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CHAPTER18
Pippa awoke with a niggling in the back of her mind that all was not well. She did not know why she felt so afraid, but she wasn’t about to ignore the sensation pulling at her belly and telling her to wake up.
She crossed the room to the window and pulled back the drapes, glancing out over the ocean. Rain on the glass panes made it impossible to see anything but the faint orange glow of a lantern somewhere in the distance. But not just anywhere—someone was out on a boat in the cove, which could really only mean one thing on a night like tonight.
Smugglers.
Pippa dressed simply, throwing her heavy scarlet cloak over her haphazard outfit and cinching it tight. Rain pattered softly against the windowpane, and she brought her hood up to cover her head.
It was easy to sneak down her creaky stairs and into the dark night without detection. Pippa knew the creaks and groans of the old house well, and though it was a delicate dance to reach the door quietly, it was one she did proficiently. If Mabel knew how often Pippa had snuck out to watch the sunrise or walk the beach alone, she wouldn’t be pleased. It was harmless—Pippa had never before encountered another soul on her solitary walks before the Blakemores moved to Collacott. But tonight was different.
According to the long-case clock she’d passed in the corridor on her way outside, it was half past three in the morning. A far cry from a sunset or sunrise.
The faint noises of men hollering to one another floated on the wind, but Pippa could see no one; the lack of moon in the sky bathed the cove in heavy darkness and she’d not brought a lantern with her for fear of being seen. She snuck around the trees that protected the drive up to Camden Court but drew up quickly when a lantern bobbed not fifteen feet ahead of her on the lane, inland toward Collacott. Whoever it was, they were likely coming from town and heading toward the beach.
Pippa drew between the trees and watched the light bob closer, slowly revealing the man who carried it. Mr. Ainsworth approached, wearing all black from his hat to his boots. Why was he out so late and with such a look of determination on his furrowed brow? He marched on as though with a purpose, and Pippa waited until he was past her lane and ahead by a good distance before sneaking behind and following him in the darkness.
He nearly reached the turnoff which led down to Camden Cove when he paused on the pathway, and Pippa felt suddenly exposed. There were no more trees out here to cover her, and if Mr. Ainsworth turned around and marched her direction, she would have nowhere to hide. She could make a run for the wood that wrapped around Camden Cove, but not before she would be seen. The sudden foolishness of her impulsive behavior dawned on her, and a fissure of fear ran through her limbs.
The man waited a moment longer, looking out over the ocean. He held the lantern before him as if that would allow him to better see the inky, black water beneath a partially cloudy sky.
Pippa followed his gaze out to the ocean, and her heart kicked into a gallop. There, just beyond the mouth of the cove, was a ship. It wasn’t too large, by any means, but she could see the outline as clear as if it had been a moon or star-filled night. The voices she thought she’d heard earlier were clearer now that she was free of the cover of trees, but still she could not discern what they were saying. The sounds were faint, carried on the wind, and she was certain they were coming from that ship.
Smuggling. Just as she’d suspected.
Mr. Ainsworth appeared indecisive. He watched the ship, and Pippa watched him. It had to be the Blakemore men out on the water, and if Pippa wasn’t mistaken, this man was not on their side.
Where did Pippa fall in this? Whose side would she be on? She hadn’t been included in or even informed of William’s plans, despite speaking with him earlier that day. Had he kept this from her because he couldn’t trust her? That rankled. He’d mentioned her safety, but Pippa couldn’t see how a little knowledge of the situation would have been unsafe.
Mr. Ainsworth was with the law—in some capacity, though it was unclear precisely how—and if he caught the men down there in the midst of carrying smuggled goods onto English soil, the Blakemore men would hang. He acted alone, though, which sent a niggle of uncertainty down her spine. If he was an exciseman, would he not have others with him? Surely they would not have sent one man on his own to arrest a group of smugglers.
Something did not add up.
Mr. Ainsworth reached into his coat and pulled out a pistol, the gray metal gleaming beneath his torch. Pippa’s heart sped, her breath coming in shallow gusts. The man had a gun; this changed everything.
Mr. Ainsworth stepped forward as if he intended to climb the pathway down to the beach, and Pippa acted before she had time to adequately think through her decision or devise a plan. She followed him down to the beach, light on her feet, and picked up a heavy piece of driftwood the size of her arm.
She’d never seen a lawman act in such a tricky manner, creeping about and solitary. The lawmen she was familiar with brandished their authority with pride. Mr. Ainsworth walked forward awkwardly on the sand, his gaze trained on the small boat heading their direction. It was the precise size and shape of the Blakemores’ fishing boat.
Pippa kept to the shadows behind him, creeping along and keeping a watch on the law man and the smugglers.
Whatever was going on here between Mr. Ainsworth and the Blakemores, it wouldn’t end well with a gun involved. But if Pippa could distract Mr. Ainsworth long enough for the Blakemores to get away, she could warn them to steer clear of this beach in the future. Her breathing increased. Fleeting indecision left as quickly as it had arrived. All she needed to do was remove the gun.
Pippa crept behind Mr. Ainsworth and lifted the heavy, dense branch high in the air. She would hit him in the arm, knock his gun to the ground, and—
Mr. Ainsworth started to turn toward Pippa, and she panicked. She brought the branch down swiftly, and it collided with his head. His hat flew forward, rolling on the sand and toward the surf, and Mr. Ainsworth crumpled to the ground. His lantern flew to the side, the light extinguishing in the oncoming wave.
Remorse filled her at once, and she dropped the wood, falling to her knees to roll Mr. Ainsworth onto his back. He was heavier than she imagined someone so lanky to be, and it took a few rocking efforts before she was able to get Mr. Ainsworth onto his back, his face up. His eyes were closed, but she pressed her palm to his chest and felt it rise and fall beneath her touch. Sweet relief fell over her, and Pippa closed her eyes, sending up a prayer of gratitude that she had not deeply hurt the man. Or, so she hoped.
She felt along his head but didn’t meet with a wet, sticky substance. He was certain to have a large, swollen bump in the morning, but she hoped that was the worst of it.
And where was the gun?
The sound of water splashing drew her attention to the ocean, and she made out the shapes of men climbing from the boat and stomping through the waves. They created a chain, passing and carrying barrels from the boat to the wagon waiting nearby as one man held a rope to anchor the boat in the tumultuous water. She hadn’t before noticed the wagon, but she could now see that it was overflowing with barrels the size of baby Liam, with a man in the driver’s seat.
“Where’d he go?” someone called.
“Don’t know,” another said. “The light went out a few minutes ago.”
