‘It would seem the carriages are out front,’ Millie said to him, stepping towards the front entrance.
‘Millie?’
‘I do not think we have anything more to say,’ she said, glancing back.
‘Thank you for providing my sister accommodation.’
Of course,’ she said stiffly as she turned to walk briskly towards the front door.
* * *
Millie flung herself on her bed. She felt the sting of tears. She was angry with herself, with Sam, with Tom, with her father, her mother, society.
Why did men always make foolish choices? Obfuscating fact with fancy? Her father had misled her mother, stringing tales about fortunes made. Tom had misled them all, promising to drink and gamble less.
And why did women lack choices?
Truthfully, she was equally angry with herself. Why had she allowed Sam Garrett such liberties? She condemned her brother and father for taking risks, but she was a hypocrite. She was as foolish as the heroines who proliferated Lil’s favourite reading, but with no kind author to mandate a happy ending.
Had she wanted to experience desire before marrying the dull Mr Edmunds or had some foolish part of her hoped that Sam would tumble into love with her?
Sam belonged to a set of gentlemen who divided women into strict categories: mistresses and wives. She fit neither category, although she was apparently apprenticing for the former. There was no future in developing feelings for Mr Garrett. She did not have the looks, manners or wit necessary. Mr Garrett was from London and occupied a station in life too dissimilar to her own. Her duty lay in sensibly marrying Mr Edmunds.
Despite her exhaustion, rest would not come. Images flickered in front of her eyes. In one moment, she could feel the warmth of his skin, the touch of his fingers, her need and urgency. In the next, she would hear his apologies and see his stricken face and later condemnation. In one second, she would convince herself that she was well rid of him. In the next she would break out in a cold sweat for fear that he would be found guilty and hanged or imprisoned.
Then her thoughts would bounce to Mr Edmunds and she would see her life stretch into dull drudgery. A moment later, and with equal intensity, she would fear that Mr Edmunds would have learned of her smuggling exploits and refuse to marry her.
Indeed, she did not know which scenario was worse.
* * *
At last, dawn’s light shimmered through the curtaining and she rose, unable to stay still any longer. She walked to the window. Everything hurt: feet, head, arms, legs, chest. She felt weighted, as though lead lines like those used by the fishermen had been hung on her limbs.
She paced across the bare floor, feet padding softly. How often had she paced this room? She knew the exact number of steps and the moment when the floorboard would creak. She’d waited up for the doctor after Father had collapsed. She’d waited up for Tom night after night. She’d waited up with her mother for the sleeping draught to take effect. She hated waiting and worrying.
A tentative knock sounded at the door. ‘Mils?’ Her sister’s voice was soft and hesitant.
‘Come in,’ she said.
Lil entered. Even in her simple nightgown and with her hair pinned into curls she had stature, elegance and well-proportioned beauty. She moved with a fluidity which often made Millie feel uncoordinated or slap-dash.
‘I heard you pacing and knew you were awake.’
‘Sorry,’ Millie said. ‘I did not mean to disturb you.’
‘Come back to bed. Keep me warm like we did when we were children.’ Lil scrambled under the covers.
Millie joined her, lying down and shivering despite the blankets and her sister’s warmth.
‘Mils, Flora told me everything.’
‘What?’
‘She told me about Lord Harwood wanting to marry me.’
‘She shouldn’t have,’ Millie said.
‘Why not? Why shouldn’t I know? It’s me he wants to marry,’ Lil said pertly.
‘Because I did not want you to worry. I am certain I can determine a solution,’ Millie said.
Lil turned, her head rustling on the pillow as she took Millie’s hand under the covers. ‘You do not have to solve everyone’s problems alone, you know.’
‘You sound like—’ Millie stopped, biting off the sentence. ‘That is the second time someone has said something like that in the past twenty-four hours.’
‘As well you should not marry Mr Edmunds. Mother and Flora seem to think that it’s a perfect solution, but there must be another way.’
Millie glanced across to her sister’s profile, her perfect nose, the sweep of blonde hair lying so smoothly on the pillow. ‘It is definitely preferable that I marry Mr Edmunds than that you marry Lord Harwood.’
‘I won’t marry Lord Harwood. I’ll go with Mother to debtors’ prison first.’ The firmness of her sister’s tone surprised Millie.
‘I am glad. I was worried that Mother might pressure you.’
‘She might try,’ Lil said. ‘But it won’t work. And I wrote to Aunt Carol.’
‘You did?’
‘Yes, she will let us stay with her. Likely as unpaid companions, but it would be better than Harwood.’
‘Yes,’ Millie agreed. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I did not get her response until a day ago.’
‘Mother hasn’t spoken to her for a decade. They had that dreadful row when Uncle Taylor invested in one of Father’s schemes. I am surprised she would help.’
Lil sat up, hugging her knees against the early morning chill. ‘I appealed to her sense of pride. I know it is not the whole answer. Tom owed Harwood money and we do not have a solution to that yet, but it’s a start.’
‘It is,’ Millie agreed.
‘Millie,’ Lil said, still hugging her knees, but glancing back at her sister. ‘I am not ungrateful. I know that since Tom died, you have been trying to save us.’
‘Not entirely successfully.’
‘Without you, it would have been impossible. You arranged to rent our land. You sold the livestock we did not need. You paid bills. You organised everything. I am grateful. It felt as though I’d lost everyone: Father, Tom and even Mother, in a sense. But I am stronger now and if we work together, we’ll figure a way through this.’
Millie glanced up at her sister’s face, visible with the early morning light. She realised that she had thought of her sister as a child for too long. ‘Come back under the covers,’ she invited. ‘I am glad Aunt Carol will let you live with her. You will meet someone in London. Indeed, if you marry someone important, it might add to Aunt Carol’s social status, which was always close to her heart. Perhaps that will motivate her to provide you a modest debut.’
Lillian snuggled back down. ‘We will both live with Aunt Carol. That way you need not marry Mr Edmunds.’
Millie gave her sister’s hand a squeeze. ‘We cannot both land on Aunt Carol’s doorstep. Besides, it would take considerably more effort to marry me off than you. No, Mr Edmunds is still the best option for me. And he isn’t an unkind man.’
‘But you do not love him.’
‘Lil, you have read too many books. Love as a basis for marriage is highly overrated. Besides, I love Cornwall and Mr Edmunds is safe and reliable.’
‘You sound as though you are talking about an old horse,’ Lil grumbled.
‘Horse or man, safe and reliable is a good thing. Mr Edmunds will not engage in some crazy escapade. He will die at an old age in a respectable manner in the comforts of his own home.’
‘What heady goals you have for him. So why have you looked so sad since your return?’ Lil asked.
‘Blisters on my feet. They have a deleterious effect on the spirit.’
Lillie giggled. ‘Millie, you can joke about it, but you must dream of more than Mr Edmunds?’
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br /> It was Millie’s turn to laugh although she noted a bitter note. ‘In the last few years, I have had too many nightmares so I have rather given up on dreams.’
‘Do not,’ Lil whispered. ‘You have to have dreams. Besides, what of Mr Garrett?’
‘Mr Garrett? What has he to do with anything? We hardly know him. We are merely providing accommodation for his sister, as good neighbours should. I doubt very much that he cares for our domestic arrangements.’
‘Well, you’re twitchy as a cat every time I say his name. Moreover, this sudden acquaintance with Mrs Ludlow is questionable. I am quite certain that I have seen her at church only once. So how does she suddenly know you so well that she brings over her brother and invites herself to stay?’
‘I do not know. We already agreed that she was odd.’
‘I think that you and Mr Garrett met when you had your “fishing trip”, which was not a fishing trip,’ Lil said. ‘And when he realised that his sister had some sort of hysterical condition he sought your help because you have developed a close bond.’
‘You should write all this stuff and sell it,’ Millie muttered.
‘But I would much prefer for you to live it.’
‘Lil, I love you. And I love what you are trying to say. But even if your far-fetched story is correct, Mr Garrett has no interest in me. Moreover, he has more important issues on his plate, given that he recently confessed to causing his brother-in-law bodily harm.’
‘He what?’ Lil jerked upright again, twisting around and sending a blast of cold air under the blankets. ‘When?’
‘Yesterday evening. You were asleep. Jason Ludlow is still missing. His mother thinks Frances is involved so Sam—Mr Garrett—decided to say they’d had a fight and that Jason had fallen in the ocean.’
‘And did he?’
‘Mr Garrett doesn’t know. He doesn’t remember. He was drunk or injured or both on the night Jason Ludlow disappeared.’
Lil bounced on the bed with a creak of the springs. ‘I knew you knew more about Sam Garrett than you let on! And are you saying that Sir Anthony and Mrs Ludlow came in the middle of the night and I slept through it?’
‘It was in the evening. Late in the evening.’
‘Of course I sleep through the only exciting thing that has happened around here for ages.’ Lil’s look of consternation would have been comical in other circumstances. ‘Anyway, I am quite certain Mr Garrett had nothing to do with Jason’s disappearance.’
‘Based on your five-minute acquaintance?’
‘Based on the fact that my sister would not fall in love with an individual of bad character.’
‘Good Lord,’ Millie said, also sitting up. ‘I am definitely not in love with anyone and certainly not Sam Garrett. Besides, marriage to Mr Edmunds is a good option.’
‘Marriage to Mr Edmunds would be boring as mud. You cannot just give up.’
‘I have not “given up”. You do not know...’ The image of the smuggler’s ship, broken, on fire and sinking into the sea flickered before her mind’s eye. ‘I am ensuring we have a decent life. You, me and Mother.’
She had risked everything and lost. She had gambled like her father and played with danger like her brother.
And had lost.
‘I know, you think your “fishing trip” was a mistake. But maybe you should think less about the mistake and more about your indomitable will, which helped you to survive.’
Millie glanced at her sister, her heart full. ‘You helped me survive. Thinking of you helped me to survive.’
‘Then make good use of your second chance.’
* * *
As soon as it was a decent hour, Millie went to see Frances. She knocked softly, but, even so, Frances jumped at her entrance, fear and worry evident in her face.
‘I have brought you some tea,’ Millie said, stepping carefully around Noah’s bassinet, which had been placed to the left of the bed.
Frances was sitting upright, propped by pillows. She smiled tentatively as Millie passed her the cup. ‘Thank you.’
‘May I sit with you a minute while Noah is sleeping?’ Millie asked.
Frances nodded. ‘You are kind. You must think me very weak.’
‘I think nothing of the sort,’ Millie said firmly. ‘You obviously care for your child and are determined to keep him safe.’
‘Yes.’ Frances glanced towards the bassinet. ‘Yes, he is everything to me.’
‘I can tell that...’ Millie paused, as she sat beside the bed, smoothing her gown as she tried to find the right words.
Frances glanced towards her, anxiety evident in her eyes, which appeared oddly magnified in contrast to her thin face. ‘You are worried. Do you want me to go? Does Sir Anthony have more enquiries? My mother-in-law—has she come for Noah?’ The questions were rattled off in quick, nervous succession, the cup rattling so much that Millie worried it would spill.
‘No.’ Millie reached for the saucer, taking it from the woman’s trembling hand and placing it on the night table. ‘No. Do not worry. No one is coming. You are quite safe.’
Millie waited, watching carefully as the other woman took in this information, gradually allowing herself to relax. ‘I need you to be calm so that we can talk things through. I think that is the best thing we can do to figure things out. Can you do that?’
Frances nodded, the movement slight and her expression still one of apprehension.
‘Thank you,’ Millie said. ‘First, you need to know that your brother is talking to Sir Anthony. Mr. Garrett thinks that he and Jason may have fought and worries it resulted in Jason’s disappearance.’
Frances stiffened. ‘Sam is saying that to Sir Anthony?’ she asked in breathy whisper.
‘Yes. You see, Sir Anthony and Mrs Ludlow came here last night.’
Frances’s fingers gripped at the fabric of her blanket so tightly that Millie could see the white of her knuckles. She swallowed. ‘For me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Sam took the blame for me? To protect me?’
‘He wanted to protect you, but I think he also believes that he might have some involvement.’
‘He shouldn’t have told Sir Anthony.’ Frances’s fingers picked nervously at her nightgown, finding a loose thread and twisting it about her finger.
‘Perhaps not, but he did,’ Millie said. ‘So the best thing we can do is to determine what really happened.’
‘You’ll help us? Why?’
Good question, Millie thought. Because she’d saved him once and did not want her good work undone? No, that was not true. It was too flippant. The reality was that the thought of Sam’s conviction hurt in a deep, all-encompassing way.
‘Because you need help and Sam is...nice,’ Millie said lamely, before continuing more briskly. ‘Can you tell me anything you can remember from the night Jason disappeared? Anything that would help?’
Frances continued to pluck nervously at her nightgown. Millie could hear the scratch of her fingers at the cloth. ‘Sam arrived earlier in the afternoon. I did not know he was coming, but I was glad to see him. Jason had never wanted him to come so I’d made excuses to keep him away. Anyway, we had dinner, all of us, me, Sam, Jason and his mother. And then I went to bed.’
‘You last saw Jason at dinner?’
‘No.’ Frances fell silent and then spoke in quick bursts of staccato speech. ‘He came up later. I do not know what time. He was angry because I had not looked happy enough. He said I looked like a miserable old hag. He said that Sam wanted me to go with him to London and that Sam thought he was a monster.’
‘And that was the last time you saw him.’
‘Yes.’
‘And you do not know if Sam saw him after that?’ Millie asked.
‘No.’
‘Or where Jason went after your fight?’
&nbs
p; ‘No.’ Frances paused again, looking at Millie, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. ‘I was just glad he had gone. Is that awful of me?’
‘Not at all. In fact, it was very practical in the situation.’
Frances gave a wan smile, even as the tears brimmed over, trickling down her cheek.
‘Why did he marry you?’ Millie asked.
Frances startled at the question. ‘I thought we were in love.’
‘That is why you married him. Why did he marry you?’
‘I thought he was in love, too. But I have an inheritance. Sam is only my half-brother. My birth father left money in trust to any male children I might have.’
‘So Noah is wealthy. But not you?’
‘I am comfortably placed, but I do not have a lot. Jason was...angry...when he found out.’ Frances spoke slowly, the words stilted. Millie felt sure there was a world of horror behind the simple phrase.
‘And do you have any idea why either Sam or Jason would go out to the sea in the middle of a storm?’
Frances shifted, her fingers clenching the blanket, scrunching the fabric into tight bunches of cloth.
‘What is it?’ Millie asked gently, clasping the other woman’s hand. Her fingers were cold and thin, her nails bitten low. Frances swallowed. Her gaze flickered about the room. ‘I do not know why Sam would be outside, but Jason...he has rough friends.’
‘Rough?’
‘Smugglers,’ she said, dropping her voice.
‘He was involved with the smuggling?’
‘And...’ Frances paused, biting her lip. Outside, Millie could hear morning birdsong, the drip of water from the gutters after the night’s rainfall and the rustle of branches against the eaves from a tree too near the house. ‘And worse,’ she finally said.
Frances’s voice was so low that Millie had to bend forward to hear the word. She clutched at Millie’s hand, her grip surprisingly strong, but with a wiry desperation.
Millie felt herself stiffen, as though the paralysis of her body was making up for the lightning-speed movement of her thoughts. ‘Can you tell me what you mean?’ she asked, holding her breath as she waited for the answer.
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