by Jo Ann Brown
Pym smiled more broadly than Jacob had ever seen, and he realized the man had been terrified of being dismissed the whole time Jacob had known him. He kept thanking Jacob until Carrie lifted her hand with her forefinger raised. Bobbing his head, he backed out of the room.
Jacob breathed a sigh of relief when the man left. His head rang from Pym’s babble. “He never said much, and now he is chatting like a pair of old cats. I swear he could out-talk even the Misses Winwood.”
“Boat!” said Gil with a smile.
“No,” he began, “it is too cold to—”
“Oh, by the stars!” Carrie looked at him, her eyes wide.
“What is it?”
“I think I know who put the children in the boat.”
“Boat,” echoed Gil as Joy tried to copy the word.
He sat straighter, even though pain lashed through his head. “You do? How?”
“Old cats! I heard two women talking about orphans and how old cats came to their rescue. I didn’t have a chance to think about it because your brother arrived then, but hearing you say it again...” She sank to the chair. “Gil often says ‘boat’ when he sees the Winwood sisters. I think the women by the mine were talking about them taking care of some orphans.”
“But it makes no sense, Carrie. I have seen the Winwood sisters with the children. Why would anyone who loves those children put them in a boat and push them out to sea?”
“That is what we need to find out.” She glanced at the snow falling past the window. “It is too late tonight, but in the morning.”
“On Christmas Eve?”
“What a Christmas gift it will be for the children’s parents! They will be happy to have the children back. We...” Her voice broke when she could no longer pretend, even to herself, that she could bear the idea of returning Gil and Joy to their families.
She saw her pain reflected in Jacob’s eyes. When he held out his arms, she went into them, leaning across his chest as she wept.
Chapter Sixteen
On Christmas Eve morning, the village of Porthlowen looked as if it were blanketed in a field of diamonds. Snow sparkled beneath the bright sunshine. The blacksmith was shoveling by his door, though no customers were out. Children frolicked, tossing snow at each other and laughing.
Carrie waved when the youngsters called greetings to her, but she was numb. Beside her, Jacob wore a grim expression. He walked with a decided limp, but he had refused to stay behind when she went to speak with Miss Hyacinth and Miss Ivy. She wanted to take his hand and remind him, as she had reminded herself, that not seeking the truth would not change anything. Last night, while sleep refused to come, she had tried not to pray she had been mistaken about the women’s words and about Gil’s reaction to the elderly twins. She must accept God’s will.
Even so, her heart asked, Why would You bring these children into our lives only to have them taken away again? I love them, and they are my sole chance to be a mother. To lose that... She never allowed her thoughts to give voice to the despair within her.
She and Jacob had agreed that they would say nothing to anyone else until they had a chance to speak with the Winwood twins. Upsetting her family needlessly was something she wanted to avoid, especially on the day before Christmas. They had left Gil and Joy with Arthur and Maris, who were decorating the house, and they slipped out of Cothaire without anyone knowing where they were bound.
A short walk through the village brought them to the Winwood cottage. It was close to the road, and the short walkway had been shoveled. She wondered if one of the twins had cleared the snow away or if a neighbor came to help.
The cottage door opened before they reached it. Miss Hyacinth, as always dressed in some shade of purple, stood in the doorway. “Come in from the cold.”
Jacob hung back so Carrie could climb the front steps first. As she entered the cottage, he followed in silence. It was a cozy space with room only for a pair of upholstered chairs and a table with two wooden chairs and a bench. A fire burned merrily on the hearth, warming the herbs hung overhead. The whole cottage smelled of Christmas. She guessed the cloths on the table hid fruitcakes and pies.
“So chilly out there this morning,” Miss Ivy said from where she sat by the hearth. The blanket over her lap was dark green, and she wore a quilted shawl of the same color.
“The snow is early this year.” Miss Hyacinth walked slowly to where her sister sat. She motioned for Carrie and Jacob to join them by the fire.
“Too early by far,” concurred her sister.
“You seem to be warm here,” Carrie said.
“Warm enough,” Miss Hyacinth answered.
“Our bedrooms are on the other side of the fireplace, so they stay comfortable.”
“Mornings the floors are cold, though.”
“I knit you those thick socks, sister. You should wear them.”
Miss Hyacinth shook her head. “The wool makes me itch.”
“It is in your imagination. The socks I knitted are soft enough for a newborn baby’s skin. You don’t want to wear them.”
“If you want me to wear the socks, I can show you the rash.”
Before Miss Ivy could defend her socks further, Carrie said, “We are sorry to call without an invitation.”
“You are always welcome, my lady,” Miss Hyacinth said with an annoyed look at her sister.
“And you, too, my lord.” Miss Ivy shot back a frown as vexed as her sister. “It is always pleasant to have company.”
“Most especially at this special time of year. Please, sit.”
“Yes, sit.” Miss Ivy chuckled. “I am straining my old neck peering up at you.”
Carrie hesitated, then sat facing the twins. Jacob put his hand on the chair, and she hoped he was not dizzy after the walk from Cothaire.
“We are here about the children,” she said.
“Those dear babes,” cooed Miss Hyacinth.
Carrie did not give Miss Ivy a chance to speak. “You should know Lord Warrick and I know the truth about your participation in bringing the children to Porthlowen.”
It was a bold comment. If the twins denied her words or were confused by them, she would have to apologize and begin the search for the truth again.
But she realized her intuition was right when Miss Ivy began to weep, and her sister put a consoling arm around her shoulders. Carrie wished she could retract her words and say them again more gently, but the secret had lasted long enough. Somewhere, families must be grieving for their missing children. No matter how much it broke her heart, she had to think of the children. They belonged with their families.
“We intended only to help,” Miss Hyacinth said.
“Help. The children...and...the families.” Miss Ivy’s voice broke on each word.
The story tumbled out of the twins in their usual manner of speaking. Miss Hyacinth would share some information, and then Miss Ivy would confirm it as she added a bit more.
Carrie listened without halting them as the elderly sisters spoke of the many children in the villages around Porthlowen who had lost their parents in the mines or at sea. She imagined Gil’s grief if Jacob had perished in the mine. How would she have offered comfort to a child who could not understand why his friend had vanished from his life with no further explanation than he had died? Those words would mean nothing to a child Gil’s age.
“The worst,” Miss Hyacinth said, “is when a parent is transported.”
“Sent away forever,” added Miss Ivy.
“We know about such circumstances too well,” Carrie said with a shudder as she recalled how that fate had nearly come to one of her sisters-in-law. “Sending parents to the far side of the world as a punishment for a crime and leaving their children here to try to survive alone solves nothing. The children often have no choice
but to break the law themselves in order to get food and shelter.”
Jacob spoke for the first time. “Is that what happened with the children’s parents?”
“Possibly,” Miss Hyacinth answered.
“We don’t know for sure.” Miss Ivy sighed. “The families who sought help could not care for six small children who had been left with them.”
“We agreed to help, but found the children were too much for my sister and me to handle. That was when we decided to find them homes with people who would love them.”
“Actually it was Peggy who had the idea of the boat.”
“Peggy Smith from the village shop?” Carrie asked.
“A good girl,” Miss Hyacinth said with a smile.
“An intelligent girl,” Miss Ivy concurred.
“Very intelligent. She suggested we put the children in the boat, and she would push it out by the rocks. She released her hold on the boat only when she noticed Captain Nesbitt looking in its direction. If he had not come to get the children, she would have pulled the boat in and waited for someone else.”
Carrie thought of how Susanna’s husband and his first mate had rushed from their ship to bring the children to shore before the boat could capsize. Apparently the children had never been in any real danger. That thought soothed her, because she had been distressed at how the Winwood twins had imperiled the youngsters in their attempt to find them new homes.
“But why didn’t you come to us?” she asked.
“We guessed you would want to find the children’s families,” Miss Hyacinth said. “They asked us to write the note we attached to the baby’s shirt, because they hoped the children would escape from the horrible lives they had under the previous Lord Warrick.”
“We mean no insult to your family, my lord,” Miss Ivy hastily amended.
“You have made the miners’ lives better.”
“And safer. No one’s died since you came to oversee the mines.”
“And be a hero.” Miss Ivy smiled as broadly as if she had suggested Jacob rescue the miners herself.
Jacob asked quietly, “Can you ladies get in touch with the families again?”
“If you wish us to.” Miss Hyacinth glanced at her sister.
“Yes, if you wish, my lord, we can contact the families who put the children into our care,” Miss Ivy said.
“Are you certain that is what you wish to do?” her sister asked. “Your family and the children have become very attached to each other.”
“Very attached. The children have thrived with you and your siblings.”
“Another separation will be painful for them.”
“For them and for you.”
“But their families must love them, too,” Carrie jumped in when Miss Hyacinth drew in a deep breath to keep the conversation going with her sister, allowing no one else a chance to speak. Even though her heart longed to agree with the twins, she could not stop thinking about the desperation that had compelled families to seek help.
Miss Ivy rose and went into the bedroom. A few minutes later, she returned with a piece of paper. She gave it to Carrie.
Glancing at it, she handed the page to Jacob and watched his eyes widen. Like her, he must have recognized two of the names on the page as residents in the mining village.
“May we keep this?” she asked.
“Yes,” said the twins at the same time, startling themselves as much as they did Carrie.
“Will you call the constable?” Miss Hyacinth asked in a choked whisper. For once, her sister remained mute.
“Why would we need to do that?” asked Carrie. “From what you have told us, the children never were in any real danger. You and Peggy were nearby until the children were brought ashore.”
Thick tears rolled down Miss Ivy’s face as her sister said, “All we wanted was for the children to be cared for and loved as part of a real family. We are too old to rear them, and Peggy is too young.”
“Seeing you happy was additional blessing, my lady,” Miss Ivy added.
“We saw how sad you looked around other families’ babies.”
“So sad, and you should be happy.”
Carrie took each twin by the hand and squeezed their fingers gently. “I know your intentions were good. The happiness you have brought to my family—”
“We meant seeing you happy, Lady Caroline, was a special blessing. For almost six years now, you have thought only of doing your duty for others.” Miss Hyacinth dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.
“Now you are smiling again.” Miss Ivy took the handkerchief from her sister and wiped away her own tears.
“What will you do now?” asked Miss Hyacinth.
She stood. “First, I need to share this with my brothers and sister and their spouses, as well as with Father. Once we have contacted the people who brought you the children, we will arrange to meet with them.”
“At Christmas?” asked Miss Ivy.
“Today, if possible.” She looked at the list in her hand. “Their families will want them home for Christmas.”
She thanked the sisters and said the Winwood twins would be the first to know what happened after the Trelawneys spoke with the children’s families. She did not intend to bring the news herself, because even the thought of the children leaving with their families made her heart sore. She hoped she would be able to do what she must and give Gil and Joy back.
* * *
The Trelawney family had come together in the small parlor. The earl sat with his swollen foot propped on the settee where little hands could not touch it.
Jacob stood to one side not far from the doors opening into the garden. Cold crept through every crevice around the glass, but he did not move closer to the hearth. He was not quite sure if he should be part of the conversation with the distraught Trelawney family.
The parson’s wife was sobbing softly as she cradled Toby against her, and Susanna had tears floating in her eyes. One escaped, and she wiped it away before it could drip on Lucy or Molly, who sat on either side of her. Maris’s face was as pale as the snowflakes drifting by the window, and she had Bertie perched on her lap. Arthur, the parson, Susanna’s husband, Captain Drake Nesbitt, and the earl wore identical, blank expressions.
And Carrie... His heart broke anew each time he looked in her direction. She pressed her cheek to Joy’s soft hair as she let Gil stand on the chair beside her, his face against her shoulder. Carrie’s pain was so searing, she was unable to cry. Every bit of her anguish filled him, as well. He longed to bring her into his arms and hold her until the grief was gone, no matter how many eternities it took.
“The answer is obvious,” said the earl, shifting so he could look at each of his children. “The youngsters must be returned to their families as soon as possible.”
Elisabeth wept harder, and Susanna could no longer restrain her tears. When one of the twins—he thought it was Lucy—reached up to brush away a single teardrop from Susanna’s face, he felt as if someone had reached into his chest and ripped out his heart.
“Don’t be sad, Susu,” the other twin said. “No ouchie soon. Kiss and make it better?”
He saw tears rise in the other men’s eyes as his own tears burned in his throat. Molly’s innocent concern for Susanna almost undid him. The children had been torn away from their families once already. To do so a second time, when they loved this family so deeply, seemed beyond cruel.
“I will arrange the meeting,” Arthur said quietly. “If the families are in the mining village, they should be able to come here and return home before dark.”
Jacob shook his head and stepped out of the shadows. “Let me. They live on my estate, and I have come to know many of the miners and their families. I may be an outsider, but, forgive me for saying this, they are more likely to heed me
than someone from beyond Warrick Hall.” He looked toward Carrie.
For a moment, he thought she was going to keep hiding her face against Joy’s hair; then she raised her head so her gaze met his. He wanted to look away from her pain, even as he ached to draw her into his arms and hold her, hoping his embrace would say what words could not. How could he explain he wished he could be as brave as she was, setting aside her own feelings to do what was best for the children?
“Thank you, Warrick.” Arthur rubbed his hands together as if he did not know what to do with them. “I know it is Christmas Eve, but delaying will not ease what is to come. We can hold the meeting—”
“At the church.” The parson looked around the room, catching each of his siblings’ eyes before moving on to the next. “Meeting here or at Warrick Hall could make the children’s families uneasy. Going to the village up by the mines will draw unwanted attention. God’s house, where all are equal in His eyes, is the best place to meet. Agreed?”
Each family member nodded, and Jacob guessed their throats were as clogged as his.
As he was about to excuse himself to go to the mining village, the parson said, “Let us pray upon the words written in Psalms 62. ‘In God is my salvation and my glory: the rock of my strength, and my refuge, is in God. Trust in Him at all times; ye people, pour out your heart before Him: God is a refuge for us.’ He is here for us in the joy of having these children in our lives. He is here to hold us up when they return to their families.”
“Amen,” Jacob said, along with the others. When he turned to leave to contact the mining families, he glanced once more at Carrie and the children. He wanted the image of them together to last him for the rest of his life, because he knew how unlikely it would be that they would be together like that ever again.
* * *
“See Jacob?” asked Gil, rocking from one foot to the other in excitement.
“Yes.” Carrie forced her smile to stay steady. Only now did she realize how she had hoped the meeting with the children’s families would have to be postponed until after the holidays. Even though there was no good time for it, she wished she could have had one Yuletide with Gil and Joy. “And the other children will be at church, too. Lucy and Molly and Bertie and Toby.”