by Jo Ann Brown
He turned his back on his longing to return his ship to the sea and a life with few complications. Instead, he looked around the churchyard with the history of the villagers written on the tombstones. Most of the parishioners gathered around the parson and his future wife, congratulating them on the first reading of the banns.
Lady Caroline went to join her family with the three little boys and the baby, but Lady Susanna hung back, holding Lucy’s and Mollie’s hands.
“Go beach now?” asked Mollie.
Instead of answering her, Drake looked down into Lady Susanna’s eyes as he asked, “What was all the gasping about when the banns were read for your brother and Miss Rowse?”
“It is nothing of import,” she replied in a clipped voice. “Not now at any rate, when we need to help these children.”
She was avoiding giving him an answer, but he did not press her. Shadows from the past dimmed her eyes. Was she thinking of her sister’s marriage that had left Lady Caroline a young widow? Or was it her own pain that she avoided speaking of? It could be anything, and prying could add to her sorrow.
“I had Benton bring a jolly boat to the shore before we came to church,” Drake said. “I can row us out into the cover and—”
“No!” Her face lost all color.
“What’s wrong?”
“I have an appalling fear of the waves.”
“The waves in the cove?” He started to laugh at the idea of being scared of such small waves. He halted when he saw she was sincere. “What about them frightens you?”
She shrugged. “Everything. I have been afraid of them for as long as I can remember. When I stand on the sand and feel the water pulling at me, I can think only of being pulled out and under.”
He wanted to take her hands and fold them between his, but he could not when they stood in public. Rather, he said, “Then we shall stay on the shore.”
“Don’t think I am bird-witted.”
“When I think of you, my lady, bird-witted is not a word that comes to mind. Lovely, wise, warmhearted, perhaps, but never bird-witted.”
A soft pink flush climbed her cheeks as she whispered, “Thank you.”
He motioned toward the lych-gate. “Anytime you are ready, my lady.”
“As they say, there is no time like the present.”
“Who is this they?”
As he had hoped, she smiled at his ridiculous question. She tilted her head and eyed him from beneath her pretty bonnet. “That, my dear Captain Nesbitt, is a question for another day.”
“Agreed.” He bent to pick up Mollie to prevent Lady Susanna from seeing how her calling him “my dear Captain Nesbitt” had sent a bolt of dangerous excitement into him.
He needed to put an anchor on his thoughts, holding them from drifting on dangerous currents. Now was not the time for musing about a family of his own. A family with a pretty wife and two adorable little girls. Odd, he had never considered being the father of girls. That had changed when a set of twins grinned up at him.
Halting his wandering thoughts, he focused on other important matters: finding who had put the children in the jolly boat, reuniting the youngsters with their families, and last, but certainly not least, discovering who was intentionally damaging The Kestrel.
But who had damaged Lady Susanna’s heart? Again he told himself he could ease his curiosity by asking anyone in the churchyard, but he respected her too much to do that.
And you are in too deep here already. You know what happens when you get involved with women.
Never again.
That was a vow he had made to himself, and it was one he needed to keep. When he motioned for her to lead the way from the churchyard to the beach, he was glad her back was to him. That way, his expression could not betray his thoughts.
* * *
Susanna was pleased that Captain Nesbitt walked behind her and Lucy. She needed every second of the short walk to the beach to regain her composure. It frayed every time he looked at her with those dark eyes that hid so much and yet displayed his longing to hold her again.
As she had so many times before, she chastised herself for finding solace in his arms the morning after Lucy’s fall. If she had resisted then, neither of them could have known how wonderful it was to stand so close.
She had made an awful mistake when she dared to trust Franklin and her bosom bow, Norah. She could not do that again.
No matter what.
“Pretty,” Lucy chirped, breaking into Susanna’s thoughts.
“What is pretty?” she asked.
Lucy pointed at the waves breaking by the bend in the cove, and Susanna gave her an unsteady smile. She could not infect the little girl with her own foolish fears. She pointed out how, with low tide, the rocks that would be hidden at high tide were topped by gulls and other birds feasting on small creatures caught in the pools. Their raucous cries and flapping wings resounded between the two walls of cliffs.
Another sound resonated like distant thunder across the cove, and Susanna looked at the tunnel that had been carved in the outer cliff by aeons of water. The opening went all the way through, and the tide washed in and out, not quite emptying with each wave. When enough water built up within the tunnel, it burst out like a cannon firing. An arc of spray shot partway up the cliff, then fell back into the sea to start the cycle all over again.
“Whoosh!”
“That is right, Lulu,” she said.
Mollie chuckled. “Lulu? Her name Lucy.”
“But don’t you think Lulu is a fun name for her?” Susanna asked.
“Lulu?” Mollie considered it, then said, “Cap! Lulu and Susu.” She pointed at Susanna and her sister and giggled.
Captain Nesbitt chuckled, the sound a deep rumble like the water rushing through the tunnel in the cliff. “I think those are great names, Moll.”
“Me Moll.” The little girl tapped her chest before pointing again at Susanna. “She Susu. She Lulu.” With a grin, she patted Captain Nesbitt’s chest. “Cap.”
Susanna smiled. “Well, that is settled. We all have special names.”
“Me Moll.”
Captain Nesbitt mimicked her childish voice. “Me Cap.”
“Susu,” Susanna said with a laugh, then looked down at the little girl beside her.
Lucy said nothing, just continued to suck her thumb.
Susanna knelt beside her. “Do you like the name Lulu?”
She nodded.
Acting as if she were not bothered by how the child had changed, Susanna stood with a smile. She lifted Lucy—Lulu—into her arms as the path down to the beach grew steep. She did not want the little girl to fall again.
The beach was empty, save for a few gulls walking along the sand, much to the delight of the girls. Moll chattered about the birds while her sister listened with a contented smile.
All that changed when they came around the curve of the cove and saw the jolly boat pulled up on the sand. Moll gave a shriek that sent the birds fleeing into the sky. She buried her face against Captain Nesbitt’s neck and tightened her arms around it. He loosened her hold gently but did not shift her. Great sobs shook her small body.
Susanna put Lulu down and reached for Moll. The little girl screamed again and clutched him even more desperately. Thick tears rained down her face.
Lulu regarded her sister with puzzlement. “She cries.”
“Yes,” Captain Nesbitt said in a gentle tone as Susanna rubbed Moll’s back in slow circles. “She is afraid.”
“What ’fraid of?”
“The boat.”
Lulu walked up to the jolly boat and patted it. “Good boat. See? Good boat.”
Moll began to sob more loudly.
Brushing Moll’s damp hair back from her face, Susanna stood on tiptoe to kis
s the child’s wet cheek. Only then did she say, “We should go.”
“Yes.” He nodded. “Bring Lulu.”
She looked over at the little girl who was examining the boat as if she had never seen one before. What had left her twin weak with terror intrigued her.
Walking over to Lulu, she squatted. “You like the boat, Lulu?”
“Good boat.”
“There are a lot of good boats like this one. Have you ever gone for a ride in one?”
The child considered that, then shook her head. “Go ride now?”
“Maybe another time. Mrs. Ford will have our luncheon ready, and we do not want to be late, do we?”
She patted her stomach. “Hungry.”
Susanna somehow kept smiling. Their experiment had been a failure. Lulu remembered nothing of the journey in the jolly boat, while Moll remembered too much.
Forgive us, Father, for adding to her suffering. I know how malicious memories can be. She shuddered at the thought of the eyes on her when the banns were read for Raymond and Elisabeth. Being pitied was painful.
“My lady?” Captain Nesbitt stood next to her.
When she did not move, he put a hand on her elbow to assist her to her feet. A peculiar buzz again surged up her arm and into her head, making it spin. The feeling originated beneath his fingers.
As she stood, still holding Lulu’s hand, she gazed up at him. She had never seen a sight more adorable than this strong man holding Moll, as he had her sister during the service.
Her eyes were caught by his, and all thoughts of the children vanished as she imagined his mouth nearing hers. What would his kiss be like? Powerful like the sea he loved or gentle as he was with the children? She edged toward him, needing to know.
He whispered something. Her name? She could not tell as her pulse thundered. He released her arm, and her wordless murmur of protest became a happy sigh when he cupped her chin. His fingers splayed across her cheek, urging her to lean against his palm.
“Good day!” interrupted a cheerful shout, quickly followed by, “I am sorry. I did not mean...”
Susanna pulled away from Captain Nesbitt, the connection between them broken once more. Yet, a fragile filament remained, a thread that could draw them together again if she dared to explore the feelings he brought forth within her. All she needed to do was forget the mistakes of her past, something she had told herself she would never do.
No matter what.
Belatedly she realized Mr. Morel, the blacksmith’s assistant, had called to them. “Forgive me,” he said. “I did not mean to startle you. Everyone in Porthlowen knows you dislike surprises, my lady.”
She stiffened at his words, then forced the tension from her shoulders. Mr. Morel had already garnered a reputation in the village for being willing to help anyone with a difficult task.
“That is true,” she managed to say.
“Aren’t you Jenner’s assistant?” asked Captain Nesbitt darkly. “I saw you at the fire at Cothaire, didn’t I?”
She risked a glance toward Captain Nesbitt and saw he was not hiding that he was annoyed with Mr. Morel’s arrival. The blacksmith’s assistant struggled not to quail before the frown.
“You are right. This is Robert Morel,” Susanna said. “He came to Porthlowen a few months ago to work in the smithy in the village. Mr. Morel, this is Captain Drake Nesbitt.”
Mr. Morel eyed Captain Nesbitt, then offered his hand. “I have heard a lot about you, Captain.”
“I am sure every member of The Kestrel is the talk of the village.”
Mr. Morel chuckled. “You must admit, Captain, that having your ship linger in Porthlowen for so long is a nine days’ wonder.”
“I would have gladly spent only nine days here.”
“Mr. Morel may be able to help,” she said. “If some of the boards need more support, he could prepare iron bands to hold them in place.”
“Whatever I can do to help, Captain, let me know.”
“Thank you.” Captain Nesbitt’s vexed tone eased slightly, and he frowned as Mr. Morel walked away, whistling.
In the silence that followed, she said, “He is a good man. He has settled in well here in Porthlowen.”
Captain Nesbitt continued to stare after Mr. Morel, then walked back in the direction they had come.
She remained where she was, holding Lulu’s hand. Whatever had been between her and Captain Nesbitt was now gone as if it had never existed. All his thoughts were elsewhere. Something about Mr. Morel disturbed him, but what? Was he upset because she suggested Mr. Morel help repair his ship? Maybe he thought she was eager for him to leave Porthlowen. A week ago, she would have said yes, but now...
She had no idea what she wanted now, except to regain some say-so over her life before she lost all control of it as she had five years ago.
Chapter Nine
Susanna looked at the woman seated across from her. Her blond hair severely pulled back, Maris Oliver wore a warm smile, though it was tentative while Susanna interviewed her for the position of supervising the nursery. Her most striking feature was her jade-green eyes, which she kept lowered, except when she was answering a question.
Receiving a letter inquiring about the position had been a relief to Susanna. She had replied immediately, asking Miss Oliver to call at Cothaire at her earliest convenience. Two days later, the woman had arrived. Susanna guessed Miss Oliver was closer to thirty than she was, which should mean she had quite a few years of experience handling a nursery.
Mrs. Hitchens had already interviewed her and perused the letter of recommendation that Miss Oliver had supplied upon arrival. The housekeeper had given Susanna a good report. Susanna suspected Mrs. Hitchens wanted to return to her own duties and let someone else tend to the children.
“There seems to be only a single question left to ask,” Susanna said. “Why did you leave your former employer and now are seeking a new one?”
“The reason is simple, my lady.” Her voice was soft and calm, perfect for dealing with the five youngsters who would move into the nursery as soon as it was ready. “The children in that house grew too old for a nurse, and the family had hired a governess. I was pleased when they offered me a wonderful letter of recommendation as well as the information that Cothaire was seeking the services of an experienced nurse.”
Susanna could not help being impressed with Miss Oliver’s obvious education. She understood why the woman had chosen to become a nurse rather than a governess. A governess was neither part of the servants’ hall nor the family’s household. A nurse held a position of greater respect in a house because she oversaw the children through their first years. She was expected to set them on the path they would walk their entire lives.
“It sounds as if you enjoy your work,” Susanna said.
“I find it very satisfying. I am always happiest around children.” She raised her head, and a shy smile tilted her lips. “Sometimes I find I prefer their company to that of adults.” Her eyes widened. “Lady Susanna, do not mistake my meaning. My words were not intended to insult anyone.”
“You have no need for an apology. There are times when I find the company of children more comfortable, too. With a small child, one always knows where one stands. Not so with adults.”
“Thank you for understanding, my lady.”
Susanna waved aside her words and leaned forward, clasping her hands in her lap. She told Miss Oliver how the children had come to Cothaire. “I want you to understand that once we find the children’s families, we will have no further need for a nurse. I don’t know how long the position will last.”
Miss Oliver smiled. “The idea of living in Cornwall appeals to me, so I am willing to take that chance if you offer me the position.”
“The position is yours.”
“Thank you, my
lady.” Tension fell off her shoulders, and Susanna heard her sigh of relief. “If it is not too much of an imposition, could you tell me about the children themselves?”
Susanna smiled and began to describe each, from oldest to youngest. She was astonished how much she could share with Miss Oliver. In the two weeks the children had been at Cothaire, she had learned a lot about their idiosyncrasies, even Toby, who was seldom at the house because he had become Elisabeth’s shadow. The perfectly named baby, Joy. Gil, who was determined not to let his baby sister out of his sight. Bertie, gentle and always concerned that the others were happy...except when he was sparring with Toby. The twins, who seemed to have switched personalities because they depended so much on each other. Then she told Miss Oliver about the accident that had left Lulu without her memory.
“Lulu is not the only one who is lost,” Susanna said with a sigh. “All of them are. They cannot tell us where they lived before we found them, and, though we are searching the countryside, nothing yet has turned up to explain why they were in that boat.”
“You want them to have a calm haven where they can be children again.”
Susanna chuckled. “I daresay they have not forgotten how to do that. With so many young ones, what trouble one does not think up, another does. We have been grateful that women from the local church have offered their time.”
“Will they continue?”
“Until you hire a staff for the nursery. Some of the women have expressed interest in continuing to work here.”
“That will be good while the children become accustomed to me. If you will excuse me, I should like to see the nursery now.”
Susanna nodded, and Miss Oliver stood. With a surprisingly elegant curtsy, the new nurse took her leave.
Getting up, Susanna stretched and smiled. She was glad to have that vital task completed. Maybe she could get her life back to normal again. Arthur would be remaining closer to home while the stable was being rebuilt and the broken and cracked windows replaced. She had already given him and Papa an account of what she had ordered. Including: replacing the materials for the nursery that had been stored in the stable, and the names of skilled laborers in the village who would be glad for the work. She needed to prove to them—and herself—that she could keep the household under control despite the arrival of the children and the events since then.