Part 38 (1/2)
She hurried back the way they'd come, the voices becoming louder. If this was a gothic novel, there'd be a spy hole into that great hall. Crag Wyvern felt all too much like the deranged creation of a gothic novelist, so she began to hunt for one. She concentrated on the inner wall, running a hand along the rough surface. Then she paused. It wasn't stone-cold.
She tapped. It wasn't stone at all, but wood painted to imitate stone. Folly and deception all around her! She would not let such idiocy come between her and the man she loved.
She continued on and found what she was looking for. It wasn't exactly a spy hole, for it was a vertical slit, showing only a sliver of the great hall. It was a listening hole. When she turned her ear to it, she could hear the men quite clearly.
”Of course I give you permission,” David was saying. No, the tone was all earl-distant courtesy and palpable boredom. ”Though I consider filling in a cave a waste of the government's money.”
”Not if it stops the wretches stas.h.i.+ng goods there, my lord. There was clear evidence of use.” A Welsh accent, so probably Lloyd.
The topic was smugglers and she guessed Lloyd was the uniformed one and a Preventive officer. He wanted to fill in a cave so it couldn't be used to hide contraband.
”The coast is riddled with caves,” David said. ”But I haven't objected.”
The tone clearly said, Why are you lingering? She couldn't believe David could be so openly discourteous to a man who was doing his legal duty.
”You don't take great interest in trouncing the smugglers, my lord. But down Purbeck way a group of them treated a gentlewoman most foully because her husband objected to the use of his horses in a run.”
”I heard nothing of it.”
”You've been away, my lord, and it's been kept quiet for the sake of the lady, but it happened, and now no one there will whisper a word.”
”Most regrettable, but Purbeck is far beyond my authority.”
”What happens there could happen here, my lord, if the wretches aren't suppressed.”
”Pray, what do you suggest I do?”
”Tell me who Captain Drake is.”
A silence made Lucy want to tear open the wall to see what was happening, but then David said, ”The deuce, man, you're obsessed with Captain Drake! Have you considered that it might be a moveable ident.i.ty?”
”Upon one's death or removal, yes, my lord. Melchisadeck Clyst was Captain Drake here for many years. We know that. Now there's a new one. We know that, too.”
”Or a number of them. And is it not possible that whoever he or they may be, Captain Drake is controlling the smugglers in this area to avoid cruelty and mayhem?”
”He, or they, is still a criminal and it is my duty to put a stop to him.”
”Haven't you heard of the Hydra, Lloyd?”
”Cut off one head and two appear in its place? Logic tells us that any creature must exhaust the possibility in time.”
”What the devil does logic have to do with mythology?”
”We live in an age of reason, my lord, where there are no Hydras-or dragons. It's my duty to stop smuggling hereabouts and I will do so, by any means.”
It sounded like a direct challenge, foolhardy man.
”I'm sure you'll do your best,” David said, his voice icily cold.
Even in the silence Lucy could hear the Welshman's fuming frustration. ”I will, my lord.”
”As is your duty. If there's nothing more, Lloyd, I have pressing matters to attend to.”
Gritted teeth lay behind Lloyd's ”Good day, my lord,” and anger spoke in the click of his booted feet on the stone floor, and the near slam of the door.
Lucy continued to listen, wondering if the other man they'd seen approaching was there and might speak.
Silence.
She realized that David could be coming back to her. She ran back along the corridor and into the circular room, afraid that he might realize she'd overheard.
Afraid?
Why would overhearing that conversation put her in danger? The Preventive officer was seeking the earl's help in suppressing smuggling, and clearly not for the first time. David had permitted the filling in of a cave, but otherwise been uncooperative. He'd made no secret of thinking action against smugglers a waste of time and money.
She was allowing the gothic horrors of this place to overturn her mind.
She hitched up to sit on the bed, but her mind circled the conversation like the dragon circling the room.
Then she s.h.i.+fted because of the journal in her pocket. She'd carried it there all the way from London but not written a word.
She took it and her pencil out.
I'm in Crag Wyvern, And it's just as horrid as said.
But we kissed, and nothing can be dark.
David clashed with the officer Whose duty it is to end The Freetrade here.
As if they truly were enemies . . .
Lloyd had said the Hydra was mythological, but added that dragons were, too. A dangerously impertinent jab at a n.o.bleman who's t.i.tle was a dragon's name. Proof of his anger. She should be in sympathy with him. But not when his opponent was David.
Ah.
David is the son of Captain Drake.
Though he was raised by his Aunt and uncle, that must count For something.
The current Captain Drake is probably A friend or even a relative. Of course He won't betray him.
”What are you doing?”
She hadn't even heard the door open.
Lucy said the only thing she could. ”Writing poetry.”
”Is there no end to your talents?”
It wasn't friendly and might even be suspicious.