Caught in a Cornish Scandal

by Eleanor Webster

  ‘Frances,’ he said gently. ‘You do not need to stay here. Or ever go back to Manton Hall. We can go to London as soon as you would like. Your things can be packed and sent later.’

  She turned back to the window. ‘I had the dream again today. I’d hoped that the dream would stop after last night, but still it came. I saw them. All the men and women and children. Do you think there were children? I hate to think that there might have been children, babies like Noah.’

  He had been a fool. He had hoped last night for a miracle cure. He’d hoped that she’d re-emerge as the sister he had once known who had sent letters to school and stopped him from a downward spiral of drinking after Annie broke off the engagement.

  But this frail, frightened woman was not that person. He felt lost, uncertain.

  ‘I keep thinking that I should have told someone. I made excuses. I told myself that I did not really know anything. You see, he did not always make sense and talked about it only while in his cups.’ She spoke in a monotonous tone, still staring at the silvery streak that was the sea.

  ‘Please, Frances, do not do this to yourself. No one will blame you. Likely they would not have believed you or acted without evidence.’

  ‘But I should have tried! I should have tried.’ She turned from the window, stepping towards him, her eyes wide, as though still haunted by her wild imaginings.

  ‘You did. You told Millie and you saved us all. You stopped them. Jason and his mother will not hurt anyone again because of you. You were the hero last night.’

  ‘I do not feel like a hero.’

  ‘That doesn’t change the fact that you are one.’

  Gently, he stepped to her, placing his hand at her elbow and leading her away from the window to a chair by the hearth.

  ‘Come, sit down.’ He stirred it with the poker, more to do something useful than because there was a real need. The fire was already bright. He looked back. Frances sat, perched at the edge of the chair like a bird ready to take flight. He could still see the tension in her shoulders and clasped hands. He sat in the chair opposite. The house was quiet. Flora said that Mrs Lansdowne was resting while Millie and Lil had gone down to see Sally.

  ‘What about London?’ he asked. ‘You could take Noah. You wouldn’t have to go out or socialise if you did not want to do so. Aunt Tilly would love you to stay if you would prefer not to rent a house yourself. You have always said she was quite your favourite relative.’

  Her expression eased a little at his words. ‘I like Aunt Tilly. I was doing quite well this morning—before the dream. I spoke to Lillian. She would like to come with me to London.’

  He felt a flicker of relief. Surely it was positive that she was thinking towards the future. ‘That is wonderful,’ he said. ‘A great idea!’ His relief imbued his tone with an over-abundance of enthusiasm.

  ‘I’d hoped Millie would come as well.’

  He tensed at the mention of her name and felt again that curious muddle of emotion the woman always invoked: a pulse of unwanted excitement, irritation, but above it all, relief.

  His feelings for Millicent Lansdowne were a mush of contradiction, but he trusted her. There was a calm capability about her, a caring which was kind, but without melodrama. He knew without any doubt that Millie’s presence in London would be good for his sister.

  ‘I think that is an even better idea. They could both come.’

  ‘She won’t.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘She wants Lil to go, but not her. Lil popped in just before my rest. Marta tried to scare her off, but she was quite impervious to any threat. Anyway, Lil said that she’d just spoken to her sister and Millie is determined to marry Mr Edmunds...’

  Sam felt something akin to physical pain. It was as though he had been struck in his stomach. His hands tightened into fists.

  ‘He has made an official offer?’

  ‘He was expected to ask her today. I am uncertain if he did. I slept so much and I only arose now because Marta and Flora said I should. They are rather a powerful force in tandem.’ She gave a slight smile.

  ‘Where is Miss Lansdowne now?’

  ‘Down at the village. Flora said that Millie wants to talk to her friends herself before they hear through village gossip. You know, about last night.’

  She would, he thought. Millie would not shy from that conversation. She would know it would be better for Sally and the Aimsworths to learn it from her.

  Frances turned her head towards the window, the oblique mention of the wrecking pulling her back to the sea and its horrors. Even now, she seemed to teeter on a knife’s edge between the sane and the insane.

  ‘I wonder what he looked like?’ she said, still turned towards the window while her fingers worked nervously at the cloth of her gown.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Sally’s husband and the other men from the village. And how many there were?’

  The memory of Jem’s huge, lifeless body flickered before him. He remembered how his face was so oddly unmarked even while his bloodied brains spilled on to the rock. He thought about the old man with his toothless grimace and the rock pools red with blood.

  ‘Frances, why do not you go to London tomorrow?’ The need to move her away from this place grew heavy.

  She turned back, shrugging. ‘I do not know.’ Her forehead puckered. Her fingers still twisted at the cloth. ‘I feel scared and tired. What will I say to Aunt Tilly?’

  ‘You’ll hardly have to say a word; Aunt Tilly will do all the talking. You can take Marta. She can pack up enough for a few days. The journey will be long, but you can sleep. I will write to Aunt Tilly. Lillian can keep you company and I will talk to Millie.’

  ‘You will?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘There is no reason why she couldn’t go up to London with you, even if she is engaged.’

  ‘And Aunt Tilly would let us stay? She always amuses me.’

  ‘She would love it and her house is large enough.’

  ‘It feels such a huge undertaking.’

  ‘It feels that way because you are still exhausted, but I will arrange everything.’ He leaned forward, catching her hand. ‘Fran, you will feel stronger away from here. I am sure of it.’

  She gave a quick smile, almost reminiscent of the sister he once knew. ‘Thank you.’

  She rose, stepping to the door. ‘I will check on Noah.’

  ‘Fran?’

  She turned.

  ‘You saved me once. You helped me to stop drinking and racing Rotten Row. You said that you had lost a father and a mother and that you couldn’t lose a brother.’

  She nodded. ‘I remember.’

  ‘Please know, you aren’t alone.’

  * * *

  Sam walked his sister to the stairs and watched as she ascended to the second floor, a thin, almost gaunt, figure. He turned away as she entered one of the doors on the upper landing and found himself face to face with Flora, omnipresent in the Lansdowne household.

  ‘Would you know when Miss Lansdowne and Miss Lillian might return?’ he asked. ‘I wanted to pay my respects, if possible.’

  ‘Respects? Is that what it’s called? Hmmph. You have unsettled her, that’s what.’

  ‘The last few days have been somewhat unsettling all around,’ he said.

  ‘She should be back soon. You can wait in the parlour, if you must. But do not make noise, I just got Mrs Lansdowne settled. That upset she was.’

  ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Thank you.’

  He went back into the parlour and sat somewhat stiffly on the armchair. He wished there was something to occupy his mind and looked around for any reading material within the room, but found nothing.

  Of course, he should not care if Miss Lansdowne was marrying Mr Edmunds or anyone else for that matter. Indeed, he did not care. During his time in society, he had
seen any number of convenient marriages and most of them worked out admirably. Love was fickle. If he’d had his way, he’d be married to Annie Whistler. Indeed, he’d been quite certain that he was deeply in love with her. Now he found her vapid in the extreme. In time, he’d realised that he’d merely been attracted to blonde curls, blue eyes and a figure that was bounteous and buxom. Plus everyone was in love with her. She was the incomparable among the ton.

  He knew now that his feelings for Miss Whistler had never been love. He hadn’t even known her. His father had died almost as soon as he’d left school and the grief he’d felt was not just for the austere man he’d wanted to love but also for the relationship that hadn’t been.

  The social rituals of his class had lacked meaning and he’d found his life empty. Miss Whistler had been a panacea. He’d immersed himself in loving her. It gave meaning to his life. When she’d broken the engagement, he’d been lost, drowning his troubles in too much drink.

  But his life had a different meaning now. He belonged to the Philanthropic Society and was working to develop schools and apprenticeships, which sounded boring, but he found it exciting. There was opera and friendships and horse riding. With Millie, it would not be about forgetting. Millie made him more. He felt more and laughed more.

  ‘You wanted to speak with me?’

  He jumped as Millicent Lansdowne herself entered the room. Her step was brisk and her cheeks still flushed from the outside air. She’d pulled her hair into a bun, but it was already messy, falling down in tangles about her face.

  Just above her collar, he saw the cut from the night previous, a tiny pinprick of a scratch. It was small, a flesh wound, yet it reminded him of what could have been. The memory took the words from him, squeezing at his vitals.

  ‘Is it healing?’ he asked.

  She touched the cut. ‘It is the merest scratch.’

  ‘And you? Not too many aches and pains?’ She sat beside the fire, waving a hand to invite him to sit in the chair opposite.

  ‘I am fine,’ he said, sitting. ‘You were able to see your friend Mrs Strand? That must have been a hard conversation.’

  She lifted her gaze to him, huge limpid eyes big with sorrow. ‘Yes, but I am glad I was able to tell her myself.’

  ‘I will make sure she gets some money and more books. It must be hard for her with two children. There isn’t a school?’

  Millie shook her head. ‘The vicar tries.’

  ‘I have an interest in schooling.’

  ‘You do?’ She looked surprised.

  ‘Yes, I work with a society in London, although their focus is more on helping poor people with apprenticeships. Not a lot of Greek and Latin.’

  ‘You would like to teach children Greek and Latin?’ Millie wrinkled her brow, as though slightly sceptical.

  ‘Diogenes said that the “foundation of every state is the education of its youth” and I am quite certain he did not mean just the youth who go to schools like Harrow. Diogenes was an odd individual. He slept in a jar sometimes, but he was right about that.’

  Millie gave that warm, wonderful laugh. ‘A jar?’

  ‘Yes, it was ceramic, “a pithos”.’

  ‘That makes it better?’

  He laughed as well and then there was that moment of silence, where the camaraderie became suddenly awkward. ‘I wanted to let you know that I sent a note to my man of business to talk to Harwood. I will let you know what he learns.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I...the reason I wanted to talk to you is to ask—will you come to London?’ he blurted.

  ‘What?’ She startled, her expressive eyebrows rising.

  ‘I need you to come to London. Frances needs you.’

  ‘Lillian will go up with her. And you have a relative, an aunt.’

  He stood, pacing in front of the fireplace. ‘Your sister is wonderful and I am happy she will go to London and, yes, Lady Wyburn is lively and eccentric.’ He stopped, going to the window and looking out towards the grey of the ocean. ‘But Fran needs you. I need you.’

  * * *

  Sam threw himself heavily into the chair opposite, leaning towards her. His gaze was intense. The firelight made his eyes darker, highlighting the shadows of fatigue juxtaposed to the lean strength of his jaw. He needed her. She felt a pulse of something close to exaltation.

  ‘You cannot marry Edmunds. There must be another option. Indeed, I am certain my great-aunt could figure something out,’ he said.

  She stiffened. The exaltation turned to lead, anger tightening her belly. ‘By “something”, I take it you mean that she might introduce me to a more suitable husband?’ she said.

  He shifted, looking uncomfortable. ‘Well, yes, something like that.’

  ‘Then you will be glad to know that this is not necessary. I am not marrying Mr Edmunds.’

  ‘You’re not?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘He is buying our land and Mother can stay in the house. I decided that if I could survive this last week, I could find an alternate solution to marriage to Mr Edmunds. Indeed, I aim to find an alternate solution to marriage to anyone. Therefore, I do not need to be introduced to some suitable London gentleman. It is totally unnecessary. Besides, I do not like London.’

  ‘You wouldn’t have to live there. You make it sound as though I want you to go into purgatory,’ he said.

  ‘Not purgatory, just a location with no great appeal. I do not want or need you to save me from my life.’

  ‘I am not trying to save you from your life,’ he said, his voice rising.

  ‘No?’

  ‘I am trying to save Frances from her nightmares.’

  She looked at him and again noted the shadows under his eyes and the heaviness in his lids. It was clear he had not slept properly. She thought of her love for Lil and how she had tried to save Tom.

  ‘Lillian said Frances was doing better. I thought last night was a turning point for her?’ she asked more gently.

  He shook his head. ‘She had a dream this afternoon. She thinks too much about the victims. She blames herself. She hears them. I need to get her away from here.’

  ‘Yes,’ Millie said. ‘I agree and Lillian will be a good companion. She has a natural enthusiasm, an ebullience. She will be as good as, if not better than, me.’

  ‘Fran trusts you. You make her feel safe. Come up for a couple of weeks.’

  Millie felt a mix of emotions. She looked towards the sea. It was not the smells or crowds of London that bothered her—although she found neither pleasant—it was that feeling of discomfort. She never knew what to say. London felt like an unknown land filled with people alien to her.

  And then there was this man. She glanced at him. It almost hurt to look at his broad shoulders, perfectly outlined in his impeccable jacket, with that dark lock of hair falling forward, the one she always wanted to smooth back.

  They lived worlds apart with little in common. To spend more time with him would prolong the inevitable pain she would experience when they parted.

  He shifted forward in his chair, pushing back the lock of his hair. ‘I have let her down twice already. I should have come sooner. I should have known something was wrong. You heard last night how Mrs Ludlow thought I was a drunk who did not care.’

  ‘She was wrong and mad.’

  ‘I cannot let her down again,’ he said.

  Millie inhaled. ‘Fine. I will go. To London. For Frances. But no soirées and limited chit-chat.’

  ‘All chit-chat will be kept to the bare minimum. And, thank you.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Frances, Millie, Lil, Noah, Marta and the nursemaid were conveyed in two travelling coaches and arrived in London just before teatime five days later. Sam remained in Cornwall to supervise issues regarding Manton Hall. Mrs Lansdowne had also remained, with considerable reluctance, as she ne
eded to make final arrangements with Mr Edmunds regarding the house. Flora stayed also, ostensibly to help Mrs Lansdowne, although she saw herself in a supervisory capacity. Millie was thankful for Flora. Her mother was much improved, but Millie still worried she might again take to her bed as she had in the days following Tom’s death.

  The time prior to their departure had been hectic. Millie had spoken to Sir Anthony and had written several statements. Frances had done so also and found the experience so distressing that Millie again worried for her health.

  Jason Ludlow’s return to life had created a vast variety of rumours and curiosity which was both irritating and exhausting. Therefore, despite her love of Cornwall, Millie had felt relief when the travelling coaches pulled away and, even more so, when the cumbersome vehicles had neared London.

  Lil was the most excited of the company, pressing her face against the pane, much like a child. Indeed, it amused Millie to see the façade of the sophisticated woman slip, if only for a moment. Lil had little recollection of London and had made up for this with all manner of fanciful ideas, gleaned from Mother’s descriptions and a variety of women’s journals.

  Millie was glad for her happy ebullience. It was contagious and she noted Frances smiling several times. For herself, Millie peered at London’s congested, cobbled streets with interest, but found it held little appeal. The houses were very close and the sour smell of garbage and sewage was detectable even within the carriage. The streets were so crowded with people, conveyances and stray dogs that she was surprised there were not more accidents and she longed for wide open spaces. On occasions, she would catch quick glimpses of the Thames’s slow-moving, muddy waters.

  She wrinkled her nose.

  ‘It is better at my aunt’s house,’ Frances said.

  This proved accurate. Eventually, the carriage left the crowded dirtiness and the streets widened, the houses becoming larger and more prestigious. Millie noted several green parks and nannies walking children or pushing huge perambulators.

  At last they pulled up in front of an impressive building of several floors with a black-lacquered door. Millie smoothed her serviceable black dress, stretching her stiff limbs as she prepared, somewhat nervously, to exit the carriage. The air smelled fresher here, although still slightly tainted with the city’s smell. The weather had changed again and, while not actively raining, rivulets of dirty water wound through the gutters.