Page 69 of The Seaside Homecoming
When no alarm was raised, she slipped inside, the musty smells of old hay and manure assaulting her. Instantly struck with the need to sneeze, she pressed a finger beneath her nostrils and breathed through her mouth.
Thankfully, the urge passed. Claire waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim light and then crept across the hay-strewn floor toward a flight of narrow wooden stairs along one wall. Looking up, she saw a line of light seeping from under a door at the top. Male voices seeped through as well. She could not, however, make out the words.
Gripping the rickety railing, she slowly ascended. Nearing the door, she stopped to listen. Closer now, the voices were clearer.
“This must remain confidential—a secret project.”
“I don’t do that sort of thing anymore,” Mr. Hammond replied.
“But you could.”
“Perhaps. Where did they come from?”
“Hidden in a captured French ship and only recently discovered.”
Claire listened in consternation. What were they talking about? Was he a spy after all? No. He had denied it, and quite vehemently. She believed him, did she not?
“The war is over,” Mr. Hammond said.
“We have thought so before. Castlereagh thinks it best to learn all we can, to be better prepared the next time or even avert another war. Are you willing?”
“I might be,” Mr. Hammond replied. “How soon?”
“I could have them delivered under guard as early as next week.”
“Not sure I like the idea of armed guards traipsing past our guests. Perhaps they might come through the old stable below us and use the back door there. More discreet.”
Claire held her breath, imagining both men turning toward the very door that concealed her. Hopefully Mr. Hammond wouldn’t show his guest out that way now.
“As you think best. May I tell Castlereagh to proceed?”
“Will it be dangerous? I have a daughter to consider.”
“Unlikely, although I suppose that depends on what you discover, and if anyone wants to keep us from learning what’s in there. I doubt anyone would bother with something so complicated for a mere laundry list.”
“Oh, you might be surprised,” Mr. Hammond said, and Claire heard that familiar wry humor in his tone. After a moment he added, “Let me think on it.”
“I am away most days, but I will be in church on Sunday.”
“Very well. I shall give you my decision then.”
Mr. Hammond had told her he had been a diplomat inAustria, Russia, and the Ottoman Empire. What would that have to do with something found in a French ship now? And how could a boarding-house proprietor help avert a future war?
Claire tiptoed quietly down the stairs and out the stable door, pulling hard to slide it closed.Secret project. Confidential. Dangerous? Armed guards?What were they involved in? And what sort of trouble would she be in if she were caught eavesdropping?
Claire had made it to the front of the house and down the basement stairs when she heard the front door open and footsteps on the pavement above. She looked up in time to see Mr. Hammond’s visitor emerge and walk away. Definitely Emily’s husband.
Claire returned to her tasks even as her mind continued to mull over what she’d heard.
She wished now she had not sneaked up there. If anyone was guilty of spying, it was her.
A few hours later, weary from her labors and worries, Claire went back down to her room to tidy herself for dinner. She halted in the passage, surprised to see Mr. Hammond standing there. Her stomach knotted. Had he somehow learned of her eavesdropping?
A moment later, she noticed something else. On the floor near her door sat a leather-covered traveling trunk with brass studs and clasp. A pile of folded fabric lay on top.
“I hope you don’t think me terribly rude,” Mr. Hammond said, “but I notice you wear the same few dresses in rotation. Don’t misunderstand me; you always look neat and pret...uh, perfectly presentable. This is not a criticism. Dash it, I’m making a muddle of this.” He scrubbed a hand over his jaw, then gestured toward the trunk. “There on top are the yards of fabric I mentioned, should you want to makesomething for yourself. Vanita wore primarily English clothes, so hopefully something is appropriate, though there may be silk for a sari as well.”
“Thank you.”
