A Lady's Honor

by Laurie Alice Eakes

  It was an empty threat, but the tumult died down to a low murmur like distant surf.

  “Will you repeat what you just said, Elys?” Rowan asked.

  Elizabeth let out a shaky laugh. “I realized that Jesus does love me. And because I realized that—”

  “Miss Trelawny.” The coroner bellowed out her name, though quiet had fallen once more. “Please be seated. This is an official proceeding of the Crown.”

  “I know.” She smiled down at him. “I do apologize for the disruption, sir, but you’re about to send an innocent man to the assizes and likely hanging.” She raised her gaze to Rowan, then shifted it to Grandpapa, who stood not a yard away gripping the back of a pew, his face taut. “I was with Mr. Curnow when we found his lordship’s—his lordship. I’d been with him since the tide was in, so the—his lordship could not have been—”

  The church and square burst into raucous shouts again, this time some name calling interspersed with the shock and horror. They were names she’d called her cousin and worse. They stung like swarming bees, leaving their stingers behind. She stood straight and tall through it all.

  Grandpapa looked old and tired. “You’re coming home with me, young lady.”

  “Not so fast.” The coroner gripped her other arm. “Why should I believe you, a female, and apparently not a respectable one at that? You’d say anything to protect your . . . er . . . lover.”

  “You doubt the word of a Trelawny?” Grandpapa demanded.

  “I doubt the word of an unwise female.”

  “What about two unwise females?” Morwenna’s contralto, though quiet, cut through the remaining racket.

  Elizabeth caught her breath.

  Supported between Grandmama and Senara, Miss Pross close behind holding a shawl-wrapped bundle, Morwenna stood in the sanctuary doorway looking too frail to be alive, let alone upright.

  “He was with me too.” Her voice was strong enough to be heard in the now utter stillness of the throng. “They were protecting me and helping me give birth to Conan Lord Penvenan’s baby.” As the noise rose again, she raised her voice. “My son is the true heir to Penmara. Conan and I were married on Guernsey a year ago.”

  CHAPTER 28

  A SILENCE SO PROFOUND FELL OVER CHURCH AND SQUARE. The coroner’s wheezing breaths sounded like a Newcomen engine pumping water from a mine. Then the baby began to cry, the mewling wail of a newborn yanking the crowd to their feet, necks craning for a glimpse to the true heir to Penmara. Murmurs rose like an incoming storm.

  “It can’t be true.”

  “Sensible to wed a Trelawny.”

  “I don’t believe her.”

  “Neither do I.” Senara’s voice rose in a crescendo above the others. “Can you prove it, you lying, cheating, little—”

  “Senara,” Grandmama snapped.

  “Well, can she?” Senara grasped Morwenna’s shoulders and shook her.

  Morwenna wobbled as though she’d fall if Senara released her. “I can.” She spoke decisively, if somewhat breathlessly. “I’ve my marriage lines.” She reached into a pocket of her now too-big gown.

  And Senara screamed. “You can’t have wed him. Penmara is mine, mine, mine. You won’t have it. You won’t—” She lunged for the baby.

  “Stop her,” someone shouted.

  Rowan and Grandpapa surged toward Senara.

  Rowan caught her, wrapping her in his arms with her arms at her sides, but her feet lashing out at his shins. “Stop it, Cousin.”

  Senara shrieked. “I’ve seen the letters to Conan. You’re not my legitimate cousin. You’d be dead too if you were.”

  Elizabeth pressed her hands to her middle. She would not be sick. She would not faint. Remember who you are.

  Yes, a woman who didn’t have to be strong on her own.

  She stepped forward and grasped Senara’s shoulders. “Calm yourself, Senara. This will all work out.”

  “Work out?” Senara began to weep with deep, racking sobs. “It never can if that baby is still alive.”

  Behind Rowan, the coroner, looking apoplectic, called for the constable to restore order. Grandpapa gathered Morwenna to his chest.

  “Even if you destroyed your nephew too,” Rowan said in a gentle voice, “it wouldn’t change matters for you.”

  “It would. It would.” Senara’s voice rasped between sobs.

  “Calm yourself, Miss Penvenan.” Romsford stepped forward.

  Rowan stepped back, still holding Senara. “I’ll take care of her, my lord. She’s my kin.”

  Romsford’s upper lip curled. “She’s a lady, and you are a—”

  “Gentleman.” Elizabeth stepped between Romsford and Rowan, facing the former. “You should leave. This is none of your affair. Cornwall has nothing for you, not me, not Penmara’s mines, not—” She stared at the marquess, the coldness of his eye, the sneer of his lip as he looked at her, and she tried to scuttle backward, came up short against a pew door. “It was Bastion Point all along.”

  “It was Penmara all along.” Senara’s voice rose to a shriek. She brought the heel of her boot onto Rowan’s toes and heaved herself out of his hold. “Penmara should be mine. He promised if I helped him—”

  “She’s mad.” As cool as his countenance, Romsford’s voice nonetheless rang through the church as though the building were empty, so quiet and still had the onlookers become. “She should be put in the lockup.”

  “She will be if she’s done anything wrong,” Grandpapa said. “But we need to know what she’s talking about. If you helped whom, Senara?”

  “Him.” Senara pointed her finger at Romsford. “He wanted the beach, he wanted the caves. He—”

  He lunged for Elizabeth. She grasped the top of the pew door and vaulted over it. Romsford sprang after her.

  Rowan caught hold of the back of the marquess’s coat collar in one fist and planted him a facer with the other. Romsford sagged. Rowan released him to fall in a heap onto the stone floor.

  Elizabeth sank to her knees and clung to the side of the pew with shaking hands, an entirely shaking body. “He was going to attack me.” She doubted anyone heard her above the tumult once again filling the church and square.

  Nor could they hear her above Senara shrieking as she applied the toes of her sturdy boots to Romsford’s ribs. “You promised Penmara would be mine if they died. Promised. Promised.”

  Grandmama slapped Senara. The blow stopped the histrionics and quieted the throng.

  Sam Carn glanced from Senara, to Romsford, then to Grandpapa and the coroner. “I don’t know what I should be doing here. Take ’em both in?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Grandpapa’s face worked. His eyes turned suspiciously bright.

  Elizabeth hauled herself to her feet to go to him.

  “Miss Penvenan.” Kindly Sam Carn laid a hand on her arm.

  Senara shook off his grip. “Don’t touch me.”

  “I must, miss.” Sam looked at Rowan this time. “I’m not sure I understand what’s afoot here, but—”

  “You should.” Senara shot a murderous glare at Morwenna, who sagged against a pew, Miss Pross and the baby beside her. “Penmara would be mine if that doxy hadn’t lured my brother into marriage.”

  “No, Cousin, it wouldn’t.” Rowan spoke in a low, carrying tone. “My parents were married more than a year before I was born.”

  A storm wind of voices rolled from the front of the church and back to spill out the door.

  “Legitimate son.”

  “Another heir.”

  Shocked faces. Lots of tears.

  Elizabeth expected her own face mirrored those of many in the crowd, betrayal added to the astonishment. Remember who you are—a lady Jesus loves. She slipped out of the pew so she could lean against Grandpapa’s shoulder. If she hadn’t, she never would have heard Senara’s sobbing murmur.

  “I helped him kill them for nothing.”

  Elizabeth pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to hold back a cry. Her throat burned
with bile. Her eyes burned with tears. “Senara, not just for Penmara.” She didn’t speak loud enough for anyone to hear.

  “Who did you help, Miss Penvenan?” The coroner bustled forward. “Tell us so we can bring this inquest to a close.”

  “The inquest,” Grandpapa said over the shouts from the onlookers to know what was happening, “will reconvene at a later date. Sam, take her to the jail.”

  “And him.” Elizabeth followed Rowan’s gaze down to where Romsford lay on the floor, just beginning to stir. “I know as a Christian I should abhor violence, but right now—” His hands fisted at his sides.

  “We’ll see to him, Mr. Curnow.” Sam shouted for two men to come forward and help. “He’s a marquess so we gotta take him to London.” His nostrils pinched as though he smelled something foul. “His kind get took care of by their own kind.”

  Elizabeth swallowed against the lump in her throat and reached a hand toward Sam. “Take care of Senara. She’s not right in the head.”

  “We’ll treat her gentle.” Sam’s dark eyes were clouded with his own grief. “She were good to us, and she were his lordship’s sister.” He took Senara’s hand, and she went with him as docile as an obedient child.

  Two miners picked up Romsford and followed. He tried to struggle. He mumbled curses that sounded almost obligatory. His jaw swelling and darkening, he, too, looked defeated.

  The crowd parted before the cavalcade, and for the first time in her life, Elizabeth covered her face with her hands and wept in public.

  The Trelawnys gathered around Morwenna’s bedside where Grandmama had tucked up her younger granddaughter as soon as they all managed to extricate themselves from the coroner and the church. On the far side of the room, Miss Pross sang a lullaby to a sleeping infant, her face aglow as though the baby were hers.

  The sight was the first thing Elizabeth found to smile about since discovering Penvenan’s body at sunrise. Now, at sunset, she needed something to lift her spirits, for everything her cousin said increased her sense of betrayal.

  “Conan didn’t want to waste a fortune restoring the house,” Morwenna was explaining. “He wanted to sell the land to someone who would reopen the mines and then get us far away from the smugglers. He even talked about America.”

  “Was that why he contacted the American Penvenans?” Grandpapa asked.

  “To break the entail, yes.”

  Which was one more blow to Elizabeth’s heart. “You knew all along that Row—Mr. Penvenan was Austell Penvenan’s legitimate son?”

  “I did.” Morwenna’s eyes conveyed sympathy. “But we kept up the pretense of him being a mere secretary for his safety.”

  “Why safety?” Grandpapa’s face wrinkled into lines of fatigue and disappointment.

  Morwenna plucked at embroidery on the edge of the coverlet. “There were threats. Conan was trying to get the smugglers to stop so he could get free of the business, and the threats began—a scrawled message, a dead bird . . . little things.”

  “And you couldn’t think to tell me as the magistrate, let alone your grandfather?” Hurt added more lines to his face.

  “We couldn’t.” Morwenna flashed a look at him, then down to the coverlet. “If Drake was involved, it could endanger you and Grandmama.”

  “You think Drake would betray Conan?” Elizabeth scowled at Morwenna.

  She shrugged. “He was still thick as thieves with the gang. He seemed to know every time the revenue officers intended a raid. He didn’t want Conan to stop. Do I need more reasons?” Her dark eyes held a challenge.

  “He’s my brother. He’s your cousin. He’s a Trelawny.”

  “And you kept more than a few secrets yourself, young lady.” Grandmama patted Elizabeth’s hand. “So get off your high ropes. When people are frightened of one or two people, they tend to trust no one.”

  “More like a hundred people we didn’t trust.” Morwenna shuddered. “Conan didn’t tell Senara anything. She flew into a rage once when he mentioned breaking the entail if he could. So he never mentioned bringing the American Penvenans to Cornwall. And by the time they arrived in England, he feared for his life enough he didn’t want them to admit who they were.”

  “But Austell Penvenan was too arrogant to hide his chance to be a lord.” Elizabeth rubbed her arms, cold despite her woolen shawl.

  “Someone had to have the right to oversee Penmara,” Morwenna pointed out. “But with only one person in the lineage. Rowan needed to be free to roam around. He’s quite intelligent.” Morwenna shot a smile in Elizabeth’s direction. “About some things.”

  Grandpapa cleared his throat. “So when did the threats begin? After you two wed?”

  “About a week or two when we would, um”—Morwenna blushed—“meet at night.”

  “About the same time Romsford started paying court to me.” Elizabeth rose to shovel more coal onto the fire and build up the blaze. “Was he paying court to Senara too, to persuade her to go along with him?”

  “She says it was strictly business.” Grandpapa sighed.

  He had spent several hours in the jail with Senara and Romsford. The latter refused to talk other than demanding he be taken to London at once, his right as a peer. Peers were tried in Parliament. He neither declared his innocence nor admitted any guilt. Senara, on the other hand, seemed resigned to whatever fate the circuit judge meted out to her—most likely transportation to New South Wales, Grandpapa had told them earlier—and was talking freely.

  “Romsford,” Grandpapa continued, “promised her a Penmara all her own out of the haul if she would help him take over the smugglers. She claims she had no idea he meant murder until she lured Conan down to the beach on some pretense of the smugglers leaving something behind, and Romsford—” He broke off as Morwenna snatched a pillow and buried her face in it. “I am sorry, child. You must have loved him dearly.”

  Morwenna nodded, still holding the pillow to muffle her sobs.

  “She thought Penmara was hers then, so she didn’t turn Romsford in for fear he’d incriminate her,” Grandpapa continued. “And then Penvenan came along. When he and Morwenna received threats, Rowan worked out how anyone connected with the Penvenans was in danger.”

  “Then why didn’t he tell the coroner?” Elizabeth demanded.

  Grandpapa sighed. “He did mention we should look at Romsford as a suspect, but no one believed him, not a mere—” Grandpapa hesitated.

  “He referred to himself as a scrub one day.” Elizabeth smiled for the second time as she remembered that first glorious gallop. “But I wouldn’t have believed it. Romsford being here to court me or even buy land is one thing. Murdering a fellow peer is quite something else.” She gripped the poker as though she could wield it against those who could no longer harm her. “And the accident Senara had was just to muddle things. Though I think that makes it no accident at all. She must have thrown herself down the stairs or only pretended to fall.”

  “No one,” Grandmama said, “would call Lord Romsford stupid.”

  Elizabeth let the poker slide back into its stand. “Intelligent evil is more frightening than the ordinary criminal.”

  They all sat in silence for several minutes, then Elizabeth returned to her chair. “And you let us treat you badly about your condition to protect your baby, Wenna, in case it was a boy and the heir.” She took a deep breath. “I think you’re the bravest woman I know. I hope I can be half so much in my life.”

  Morwenna smoothed a ribbon on her dressing gown. “You seem to have forgotten you don’t like me much.”

  “I haven’t forgotten.” Elizabeth rose and kissed her cousin’s cheek. “And you didn’t like me much either. Envy, pure and simple. You are so small and pretty.” Elizabeth emitted a bark of mirth. “Other than that, though, I liked you. I remembered how much pleasure all of us had together, you and Drake and Conan . . . and Senara.” Her chest ached. “Why didn’t we see Senara’s troubles? She was Conan’s sister.”

  “And we loved her even if s
he annoyed us much of the time.” Morwenna wiped her eyes on a corner of the pillow slip and tossed it aside.

  Elizabeth gave her a handkerchief. “I’m just working out how Jesus loves us when we must annoy him a great deal more.”

  “Oh, that.” Morwenna ducked behind the handkerchief.

  Elizabeth started to say something, but Grandmama shook her head. “Just love her and let her grieve.”

  Elizabeth switched her gaze to the window and the sea beyond, sparkling slate blue beneath the dropping sun. Far out along the horizon, a boat caught the wind, its sails billowing like the skirt of a graceful dancer. She tracked the boat’s progress over the waves while the conversation flowed around her.

  “We were wrong to exile you,” Grandmama was saying to Morwenna. “We had the best of intentions, wanting you secure in a marriage, as well as your child safe with a father, but you should have been able to trust us.”

  “I should have done more about the smugglers,” Grandpapa added.

  “And have them making a target of you?” Morwenna sounded horrified. “I didn’t want that.”

  Bedclothes rustled. The chairs creaked. From the corner of her eye, Elizabeth saw the grandparents and Morwenna embracing. Good. She needed them now more than ever.

  Elizabeth rose and crossed the room to the window. Now she could see a bank of clouds rolling in from the east as though chasing the sun out of the sky.

  She wanted to chase the sun out of the sky, mount Grisette without benefit of a sidesaddle, and fly along the beach. Except it wouldn’t be as much pleasure without Rowan racing beside her. She’d saved his neck, only to learn he had been keeping yet more secrets from her—secrets he had shared with her cousin.

  “No wonder Senara was so against me marrying Austell Penvenan,” Elizabeth mused aloud. “Or was most of the time. She tried to muddle matters there too. She thought Romsford had to kill me to stop me from producing another heir since he couldn’t marry me himself. Who could want a house and lands that much?”