For The Lady 0f Lowena (A Cornish Romance Book 2)

by Deborah M. Hathaway

  She was selfish. Just like Miss Ward and Mr. Chester said. Just like Mr. Hawkins had said. She was selfish, unwanted. Unfit to be around such fine company and at an even finer ball.

  She took a step back, intent on quitting Benlett House without Father’s notice, but her movement caught his attention.

  Their eyes met. He stood directly, making his way toward her. “Sophia, whatever is the matter? You look pale. Come, sit for a moment.”

  She remained where she stood, pain blinding her awareness of others. She fought the urge to speak, to ask him his reasoning, but her soul begged for answers. “Father, why did you agree to come tonight, when you knew…”

  His features pulled down. “Sophia, I did not have the heart to tell you.”

  “What else have you not told me?” Her voice raised. “Have you found work? Enough to provide me with a dowry?”

  A couple walked by with curious glances. He took her arm and pulled her near a darkened corridor. Once they were securely out of earshot from any passerby, he responded. “Sophia, I have told you everything. We have lost everything. And finding work has been difficult.”

  Difficult? Had he even left the house? Or had he been in hiding, just like Mother, just like Sophia ought to have done tonight?

  “Even if I do find work, it will be hard enough to make ends meet.” He scratched at the back of his head. “I do not think it probable that I will be able to save any amount of money worthy of a gentleman.”

  Somehow, Sophia had expected the words. Hearing them aloud did nothing but cause the knowledge of her ruined future to become paved in her brain. She was ruined. Forever. And she was a fool to have ever believed otherwise.

  “But we will be all right, Sophia,” Father said, taking her hand in his. “I have written to my aunt and expect to hear word from her soon.”

  “Your aunt?” Sophia stared at Father in disbelief.

  She had never met her Great Aunt June, had only ever heard stories of the woman who disapproved of everyone and everything, especially her nephew.

  Before Sophia was born, Father was given the estate by his father—June’s brother—despite a promised arrangement for June to receive it upon her brother’s death. Because of that, Great Aunt June had moved to Yorkshire and had not communicated with the Rosewalls since.

  Sophia could not blame Father for reaching out to the now-wealthy widow. Sophia had done the same, in essence, begging others to rescue them from their circumstances to avoid living with the consequences of Father’s mistakes.

  But his aunt would not help him. Just like their neighbors would not help her. They were alone in the world. Utterly, entirely alone.

  “She will not respond, Father. You and I both know it.”

  He raised his arms out to his side, palms up. “What else would you have me do, Sophia?”

  What would she have him do? She would have him take back his senseless decisions, find some way to reobtain their fortune.

  Instead, she took a step away from him. “Nothing, Father. Forgive me for forcing you to come tonight. I can see now it was a mistake.”

  “Let us return home together then.”

  Home? She did not have a home. Fynwary Hall was no longer theirs, and Lowena Cottage would never be hers. “No, I-I think I shall walk.”

  “Walk? But it will surely rain, Sophia. And I rented the carriage for you. Besides, you wouldn’t wish to ruin your lovely dress.”

  She didn’t hear his words. She didn’t hear anything. “I will return to the cottage now, Father. Good evening.”

  “Sophia?”

  She turned and walked away from him, moving in a daze, no longer aware of the looks from others, the music from the ballroom, or the dancers’ laughter.

  She was alone as she walked through the crowds, as she donned her wrap given to her by a footman with a curious eye, as she left Benlett House behind and walked down the gravel road in the opposite direction of the guests arriving late.

  Soon, she left the grounds and the road, crossing the long grass of the countryside. Her slippers would certainly be ruined if she continued, but she didn’t stop, nor did she know where her feet took her.

  The clouds had darkened due to the setting sun, the land cloaked in a cool, grey blanket. A brisk wind nipped at her cheeks and attempted to pull her hair from her pins one ringlet at a time.

  The first drops of rain began to fall from the sky, speckling her gown. The water splashed on her cheek, nose, brow. She didn’t know how long she walked, nor how far from the cottage she strayed, but when the sound of the ocean reached her ears, she continued until the dark expanse stretched out before her.

  She stood at the edge of the cliff, the wind tearing at her skirts, arms folded as the rain stung her face and slid down her back. The horizon was indistinguishable, rain muddling the line between clouds and water. The angry waves thrashed upon the rocky shoreline below. Their roar was deafening.

  As a child, she had been afraid of the sea during storms. She had been convinced that a great wave would snatch her from the tops of the cliffs and drag her down into the water’s depths. Father had been the one to ease her fear, reassuring her that he would keep her safe.

  As she grew, the sea no longer frightened her. But her life…her life was now terrifying. And Father could not ease her worries.

  No one could.

  She tried to stand strong, but her knees buckled. She collapsed into the wet grass as she thought of all that was now lost. Her home, her future, her faith in her father.

  This was her new reality, being alone and forgotten. Being nothing.

  “Miss?”

  Sophia gasped, swinging around at the sound of a woman’s voice.

  “Miss, are ye well?”

  When had it gotten so dark? Sophia could hardly see the young woman standing right behind her. Her approach must have been silenced by the storming sea.

  Sophia nodded. “Yes, I am well.”

  “Are ye sure, miss?” Her accent was thick, belonging to the working class.

  Sophia sniffed, swiping the wet hair from her brow. “Yes, thank you.”

  She tried to stand, but her foot slipped on the wet grass. She stumbled forward, the woman reaching out to steady her.

  “You’re shakin’ like a hairless dog, miss. We best get ye warm ‘fore ye catch cold.”

  Sophia hadn’t noticed her shaking before, nor how cold she was. Her gown was soaked through, and the grass pressed against her foot through a hole in her slipper.

  “Where’s home for ye, miss?”

  Sophia wiped the moisture from her eyes and looked to the woman who released her hold of her. She appeared to be the same age as Sophia, her hair held back by a scanty piece of cloth. Their eyes met, and the woman’s brow rose.

  “Miss Rosewall?”

  Sophia stared. “Yes, how…”

  “Sorry to startle ye, miss. I’m Gwynna. Gwynna Merrick, miss. My father works at Wheal Favour. We’re tenants of your father’s. Were tenants, rather.”

  “Oh, I see.” Of course the young woman would know Sophia and not the other way around. Was her name Gwen? No, Gwynna. “Well, thank you, Gwynna, for asking after me. I suppose I had better return home—return to the cottage now.”

  “Lowena Cottage? ‘Tis too far, Miss Rosewall. We must get ye warm quick. Come with me to my house. ‘Tisn’t so far from here. Then we can borrow a wagon and take ye home after.”

  Sophia pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders, which only proved to soak her further. “Oh, no, that won’t be necessary, thank you. I’ll walk from here.”

  A great shiver wracked her body, and Gwynna shook her head. “No, ye won’t, Miss Rosewall. Come along.” She placed her arm around her and urged her forward. “My home is but five minutes away. Yours is near twenty.”

  Sophia could do little else but allow Gwynna to lead her forward. At least the young woman’s logic was sound. Sophia really had no idea how to find her way to the cottage in the dark and during a storm. S
he’d also become increasingly weak from the cold, and from the strain of the evening.

  Her steps faltered. For one brief, blissful moment, she had managed to forget about her time at the ball.

  “What are ye doin’ out here, miss, all alone and at dark?”

  Sophia chewed her lip. “Simply enjoying a walk?”

  “In that dress? If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought ye were attendin’ a party or a ball.”

  Sophia shrugged. “Perhaps I was. But it’s of little consequence now.”

  She ignored Gwynna’s searching look. Sophia had never much desired silence. She enjoyed speaking, usually about herself, but now she wished to speak about anything but herself.

  “And what are you doing out here, Gwynna, all alone and at dark?”

  Gwynna was the one to look away now. “Visitin’ family.”

  They both had their secrets, and neither of them wished to divulge much more of them to strangers.

  They carried on in silence. Away from the cliffside, the rain no longer pierced her skin, though it still fell down in droves upon them. The land had grown dark, and with no light from the moon or stars, she could hardly see a thing.

  “How do you know which way to go?” Sophia asked, her voice jerking as she shivered again. She’d never traveled in such darkness. The carriages always had lights to guide them.

  Gwynna pointed straight ahead. “There. Papa always leaves a lantern out on nights such as these to help wayward folk.”

  Sophia strained her eyes to see into the distance, finally spotting a small light hovering before them. Thank goodness for Gwynna’s father, a man with sense.

  By the time the shadow of the small home appeared, Sophia was shivering all over. She was grateful for her wrap, if only for the modesty it provided her, now that her white gown was transparent.

  She had behaved stupidly that evening, not only for attending the ball in the first place, but also for not accepting the carriage ride. Why had she charged forth into the rain? It certainly hadn’t done anything to improve her mood. Not to mention it had entirely ruined her dress and slippers.

  “Here we are, Miss Rosewall,” Gwynna said as they walked around the small home. The light of the lantern glowed against the wooden door. “Let’s get ye warm now.”

  She pushed the door open, then stepped aside for Sophia to enter next. The house was half the size of Lowena, with its kitchen, dining table, and sitting area all rolled into one small room.

  Despite the size, Sophia was instantly enveloped with warmth. Not only from the fire crackling at the side of the room, casting its orange glow across the floor, but also because of the smell of meat and bread wafting past her nose. The rain on the roof echoed throughout the room, the sound soothing, now that it was not pouring down on them.

  Sophia stood awkwardly behind as Gwynna closed the door then stood in front of her. “Mama? Papa?”

  “Gwynna! Oh, she be home, Travers!” A woman with an apron entered the room, her hair pulled back in a soft bun. “Where have ye been, ye naughty girl. Your father was about to ride out to find…” Her words trailed off as Gwynna stepped to the side, revealing Sophia’s presence. The woman, Mrs. Merrick, rounded her eyes. “Miss Rosewall? ‘Tis a surprise to see ye here.”

  “Mama,” Gwynna said, “Miss Rosewall got caught in a bit of bad weather. I brought her here to warm up and said we’d find a way to get her home safe.”

  Mrs. Merrick blinked, still staring at Sophia with an unreadable expression. Unreadable, apart from the clear unease she felt.

  Sophia looked to the puddle she created on the floor. She’d truly taken leave of her senses. How else could she have allowed a stranger to bring her to her home?

  “I’m terribly sorry to intrude,” she mumbled.

  “‘Tis not an intrusion at all, miss,” Gwynna interrupted. “Is it, Mama?”

  The words seemed to jar Mrs. Merrick from her thoughts. Her face brightened. “Oh, not at all, Miss Rosewall.” She crossed the small room and urged Sophia to the chair nearest the fire, the warmth instantly soothing Sophia’s aching limbs. “Sit here, and we’ll warm ye up in no time. Gwynna, fetch an extra cover from Jago’s room, will ye?”

  After Gwynna left, a man, no doubt Gwynna’s father, entered the main room. His long hair hung away from his brow but down to his chin, and a patchy beard stretched across his jaw. His dark eyes fell on Sophia, his tanned face shaded white.

  Sophia clutched her shawl, praying for invisibility to escape his penetrating stare.

  “Here be the blanket, Mama.”

  Gwynna’s footsteps slowed as she entered the room, staring at her father’s unflinching eyes on Sophia.

  “Papa,” she said softly, “Miss Rosewall lost her way in the storm. I offered to help her back to Lowena Cottage once she be warm.”

  Mr. Merrick nodded, his eyes still on Sophia’s, hard and constant. “I’ll be about findin’ a wagon, then,” he said gruffly.

  He left the house without another word.

  Mrs. Merrick and Gwynna fussed over Sophia without mention of Mr. Merrick’s clear displeasure with having Sophia in his home. Gwynna removed Sophia’s shawl and placed it before the fire to dry as Mrs. Merrick draped the blanket around Sophia.

  Sophia flinched. She felt like a burden, and she never felt like a burden. She was behaving selfishly yet again, imposing on this family in the worst way.

  “I’m terribly sorry for all of this,” she said. “If you will but allow me to, I am certain I will be able to find my way to the cottage from here.”

  Mrs. Merrick waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Not a problem, miss. We’re happy to help. Now, tell me, what were ye thinkin’ bein’ outside in nothin’ but this dress and slippers?”

  Sophia glanced to Gwynna. Would Mrs. Merrick demand an answer?

  “The ball she was attendin’ didn’t suit, so she came home early,” Gwynna replied for her.

  Mrs. Merrick quirked a brow at her daughter but said nothing else as she moved toward the kitchen.

  “Thank you,” Sophia mouthed out.

  Gwynna gave her an encouraging nod.

  Mrs. Merrick returned to her side in an instant with a bowl of stew that made Sophia’s stomach rumble. She hadn’t smelled anything so appetizing since coming to Lowena. Mrs. Cuff was better at working with hair than with food.

  “Now ye eat this, miss. I’d insist ye remove that dress of yours and wear one of my Gwynny’s, but I’d be afraid of you drownin’ in it. You’re as thin as a blade of grass.”

  Gwynna chortled, and Sophia weakly smiled. She was sure she’d never been spoken to in such a way in all her life. Yet somehow, she didn’t mind it.

  Over the next half hour, Sophia felt as if she were no longer in her body, instead watching from above as these strangers took such great care of her, she would’ve thought she was a queen. They took turns ringing out her drooping locks, stoking the fire, and refilling her bowl of stew, the best Sophia had ever eaten.

  She couldn’t understand their kindness. They were no longer tenants of Father’s, so they owed her nothing, and yet, their generosity continued.

  Before long, Mr. Merrick returned, and he and Mrs. Merrick disappeared down the side corridor, to where Sophia assumed the bedrooms were situated. She and Gwynna sat in silence until her parents returned.

  “My husband has secured a wagon, so he can take ye home when you’re ready, miss,” Mrs. Merrick said.

  In truth, Sophia didn’t know if she would ever be ready to leave. Something about their home spoke warmth and love to her. She had felt far better there in that half hour than she had for a week at Lowena, excepting Mrs. Merrick’s initial reaction to seeing her and Mr. Merrick’s obvious discomfort with her presence.

  But she couldn’t impose on their kindness any longer.

  “I’m ready now,” she said, standing with a grateful nod.

  Before Sophia could don her still-damp shawl, Mrs. Merrick swung a cloak around Sophia’s shoulders.
“Here, miss. Take mine. ‘Tisn’t as fine as what you may be used to, but it’ll keep ye out of the rain ‘til ye arrive home.”

  Sophia expressed her gratitude, then followed Gwynna and Mr. Merrick outside where she clambered into the wagon after the father and daughter.

  The wagon lurched forward, and Sophia grasped onto the small ledge, the only thing preventing her from falling to the ground. She much preferred a carriage with walls, and a roof, but the wagon was a far cry better than finding her way home alone in the dark on foot.

  With Gwynna there, she almost didn’t mind Mr. Merrick’s deliberate silence. Almost.

  The rain had lessened to a mere sprinkling, but Sophia could not wait to peel herself from her wet clothing, and to alert her parents that she had arrived at the cottage. Of course they would still be awake, worrying over her safety.

  But when the wagon pulled to a stop in front of Lowena, there was no lantern to greet her, nor a single light shining in any of the windows.

  “Will your parents still be at the ball, miss?” Gwynna asked as Mr. Merrick handed her the reins, jumping down from his side of the wagon.

  “No, Mother stayed home this evening. She is probably sleeping.” She shifted awkwardly on the wagon’s seat to face Gwynna. “Thank you for your help this evening. If you hadn’t, I would still be stuck on that ridge.”

  “Happy to help, miss,” she said.

  “Miss Rosewall?”

  Sophia turned to Mr. Merrick standing beside her, extending his hand toward her.

  She accepted his assistance and rather ungracefully leapt from the wagon. “Thank you, Mr. Merrick.”

  He tipped his cap to her then resumed his place beside Gwynna.

  Sophia gave one last departing wave then walked to the front door. She closed it behind her as the wagon pulled away, the horse’s tack jingling in the distance.

  She glanced around the dark, empty entryway. No fire greeted her, no smell of warm food. Only silence.

  Father would be home by now. Should he not have ensured himself of Sophia’s safety before retiring, as Gwynna’s father would have done?