Page 149 of A Winter By the Sea
“Was Mr. During meetin’ someone?” Bibi asked her brother. “Did he say?”
“No, but I ain’t seen no one else pass this way.”
“That’s something, I suppose,” Emily said. “Let’s go and find them before whoever he’s meeting gets there.”
Punch gave them directions, then asked, “Want me to go along?”
“No need. I am sure we’ll be all right.” In truth, Emily was not so sure. Even so, anxiety for Sarah propelled her westward along the beach as Mr. Thomson and Mr. Bernardi followed.
“Be careful!” Bibi called after them.
Waves lapped against the shore close to her feet, but Emily resisted the urge to retreat. For the second time in her life, concern for one of her sisters overpowered her fear of the sea.
———
After crossing the sand-and-pebble western beach, Sarah continued onto another narrow shoulder of shoreline that curved around a cliff base. As she picked her way along the rocky path, she slipped on a patch of slick green seaweed. Her arms shot out for balance, and she flailed, one of her half boots squelching into a puddle of sea water. She lifted the sodden boot with a sigh and went on.
Rounding the sandstone outcropping, she sidestepped a few fallen boulders and looked up. In the distance, she saw a formation in the water she thought might be Lade Rock. She kept going, all the while keeping a wary eye on the tide level.
On her right, a red sandstone cliff rose high above her, the bottom few yards covered in weeping seaweed, still wet from the last high tide. A miniature waterfall trickled in a frothy stream down its face.
Scanning the area ahead, Sarah saw no sign of life. Heard nothing but the cry of a distant gull. Had she mistaken the way? Or might Mr. During have changed his mind? If so, perhaps he had taken the cliffside path from the western beach to the lime kiln and made his way back to Sea View from there? Probably wishful thinking. Either way, she wanted to be certain.
She continued, drawing nearer to Lade Foot. As she did, she noticed a narrow recess in the cliff face. Gingerly walking closer, she kept to the margin of wet sand, risking both of her half boots to avoid crunching over pebbles, which would announce her presence before she was ready to do so.
While she did not relish the coming confrontation, she was not afraid of Mr. During. She was afraid, however, of interrupting a transaction with a smuggler who had successfully fought off armed soldiers with only a knife.
Was that man the potential buyer? Was his boat even now moored in Lade Foot Cove, out of sight behind the rocks? Shecraned her neck to look but saw no sign of a boat, nor of a rope tethering one to shore.
Or worse, had the buyer been there and gone? Perhaps even left Selwyn During for dead?Don’t be dramatic, she scolded herself, her imagination suddenly as vivid as Emily’s.
Too vivid.
Perhaps she ought to have brought her sister along. Or even Punch Cordey. But Sarah still held out hope that she could privately convince Mr. During to return the candlesticks. Whatever he needed money for, it was not worth endangering his career over, let alone his life.
Nearing the mouth of the sea cave, she gingerly glanced around the edge with an anticipatory wince, fearing what she might find. The wedge-shaped cave narrowed toward the back. It was only a few yards deep, but large enough and shadowed enough to conceal a stack of brandy barrels or a few men.
Only one stood there.
Selwyn During, his leather case on a rock nearby.
Sarah released a relieved breath and hurried forward, heedless now of the sound of her boots.
“Mr. During. Thank heaven I caught you in time. Please don’t do it. It’s not worth it. There must be another way.”
“Miss Summers, you should not be here.” He searched over her shoulder, expression tense. “Leave as quickly as you can. I cannot guarantee your safety.”
“Yet you risk your own for a pair of candlesticks!”
His fair eyebrows rose. “You know?”
She nodded.
He hung his head with a groan. “You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it to me.”
“I have no choice. My beloved mother and sisters have been sent to debtors’ prison. The Marshalsea. That pit of vermin and vice and sickness.”
