Henry could not get Jacintha out of his head. He had traveled back to Ferryway a day earlier than he had intended, simply because it had become almost impossible for him not to appear at her door and demand to speak to her.

He had not known what he would say, of course, even though the scenario had played out in his head a great number of times. He had thought he might ask her to accept his suit as well as Lord Slate’s, only to realize the foolishness of such an endeavor. He was about to return to the village of Ferryway, she was to go to the country for her father’s sake, and he had very little doubt that Lord Slate would follow her there if he could. In fact, he might even propose to Jacintha before she left, such was his apparent ardor! Claudia had waxed on and on about how much of gentleman Lord Slate was until he could bear it no longer. Of course, he had not told Claudia how much her talk of Lord Slate was affecting him, for he knew she would not understand. In fact, he had spoken to no-one about it, keeping it entirely to himself. After all, who could help him in this matter? He only had himself to blame. Had he been a little more careful about his character and his habits, then he might not now be belatedly attempting to redeem himself in some way.

“You are rather quiet this evening,” his uncle commented, as they left the house. “Something on your mind?”

Henry shrugged, wondering if his uncle would understand. “There is something, yes.”

“That particular friend of yours?”

Unable to prevent himself from chuckling, Henry grinned in the darkness. “Yes, the very same.”

“You saw her?”

“I did.”

“And?”

Sighing heavily, Henry looked up to the sky for a moment, taking in the darkness of the clouds. They felt oppressive, as though they were coming to settle all around him.

“She is taken up with Lord Slate,” he said, after a long pause. “Lord Slate is apparently the most wonderful gentleman in all of London, according to my sister. She has been rather surprised that Lady Jacintha has taken so long in accepting his court.”

His uncle nodded gravely. “I see. And you feel as though you have not the opportunity to prove yourself to this lady.”

“We were friends a long time ago,” Henry explained, a little exasperated with how foolish he had been. “There was an intimate moment between us, something I have never really forgotten, but we were interrupted before it could come to anything. My father sent me away soon after and we never really saw each other, not until recently.”

“And she was surprised at your behavior.”

“You know already that it was her words as well as your own that forced me to reconsider my ways,” Henry replied. “However it appears as though I will be too late. Lord Slate has intentions for Lady Jacintha and I am sure it will be quite the match.”

His uncle was silent for a few minutes, the only sound the crunch of the gravel beneath their feet as they made their way towards the beach. Henry could think only of Jacintha, of how she had looked at him when the revelation about Lord Slate had been made. She had looked almost terrified, as though devastated that he would think ill of her for accepting Lord Slate. It had been a strange look, a strained conversation and yet he could not get it from his mind. She had continued to glance at him as though worried about what he would say and, so, he had chosen to say nothing.

The last thing he had said to her was to bid her good day. It had felt as though he were saying goodbye.

“How very strange that she should be marrying the man whose estate is so close to your own,” Henry muttered when his uncle said nothing. “It is as if the universe wants me to see her happy with him, as a punishment for all my foolishness.”

His uncle chuckled, breaking Henry’s melancholy. “Or maybe it is so that you can ensure she does not do anything foolish,” he said, making Henry wonder what he was talking about. “Lord Slate is not a man I have ever been introduced to, but there is something about him that makes people around these parts rather wary of him.”

“Wary?”

Roderick nodded. “There is more to tell you about Lord Slate and certainly more to discover. I spoke to some of the men about him, for, as I’m sure I told you, we have some suspicions about him.”

A stab of worry kicked Henry in the gut.

“It is nothing serious as yet, but there are some unfortunate instances of the man treating others with sheer disrespect and cruelty.” His uncle shook his head, his expression dark. “Not a good man by all accounts.”

Henry frowned, thinking hard. This was not the man Claudia had described, surely! His sister was normally a very good judge of character and certainly would not push her friend towards a man who was cruel and unjust! That would certainly not make for a happy marriage.

“That does not corroborate with what Claudia has said about him,” he murmured, aware that they were just about to reach the group of men ready to do the patrol. “I am quite surprised to hear you say it, to be honest, uncle.”

His uncle smiled, his face lit by the torches the men carried. “I quite understand but not every man is as he seems, is that not so? You have, for example, been playing the fool for a great many months and yet, underneath it all, you are not that kind of man.”

Henry flushed, hoping that the darkness hid his change in color. “That is true.”

“Then could it not also be suggested that Lord Slate is, in fact, putting on something of a façade whilst he is in London? He needs a wife to produce an heir and so, he is being as charming and as polite as he can in order to secure her.” He shrugged, his lips thinning. “After the marriage is over, there will be no need for any more falsehoods.”

Something began to crawl through Henry’s veins, making him shiver. Was Jacintha truly about to join herself to a man she did not really know? Was he truly this false?

“Here,” his uncle said, pointing to one man. “This is Frank. Frank, tell Henry what you know about Lord Slate.”

Frank, an older man with a large bushy grey beard, stepped forward, his eyebrows furrowed. “Lord Slate is no gentleman,” he growled, his eyes dark with anger. “He tried to have his way with my daughter – by force!” His voice grew loud, his words filled with hate. “Luckily I heard her screaming from the barn and ran to find her. If I hadn’t reached there in time, I know he would have forced himself on her.”

Henry’s heart sank into his books. Jacintha couldn’t know about this side of Lord Slate.

“He warned me not to touch him, else he’d throw me off his land,” Frank finished, his hands tightening on the torch he carried. “Lord knows I wanted to do nothing more than finish him off myself, but for the sake of my family, I had to step away. That man’s got more power than any one of us, especially over his tenants. What else can we do?”

“And then there’s Alfred,” Uncle Roderick said, gesturing to another man. “Come on, Alfred. You tell my nephew here what happened to you.”

Alfred, a large man, stepped forward, his grim expression matching that of Frank’s.

“Lord Slate owed me money,” he said, quietly. “I’m the butcher in these parts and don’t mind having a tab for the master of the estate. But, after a few months, I expect it to be paid.”

“Of course,” Henry replied, a little surprised. “Why would you not be paid? It is our duty to ensure that our bills are paid on time, especially to those – ”

“Especially to those of a lower class than you,” another man interrupted, a knowing look in his eyes. “That’s what an honorable gentleman would do. Not Lord Slate.”

Henry shook his head, looking back at Alfred. “You mean, he hasn’t paid.”

Alfred lifted his chin, his gaze steady. “Not only that, but he continues to ask for more meat, still without his previous debt being paid. I don’t mind telling you that I’ve been threatened, more than once, because I’ve not done what he asked.”

“You’ve held your ground?” Henry asked, his eyes widening. “Goodness, man, that takes some bravery.”

“It’s not without consequences,” Roderick replied, stepping forward. “Alfred here’s been beaten black and blue on more than one occasion.”

“Knifed me once too,” Alfred added, with a small shrug. “Lord Slate’s not a good man, Henry.”

Henry swallowed and shook his head, his heart filled with concern for Jacintha. “And my friend has caught his eye,” he muttered, running one hand through his hair. “I do not believe that anyone in London knows about these things. If there was even a mention of it, I know my sister would not have pushed this particular lady in Lord Slate’s direction.”

“The man is very good at keeping things hidden,” his uncle continued, addressing all of the men by this point. “It is likely, as far as I am concerned, that he may be involved in smuggling. I cannot think of another way for the goods to get from the ships into the village without passing through the estate. We have never seen anything being moved from the shore to the road, nor from the caves to anywhere in the town – and that is even when we have increased our patrols and had some men watching the beach during the day.”

“But if Lord Slate is involved, then what is he doing in London?” Henry muttered quietly to his uncle. “And even though his house is right on the clifftop, I cannot see an easy way to get from the sea to his home.”

His uncle chuckled, slapping one hand on Henry’s shoulder. “And that, my boy, is why we are all here. There is more to discover, more to find. We have to make the connection somehow. There have been smuggled goods found in the village and in the villages beyond – and we need to find out how they got there.”

The men chorused their agreement and, with a nod from Roderick, split off into their various groups, ready for the tasks ahead.

“I feel as though I should go back to London, to warn Jacintha about Lord Slate,” Henry said, as his uncle fell into step with him. “I cannot allow this to happen.”

His uncle shook his head. “I appreciate your fervor, but do you really think Jacintha will believe you without any proof? And what if she were to mention something you said to Lord Slate himself? The game would be up.”

Henry’s shoulders slumped. His uncle was right. Jacintha would not take his word for it and might easily tell Lord Slate, which would rouse his suspicions and put an end to any investigation.

“Trust me, the best way to help Jacintha to see Lord Slate for who he really is, is to unmask him in whatever way we can. Once we have evidence that he is involved in smuggling – for I truly believe that he is – then we can take the appropriate measures and your lady will be free from his grip. She will see him as he truly is, just as the rest of the world will.”

“But what if we do not find any evidence, uncle?” Henry asked, his anxiety only growing instead of dissipating. “What if they are to be wed and nothing is there as proof?”

His uncle chuckled, evidently taking a brighter look than Henry. “Then, Henry, I shall help you object at the wedding itself, where you may scoop up your lady and haul her from the church so that she does not marry Lord Slate. Does that sound quite all right to you?”

“Now you are being ridiculous,” Henry muttered, although he could not help but smile. “Very good, uncle, I see your point. Let us hope we find some evidence very soon. I do not know how long I can wait.”