Dunham

Chapter 26

"'And me 'at sack o' nails 'ere, will ye, Cap'n?"

Elliott paused on his route to snatch the small bag off the nailsmith's bar and toss it up to his crewman, who straddled the truss of a half-raised cottage. Elliott continued to walk until he could drop to the ground alongside a few other men who had stopped to rest. He leaned back on one elbow and wiped his sweaty face on his shirttail.

His back and arms ached, and it was only nuncheon.

He looked around at this newest section of Raxham where his men had decided to build their homes. By summer, all the cottages would not only be finished, but there would be green grass, flowers, gardens aplenty, and, with some hope and luck, a bevy of women wed to the crew who meant to settle down.

But right now, the tracts were one big bog of mud, with four nearly finished cottages, the skeletons of four more being raised, and the stones set for the corners of the last six.

Heat from the nailsmith's forge took the chill out of the air, which would be quite welcome at the moment, as one man after another found a place to sit and eat the food that would soon arrive from Tavendish Manor's kitchen. Soon enough the clanging of the hammer-on-anvil ceased. Gradually the last of the workers joined.

"Cap'n, there's a gent out a ways yellin' atchye."

Elliott looked over his shoulder in the direction his man was pointing and saw in the distance three riders coming across the moor from the west. The one in the middle was waving and shouting.

"Tavendish!" Elliott would not have been able to hear it had he not been listening for it, the men were so far away. "Is that you, boy?"

Elliott stood and took off at an easy lope. He chuckled to himself when he recognized the Duke of Croftwood. It took only a moment before the four of them met and Croftwood dismounted.

"Your Grace," Elliott said politely and made to bow, but grunted when he found himself pulled into an embrace.

"Good to see you, boy!" the older man said whilst pounding Elliott on the back. He released him abruptly and turned him around to see the duke's companions.

"I should have Hugh arrest you both for trespassing whilst ugly," Elliott drawled. "Good to see you, Arthur, Douglas. Walk with me, will you."

The heir to the Croftwood dukedom was older than Elliott's older brother, but the duke's second son, Douglas, was Elliott's age. They had gone to Eton and then Oxford together, and had served together on the Ocean.

Though the future duke laughed and jested with his father and Elliott, Douglas spoke little, smiled vacantly, and stared blankly off into the horizon.

Surely, not every officer had weathered service under Commander Lord Kitteridge as well as Elliott and Marquess Rathbone, and he itched to be able to tell Douglas of Kitteridge's demise. But it would put Elliott in jeopardy for no reason: from the looks of him, Douglas would neither remember Kitteridge nor care.

Once they had arrived at the edge of the new section of Raxham Village, they stopped. Croftwood looked around with seeming approval, then peppered Elliott with questions as to his plans. He then complimented him on the fine work he had done putting the estate back together after his trial, his industriousness at working with his men, and his success at ridding the coastline of smugglers.

"What brings you halfway 'cross England, Your Grace?" Elliott asked during a lull in the conversation. "I cannot think 'twas to see me wield a hammer."

Croftwood hesitated. "Many things, in fact," he said, suddenly sober. "I thought to make the acquaintance of the new earl. Your father was a good friend of mine, a skilled statesman. A great orator. He is missed."