you believe the squire’s exceeding his authority as Justice of the Peace and Tax Commissioner, I wish to know it.”

“The squire’s too high in the instep to deal directly with any of us common folk. All his commands come through Brookbank. Occasionally, his daughter relays commands from her father.”

Kit ignored a brief twinge in his chest. Was the young lady of last night’s encounter, Fenneman’s daughter? “What sorts of commands?”

“Mostly complaints about my lack of compliance with some ridiculous new order he’s made. I ignore him. He can’t make laws as JP. He tries to force me by threatening to raise my taxes or cancel my tavern license.”

“What was today’s complaint?” Kit asked.

“Squire don’t like the plans to improve the harbor and bring more custom to all of Fenwick. Brookbank says improvements to the Queen’s Barque will increase my taxes and possibly violate my license. If I hide goods for the smugglers, Brookbank will intercede with the squire.”

“What’s Squire Fenneman doing to discourage this activity?”

“He does nothing himself. It’s all Brookbank. If folk don’t cooperate, they’re beaten, or their property is destroyed, or their taxes raised. The clerk has a group of bully boys from the Yarmouth docks who do his dirty work. Protests have been made to the squire, but since he refuses to see anyone in person, everything goes through Brookbank.”

“Did Brookbank threaten you with these bullies today? Is that why you left so abruptly?”

“Nothing so straightforward. He just said that he might invite his Yarmouth friends to dine here tonight. I needed to warn my wife and daughters.”

“Does the bully crew frequent your public room?”

“Only once. They harassed my servers and picked fights with my male customers. I made clear to Brookbank if he wanted any cooperation from me, he’d keep them in check, and they’d not be allowed within a mile of the Queen’s Barque. I’ve a reputation to maintain, and customers who don’t feel safe will stop spending their coin here.”

“So, you suspect the squire’s behind all of this?”

Brewster senior winced. “He wasn’t the most honest of men, even before he hired Brookbank. There’s always been a few gangs of smugglers hereabouts, but small operators of little interest to the government. However, when Squire Fenneman hired Brookbank, then left for the army, things began to change.”

“How so?” Kit queried.

“The gangs got bigger. A couple of small groups resisted, but Brookbank doesn’t like competition.”