Page 47 of The Seaside Homecoming
“Speaking of time,” Fran said, “I find I have plenty to spare these days, should you ever need more help with anything.”
“Really? That would be wonderful. Thank you.”
Arm in arm, the two walked together back to the esplanade and then up the street. At the marketplace, they parted ways, Fran to reunite with her husband, while Claire turned toward the boarding house.
As she neared, intending to take the outside stairs down to her room, Claire heard something along the side of the house. She stepped closer and looked down the long narrow alley that led to the old stables.
There in the deepening shadows, she saw two men talking in eager, confidential tones. Mr. Hammond and a slight, bespectacled man Claire did not recognize. Why were theystanding there in that dim, overgrown lane, all but hidden from view?
The men turned and began walking toward the street. Claire quickly started down the stairs, not keen to be caught eavesdropping.
From above, she heard Mr. Hammond say, “Yes, but let’s keep it between ourselves.”
And the man replied, “As you wish. I will be in touch when I receive it.”
As the man turned away and Mr. Hammond walked toward the front door above, Claire waited in the shadows, all the while wondering,Receive what?
13
The Home Office needed good, reliable intelligence—that is why spies were necessary.
—Sue Wilkes,Regency Spies
When she’d finished her own breakfast the next day, Claire excused herself and walked through the dining room to make sure all was in order.
She hesitated upon seeing a man she did not recognize seated with their four other guests. He was of small stature, fastidiously dressed, with thinning dark hair and keen, shining eyes.
Claire bid good morning to Mr. and Mrs. Bracegirdle, busy tucking into a hearty breakfast, then asked the others, “Have everything you need?”
The newcomer looked up and replied in French, “Délicieux, merci.”
She wanted to ask his name. But if he were a guest there, should she not know it?
Mr. Jackson rose from the table and picked up his cases. “All finished. Another excellent repast, thank you.”
Not wanting to embarrass him, Claire silently caught his eye and pointed to her own neck.
“Oh!” He belatedly removed the table napkin he’d tucked there, now liberally smeared with jam and egg yolk. “Obliged to you.”
Although Claire had initially worried about the salesman, he had been perfectly respectful since their first introduction, even kind.
He followed her into the hall. “Have you ever watched the lace makers, Miss Summers? Sitting upon their stools, bent over straw-stuffed pillows, hands flying from bobbin to bobbin?”
“I have not.”
“You must stop and admire their skill when next you see one of them. I often do that, especially at one particular cottage on my route. The widow who lives there, we are of an age. She and her daughters often sit outside for the best light and work their magic. She, of course, would never look twice at a man like me, but still, the heart will hope.”
“Yes...” Claire breathed in sympathy. “It will.”
After the salesman had taken his leave, Claire found Mr. Hammond still seated at the table in the morning room, head bent over coffee and a newspaper. Sonali and Mira had evidently already gone back upstairs.
“Mr. Hammond, we seem to have a new guest. One I don’t recall meeting...?”
“Ah yes. Jules Lemaire arrived late last night. I did not wish to wake you. I put him in number five.”
This was not the same man she’d seen him talking to in the alley beside the house. This newcomer must have arrived even later. She said, “I did not hear anyone knock late last night.”
“Well, no. I met his coach at the inn and walked him over here myself.”
