Page 47 of Echoes of the Sea (Storm Tide #2)

The storm had been a significant one. Walking back along the island trail, Kip spotted broken tree branches scattered about.

He’d taken a peek that morning at the sea road; it was entirely underwater once more.

Mr. Stirling and Mr. Winthrop wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon.

In the meantime, he meant to see to it that the trail that had nearly cost Amelia her life was made safe as quickly as possible.

“This entire section here looks a problem to me,” one of the workmen said. He’d come up from the village along with all the others a couple of weeks ago and had almost immediately taken over the exterior efforts.

“It was along this stretch here that Miss Archibald had her accident,” Kip said. “I don’t want to see anyone else hurt.”

The man nodded and turned to shout instructions to some of the others about reinforcing that entire stretch of the path, which was a relief.

Were Kip to point out precisely where Amelia had fallen, it wouldn’t be difficult for people to ascertain that she’d been plunged all the way into the sea. No one could know that but the two of them.

A bit farther back, closer to the lighthouse, another section of the trail, one every bit as precarious, ran beside an outcropping. If someone slipped there, they would land among the rocks but not off the cliff. It was a good fit for what he’d told Mr. Winthrop had happened.

Kip made his way there, double-checking that it would work for his story.

He leaned farther and glanced over the cliffside.

While she most likely would have been caught before plunging all the way, had she somehow rolled off the edge here, he didn’t know that she would have survived the fall.

Walking along such treacherous terrain with her cane and her often fragile balance was dangerous.

It was further testament to her late grandfather’s cruelty that she was required to live here.

He slowly walked along the path, looking for any places where the workmen ought to focus. He knew the Iverses took this path up to the house. He didn’t want anything happening to any of them either.

Unfortunately, his focus on helping was disrupted by the arrival of the very person he wished could be tossed off the island. Mr. Winthrop was studying a stretch of the path almost exactly where Amelia had fallen. That was reason for caution.

“Is this where Miss Archibald had her accident?”

Kip shook his head and, turning, pointed behind him. “It was up the trail a pace. Closer to the lighthouse, where the rocks jut out even more.”

Mr. Winthrop eyed him doubtfully. “It seems if she’d fallen from that height, she would have been hurt far worse than she was.”

“If she had fallen all the way off the island, I think she almost certainly would have died. Fortunately, as I said, she tumbled onto the rocks beside the path. They’re jagged enough to do a great deal of damage even if not fallen on from a great height.”

Mr. Winthrop still didn’t look convinced. Indeed, he was studying the rocks below them. “I believe I see a scrap of fabric down there, a torn piece, stuck to that bit of rock.”

Kip thought quickly. “I lost my hat as I was helping her up off the rocks. Miss Archibald lost her cane. Do you see either of those items down there?”

Mr. Winthrop looked back at him with a pulled brow.

Kip shrugged and pressed onward. “Since you are apparently convinced that I don’t know where the accident that I witnessed happened and are further certain that a small piece of fabric possibly torn from Miss Archibald’s coat or dress could not have been moved about at all in what was obviously a very rough storm last night, then my hat and her cane must be right there as well.

Precisely where they would have fallen.”

Smudge was standing nearby and clearly got the gist of what was being argued.

“There’s a right big tree branch down there as well.

Odd thing, since there are no trees growing in that spot, and nothing could possibly have been brought there by the storm from somewhere else.

” Smudge shrugged, almost making the gesture seem sincere and authentic rather than a sarcastic indication of how ridiculous Mr. Winthrop was being.

Of course, Smudge didn’t know that Mr. Winthrop was actually correct. Amelia had fallen very near to this spot, and somehow, a scrap of fabric torn from her dress hadn’t been carried away by the storm.

Mr. Winthrop’s eyes darted about, a few of the other villagers working nearby barely holding back their grins of amusement. A flush of embarrassment stained his cheeks. If he weren’t such a blowhard, Kip might have felt sorry for him. The man could stand to be humbled.

Kip suspected, even if the villagers knew where Amelia had taken her fall and that it had plunged her into the ocean, setting her at odds with her grandfather’s requirement, they would have lied through their teeth to make certain no one knew.

She’d struggled at first to gain their cooperation.

In the end, though, she’d won them over entirely.

Mr. Winthrop stomped off, more petulant than a grown man ought to be. He likely didn’t even realize how honestly pathetic he really was. More than that, Kip suspected he didn’t really care. He was at Guilford with one purpose in mind: securing for himself a biddable and controllable wife.

“What do you think Miss Archibald will do after her leaves Guilford?” Smudge asked after their unwanted interruption had begun making his way back toward the house.

“Can’t say for certain, except that I have no doubt she will head somewhere away from the ocean.”

“And what’ll you do?”

With a grin he knew likely revealed the whole truth of it, he said, “I’ll go wherever she does, if she’ll let me. And if I can manage it. I don’t fit in the world of either gentlemen or tradesmen. I don’t imagine this time and place allows for much straddling of the two.”

Smudge half nodded, half shrugged. “If you stayed in and around Guilford Village, you could. Us knows who you are and when you’re from. Us’d find a way to help you sort it out.”

“The village would let me be a gentleman tradesman?” Kip laughed.

But Smudge didn’t. “The villagers like having you around. You might not be the usual sort, but us isn’t the usual village. All of we would like having you nearby.”

Until he heard Smudge say it, Kip hadn’t realized how much he’d needed to hear words of welcome. He hadn’t fit anywhere since before arriving at Guilford. He’d lost his place among his colleagues and in a world that had been his for years. And he’d had very little to do with his family.

He had been searching for home for far too long.

“You and Mrs. Finch are pretending to look at local estates,” Smudge said. “Maybe you ought to do some actual looking. Might be there’s a place near Guilford Village that would suit you.”

“To buy an estate, a person has to have money. I don’t have a single pound to my name.”

Smudge acknowledged that with a nod. But in trademark Smudge fashion, he also didn’t look deterred. The man could make a person believe almost anything was possible.

Kip continued down the path, searching for spots that needed attention.

He trusted the workers to find them, but the sight of Amelia plunging over the rocks was too fresh in his recollection for him not to feel anxious that nothing was missed.

The path took him past Amelia’s garden, and he peeked inside.

It had sustained damage in the storm but nothing, at least as far as he could see, that couldn’t be cleaned up with relative ease.

No trees appeared to be toppled. The stone wall was still entirely intact.

He’d have to tell her that and set her mind at ease.

She was likely worried, and heaven knew she had plenty enough to be worrying about.

He eventually came upon Mr. Stirling. Kip offered a brief bow, one with a degree more deference than he’d offered Mr. Winthrop. Amelia’s uncle didn’t seem entirely past redemption.

“It was quite a storm we had last night,” Mr. Stirling said.

Kip nodded. “The grounds workers are assessing the damage. They are all dedicated to making certain the island paths are as safe as they can be. We are very fortunate your niece was not injured more severely than she was.”

Mr. Stirling nodded absentmindedly. His brow was drawn in a look of contemplation. “Mr. Winthrop told me he suspects Amelia was plunged into the ocean, not merely tossed onto some rocks.”

“I am assuming I don’t need to explain to you why he is hoping that was true,” Kip said, “even to the point of putting forth the story despite the fact that it means he is implying that a gently bred young lady is lying.”

To his credit, Mr. Stirling looked a touch uncomfortable.

Kip pressed onward. “Even if Mr. Winthrop’s erroneous claims were true, I would hope that as both a gentleman and family to her, you would feel an increased compassion toward her, an increased concern, a desire to make certain she is well and whole.

If it were true”—he emphasized the word if —“you must ask yourself what kind of gentleman suspects that a lady has been through an absolutely harrowing ordeal and expresses not the tiniest bit of compassion for her.”

“It isn’t as though he and I are the very best of friends,” Mr. Stirling said defensively.

“What your connection might have been previous to your bringing him here is of very minimal consequence when taken in the context of why you’ve brought him.

Whether you knew what he was before isn’t nearly as significant as the fact that you now know what he is and still you mean to resign your niece to building a life with a man like that.

Before you knew his character, it could be excused as ignorance.

Now that you do know, it is intentional. ”

“He truly does want to marry her.” Mr. Stirling emphasized the word want as if that would convince anyone listening that there was some tenderness of feeling.

Kip gave him the driest look he could manage.

“Mr. Winthrop told me directly that what he wants is an heir and a wife over whom he will have complete and total control. If he is willing to admit to that with no shame and no hesitation before securing a marriage, it isn’t difficult to imagine how he would treat her after. ”

To Kip’s relief, that seemed to give Mr. Stirling significant pause. They reached the door to the manor house.

Kip paused long enough to offer one last thought to Amelia’s uncle.

“Your niece has formulated a rather brilliant plan for Guilford. You would do well to listen to her, as its entire focus is the benefit it can bring to you. Even as her future has been at risk, even as you have contemplated forcing her into a match where the best she can hope for is a husband who relishes the idea of browbeating her mercilessly, she has been pondering ways that she can help you .”

“I’m not so terrible a person as this makes me seem.” Mr. Stirling didn’t allow much beyond the slightest lift of a shoulder.

“Ask her about her idea for Guilford. You might find that neither of you needs to make room in your lives for someone like Mr. Winthrop.”

“He’s selfish and not as gentle-spirited as some, but I don’t think he’s as terrible as you are believing him to be.”

“And I think,” Kip countered, “you are trying very hard to convince yourself that you haven’t invited a fox into the hen house.”