“I’m afraid so.”
“Have you spoken to her yet of your dislike for doing so?”
“She knows, but she chooses to ignore my opinion.”
Mrs. Summerfield studied her. “I take it your relationship has not improved then?”
Hannah shrugged. “She has grown more comfortable instructing me in the ways of Society. I have grown more comfortable in merely following along. So I suppose, in a way, our relationship has grown.”
She clenched her teeth together to end the bitterness spicing her tongue. Being away from her mother had opened the flood gates to Hannah’s true feelings, but she did not wish to upset her grandmother with caustic remarks. She took a deep breath and finished with, “But that is what mothers do, I suppose,” and she forced a smile.
Mrs. Summerfield, however, appeared to see through her feigned joy. “I am sorry, Hannah, that your happiness is not what it should be in London. But do your friends not help? Miss Lewis? And Mr. Hawkins?”
Hannah started, her eyes darting to her grandmother. “Why do you ask after Mr. Hawkins?”
Mrs. Summerfield pulled back. “Why, I was merely curious. He was over quite often with his mother when we visited last, was he not?”
Of course. Hannah had forgotten. She placed a hand to her chest, her heart racing. “Oh, yes. Er, he has been a good friend.”
Yes, a friend. But that certainly wasn’t what her mother and Mr. Hawkins thought. Hannah wondered if the gentleman had been told that she would consider his proposal. Did that mean an understanding existed between them?
She squirmed in her seat. Mr. Hawkins was a good man. She never should have allowed him such hope.
“Hannah?”
She looked up and noticed her grandmother’s watchful gaze upon her. “Yes?”
Mrs. Summerfield’s eyebrows drew together with emotion. “You know your grandfather and I love you, so we cannot help but express to you our concern over your actions. To travel across the country with only your lady’s maid to accompany you…Suppose something had happened?”
Hannah focused on the brushes laid out beside her. “I assure you, Grandmama, I had considered all of the repercussions beforehand.”
Of course, Hannah had not realized the stupidity of her reckless actions until she had left London. Spending two nights in rather sordid locations had been somewhat unsettling, especially for Daisy. Their specific request for a lock on the door had made each inn owner regard them suspiciously. Her grandmother did not need to know all of that, though.
“The journey was uneventful, at any rate,” Hannah continued. “The most disquieting part was when we wandered across the countryside at dark…until Thomas helped us, of course.”
As she chose a small brush with thin bristles, silence resonated in her ears.
“How did you find Thomas after all these years?” Mrs. Summerfield eventually asked. “He has grown into a fine gentleman, has he not? Rather handsome, I think.”
“He was always handsome,” Hannah responded. She dipped her brush into a jar of dark green paint.
“And…does your mother disapprove of your friendship still?”
“Mother disapproves of everything I do.” Hannah flicked her brush along the canvas in short, abrupt swipes. “My eating habits, my posture, my choice in friends, my grandparents—”
She bit her bottom lip, ending her words with a quick glance at her grandmother, but Mrs. Summerfield was already nodding.
“Your grandfather and I are fully aware of your mother’s opinion, my dear,” she said, “but I assure you, we are no longer going to allow her feelings to keep us from you any longer.”
Hannah gave a slight shake of her head. “Keep you from me? What do you mean?”
Mrs. Summerfield hesitated. “We have asked your mother to allow us to visit you more often, but she has told us that you would prefer to keep our visits to once a year, as you have very little time to spare for us.”
Hannah’s mouth dropped open. “What? No, no, that isn’t true. I was never happier than when the both of you would visit.”
“I know, but your mother…” Mrs. Summerfield shook her head. “she brushes aside any mention of you being unhappy in London. We have requested your presence in Cornwall many times, but she has ignored our wishes.”
Hannah’s mouth parted. “I thought…Mother always said you could hardly afford to visit us…that I would be a burden if I returned to you, just as I was when I was a child.”
Mrs. Summerfield’s nostrils flared. She closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath before speaking again. “You have never been a burden, Hannah, nor will you ever be. Not to us, at any rate. And even if we were destitute, that would hardly keep us from you. But as you can see from our freshly-painted entryway to our refurnished parlor, your grandfather and I live very comfortable lives. We can certainly afford a trip to London.”
Hannah glanced around her, noting the new mirror and chairs, recalled seeing the newly-painted walls in the entryway, and frowned. How could she have been so naïve? Hannah had been want for nothing growing up, and her grandparents had always been well-off. How could she have ever thought otherwise?
“Your grandfather and I had even considered renting a home in London to be closer to you,” Mrs. Summerfield continued. “We would have asked your opinion about such when you were younger, but we feared your mother would then prevent us from seeing you at all.”
Hannah’s face turned red with anger. She knew her mother hated living in Cornwall. She had often told Hannah, “Had my own father done his duty and prevented me from marrying the first man I fell in love with, I would never have married your father, nor moved to such a county.” But to have Lady Beatrice spread lies about Hannah, no doubt in an attempt to sever any final ties the woman had to Cornwall—and her departed husband’s family—was despicable. And Hannah could not understand it.
“How could I have been so stupid?” Hannah asked. “How could I have been so blind as to not see her fabrications?”
“My dear,” Mrs. Summerfield began, “Lady Beatrice always preferred a different life to anything Cornwall and our son could have offered her. But your father was besotted. And we were happy because he was happy. Unfortunately, some parents choose to inflict their will on their children, thinking they know better. This can cause a great deal of heartache, though, as you are most keenly aware.”
Hannah nodded, unable to speak due to the knot once more in her throat. She focused on swirling her paint brush in a jar of water to clean the paint from its bristles.
“But,” her grandmother continued, “I do still believe that your mother loves you. After all, she knew you were happier here in Cornwall when you were a child. That is why she allowed you to remain here for so very long. I believe she has simply lost sight of that in her efforts to rid herself from Cornwall once and for all.”
Hannah’s shoulders fell forward. “I know you are right. Though, I cannot understand her reasoning, nor can I bear the thought of living under her rule any longer.”
“Then…you must stay with us. Only if you wish to, of course. You are old enough to make your own decision on the matter now.”
A warmth spread throughout Hannah’s body. “Are you certain, Grandmama?”
Tears filled Mrs. Summerfield’s blue eyes. “We were blessed to have you in our home from the moment you were born, Hannah. And we missed your bright spirit the moment you left. Nothing would thrill us more than to have you call Rudhek Manor your home again.”
They shared teary-eyed smiles, and Hannah breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Grandmama. I was so worried where to turn next. I was considering begging in the streets or becoming your scullery maid. Neither sounded appealing, really.”
“No, indeed,” her grandmother laughed. “Now, before we move on, I should like to know…what has finally pulled you away from London?”
Hannah’s spirits clouded over once again. She chose a brush with smaller bristles and dipped it into a light green
shade. “I left because…because Mother asked me to do something I did not have the heart to do.”
That was as specific as she cared to be. She hoped her grandmother would understand.
“I see. And did you speak with her about it?”
“I suppose I could have tried a little harder to do so,” Hannah said, sliding the paint at the tip of her brush along the dark hedges on her canvas. “But I did not know what I wanted then. In truth, I still don’t know now. I just…I needed to get away. I needed to be free. I needed—”
“To see Thomas again.”
Hannah opened her mouth, intent on protesting, but her grandmother’s twinkling blue eyes caused an unavoidable smile on her lips.
“I suppose I did,” Hannah said, “though Mother will not be pleased to learn I have spent time with him.”
“Well your grandfather and I have no qualms with you furthering your relationship with the gentleman. And, now that you are staying here, I don’t see any reason why you should not see him.”
She winked, and Hannah’s heart soared. “You are quite right, Grandmama. He has invited me to join him at Tregalwen Beach this evening with a few of his friends and tenants. You and Grandfather are invited to come, of course.”
“How very kind of him to offer,” Mrs. Summerfield said.
A frown flickered across Hannah’s brow as she wondered if Thomas was merely being polite when he had invited Hannah to the party. But she pushed aside the discouraging thought and removed the lid from the jar of soft blue paint.
“So you will join us then?” she asked.
“I’m sure we would have loved to,” her grandmother responded, “but we are already attending a dinner party at Pryvly House. Do you recall Miss Stedman? Her mother has been anxious to find a match for her ever since she was introduced last Season. I’m sure she would be pleased to see you again.”
“Perhaps you and I may call on her together another day then?”
For some reason, the thought of paying calls and attending parties in Cornwall did not bother Hannah as greatly as it had in London.
No doubt because she found her grandmother’s company more pleasing than her mother’s.
“That would be lovely.” Mrs. Summerfield stood from her chair, patting Hannah affectionately upon the cheek. “It is wonderful to have you home, my dear.”
Hannah smiled. As Mrs. Summerfield left the room, she returned to her painting with a happy sigh.
Yes. It was wonderful to finally be home.
Chapter Five
To stop Hannah from traipsing once more across the countryside, Mr. and Mrs. Summerfield had offered to bring her to Tregalwen Beach in their carriage on the way to their dinner party. Hannah had readily agreed, if only to arrive at the beach sooner.
“Would you like us to stop by on our return journey, Hannah, to bring you home?” Mrs. Summerfield asked as the carriage rolled to a stop.
“Oh, I do not know…”
“Of course not, my dear,” Mr. Summerfield said with a soft pat upon his wife’s knee. “Thomas will see her safely home, as he always has.”
Hannah smiled. She had very often convinced Thomas to stay out long after dark, purely so she might feign uncertainty across the landscape and have him bring her home on the back of his horse instead. She recalled how it felt to wrap her arms around him from behind, to rest her head upon his back, and she sighed.
“Will you, Hannah?”
She blinked, dazed to see her grandparents’ expectant looks in her direction. “Forgive me. Will I what?”
“Will you allow Thomas to see you home?” Mrs. Summerfield asked.
“Oh, yes, of course.”
“There, you see, my dear?” Mr. Summerfield said as the carriage door opened, and Hannah scooted forward on her seat.
“You shan’t go wandering alone,” Mrs. Summerfield continued, “to be lost in the dark?”
“No, I will not be so impulsive again, I assure you.”
Her grandparents exchanged looks.
“Can she make such a promise, do you think?” her grandmother asked.
Mr. Summerfield shook his head. “Not if she intends to keep it.”
Hannah smiled at their teasing and exited the carriage.
“Do enjoy yourself, Hannah,” Mrs. Summerfield called after her, “and remember, we will wait up for you, as usual.”
Hannah poked her head back into the carriage with a smile. “I know.”
She backed away, waving goodbye as they set off across the countryside before she turned toward Tregalwen Beach.
Hannah had longed for Cornwall every day for three years, and yet, she did not realize how greatly she had missed her home until she stood, gazing out at the open ocean before her.
The sea shimmered turquoise in the early evening sunlight, and a gentle breeze blew toward her, rippling her soft pink gown. She moved through the tall, wispy grass to where the land sloped slightly down, leading to a wide beach of smooth, cream-colored sand.
She paused, taking in the sights around her before closing her eyes, reminding herself that she was to remain in Cornwall, that the peace she had finally found would not be taken from her again.
The late-August sun warmed her cheeks. She drew in a deep breath of the salty air. The sound of the endless waves swirled about her. She shifted in the sand, and though her footing seemed unstable, she felt secure. She felt safe.
“Hannah!”
Her heart leapt at the sound of Thomas’s voice. She opened her eyes and turned to face him. “Good evening, Thomas.”
He walked toward her, and suddenly, she found it difficult to breathe. His broad, handsome smile told her exactly what she wanted to know—Thomas was pleased to see her.
“I see you did not get lost on your way here,” he said.
Hannah smiled. “No, my grandparents offered me a ride in their carriage.”
“Ah,” Thomas said, and he stopped before her.
Their eyes met, and Hannah wondered what he thought as he studied her face. He blinked, seeming to come out of a daze before motioning toward the north end of the beach. “Shall we join the others? I’m sure you will remember most of them.”
She nodded, and they walked together toward the small group gathered around a large fire crackling upon the sand. Thomas led her first to a gentleman with a graying beard and warm, blue eyes.
“You remember Mr. Moore,” Thomas said, “the keeper of Golowduyn Lighthouse.”
“Of course,” Hannah said. The gentleman had once led her and her grandparents around in a small tour of Golowduyn many years prior. He had explained to them how he had left the world behind to live in Cornwall, and Hannah recalled admiring his decision. “How fares your lighthouse, sir?”
“She shines every night and through every storm,” Mr. Moore said brightly, “so we are happy.”
A woman a few years older than Hannah moved to stand next to Mr. Moore, her auburn hair in a loose, lopsided bun.
Hannah recognized her at once as Mr. Moore’s niece, Abigail, whose reserved nature and clear discomfort with being near others had obviously remained the same over the years.
“Uncle, Mr. Sheffield needs your help moving the spit,” Abigail said in a hushed tone.
Mr. Moore excused himself from Hannah and Thomas, and as he left, Abigail followed him, speaking to Hannah as she backed away. “Miss Summerfield, you have returned to Cornwall at last.”
“I have,” Hannah said with a glance in Thomas’s direction, his eyes catching hers as he smiled. “I trust you are well, Miss Moore?”
“Yes, thank you.” She averted her gaze, still walking away as she spoke over her shoulder. “If you will excuse me, I must help my uncle.”
She shifted her feet in the sand in a slight curtsy and scurried away.
“Uncle Ellis,” Hannah overheard the woman say as she tugged at Mr. Moore’s sleeve, “may I return to Golowduyn now?”
“We have only just arrived, Abigail,” Mr. Moore responded. “Please,
stay a little while longer.”
Their conversation faded from Hannah’s ears as Thomas brought her to the others, until one by one, she was introduced and welcomed by all in attendance.
The relaxed atmosphere contrasted drastically to the charged energy Hannah had experienced in Town for so long, but she knew in an instant which life she preferred. The dancing, loud music, and overly polite society in London had drained her spirits. She had longed for honest company, real conversation, and easy smiles…what she had always experienced with Thomas.
As they conversed on Tregalwen with his tenants, neighbors, and friends, Hannah could not help but stare at his handsome smile.
Yes, she far preferred a life in Cornwall…with Thomas.
As the sinking sun colored the beach a golden orange, the roasted duck and pheasant were divvied up on plates with boiled potatoes and carrots and then distributed amongst the guests.
Hannah and Thomas sat down beside each other on one of the thick logs that had been dragged from the top of the beach to circle around the fire.
“Are you enjoying yourself so far?” Thomas asked as he balanced his plate in one hand and ate with the other.
“Oh, very much,” Hannah replied with an eager nod. “It seems a lifetime ago since we enjoyed one of these parties together.”
“And now I am the host instead of my father.”
Hannah’s smile faded away. Thomas had written Hannah with news of his father’s death months after her departure to London, and her heart had ached for him. His mother had died mere days after Thomas’s birth, and without siblings, he had no family to comfort him. Hannah had asked for permission to return to Cornwall then, but her mother had insisted that Thomas needed time to grieve. How Hannah regretted not standing up to her mother. She should have been there at Thomas’s side, to let him know he was not alone.
“I was so sorry to hear from you that he passed,” she said softly. “I wanted to come to his funeral, but…”
Thomas merely nodded as her words faded away. She studied him for a moment before looking at the group of people gathered around them.
On The Shores 0f Tregalwen (A Cornish Romance Book 0.5) Page 4