Read Online A Sensible Lady: A Traditional Regency Romance by Judith Lown - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Judith Lown
Tags: Romance
Ads: Link
cases of untaxed imports. But after years fighting the French, Harry would not wink while others followed their example.
“I have my suspicions, but I am not certain. Something woke me up the other night. Decided it was the cellar door. But by the time I got on a coat and lit a lantern, whoever was there had gone—leaving a case of fine, untaxed French brandy. I am beginning to wonder if perhaps Tramell never paid all that much attention to the contents of his cellar. It might have been a drop-off. It would be amusing if all along the brethren were using it, leaving samples in payment, and old Tramell never the wiser. Heaven knows that Mrs. Bloggins , the housekeeper, is deaf as a post. She could be counted upon to hear nothing. And her rheumatism keeps her out of the cellar.”
“You mentioned you had suspicions.” Harry was impatient to head off unpleasantness in his domain if possible. His father had always been able to avoid problems with revenuers.
“There was a shoe print by the cellar door. A curious shoe print, “ Gus added.
Harry sipped his ale, striving for patience.
“Either the smuggler who left the gift at my cellar door has remarkably small feet, or he is quite young.”
Harry looked around the festivities on the village green. He noticed Katherine Brampton engaged in what appeared to be a circle of ring-around-the-rosy with some very young children. A pretty blonde maid was chatting with a red-faced, red-coated riding officer. Harry remembered her as the obliging miss who had left Katherine alone with him. A three-legged race was in progress involving a number of young lads, all of whom, Harry supposed, wore shoes that would be noticeably smaller than those of their fathers.
“More ale, your lordship?”
Harry nodded and watched a skinny blond youngster pour carefully from a jug that looked too heavy for his thin arms to carry.
Gus pushed his tankard over for the boy to refill.
“Why are you not over racing with your chums?”
“ Gotta work, your worship. Roof needs patching, but Sir Clive let Randal go, and he—Sir Clive—-says he won’t pay till the new bailiff says it really needs patching. Only there in’t a new bailiff. But my Pa says no Stokes ever let his family down. So I’m helping Ben Yancey.”
The lad’s scrawny chest swelled with pride.
“You’re working at the Fox and Grapes? Didn’t I see you at the King’s Arms? Is your name Jimmy?” Wharton asked.
“That’s my name, all right. I help out wherever there’s a penny to earn.”
“I must say, I am very impressed with your knowledge of your flock,” Harry admitted when Jimmy Stokes had departed to fill tankards at an adjoining table. He then watched in amazement as Gus Wharton actually blushed. A first, as far as Harry could remember.
“Believe it or not, I take my duties seriously. How can I look after souls whose names I do not know?”
Wharton studied Jimmy as the boy continued to fill empty tankards.
“Just where my duties toward souls and my duties toward the law intersect, I am not certain, but I am concerned about that lad.”
“You think his eagerness to help his family might have lured him into criminal activity?” Harry hoped his friend would reject the idea out of hand.
Gus Wharton shrugged.
“I see him all over the parish while I’m on my rounds. Perhaps he’s too tired to be up nights running errands for smugglers. But I cannot think of another lad his age whose family seems less concerned about his whereabouts than the Stokes are about Jimmy’s. He merits watching,” Wharton concluded.
As Harry greeted tenants, awarded prizes to winners of competitions, ate his fill of roast pork and apple tarts, avoided both Miss Katherine and Miss Leticia Brampton, and admired Miss Summersville’s needlework, he endeavored to keep an eye on Jimmy Stokes. He liked the lad. Harry admired initiative. Perhaps he should take Jimmy aside and have a word with him. Warn him away from having anything to
“I have my suspicions, but I am not certain. Something woke me up the other night. Decided it was the cellar door. But by the time I got on a coat and lit a lantern, whoever was there had gone—leaving a case of fine, untaxed French brandy. I am beginning to wonder if perhaps Tramell never paid all that much attention to the contents of his cellar. It might have been a drop-off. It would be amusing if all along the brethren were using it, leaving samples in payment, and old Tramell never the wiser. Heaven knows that Mrs. Bloggins , the housekeeper, is deaf as a post. She could be counted upon to hear nothing. And her rheumatism keeps her out of the cellar.”
“You mentioned you had suspicions.” Harry was impatient to head off unpleasantness in his domain if possible. His father had always been able to avoid problems with revenuers.
“There was a shoe print by the cellar door. A curious shoe print, “ Gus added.
Harry sipped his ale, striving for patience.
“Either the smuggler who left the gift at my cellar door has remarkably small feet, or he is quite young.”
Harry looked around the festivities on the village green. He noticed Katherine Brampton engaged in what appeared to be a circle of ring-around-the-rosy with some very young children. A pretty blonde maid was chatting with a red-faced, red-coated riding officer. Harry remembered her as the obliging miss who had left Katherine alone with him. A three-legged race was in progress involving a number of young lads, all of whom, Harry supposed, wore shoes that would be noticeably smaller than those of their fathers.
“More ale, your lordship?”
Harry nodded and watched a skinny blond youngster pour carefully from a jug that looked too heavy for his thin arms to carry.
Gus pushed his tankard over for the boy to refill.
“Why are you not over racing with your chums?”
“ Gotta work, your worship. Roof needs patching, but Sir Clive let Randal go, and he—Sir Clive—-says he won’t pay till the new bailiff says it really needs patching. Only there in’t a new bailiff. But my Pa says no Stokes ever let his family down. So I’m helping Ben Yancey.”
The lad’s scrawny chest swelled with pride.
“You’re working at the Fox and Grapes? Didn’t I see you at the King’s Arms? Is your name Jimmy?” Wharton asked.
“That’s my name, all right. I help out wherever there’s a penny to earn.”
“I must say, I am very impressed with your knowledge of your flock,” Harry admitted when Jimmy Stokes had departed to fill tankards at an adjoining table. He then watched in amazement as Gus Wharton actually blushed. A first, as far as Harry could remember.
“Believe it or not, I take my duties seriously. How can I look after souls whose names I do not know?”
Wharton studied Jimmy as the boy continued to fill empty tankards.
“Just where my duties toward souls and my duties toward the law intersect, I am not certain, but I am concerned about that lad.”
“You think his eagerness to help his family might have lured him into criminal activity?” Harry hoped his friend would reject the idea out of hand.
Gus Wharton shrugged.
“I see him all over the parish while I’m on my rounds. Perhaps he’s too tired to be up nights running errands for smugglers. But I cannot think of another lad his age whose family seems less concerned about his whereabouts than the Stokes are about Jimmy’s. He merits watching,” Wharton concluded.
As Harry greeted tenants, awarded prizes to winners of competitions, ate his fill of roast pork and apple tarts, avoided both Miss Katherine and Miss Leticia Brampton, and admired Miss Summersville’s needlework, he endeavored to keep an eye on Jimmy Stokes. He liked the lad. Harry admired initiative. Perhaps he should take Jimmy aside and have a word with him. Warn him away from having anything to
Similar Books
