Behind the Light of Golowduyn (A Cornish Romance Book 1)

by Deborah M. Hathaway

  She had managed two swipes of her broom before she glanced up again. Captain Kendricks hammered with his right hand, his left hand holding the door steady. His grasp was strong. His wound must have healed nicely.

  With his sleeves rolled up, she could see his lower arm flexing as he hammered, and an involuntary sigh escaped her lips.

  He certainly was robust. And she certainly was distracted.

  A flash of color nearby pulled her attention away from the captain, and she looked ahead with narrowed eyes. A shrill tweet pierced the air before something small and blue swooped directly over her head.

  She ducked down with a scream.

  Captain Kendricks jogged toward her. “What happened? Are you all right?”

  She straightened. “Yes, only I…I think a bird just flew into the house.”

  She peered within the open doorway. Captain Kendricks moved to stand by her side.

  “Yes, you see there?” she said, pointing to the hallway that led to the circular room. Perched on the window ledge was a small, blue swallow. “We need to capture him before he has the chance to—”

  But the bird kicked off the ledge and soared toward the spiral stairs, instantly disappearing up the tower.

  The creature was no doubt halfway to the watch room by now. They would never…

  “Oh, no,” she breathed.

  “What” Captain Kendricks questioned, but she was already racing for the stairs.

  “The latch door,” she explained over her shoulder. “I don’t remember closing it this morning. If the bird flies into the lamp room, he’ll scratch the windows, the lamps. He might even fly under the refractors’ covers. We need to capture him. Immediately!”

  Captain Kendricks did not respond, but his footsteps sounded in time with hers on the iron stairs.

  With her hand on the railing to keep her balance, Abigail craned her neck to see the chirping bird circling above them, moving higher and higher up the tower.

  How could she not have remembered to close the door? Or had she? Her memories refused to cooperate. She had received very little sleep over the past week, due to the continual stormy weather—as well as the added stress of her impending nuptials—so she could not recall the truth.

  She looked up again, willing the creature to stop its ascent, but when it disappeared into the watch room, she gritted her teeth.

  “All will be well,” Captain Kendricks said behind her. “We will capture it before any damage is done.”

  His voice was sure, but she wasn’t.

  Finally, they reached the last step, and Abigail stopped, breathing heavily as she held her aching side. She glanced to the captain behind her and pressed a finger to her lips.

  He nodded his understanding.

  As soon as her breathing evened out, she crept forward on the tips of her toes. The last thing she wanted to do was startle the bird into the lamp room—if he wasn’t already there.

  As slowly as she could manage, she peered through the doorway.

  Before seeking out the bird, she looked to the ceiling, and relief pulsed through her veins.

  She pulled back with a sigh, closing her eyes. “It’s all right. I closed the latch door after all.”

  “What a relief,” Captain Kendricks said between breaths. “However, next time, would you mind very much attempting to remember before we have to race up one hundred and seventeen steps?”

  She looked to his eyes alight with teasing, and a strange thrill coasted through her chest. “I will try, so long as you help me to capture him now.”

  He walked past her to stare within the room. “How do you suggest we do that?”

  She leaned through the doorway, as well. The bird stood on the railing of the smaller set of stairs.

  Thank goodness the latch had been closed.

  She perused the rest of the room for anything that might aid in their venture. The windows were sealed closed to prevent drafts in the lamp room, so simply letting the sparrow free was not an option. They would have to catch him with something. But what?

  Her eyes fell upon the tattered blanket draped across the cot. “I suppose we can use that,” she suggested, pointing to the gray cover.

  Captain Kendricks nodded in agreement. He took a step within the room, and Abigail followed behind him a safe distance, using his body as a shield.

  “Close the door behind you,” he said softly.

  As she did so, the bird took flight. Abigail ducked with a scream that sounded remarkably similar to the sparrow’s shrieking overhead. She backed up against the closed door. Captain Kendricks snatched the blanket and a pillow from the cot before moving to her side.

  “The bird is mad,” she spat out.

  “Here,” he said, extending the pillow to her with a look of amusement, “use this to keep him to one side of the room. I’ll see if I cannot capture him with the blanket.”

  “Very well.”

  Slowly, they approached the bird flapping frantically against the wall. Captain Kendricks held the blanket in his hands level with his chest while Abigail raised the pillow to just below her eyes.

  “Steady now,” the captain murmured.

  Abigail wondered if he spoke to the bird or himself as he moved forward, one small step at a time. When the sparrow dove toward them, she screamed again, covering her mouth as the captain dropped to the floor.

  “You are right,” he said, scrambling back to stand near the wall, “he is mad.”

  Their eyes met, and suddenly, the humor of the situation struck her. She began to laugh, and the captain joined in with chuckles of his own.

  “All right,” he said after a moment, “let us attempt this once more.”

  But his efforts continued over and over as he tossed the blanket forth, only to have the sparrow continually dodge out of its way. Abigail did very little to help the situation. She could not contain her laughter, hiding behind the pillow as the bird circled the room.

  “Keep him over this way,” the captain instructed through his laughs.

  “I can’t!” she cried out, using the pillow as a protection rather than to guide the bird to one side of the room. “He will attack me again.”

  “You? He’s been attacking me!”

  Another toss of the blanket, another scream from Abigail, and more laughter erupted, until finally, the captain’s blanket landed on the sprightly creature.

  “You did it!” she exclaimed, tossing the pillow aside and clapping her hands together.

  His eyes were bright as he looked at her. In a single swoop, he gathered the blanket and the chirping bird carefully in his hands.

  “Quickly now,” he said, “before he hurts himself.”

  They moved down the stairs and through the house with the bird flapping uncontrollably within the blanket. When they finally reached outside, Abigail closed the door securely behind them and joined Captain Kendricks in front of the house. He settled the blanket on the grass, gently moving two folds of the fabric before taking a step back.

  The bird moved from one end to the other before bursting forth from the blanket into the sky with joyful chirps. He sailed easily toward the lighthouse, circling around the building with ease.

  Abigail released a slow breath through her pursed lips. “I did not think he would live through that.”

  “I did not think we would live through that,” he countered with a wink.

  Her cheeks warmed. The sparrow’s song reached her ears again as she watched the animals lively flight across the sea.

  “Thank you, Captain,” she said. “I could not have captured him myself.”

  “It was my pleasure. But…you do not have to call me that any longer. It is Gavin, if you wish it.”

  Her heart thumped against her chest, her breathing hitched. “Then you may call me Abigail.”

  As their eyes met, the discomfort she had felt before dissipated. They were friends, after all. Of course, their situation would take some getting used to, but she would grow accustomed to it soon, she
was sure. How could she not, with someone so accommodating and helpful as her husband? Perhaps it was time for her to be more accommodating, as well.

  “Well,” she said, clearing her throat, “I will leave you to see to the stable doors. Excuse me.”

  She made it only a few steps forward before she turned to face him again. “Would you like to join me this evening as I refill the lamps?”

  His eyebrows raised. “I would love to, Abigail.”

  She had never liked the sound of her name as much as she did in that moment. She nodded toward him with a tip of her head before turning toward the house with a lightened step and a lasting grin on her lips.

  * * *

  Abigail awoke the next morning feeling more refreshed than she could ever remember. She had not received any more sleep than usual, but with the captain—with Gavin—by her side the previous night in the watch room, she had begun to feel hopeful. Her days of exhaustion and loneliness were finally coming to an end.

  They had spent their wedding night climbing stairs, refilling oil, and tending to lamps, comfortably conversing before departing for their individual rooms. She had certainly not expected anything else to occur. After all, they had vowed to maintain a platonic relationship before they had even obtained their license to wed. Their decision was certainly not traditional, but then…neither was their marriage.

  They began another day of work together, but Abigail struggled with her shame as Gavin helped her tidy up the lighthouse that had been neglected for weeks. Yet, with his cheerful attitude and willingness to help, her embarrassment faded away.

  Instead of avoiding him as she had done before, Abigail worked alongside him as they tended to the garden for the first few hours of the morning.

  Afterward, when she attempted to join him the stables, however, he held up his hand to stop her. “You are welcome to see to the horses still, of course,” he said. “But I must ask you to leave the mucking out to my care. I cannot bear the thought of you cleaning up after the animals any longer.”

  Abigail was surprised to discover she felt more protected and valued than restricted. As such, she readily agreed to his request.

  After the stalls were cleaned, Gavin tacked up his horse and led him outside. “You are certain you do not wish to join me?” he asked.

  “No, I’ve more chores to see to here.”

  Her words were true, but that was not the real reason she did not wish to accompany him to St. Just. After all, she should be with him to make the necessary purchases of food and supplies that Golowduyn had been severely lacking for all too long. But she could not stomach the thought of happening upon anyone who might have heard about their marriage. At least, not yet.

  The obligatory pleasantries, thinly veiled questions, and inquiring eyes would be too much for Abigail to handle while she was growing used to her marriage herself.

  She waved goodbye to Gavin, returning indoors only when he disappeared around the ridge. Wandering aimlessly about the house, she pushed aside the strange notion that she missed him. After all, she had spent all morning and the previous day with him. She could not possible miss him after that. Could she?

  To distract herself from her confusion, Abigail set about straightening the sitting room.

  She opened the windows first thing, then knelt on the floor as she organized the worn books on the small shelf at the side of the room. She had only just begun to tuck in the torn spines and loose pages when a knock sounded at the door.

  “Who can that be?” she asked herself.

  She stood, taking only a single step before two women’s voices from the window reached her ear. Her breathing shallowed.

  The Stedmans had not come to Golowduyn in years, ever since Uncle Ellis had rejected Mrs. Stedman. But Abigail could certainly guess as to why the women appeared at her door then. Avoiding speaking with others about her marriage would be more difficult than she had expected.

  The voices continued, and she crept closer to the window. All she could see were the tips of their pink and lavender gowns gently flowing in the breeze.

  “Why did we come here, Mama?” Miss Stedman whined in a whisper. “Miss Moore despises us. She will not answer the door.”

  “She despises everyone, my dear,” Mrs. Stedman returned softly.

  Her words pierced through the wall Abigail had built around her heart. They were not true. Just because she preferred staying in the comfort and safety of Golowduyn—rather than out in Society—did not mean she disliked everyone.

  Although, Miss Stedman’s assumption had been correct. She did despise the two of them.

  “We mustn’t allow her primitive nature to intimidate us into ending our acquaintance with Captain Kendricks,” Mrs. Stedman continued. “He is a gentleman. He should not have to pay for the sins of his purported wife.”

  “Sins? What do you mean, Mama?”

  Abigail’s brow furrowed, a sickness rising in her throat. Did Mrs. Stedman know of Abigail’s past? If she did, she would not hesitate to tell her daughter. The woman was undoubtedly trying to make Abigail sound worse than she was. Typical.

  “Never you mind,” Mrs. Stedman replied. Her knock sounded at the door again. “We must simply help the captain realize his mistake in marrying the woman. It should not prove difficult, as their marriage is founded entirely upon charity.”

  Abigail pulled back. Gavin had assured her that others need not know the reasoning behind their marriage. For all intents and purposes, they had done so out of love. But she would be daft, indeed, if she did not think the rumors would eventually surface. She had no doubt that Mrs. Stedman had started them herself.

  The woman continued. “You must simply show how amiable you are, my dear,” she told her daughter. “And If we remain by the captain’s side long enough, he shall turn to you for comfort when he yearns for the happiness he cannot find within the confines of Golowduyn.”

  A blow landed to Abigail’s stomach. The woman could not be serious.

  “But, Mother,” came Miss Stedman’s surprised words, “I know you wished for me to form an attachment with him before, as did I, but he is married now. Does this not change—”

  “Hush, Constance,” Mrs. Stedman scolded in a vehement whisper. “An unhappy union can hardly be considered a marriage.”

  “But will my reputation not be tarnished for pursuing a man who is already attached?”

  “Not if we do so inconspicuously.”

  “And if Captain Kendricks does accept me, will he not be frowned upon for leaving his wife?”

  Mrs. Stedman’s short, cold laugh slid down Abigail’s back in a shiver. “No one would blame him if he did leave her.”

  There was a pause before her daughter spoke again. “I don’t understand why I cannot find another gentleman more suited to me. Why must I still pursue the captain?”

  “Because it is our duty as respectable ladies to ensure he is happily settled.”

  Abigail didn’t believe the words for a single moment. She knew why the woman pressed her daughter toward Gavin. It was the same reasoning behind everything. She despised Abigail and wished for her unhappiness. It was as simple as that.

  “This hardly seems proper, Mother.”

  “Proper? What is proper is purely dictated by…”

  Their voices muffled, and Abigail was no longer able to make out their words. She backed away from the window.

  Mrs. Stedman had never liked her. The things she had said about Abigail behind Uncle Ellis’s back—complaints against her gaudy red hair and her ugly, freckled complexion—had scarred Abigail’s childhood.

  But she was no longer a child.

  Those memories were, indeed, etched permanently within her mind, but she did not have to add any more of their writing onto her soul.

  As they knocked again, Abigail moved through the house with a determined step. She would open that door for one reason—to expel the women from her property and demand they never return.

  “Miss Moore,” Mrs. Stedman
greeted as they came face-to-face. “Good morning.”

  Abigail stared with a hardened expression. “My name is Mrs. Kendricks.”

  The mother and daughter exchanged glances.

  “So it is,” Mrs. Stedman said. “You must forgive my mistake. After all, we have only just learned of your marriage. Indeed, we were surprised to hear of it. And pleased, of course.”

  Abigail ignored the woman’s feigned sweetness. “You will be disappointed to discover that you have made the journey here for nothing, as my husband is away at the moment.”

  Mrs. Stedman hid her discontent well as her daughter merely picked at the red ribbon of her reticule.

  “Oh, we have not come to call upon the captain alone, have we Constance?” Mrs. Stedman said.

  “No, Mother.”

  “Then allow me to disappoint you further,” Abigail said, folding her arms. “I am unavailable, as well, to accept your call.”

  Mrs. Stedman’s brows arched. “Indeed? Well, I am sorry to hear that. Perhaps we may call at a more convenient time?”

  Abigail’s insides burned at the thought of them calling when Gavin would actually be present. That would certainly put Mrs. Stedman’s plans into action.

  Unless, of course, Abigail could end the woman’s tactics before they even began.

  “We will be far too busy to take social calls for the foreseeable future,” she said bluntly. “I hope you understand.”

  Miss Stedman shifted uncomfortably upon the landing. Mrs. Stedman’s eyes flashed before her thin lips stretched into a smile. “I see. Well, do give our best to the captain.”

  Abigail made no response. She would have slammed the door directly in their faces, had she not wished to ensure they left her property.

  The Stedmans curtsied and made their way down the short steps, but Mrs. Stedman turned back to her. “Oh, I nearly forgot.” She opened her reticule and produced a small note. “An invitation to our dinner party taking place in a fortnight. I understand you are beholden to your little lighthouse. But do remember, both of you need not come.”

  She extended the invitation with an innocent smile.