Julia soon realized that the methods and habits of these servants were shoddy compared to the domestic staff at Turbans. No one had trained them properly and they strongly resisted taking orders from her. So, she tied a kerchief around her own hair, found a patched apron to tie on over her plainest frock, and took Primmie in hand.
As they dusted and scrubbed every piece of furniture in the Hall, Julia asked the girl, “Did you know Lady Caverleigh, Primmie?”
“I do only meet her one time after I come here to work. She be a lovely lady, talking about a lot of plans to restore the house, but she and Lord Caverleigh never did linger with us. His lordship do have business in Fowey and once it were finished, they sailed off to France.”
“Were they alone?”
“No, my lady. Young Lady Isabella be with them.”
Julia longed to ask more questions, but just then the plump gray cat wandered over and rubbed against her skirts, purring. “Hello, puss.”
“That be Clover,” Primmie said. “She fancies herself the queen of the manor.”
“And is Dick the king?” Julia asked, remembering the scrawny cat that had been evicted from the house upon their arrival.
“Ha! He’d like to be! But Clover do want no part of that scoundrel. He won’t give up, though, and sneaks into the Hall at every opportunity. Determined to have his way with her, Dick is, if it’s the last thing he does!”
The cat looked up with her great golden eyes and exclaimed, “Me-oww!”
Laughing, Julia reached down to pet her. “You’re a wise kitty, Clover. I suspect you know that loving a rogue will only lead to heartbreak.”
* * *
Sebastian and Keswick returned at dusk, bringing sacks of spring vegetables, flour and barley, spices, honey and sweet butter, a tin of black tea, a round loaf of brown bread, and two large chickens, already cleaned and plucked. Julia was overjoyed. She roasted the birds on the spit in the kitchen fireplace and taught Primmie how to make a vegetable stew that was thick with tiny red potatoes.
When Sebastian joined her at the dark trestle table set with just two places, Julia saw that he had washed and shaved and was wearing fresh clothing. She, too, had managed to find a hipbath that afternoon and persuaded Primmie to heat water so that she could wash properly.
“You look very nice,” she told him as they sat together in the candlelight.
“Thank you,” he replied with a jaunty grin. “So do you. I like the way you’ve styled your hair.”
Julia smiled as she touched the soft curls that she’d pinned up while still damp. “Sebastian, shall we invite Keswick to join us? He is perfectly welcome.”
“God, no. He’s eating in the kitchen with Primmie and the others, and I can assure you that that is exactly where he wants to be.” Casually, Sebastian added, “He used to live here, you know. He was the stable master when I was a boy.”
“Really! I had no idea.”
He had focused on his meal, tasting a bite of chicken with a look of wonder. “I know Mrs. Snuggs didn’t cook this. Was it you?”
She nodded, suddenly feeling shy. “Yes. I’m trying to teach Primmie to cook—and to clean, for that matter, but I must tell you that it is a struggle to get any of them to do any real work. In fact, I suspect that Mr. and Mrs. Snuggs are into the port and cider most of the time.”
Sebastian finished swallowing a spoonful of stew and began to laugh. “I’m sorry, but the thought of you trying to herd this band of recalcitrant servants is an amusing image. I know their faults all too well.”
“You could help, you know,” she told him with a frown.
His laughter subsided and he put on a serious expression. “Perhaps I could. I’ll speak to them in the morning.”
“Can I ask another immense favor?”
“Mmm. After that meal, how can I say no?”
She looked into his eyes which were usually so cool and detached, but now gazed at her with new warmth. “You told me I could have a little boat. I am longing desperately to explore the woods and creeks that we saw from the hilltops while approaching Trevarre Hall.”
“Ah, Julia, I am not sure that’s a good idea at all, and I certainly didn’t agree to get you a boat.”
“It doesn’t feel fair that I should be left behind here, day after day, while you go off and do whatever it is that you and Keswick are doing.”
“You certainly can’t come with me, if that’s what you are implying.” He set down his fork and pushed back from the table.
“I don’t want to come with you, but I must admit that I wonder what is so mysterious that I must remain ignorant of it.”
“You try my patience, Julia.” Running a hand through his hair, he lowered his voice and added, “It’s only a business venture that I hope will restore our fortunes, much more quickly and successfully than a lot of bloody sheep or a lime kiln. Tedious but necessary.”
She held up a hand to silence him. “All right, but I won’t be a prisoner here. I simply want some freedom of my own, freedom to explore the villages, meet the people, but most of all, to enjoy the abundant nature that Cornwall clearly offers.” Her expression softened as she added, “Primmie tells me that there is a swan sitting on a nest at the head of Pont Pill.”
“Swans can be vicious,” Sebastian grumbled. “I was bitten by one as a child.”
“Kindly refrain from changing the subject.”
“All right.” He looked across the table at her, surprised anew by the degree of pleasure he took in her direct cobalt-blue eyes and her equally direct manner. “I yield, my lady. I think there may be a rowboat in the old boathouse, very near your swan’s nest. I’ll explore the matter further when I have an opportunity.”
“Splendid!”
Although Julia was smiling at him, Sebastian thought that he perceived a reckless gleam in her eyes…
Chapter 15
At first light, when Sebastian came into the stables to find Keswick saddling his horse, he remarked, “I have been told that my beloved Lucifer was purchased by a landowner from Lerryn. My recollection is that is very near here.”
“Aye, near enough to walk there, my lord,” he confirmed with a nod. “Could it be the Penrose family? Their estate is very fine.”
“I was wondering the same thing. I remember Tristan Penrose. He used to follow me about when I spent summers here. He was a child then, several years younger than I, but he must be a man by now. Perhaps his father bought my horse.”
“Do you have it in mind to get Lucifer back, my lord?”
Sebastian slanted a half-smile at the manservant. “Perhaps. But I’ll need a persuasive amount of money before I can approach him with an offer. Lucifer is a rare steed.”
Before Keswick could reply, a slight figure appeared in the stable doorway. Both men turned in surprise to see Julia silhouetted against the soft flush of dawn. She was wearing a pair of breeches and a jacket.
“Keswick,” she exclaimed with a radiant smile, “I almost didn’t know you without your powdered wig!”
“Good morning, my lady,” he replied with a little bow, revealing a full view of his thinning crop of curly gray hair. “This is no place for a wig, we fear. It’s a long way from Bath and London.”
She turned to Sebastian. “Are you ready to take me in search of my little boat?”
“Julia, I don’t have time for this today.” His voice held a trace of annoyance. “I said that I would look into it and then we shall see.”
“‘Look into it?’ ‘We shall see’?” she echoed sweetly. “That sounds alarmingly vague. I have learned, my lord, that if I want something to happen, I cannot wait for others to accommodate me. If you will simply tell me where this boat is located, I shall be perfectly content to go in search of it myself.”
“You are not to do that!”
“Then you intend to accompany me—this morning?”
“No, I have other business to attend to. “
“No doubt Primmie can direct me, since she has mentioned
the swan’s nest and you said the boathouse is near that nest.” Turning, Julia nodded to both men and turned to start back to the Hall.
Sebastian gave Keswick a look of white-hot frustration and, pursuing his wife with long strides, soon caught her by the elbow. “You are vexing,” he accused. “I have important business to attend to this morning!”
“Yes, I perceive so. I won’t keep you from it.” She tried to twist free of his grasp, to no avail. “Loose me, sir!”
“Devil take it,” he ground out, still holding fast to her arm. “I’ll take you to see that cursed boat! Kindly make haste, madam.”
* * *
Following Sebastian as he strode toward the old apple orchard that spread between Trevarre Hall and the River Fowey, Julia succumbed again to the spell of enchantment that she had felt at the moment of their arrival two days earlier.
As they entered the orchard, she noticed a stone roof top peeking above the trees a few dozen yards to the east. “What is that?”
“Oh, it’s the old chapel. An ancestor of my mother’s built it here in the mid-1300’s as a private oratory for the family and their servants and guests.”
When they came closer, Julia saw that there was a narrow lane leading up a slope that afforded a better look at the chapel. It was still quite lovely, built of local slate with a pitched roof, an arched doorway, and a bell tower at one end. However, closer inspection revealed a gaping hole in the roof, vines climbing up every stone surface, and windows completely open to the elements.
Peeking inside, Julia gasped. The chapel was filled with old farm equipment and broken furniture. A large birdcage teetered atop some splintered wooden chairs. Above them, birds flew about in the beautiful oak cradle ceiling, and the old upper gallery was filled with straw.
“How could this happen?” she exclaimed.
Sebastian shrugged. “After the Reformation, private chapels like this went out of use. My mother dreamed of restoring it, but Father naturally thought that was a ludicrous idea.” He glanced up at the ceiling with its curved, intersecting beams. “It is rather amazing.”
“It’s a terrible shame to see it become a ruin! Can’t we do something about it? It’s like falling back into the past, especially when one imagines what it was once like.”
“Julia, I have neither the funds nor the time. The whole farm is crumbling, in case you’ve forgotten, which is one more reason why I don’t want to live here.” He took her arm. “Come. We can’t linger if we’re going to find you a boat.”
Her sadness for the decaying chapel diminished as they set off again through the old orchard. Soon they climbed over a stile and came into a wood laced with meandering paths lavishly bordered with bluebells and pale yellow primroses. Birds were flitting and chirping among the tree branches and Julia quickly recognized goldfinches, wren-like robins, and wood warblers.
“I can scarcely wait to come back and collect some specimens,” she murmured.
“Specimens?” Sebastian repeated in surprise. “Do you mean to kill something and dissect it?”
“What a terrible thing to say! No!” She realized then that he knew nothing of her collection of pressed flowers and leaves, abandoned birds’ nests, shells, and feathers, nor was he aware that, since childhood she had kept records of every bird and animal she had seen. “I was talking to myself. I like to collect bits of nature, like fallen leaves or interesting rocks. I don’t want to kill anything.”
Glancing down at her as they walked, Sebastian gave her what appeared to be a grudging smile. “You are a highly original female, Julia. Where did you get those clothes?”
“They were my brother Freddy’s. A pair of breeches can be invaluable, particularly when exploring nature.”
They continued on, emerging intermittently from the woods to look down from high above the river and enjoy a sweeping view of the picturesque town of Fowey on the opposite bank.
“This wide path has existed for three centuries, when my mother’s ancestors, the Wentworths, laid it out as an ornamental promenade. Legend has it that the first King Charles walked here and was shot at during the Civil War. Unfortunately for England, a fisherman was struck and killed instead.” He pointed to a long bench that backed up to a stone wall and was sheltered by a shallow roof of slate angling out above. “That was constructed during the sixteenth century, I’m told. Doubtless King Charles sat there to catch his breath after nearly being shot dead.”
Julia stopped for a moment, imagining the ill-fated king and how history had nearly been altered on this very spot. Then, Sebastian took her hand and started off again. They walked through more woodland pathways, turning eventually to skirt hilltops that sloped down to a wide stream opening off of the River Fowey.
“That’s Pont Pill,” he told her. “It’s a tidal creek that flows off the river, and this is all Trevarre land.”
Between tree branches hung with trailing vines of traveler’s joy, Julia viewed the pastoral sweep of the creek. It gradually widened until it merged with the river, where quaint boats rested an anchor, their sails furled. “Sebastian, it’s simply magical!”
To her dismay, he only shrugged.
“How can you not adore it?” she cried.
“Perhaps the circumstances weren’t happy,” came his cryptic reply.
Julia longed to know more, but she sensed the invisible barrier he’d erected. He started forward again, no longer holding her hand. Soon they were clambering down from the steep hillside along a wooded path. In the distance, she saw a cluster of stone and slate buildings where the creek narrowed as it traveled inland.
“This is Pont,” Sebastian explained. “When I was a child, this tiny settlement was very active. There are quays, a warehouse, and a malt house on the north bank, and a lime kiln and a couple of cottages and farm buildings on the far side. Vessels sailed up the creek to unload cargoes like timber and limestone, but since the Trevarre family declined to live at the Hall except for occasional visits, it has all fallen into disrepair.” Looking around, he shook his head. “Even the sheep we once raised are gone, sold by my brother to finance his Italian exile.”
Near the vine-covered lime kiln on the creek’s south bank stood a whitewashed farm house.
“How sad that no one lives here,” Julia said, peeking in one of the windows. “It could be charming.”
Just then, a swan glided under the footbridge, heading upstream, while a flash of turquoise alerted Julia to a kingfisher swooping down from the wooded hillside in search of fish for its breakfast. She could hardly wait to have her boat and begin exploring this magical world.
As if reading her mind, Sebastian pried open the doors to a rubble-slate boathouse that stood at the water’s edge. “Ah-ha.”
She rushed over to see for herself and gave a little cry of delight. The rowboat was small and plain, but it appeared to be undamaged and that was all that mattered to her.
“Will it do?” Sebastian asked. His tone suggested that he expected her to change her mind.
“Do?” Julia repeated in wonderment before throwing her arms around his neck. “It’s absolutely perfect! Thank you, Sebastian.”
His arms slipped around her slender back. She looked up into his dark face with all its secrets and yearned for him to let her in. Standing on tiptoe, Julia turned her face up and felt a frisson of arousal when she realized that he was going to kiss her.
Just then came the sound of hoof beats on the narrow lane that traced the progress of the creek inland. They broke apart and turned to see a ginger-haired young man riding toward them on the most magnificent black horse Julia had ever seen.
“Lord Sebastian!” shouted the stranger. “Can it be you?”
As he drew up beside the lime kiln and swung to the ground, Sebastian guided Julia forward with one hand and reached out to the young man with the other.
“Tristan? Good God, you are a grown man!” he exclaimed, and together they began to laugh. “I was just speaking of you to Keswick this very morning. How did
you find me?”
Filled with curiosity, Julia watched as they embraced. The fellow called Tristan was perhaps a decade younger than her husband, but lean-hipped, strong, and very handsome. He had russet hair that clearly rebelled against a comb, sea-blue eyes, and a sculpted face with an infectiously roguish smile. He wore proper riding attire, from his expensive boots to a finely tailored coat and knotted white stock.
Sebastian turned back to Julia then and drew her forward. “You must meet the Honorable Tristan Penrose,” he told her. “This handsome young fellow is heir to Lanwyllow, one of the finest estates in the Fowey River Valley. Tristan, allow me to present my wife, Julia.”
The laughter went out of Penrose’s eyes, replaced by frank surprise. “Indeed! My lady, it is an honor to meet the woman who has brought this stallion into the barn.” Clasping her hand and bowing to kiss it lightly, he added, “Welcome to our magical corner of Cornwall.”
“Thank you, sir! I confess I am already under its spell.” Laughing, she added, “How polite you are to make no sign that you are shocked by my breeches.”
“I am charmed rather than shocked.”
“Tristan, you haven’t answered my question,” Sebastian persisted. “How did you know I was here?”
“I heard that you and Keswick had been sighted near Bodinnick, but I didn’t know that I’d find you at Pont.” He pointed a thumb backward, over his shoulder. “It was my horse who brought me. I think he must have heard his master’s voice.”
For the first time, Sebastian focused on the black stallion. “I was so distracted by the sight of you, Tristan, that I didn’t realize…”
“Yes, it’s your Lucifer! We were bound for Polruan, but as we passed the turning for Pont, I think he may have heard your voice. I was powerless to stop him.”
“My God. I can’t believe it.” Sebastian went forward and held the horse’s big head in his hands. Lucifer closed his eyes for a moment, pressed his face closer, and seemed to let out a sigh. “What a great day.”
Julia was moved by the sight of her husband’s eyes agleam with tears, and she longed to embrace him and share in the tender scene. Instead, she turned to Penrose and smiled. “How lovely to meet you, sir.”
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