Always Believe in Love (Emerson Book 4)

by Maureen Driscoll

  “I am Mr. Chilcott, miss,” he said as he bowed.

  She curtsied low enough that he caught a generous glimpse of her impressive bosom. “I am Miss Lily Johnson. What brings ye to our village?”

  “I was admiring the local scenery and decided to stay a few days.”

  From her sudden smile, it appeared Miss Johnson took a different meaning to the word “scenery” than the seascape he’d intended.

  “I see!” she said, as she giggled. The movement resulted in a masterful jiggling of her bosom. “And is there any particular sight you’d like to see?”

  Nick averted his gaze from that which she presented. “The sea, the rocky beaches, the lovely village green.”

  “What’s so lovely about it? It’s just the green.”

  “Yes, but it is….” What the devil was he supposed to say about the green which was, as she’d pointed out, not particularly lovely? In fact it had more mud than grass and was about half the size it should be. “Unique.”

  “I suppose,” she said, as she shrugged.

  “When will the men return from the sea?”

  “When they’re done, I reckon. In the meantime, I’d love to show ye the sights of the village.”

  Nick hadn’t spent too much time in a village as small as this one, but he had a feeling that walking out with Miss Johnson might be tantamount to an understanding – one he wished to avoid. “Thank you,” he said kindly, “but I’m afraid I am lost in my solitary thoughts.”

  She turned her head to the side. “Yer lost where?”

  “It is of little consequence. I am simply puzzling over a matter. Thank you for your kind offer, but I shall continue on alone.”

  She was disappointed, but smiled winningly. “If ye change yer mind, let me know. I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”

  “Good day,” said Nick, as he continued on his walk at a faster pace than before, lest she decide to follow. He’d come to the village in search of answers. He didn’t wish to inadvertently find a wife.

  He looked out at the horizon to see that the fishing boats were sailing slowly but steadily toward home. They’d likely be ashore and finished selling their haul within the hour, which meant they’d probably be in the pub with at least a pint in them half an hour after that.

  Which is where they’d find him.

  * * *

  True to Nick’s prediction, the men from the boats began arriving at the tap shortly after finishing work for the day. Nick sat at a table facing the door, studying the men as they came in. He smiled and nodded, receiving only suspicious looks in return. But he knew to be patient and to wait for the man who looked like their leader.

  Approximately a quarter hour after the men began arriving, a man who looked to be in his middle-fifties arrived. He was stocky and muscled, no doubt from a lifetime of hard work. The other men greeted him as he made his way to the tap. He simply nodded to the innkeeper, who gave him a pint of ale.

  Nick made his way to the bar, feeling the eyes of the room upon him. He took up position a few feet away from the leader. Nick nodded to him. “Good day.”

  The man nodded coolly. “Milord.”

  “I’m Nicholas Chilcott, just passing through the village.”

  “Aye.”

  The leader was a man of few words. Or wasn’t one to speak to strangers. Or both.

  “This is good ale,” said Nick.

  “Aye.”

  The leader appeared to be a man of one word.

  “What was your catch today?”

  The man took a swallow of his ale, getting to the bottom of his glass. “Fish.”

  “Can I buy you another pint?”

  “Aye.”

  Nick nodded to the innkeeper to refill both their glasses with the strong ale. “I’ve been travelling through this county and was hoping to learn more about its history. You look like a man who knows a great deal about it.”

  Now the man didn’t even say “Aye.”

  Perhaps a more direct approach was in order. “I know I’m a stranger in these parts, but I mean you no harm. Any of you. I just wanted to learn a little of the history of the place.”

  The innkeeper placed the pints in front of Nick and the other man. The leader drank half the glass at once. For a moment, it appeared he wouldn’t speak again, but after another long drink, he finally turned his attention to Nick. “Well, men have been making their livin’ from the sea since this village was founded. My grandfather and father done it. I do it. My son does it. I reckon my grandson and great-grandson will, too. And the ones after that. Well, that’s all the history I got.”

  That elicited laughter from the other men, who were watching the two of them with interest.

  Nick had to smile at the older man’s reticence. “You’ve been most helpful.”

  “Have I?” asked the man, with a half-smile. “’Twasn’t my intention.”

  Now Nick laughed, as did the other men. “I thank you anyway, Mr….?”

  For a moment, it looked like the man wouldn’t answer. But then he put out a weathered hand. “Jonas Archer.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Archer,” said Nick, trying not to wince in pain at the strength of the fisherman’s grip. “It looks like you and your men had a good day.”

  “How do you know they’re my men?”

  “Because everyone has been watching us and I’m not that interesting.”

  Archer was flattered despite himself, but he still squinted his eyes and asked, “You selling somethin’?”

  “Just hoping to learn about the area, especially as it concerns the war. My brother was in the Guards and he often spoke of the importance of the coastal areas in England’s defense.”

  Archer relaxed a bit. “We did our part. Some of our boys went off to fight. Some never made it home.” He finished off his pint. “Did your brother come back?”

  “Fortunately, yes.” The men were still watching the interaction between the two. Nick needed to do something to get them to trust him. “Innkeeper, a round for the house in honor of those who did their part in the war.”

  That was met with the enthusiasm Nick expected. Archer seemed wary, but there was no reticence among the dozen young men who now clapped Nick on the back with the force one would use to dislodge half-swallowed steak.

  Archer called over a young man who Nick recognized as the lad who’d been flirting with Miss Winston the previous afternoon. Archer nodded at Nick. “This is Linus, my boy.”

  “It’s good to meet you, Linus. I’m Nicholas Chilcott.”

  Linus looked Nick up and down with more than a hint of disapproval, despite the free ale. “You come up from London?”

  “Just travelling through.”

  “Wants to know about the war,” said Archer.

  Linus turned wistful. “I would’ve liked to ‘ave fought.”

  “You ‘ad more important things to do,” said his father. “We couldn’t send all the best young men off to the continent. We needed some of you ‘ere to protect us.”

  There was real affection in his voice and Nick could see that the elder Archer, as gruff as he was with an outsider, loved his son.

  Linus downed his ale, then held up his empty glass with a questioning look.

  Nick nodded to the innkeeper. “Another round for my friend.”

  Mr. Archer turned to the room. “Hear that lads? Another round!”

  Though that hadn’t been Nick’s intent, there was a gratifying cheer, which might make getting information a bit easier, even if it was emptying his purse.

  Young Linus took a drink of his refilled ale. “The war was my last chance for excitement.”

  “You’ll have excitement a plenty when you get married,” said his father.

  Linus smiled. “From what I hear, marriage is the end of excitement.”

  “You jus’ need to find a lass you fancy.”

  One of the men called out, “Like Miss Winston.”

  Linus smiled again. “You shouldn’t be shoutin’ her
name out in a tavern, lads. But I reckon she’s not half bad, despite her bookish ways.”

  Nick was a bit insulted on Miss Winston’s behalf. Her name shouldn’t be bandied about in a tavern, but, more than that, he reckoned the lady would be most insulted to know her ‘bookish ways’ were being disparaged. He liked a woman who read, though he suspected Miss Winston did have bluestocking tendencies. Perhaps he’d go back to the archives and provoke her into arguing with him. It would be a good deal more entertaining than talking to a group of men in the tap. And a good deal less expensive, as more and more men entered and were told they each had two free drinks coming to them.

  “Are there any stories you can share with me about the war?” Nick asked, once he figured the rather strong ale was beginning to lessen the men’s distrust of him.

  “Loads,” said Linus. “We were in the thick of things, even if we didn’t have to fight off any invasion. What with the brandy and…”

  “And fishing,” said his father firmly. “We’re jus’ fishermen. Then and now.”

  Just fisherman, my arse, thought Nick. “I spent most of the war in London and I was always thankful to the brave men who kept the brandy flowing.”

  That brought the festivities to a halt, though he saw one man order two pints of ale to take home.

  “What are you implyin’?” asked old Archer.

  “I’m just saying I’m thankful to the men who were brave enough to outrun the Revenue and the privateers. They did their part.”

  “I agree!” said Linus. “Perhaps, that calls for….?” He motioned to the innkeeper.

  “Another round!” said Nick, thankful that he’d brought more money than he thought he would need, though he’d have to economize from this day forward. “Now, who would like to play a round of darts?”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Nick awoke the next morning, certain that someone was beating his head with a pipe. He couldn’t pry open his eyes, though he could tell the sun was high in the sky. He believed he was in his room at the inn, having the vaguest memory of returning there late the previous evening. The bed wasn’t as lumpy as he remembered, until he realized he was lying on the floor.

  It was an improvement from the cot.

  It hurt to move, but the stench of fish wafting through the window wasn’t exactly the soothing smell his senses craved at that moment. He needed to sit up to avoid being sick, but felt the very motion of doing so would make him ill.

  Cruel irony, that.

  He had few memories from the previous night. The ale had evidently been much stronger than he realized and he’d learned very little from the fishermen. Of course, with as foggy as his head was, perhaps he’d learned everything he needed to know, but simply forgotten it.

  He finally sat up, then put his hands on the ground to stop the room from spinning. He waited for a moment until his stomach settled, then crawled on hands and knees to find his watch. It was half past two. He had a vague feeling he had something to do that day. He hoped it wasn’t anything more strenuous than lying back down and trying not to die.

  Then he remembered. He had promised the fishermen he’d help unload their catch. The very thought of it made him want to be sick. But if he wanted answers, he needed to earn their trust. And apparently the only way to do that was to subject himself to what would surely be a bruising display of strength.

  Nick cursed his lack of sense the night before, then began dressing for the afternoon’s excursion to the beach.

  * * *

  Kate had never been one to gossip – overly much. Her dear Oscar had gently admonished her whenever she had tried to share a tidbit she’d overheard. It was a marked contrast to Mr. Bramwell, who never hesitated to carry tales, though always in the guise of using it to teach about sin. But Kate knew that if anyone in the village would know about Mr. Chilcott, it would be Mrs. Johnson, Lily’s mother, who ran the local shop. Kate always had the feeling Mrs. Johnson didn’t care for her very much. She would often imply that Kate’s parentage wasn’t as it should be, and how kind Oscar had been to take in an orphan girl. Though when she said it, it sounded like she didn’t think he was “kind,” as much as “dicked in the nob.”

  But Kate wanted information on Mr. Chilcott enough to brave the gossips who were continually hanging about in the shop. She waited until midday, then opened the door to Mrs. Johnson’s store. As she suspected, there were half a dozen other matrons there, as well as Lily. When she had spied them through the window they’d been animatedly discussing something. Or someone. Kate had only one guess as to who it might be.

  All chatter stopped as the bell announced Kate’s arrival.

  “Good day, Mrs. Johnson, ladies.” She smiled at them all, including Lily. The girl had never been particularly friendly to her, though Kate didn’t know why. But today Lily was smiling like a cat with cream.

  “Good morning, Miss Winston,” said Mrs. Johnson. “I see you’re still wearing that old overcoat.”

  Mrs. Johnson never passed up an opportunity to criticize Oscar’s old coat. Kate knew it wasn’t fashionable, but it made her feel closer to the man who’d been like a grandfather to her. And that was far more important than fashion. “Yes, Mrs. Johnson, I am.” She knew better than to ask what the ladies had been discussing, so she began looking at the yarn behind the counter, hoping Mrs. Johnson wouldn’t be able to keep any news to herself.

  It wasn’t a long wait.

  “Miss Winston, have you heard my Lily’s news?”

  Before Kate could answer, the girl herself spoke up. “I spoke to Mr. Chilcott yesterday when we were out walking.”

  Kate immediately grew suspicious. If Mr. Chilcott hoped to learn about the village by courting an innocent girl, he was truly a scoundrel. “He took you out walking?”

  The girl hesitated a moment. “Not exactly. He was walking and I was walking, but then we stopped and chatted. Then we both went on walking.”

  “Together?”

  Lily glared at Kate, then sighed. “No.”

  “But that doesn’t mean they won’t go out walking together later,” said Mrs. Johnson. “After all, my Lily knows how to attract a man.”

  From the look Mrs. Johnson gave Kate, it was quite clear she thought Lily was the only one who possessed that particular skill.

  “I thought your Lily had an understanding with Linus Archer,” said Mrs. Sawyer, the smithy’s wife.

  Mrs. Johnson smiled. “Lily has any number of admirers to choose from.”

  “Who knows?” said Lily. “Maybe there’s someone more handsome we haven’t even met yet.”

  Kate wasn’t sure there was anyone more handsome than Mr. Chilcott. “Did he say anything of interest?”

  “He was dressed like a gentleman, I can tell you that. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was actually a baron or maybe even a foreign prince of some kind,” said Lily.

  “We wouldn’t want him too foreign,” said her mother quickly. “Just foreign enough.”

  “What did he talk about?” asked Kate.

  “This and that. He said he was admiring the sights, but he didn’t mean the land or sea,” said Lily, as she preened.

  “That was a bit fresh of him,” said her mother. “But that’s the way of London gentlemen.”

  “How would you know that?” asked Mrs. Sawyer

  Mrs. Johnson bristled. “Everyone with any sense knows that.”

  “Did he say anything else?” asked Kate.

  “He asked when the men would be returning from the sea. I can only imagine that was so he could challenge Linus to fight for my hand.”

  Kate rather doubted it. But Mr. Chilcott was certainly curious about the fishermen. That could be dangerous for the village. It could also be dangerous for Mr. Chilcott if the others thought he had been sent from the Revenue or even a rival gang of smugglers, some of whom could be deadly. She’d never heard of the men in Weymouth seriously hurting someone, but she had no doubt they’d protect their own.

  She hoped Mr. Chilcott kne
w what he was getting himself into.

  * * *

  It was almost four of the clock and Nick could avoid leaving his room no longer. He had eaten a bacon sandwich and downed as much water as a man could handle. But as he saw the boats drawing nearer and nearer to the shore, he realized he must go out to meet them if he had any hope of learning anything of use.

  He didn’t have an entirely clear picture of his night in the tavern and hoped he hadn’t said anything which would make the men overly suspicious of him. There was no statute of limitations for treason. If these men had smuggled spies or traded secrets, they’d likely go to any lengths to protect themselves. While he doubted they’d do anything to harm him in broad daylight, he had to be cautious at night. He had two pistols and three knives. He knew how to defend himself, though if cornered by more than two men, he likely couldn’t do much to help himself. His best course of action was to use his wits and stay the hell away from the ale.

  Of course, there was also the possibility that these men had had nothing to do with acts which would implicate his father. If such facts even existed. This whole excursion – including his brutal headache – might be for naught. With that lowering thought, he set out for the beach wearing work clothes he’d borrowed from the innkeeper.

  The sun, while descending across the early spring sky, was still annoyingly bright. And the smell of the sea did not improve the closer he came to it. The boats were still one hundred yards from shore when Nick realized he was being watched. He turned to see Miss Winston looking at him.

  She was dressed much as he had seen her before, with the man’s greatcoat buttoned to her neck and beyond. She looked almost disgustingly hale and healthy, the brisk air having given her skin a light pink tint. A breeze caught the brim of her bonnet and it would have blown out to sea had it not been firmly tied. Nick had the oddest notion that had it blown off, he would have given chase.

  “What are you doing here, Mr. Chilcott?” she asked, looking him up and down.

  It wasn’t a look of flirtation. She was no doubt wondering why he was dressed for the sea. “Are you going to be in a theatrical production?” she asked.