Footsteps followed by muffled voices echoed from the corridor and then disappeared.
At the sound, fresh excitement flooded her senses as the reason for her visit rushed to the forefront of her thoughts.
She’d almost forgotten. Jane.
Whereas Caroline would write Julia once a month at best, Jane wrote weekly without fail and had since they were children. Such steady communication cultivated a strong bond, and Julia considered Jane one of her dearest friends.
Julia reached for her heavy wrapper of pale-blue cotton at the foot of her bed, pushed her arms through the sleeves, cinched it tight at her waist, smoothed her hair from her face, and opened her door.
All was quiet on the landing. A generous mullioned window provided ample light, and a heavy oak cupboard displaying blue-and-white dishes along with two delicately carved chairs filled the landing. Opposite her, Caroline’s chamber door was closed. Whoever had made the noises she’d heard moments ago was no longer here. Not wanting to draw any attention, she tiptoed her way to the narrow staircase and descended one level.
The layout of the first-floor landing and chambers was identical to the one above it, only instead of a cupboard, a table stood in the center of the landing, and instead of tapestries, rich, dark wood panels lined the wall.
She tiptoed over to Jane’s bedchamber and tapped her knuckles on the door.
A soft voice called from within. “Come in.”
Julia pushed open the door. There, abed, was Jane. Her appearance shocked Julia. Jane’s gray eyes were far from vibrant, and shadows darkened the skin beneath her lower lashes. Her wan cheeks were slightly sunken, and her blonde hair was pulled back in a tight, low plait.
As their gazes met, Jane’s eyes widened and a smile lit her face. “You’re here at last!”
Julia pushed her shock to the back of her mind, closed the door behind her, and hurried toward the bed, accepting Jane’s outstretched hands in her own before she leaned in to kiss her cousin’s cheek.
“I’ve barely been able to remain still since I woke.” Jane struggled to sit up straighter, and pink bloomed on her round face. “My maid told me what happened at the inn last night. Oh, Julia! How did you ever manage?”
“’Twas a blur, really.” Julia sat on the bed next to Jane, determined not to distress her with details. “But I’m well, you see.”
“If it were me, I should have fainted dead away, yet from what I hear, you were quite brave.”
“I am not sure I’d call it brave exactly.” Julia shrugged, her mind flashing back to how she screamed and fell to the floor at the sound of the pistol’s fire.
“Well, that’s what my maid said. Talk of it is all over the village, and she says it’s all anyone can speak of downstairs.”
“It is a sad thing to be known for.” Julia drew a sharp breath. “But enough of me, I want to hear all about you. You look radiant.”
“You are kind, but I very much doubt that.” Jane smoothed a wisp of golden hair away from her face. “In truth, I must look quite different to you.”
“The last time I saw you was your wedding day, remember?”
Jane gave a little laugh. “I do. Oh, but that seems like a lifetime ago. Can it really have been more than two years since I became Mrs. Jonathan Townsend? And now look at me.” She placed a protective hand over her midsection.
Julia let her shoulders fall. There was no need for pretense with Jane. Her gaze fell to the basin next to the bed and then to the small collection of vials and powders on the table next to her bed. “Tell me, Cousin. How are you really?”
Jane flipped her long braid over her shoulder. “This season in life is much different—and more difficult—than I’d anticipated. I remind myself that this malaise is not permanent, and in about three months I’ll have my precious child in my arms. And one day Jonathan will be home. Until then I am in a perpetual state of waiting. The hours do grow long being so confined, and I’m so grateful you are here. But I fear you’ll grow quite weary. There’s little distraction here at Lanwyn Manor.”
Julia placed her hand over Jane’s. “I’m here because I want to be here, and I shall keep you company until I wear out my welcome.”
“That’s not possible.” Jane shook her head. “I must say I never dreamed that my husband would be serving in India and I would be living in my mother’s home when I became with child.”
“You said yourself that Jonathan will not be away forever.” Julia tilted her head to the side. “Have you any idea of when he’ll return?”
“None. His letters are few and far between.” Jane reached to the bedside table and lifted a small framed portrait of her husband. She rubbed her thumb over the smooth glass overlay and then squeezed it in her hand. “Some days it seems he’ll never return.”
The sadness in her cousin’s eyes tore at Julia. How vividly she could recall Jane’s excitement at her upcoming marriage to the handsome soldier. She’d known at the time of her marriage that Jonathan’s regiment was bound for India, but the reality of time and circumstance had taken its toll. Now a cloak of melancholy seemed to have settled over her countenance.
But then with sudden, perhaps forced, energy, Jane returned the portrait to the table, folded her hands atop the coverlet, and lowered her voice to little more than a hissed whisper. “I was sorry to read about your disappointment.”
Julia straightened at the mention, as if stung.
The entire morning had passed, and she hadn’t thought about him once.
Disappointment.
Her heart felt as if it would burst at the mere thought. How could one single word capture the sting of betrayal, the burn of humiliation, and the pang of regret?
No, the constant ache living within her chest was more complex, deeper than a few syllables. What had started as a secret attraction and stolen moments had ballooned to something unexpected and wonderful, and before she knew it, Julia found herself inexplicably in love. Then she was as shocked as anyone when he announced his engagement to another.
Despite her discomfort with the topic, it was right of Jane to inquire so bluntly. She’d been the one person Julia had shared all her thoughts and hopes with, chronicling them in her letters. She had shared the entire whirlwind journey, from the exciting beginning to the painful end.
“It wasn’t meant to be,” Jane continued, “and that means another gentleman will be the one to win your hand.”
Julia squared her shoulders and forced a smile, her determination fueled by the pity in Jane’s gray eyes. “There is absolutely nothing about which to be sorry. It was a girlhood fancy. And I daresay I’ve learned my lesson about letting my heart go before my head.”
A wistful expression shadowed Jane’s face. “Oh, you’ve so much ahead of you. I envy you. I do.”
“How can you say that?” Julia shook her head at the odd statement. “You’ll meet your dear child in mere months. I should think that more exciting than anything that could come my way.”
Jane gripped Julia’s hand. “It is, but think of what lies before you. You will fall in love again. Marry. You are still at the beginning of your journey. Even if your heart still aches at the thought of Percy, which I suspect it does, it will heal and fall anew. I only hope it happens while you’re here at Lanwyn Manor so I may witness it all.”
“I did not come here in search of a husband, Jane.” Julia forced a laugh, hoping it would cover her lie.
Of course she was in search of a husband.
Every single lady of marriageable age was eager for security.
It was the ultimate goal, whether she chose to acknowledge it or not. “Indeed, I came with the notion of visiting my cousin and nothing more.”
“Oh, Julia, you needn’t pretend with me. Every woman wants to be married; there is no shame in that, and my mother’s favorite hobby in the world is making matches. Now that all her daughters are either married or engaged, she will turn her attention to you. If a desirable beau exists within ten miles, she’ll find h
im.”
Julia wanted to receive the words of encouragement as intended, but at the idea of a beau, that familiar ache tightened her chest—the longing. The loss. The thought of embarking on another such journey filled her with trepidation.
Julia lowered her voice. “I wish it were already done. I wish I already had a husband and the entire ordeal was behind me.”
“La, Cousin, that’s naught but heartbreak talking, and nothing more. When the time comes, and it will, do not wish it speed. Enjoy it. Savor it, for time goes by so quickly, and soon, I daresay, you’ll be in my situation with a child on the way.”
Wishing to change the topic, Julia stood and crossed the room to the windows. This chamber was not nearly as dark as hers. The white plaster walls were almost cheery, and the flooding sunlight gave the illusion of warmth. She assessed the grounds below. Despite the airy brightness inside, a gray coldness covered the landscape. The wind’s bitter fingers had whisked away all the leaves, collected them in the garden’s corners, and assembled them at the base of the winding, low stone walls. Even now, the remaining leaves tossed and tumbled in harsh wind and flitted over the lane. Beyond the stone fence a redbrick tower stretched into the sky.
“What’s that tower?” Julia asked, curious about the unique structure disrupting the pastoral landscape.
“That’s the engine house for Bal Tressa, Father’s mine. It has been closed for a few months now.”
“I thought the mine was his main interest here.” Julia turned from the window.
Jane huffed. “I thought so too, but no, it sits idle. The entire situation vexes Mother to no end, as I’m sure you can imagine. Father claims he’s quite close to reopening it, so we shall see, but Mother longs for London. She’s not meant for country life, and neither, consequently, is Caroline.”
A maid entered the chamber and curtsied. “Pardon the interruption. Miss Twethewey, Mrs. Lambourne sent me to see if you were awake. Some visitors are here for you in the drawing room.”
“Who has come, Evangeline?” Jane angled her head toward the door.
“Miss Prynne and Miss Trebell.”
Jane chuckled and looked back to Julia. “Oh dear, I fear you are in for quite a treat.”
“Shall I accompany you to your chamber and help you dress, miss?”
Julia nodded at the towheaded maid, smoothed the front of her wrapper, and faced Jane. “I suppose I should go.”
“By all means. I’ll not have you keep them waiting on my account.”
Julia turned to go, but her cousin’s words stopped her in her tracks.
“Oh, and Julia?” A playful twinkle glimmered in her eye. “Good luck.”
Chapter 6
Julia dismissed Evangeline for a few moments of solitude to finish preparations to meet her new neighbors.
The previous day had been a blur, but today was the beginning of a new chapter—one Julia was fully ready to embrace, and meeting local residents was an excellent first step.
Once she was content with the tidy style of her hair and the fit of her pale-pink wool gown, Julia opened the door and stepped into the darkened corridor. Now that her mind was fresh and her body rested, a revived sense of adventure overcame her.
She placed a hand on the railing and descended several flights of stairs, and before long she found herself at the entrance to the great hall. Whereas most of the ceilings she’d encountered in the home were low, this room’s was vaulted at least two stories, supported by great arched, timbered beams. The heavy paneling ascended a quarter of the way up the wall, and in sharp contrast, bright-white plasterwork and painted stone reached the rest of the way. Massive windows of stained glass cast a red, green, and blue glow over the smooth stone floor, and tarnished weapons and mounted hunting trophies adorned the walls, along with crossed rapiers and a tattered banner boasting a family crest.
“Good day, Miss Twethewey.”
Julia, who’d become lost in her musings, jumped. She whirled to behold a slight elderly woman, clad entirely in black muslin, standing in a shadowed corridor just off the great hall. The woman, with her pinched lips and high cheekbones, appeared a rather frail sight, and her expression was as tight as the ebony fichu around her neck.
“Oh,” Julia stammered, searching for words. “I wasn’t aware anyone was in here.”
The woman tilted her chin high and clasped her bony hands before her, appearing as confident as Julia felt uncomfortable. As she approached Julia, her austere gaze swept over her from head to toe, the scrutiny of which tempted Julia to smooth her gown. “I am Mrs. Sedrick, the housekeeper here at Lanwyn Manor. You appear to be searching for something.”
Surprised by the unexpected raspy tone of the housekeeper’s voice, Julia straightened. “So I am. My aunt wishes me to join her in the drawing room, but I’m not entirely sure where that is.”
Nearly before Julia finished her statement, Mrs. Sedrick turned and stepped toward the pointed stone archway leading down a corridor Julia had not noticed before. “Follow me, Miss Twethewey.”
Wordlessly, Julia followed the housekeeper through the low doorway and down a labyrinth of narrow stone halls and tight turns. She studied each passageway and deep-set window as she passed through, equal parts curious and determined not to find herself lost again, until muted feminine voices traveled out an open door.
Mrs. Sedrick stepped inside first and announced her, and Julia followed.
The brightness of the room was a pleasant surprise, with two large bay windows overlooking a great lawn. The plaster walls were painted a pale green, and a light-blue woven rug covered the flagstone floor, lending a great deal of color to the chamber. Atop it sat a settee, table, and two chairs.
“Julia, dear!” Aunt Beatrice exclaimed as Julia stepped through the doorway. “My, but you did sleep late.”
Julia approached her and bent to kiss her cheek. “Good morning, Aunt.”
Already, her aunt was as Julia remembered. Dressed in an elegant gown of iridescent indigo silk, not a hair out of place nor a ruffle errant. A glimmering crimson jewel hung about her neck, wildly audacious for the hour, and a small gray dog nestled on her lap. The anger she’d exhibited toward her husband the previous evening was absent, and instead, a placid expression dominated.
Julia shifted her attention to the two more simply clad ladies seated across from her aunt.
“As you can see, you already have visitors.” Aunt Beatrice nodded to each one by name. “Miss Trebell and Miss Prynne have called to make you feel welcome in Goldweth. Ladies, may I present my niece, Miss Julia Twethewey, recently arrived from Penwythe Hall.”
Julia began to curtsey, but before she could complete the act, the smaller of the guests—Miss Prynne—stood, approached Julia, and gripped her hands in her own knobby ones. With pale-green eyes sharp and unwavering, the wisp of a woman tightened her grip. “We’ve heard about your ordeal at the Gray Owl Inn and have come straightaway to inquire after you. Such a horrible introduction to our humble village. It’s an abomination!”
“I thank you for your concern, but I’m well.”
“Oh, I very much doubt that! You were physically assaulted! We’re not disorderly people here, Miss Twethewey. Far from it, and yet I fear your experience will leave you uneasy.”
“Truthfully, Miss Prynne, I’m quite comfortable and secure in my aunt and uncle’s care.” Julia moved past the women and sat on a low settee opposite her aunt.
Aunt Beatrice lifted her face and stroked the small dog’s head. “Rest assured, ladies, my husband has vowed to leave no stone unturned until the rogues are identified and held accountable for their actions.”
Miss Prynne, in turn, regained her seat and the other, much more robust lady leaned forward, her faded curls bouncing with the motion. “And is it true? I heard that Mr. Isaac Blake came to your rescue.”
At the mention of the name, the patchy memory of the man formed—her relief when someone stepped up to aid her. Her shock and gratitude as he shielded her with hi
s body when the lead balls flew from the rifle. The sight of his broad shoulders as he raced to the door after she was safe. “Yes, Mr. Blake. I believe that was his name. It all happened rather quickly. I didn’t have the opportunity to thank him for his assistance.”
“For better or for worse, you’ll not have to wait long to see him again.” Aunt Beatrice fussed with the lacy fichu at her décolletage as annoyance furrowed her brow. “He is to dine here, along with others, this very evening per my husband’s invitation. I have told my William that you’re not strong enough for such company, but he insists. The dinner has been planned for some time, and he refuses to set another date.”
Julia straightened and tried not to appear too eager. She loved company, and the thought of meeting new people appealed to her, especially the man who risked his safety for her. Jane was right. She needed to accept the idea that there was life beyond her disappointment with Percy. “I think a dinner sounds lovely.”
“Well, if this dinner has any consolation, it is that Mr. Matthew Blake will be in attendance. You will find him to be much more suitable company than his twin brother.”
“Oh, how can you say that?” Miss Trebell’s pudgy hand flew to her chest, disrupting the modest lace trim adorning her tan gown’s high neckline. “Mr. Isaac Blake is the best of men. One of the finest in our community, I’d venture to say. In fact, he gifted an entire basket of apples to the miners’ children at harvest’s end. Is that not a kind gesture? He told me he wished to remain an anonymous benefactor, but of course I could never honor that request.”
Aunt Beatrice ignored Miss Trebell’s words and turned her full attention to Julia. “Mr. Matthew Blake is quite accomplished. He owns Tregarthan Hall, which borders us to the north, not to mention Wheal Tamsen, a copper mine on the village’s edge. He’s the head of one of the finest families in the county. And he is unmarried.”
The Thief of Lanwyn Manor Page 4