Thorncroft Manor (A Novella)

by Nora Covington

  “You never take responsibility for anything, do you? Whatever adversely happens to you is diminished by throwing accusations at another person.”

  “I cannot believe,” she huffed, “that you think I hold any responsibility for last night. You are the most insufferable male I have ever met, and I cannot wait to leave here and go home.” She picked up a piece of toast and shoved a large portion into her mouth. Perhaps the food would tame her tongue and prevent the foul cursing she wanted to hurl in his direction.

  Bramwell snickered over her action, approached her bed, and sat down on the edge. Surprised by his move, Caroline tried to scoot over, but the tray prevented her effort. Once again, she was pinned. He sat there staring at her while she chewed the toast and pushed it down her throat.

  “I don’t recall inviting you to sit upon my bed.” Caroline reached for another piece of toast to silence the words on the tip of her tongue. Before she could do so, Bramwell took her plate and put the food tray out of her reach.

  “Shoving bread into your mouth will only prolong this discussion,” he said.

  “I’m hungry.” She crossed her arms and pouted.

  “Oh, Caroline, you can be so endearing one moment and exasperating the next. You carry as much blame as I do.”

  To her surprise, his gaze softened to one of high regard. The unmistakable look in his eyes revealed his developing affection. Perhaps it had been more than male lust that motivated his actions the evening before. Nevertheless, she was not going to admit to any responsibility in the matter.

  “How did you come to that conclusion, sir?”

  “Do you realize how stunningly beautiful you looked in that dress? I found you utterly irresistible.”

  Caroline noticed that the nightgown of her bodice had inched downward, revealing her cleavage. To her horror, her nipples had hardened and protruded through the thin chemise. She clutched the sheet and pulled it up over her chest, hiding the temptation. Bramwell shook his head.

  “Yes, you are right to assume that even as you lay in this bed you are tempting my resolve.” His face turned serious. “Truly, I apologize for my behavior. When I saw your beauty, I realized how much I desired you, regardless of our frequent quarrels. In doing so, I mistook your welcome to my kiss as reciprocating my sentiments. Then to my shame, I made the grave error of assuming you wanted an intimate encounter.”

  Caroline closed her eyes as she remembered the fire in her body responding to his advances. As much as she hated him at times, there were moments she felt her affections growing too. She had met her match. They were both bullheaded and opinionated, manipulating the other. She had mistakenly concluded that their characteristics were opposites that repelled. On the contrary, they were magnets drawn to one another by their similarities.

  “Will you accept my apology?” he humbly asked. “It is quite evident that had I proceeded, I would have taken your virtue.”

  His voice, laced with disappointment, caused her to open her eyes. Caroline inhaled a deep breath for courage. She let go of the sheet and reached out toward Bramwell’s hand.

  “This may surprise you, but I gave away my virtue once before to another man who proclaimed his love for me. To my shame, he merely wished to seduce me. Once he accomplished the task, I was discarded.” Bramwell squeezed her hand in return, looking quite shocked over her admission. “I swore that I would never allow another to touch me out of wedlock.”

  “Did you love him?” He drew his brows together as if he worried about her answer.

  “I thought so at the time,” she said, lowering her eyes to hide her embarrassment. “As I look back and ponder our relationship, I can see that I did not truly love him. The word that best describes my former emotion is desperation.” She sheepishly looked at him again and grinned. “At my age, a woman begins to think she will never marry. With my opinionated and outspoken personality, I am not exactly a good catch.”

  “You are a challenge, Caroline, though I beg to differ with you that you are not a good catch,” he kindly replied with a tone of affection.

  Her eyes watered. “I was fortunate that I did not become pregnant from my sinful behavior last year.” She inhaled a deep breath to contain her weakness. “I am sorry,” she admitted. “I will not deny that I wanted you to take me, but my mind and heart feared the same outcome as before.”

  “Understandable.” Bramwell released her hand and rose to his feet. He looked disappointed. “I must leave for the mine, Caroline. Pearson is procuring a pair of crutches for you. Tonight I can teach you to hobble around.” He replaced the tray over her lap.

  “Will there be beef for dinner this evening?” Her eyes sparkled at him, enjoying the tease.

  “No. I believe the cook has lamb on the menu. Will that please you, my lady?”

  “Yes, very much.”

  “Good. I hope you have a good day, Caroline.”

  After Bramwell left, she realized a dreadful thing. She had started to fall in love, in spite of the mystery surrounding Rebecca. Certainly his ex-fiancée’s declaration that she loved another must have been a terrible blow to Bramwell. She had breached his trust and broken his heart, not to mention the betrayal of his brother. It was unforgivable that she had told him a day before their wedding! If any man had a reason to kill a woman, surely it would be Bramwell Croft.

  * * * *

  Mastering the art of walking on crutches was a feat that Caroline found nearly impossible. Her armpits pressed against a hard surface, and her balance teetered with every movement. Lifting her leg underneath a skirt and swinging herself between two wooden sticks had been physically exhausting.

  “I would rather have you carry me than deal with this difficult means of getting about!” She wanted to throw them on the floor and fall into his arms instead.

  “A strong-willed woman such as you should be able to master this small task.” Bramwell snickered as he stood a few feet away watching her struggle to the dining hall. Thankfully, he was at arm’s length to catch her should she tumble in any direction.

  “It’s better that you learn, Caroline. Then you can spend your days downstairs rather than being held prisoner in your bedchamber.”

  “Ha! At last you admit that I am a prisoner at Thorncroft,” she exclaimed with a grin.

  “Do you have complaints regarding your jailer or the food perhaps? Haven’t we treated you with the utmost respect during your incarceration?”

  Underneath his gruff exterior lay a tease. His eyes twinkled watching her arrival to the dining hall. He pulled out a chair, took the crutches from her, and she plopped on the seat drained of strength. Bramwell scooted her chair in and then sat at the head of the table.

  “Give the young lady a glass of wine, Pearson. She deserves a reward. I shall have one as well.”

  “Whatever Mrs. Williams is cooking, it smells wonderful. Is it lamb?” she asked.

  “Yes, hopefully to your liking. I will admit, though, I will enjoy the day that I can return to eating my latest kill.”

  Whenever he spoke of killing, his countenance turned grim. At the same time, her thoughts turned toward dead Rebecca. Understandably he just enjoyed hunting as a sport. Englishmen, from aristocrats to commoners, were always on the hunt for animals and birds.

  Pearson served dinner, and Caroline enjoyed the succulent lamb. However, to her disappointment, Bramwell brooded while eating. Only sparse, superficial conversation occurred between them. What had stolen his earlier jovial mood?

  “You do not speak very often of your mining operations,” she began. “Might I inquire if you had a pleasant day?”

  “Pleasant?” he asked, looking at her perplexed.

  “It must be a poor word choice,” she stated. “Would agreeable, profitable, or another expression of your choosing be a better definition?”

  He dabbed his lips with his napkin and then responded. “There is nothing pleasant about mining, Caroline. A mining profession requires skill, patience, hard work, and the hope you will see the
light at the end of the tunnel when a grueling day of labor is over. Though I do not descend into the mine as often as I used to as a boy with my father, it does not mean that I do not appreciate the risk that my workers take in order to mine tin.”

  “Pardon my asking,” Caroline stated, “but you appear anxious.”

  Bramwell slowly relaxed the tense muscles in his jaw. “Your interest in my affairs at the mine is touching. Rebecca did not care about its operation or my work.”

  His admission surprised Caroline. If she had truly loved him, then she should have cared about every aspect of his life. “It is a shame that she showed no interest,” she sadly replied.

  “Perhaps,” he replied. “Nevertheless, to answer your question, we are digging a new tunnel that will eventually lead under the sea.”

  “Under the sea?” Caroline couldn’t comprehend such a feat.

  “It is not unusual. There are miles of underground tunnels. It is quite a labyrinth not only in my location but at many of the Cornwall mines.”

  He looked pleased over her curiosity, but Caroline really did not like the risks involved with mining. After all, Bramwell’s father had died in a mining accident.

  “I do hope you are careful,” she said. “It is certainly a worrisome occupation.”

  “You need not worry,” he consoled her. “Now finish your dinner, and we will converse more in front of the fire. I believe Pearson finally gave Merlin a bath. No doubt the dog is looking forward to an evening pet.”

  Truth Revealed

  The biblical verse resounded in Caroline’s head. “For what I fear comes upon me, and what I dread befalls me.” A week later, the realities of her secret fears regarding Bramwell’s well-being came to pass.

  The day had started normally like any other. She had learned to make her way slowly downstairs with Millie’s help. After breakfast, she relaxed on the veranda, enjoying the scenery and fresh air.

  About midday, an urgent pounding came at the front door. Pearson answered. Word arrived that there had been an accident at the mine. A cave-in had occurred a half mile down one of the newly dug shafts underneath the sea. A group of men had been trapped, and Bramwell Croft was one of them.

  “Trapped?” Caroline wobbled on her crutches. “What do you mean, he is trapped?”

  Mr. Cranford, the foreman, wrung his hands. “As I said, they were heading down the shaft that leads to the sea. They had been blasting and hauling rock. Mr. Croft came down to do his routine inspection, when the ceiling beams gave way. Rocks are blocking us from reaching the men.

  “Well, what are you doing about it?” She screeched at the poor man so loudly that he jumped. Pearson intervened.

  “In situations like this, nothing can be done except to dig and hope that they are reached in time. If the entrance is merely blocked with a few feet of rocks, then in time they can be removed. However, if any debris fell upon the workers, well…”

  Caroline brought her hands to her mouth. “You mean he could be dead?”

  Pearson nodded. “The master’s father died in such an accident. By the time they reached his crushed body, he had been dead for days.”

  “Days?” Tears burst from Caroline’s eyes. At that moment, the thought of never seeing Bramwell again ripped her heart. She had undeniably fallen in love.

  “Oh, Pearson, what are we to do?” She brought the palms of her hands to her head in frightful worry.

  The foreman answered somberly. “There is nothing that you or the household staff can do but wait. We have a crew of men even now feverishly working in the dark to remove the rock. I’m afraid, though, depending on how deep the debris field extends, it could be days before we reach any survivors.”

  “Then go,” Pearson commanded. “Bring back the master. Thorncroft Manor cannot lose another.”

  “We will do our best,” he nodded. “If you wish to help, I suggest you pray.”

  Devastated over the news, Caroline felt faint. “Pearson, I think that I shall die if anything happens to him.”

  He put his arm around her shoulder and helped her to the sitting room. “I need to tell Millie and Mrs. Williams the news,” he said. “I will return shortly.”

  Caroline could not help the tears streaming down her cheeks. What if he never came back? A terrible, gnawing emptiness haunted her soul. A few minutes later, Pearson returned.

  “I thought I should advise you that I will need to telegram the master’s brother the terrible news.”

  “You mean Reginald?”

  Pearson looked at her with surprise. “I was not aware that you knew the master had a brother.”

  “Yes, I am aware,” she responded. Caroline did not want to go into detail regarding how she knew. “By all means, you should let him know,” she innocently replied.

  “It pains me that I must contact him, but it is the correct course of action under the circumstances.”

  Pearson looked strangely worried about more than Bramwell’s well-being. Perhaps he held no endearment toward his brother either.

  She glanced out the window, watching the afternoon sun lower toward the horizon. Bramwell was the captive now. He could be gravely injured or dead. Remembering the foreman’s admonishment to pray, she lowered her head and did so with earnest.

  * * * *

  On the second day, the rescue efforts made little progress. Each minute that passed meant less air to breathe for the survivors. By now, their candles and lanterns had long since extinguished. Cut off from the world above, their existence was akin to the darkness of hell.

  Caroline retreated to her bedchamber, waiting for word. She sat by the window that gave her a clear view of the road that led to the mine. If anyone arrived, she would see them approaching.

  However, the view did not afford her the ability to see the road that led to Thorncroft Manor or the carriage that recently stopped at the front entrance. When she heard loud voices converse with Pearson downstairs, she wondered if Bramwell’s brother had arrived. To her astonishment, she heard the voice of a woman approaching her room.

  “What do you mean my bedchamber is being used?”

  The door flung open, revealing an attractive, well-dressed woman. She was taller than Caroline and seductively curvaceous in appearance. A fashionable hat sat upon her curly auburn hair, the color of which accentuated the fiery look in her eyes. Caroline gawked at her for a moment and then shockingly realized the identity of the intruder.

  “You have no right to be here,” the lady shouted. “Who in the hell are you?”

  A tall gentleman stood behind her and then placed his hand on her shoulder. “Now calm down, Rebecca. There is no need to be rude.”

  Pearson entered, wide-eyed, gawking at the scene. Caroline, however, had nearly lost consciousness. Could it be true? Was the beauty standing in her doorway Lady Bellingham? Overcome with shock, she could not speak a word of reply.

  “I asked you a question,” she barked. “Who are you, and why are you here in my room, wearing my clothes?”

  Caroline looked beyond her shoulder to Pearson, who appeared impassive to Rebecca’s gruff and impolite demands. “I told you, Lady Bellingham, the young lady is recuperating from a broken leg and is our guest. You and Mr. Croft may lodge in the guest room.”

  Rebecca swung around in disagreement. “No. We will stay in Bramwell’s quarters since they are vacant. I prefer sleeping there rather than down the hall stuffed away and out of sight.”

  Even though Caroline was astounded about Rebecca’s resurrection of sorts, it did not quench her forthright attitude. Outraged over her rude intrusion, Caroline vehemently objected.

  “I will not allow you to use his chambers. The two of you may take up quarters down the hall or wherever Pearson wishes to place you.” She rose to her feet and postured herself as the new lady of the house. “Bramwell’s room will be kept empty and prepared for his return.”

  “Who the hell do you think you are?” Rebecca bellowed. She spun around and took an aggressive step towa
rd her. Reginald stood silently by watching the altercation with amusement.

  “We are lovers,” Caroline asserted. “He belongs to me now, since you so cruelly forfeited your right to his heart. Therefore, Lady Bellingham, I suggest that you take your leave down the hallway.” Angrily, Caroline raised her hand and pointed at the door.

  Rebecca seethed. “Well, he won’t belong to you if they dig up his carcass and find him dead, now will he?”

  Pearson gave Caroline a glance of approval over her brazen orders, even though his jaw dropped open over her declaration that they were lovers.

  “Is that you, Lady Bellingham?” Millie looked flabbergasted, as if she had seen a ghost. “I thought you were—”

  “Dead? Yes, you and the rest of Pendeen,” she declared. “A well-orchestrated ruse, I’m afraid, to spare Bramwell embarrassment over my eloping with his brother.”

  “Good gracious!” Millie’s eyes grew wide as saucers.

  Reginald spoke to Caroline. “Well, this has been a pleasant introduction,” he said. “I beg your pardon, but what is your name?”

  “Caroline Woodard,” she replied. “Now get out of my room, you bloody scoundrel.” Reginald did not receive her comment lightly. His eyes grew narrow, and Caroline discerned his character was no better than the vulgar and haughty Lady Bellingham. Not once did they express any concern for Bramwell. Instead, they overran Thorncroft and barked orders as if it already belonged to them.

  “Follow me, and I will show you to your quarters,” Pearson said. After they had departed, Caroline could not believe what had transpired.

  “How cold and cruel they are,” she moaned in disgust. A minute later, Pearson returned.

  “Miss Woodard, might I have a word with you?” He stepped into the bedchamber and closed the door behind him.

  “Did you know?” Caroline blurted.

  “Yes, but the master swore me to secrecy,” he sadly replied.