Julia’s jaw slackened at the openness with which her aunt addressed the topic.
The older ladies exchanged knowing glances.
“Do not look shocked, my dear.” Aunt Beatrice placed her hand on Julia’s arm, her light-blue eyes twinkling. “’Tis no secret. I’ll not rest until I see you happily settled, and your dear sisters when they come of age. We shan’t pretend otherwise, especially amongst friends. Your uncle Jac might be your legal guardian, but I’ve a much better eye when it comes to matters of the heart, and I owe it to your dear mother’s memory to see that you’re advantageously matched.”
The directness of the guests’ scrutiny pressed against her, forcing an awkward laugh to bubble up. “Aunt, I’ve only just arrived. Surely such talk can wait for another time.”
“A young woman should always be on the lookout for a husband,” Miss Trebell interjected with a firm nod, her expression quite somber. “Once an opportunity is gone, one never knows when another might come. Why, just look at Miss Prynne and me. Had we taken advantage of offers when we were your age, how different might our situations be.”
Julia shifted self-consciously. She’d only just met them, and already they spoke of such personal topics.
“You’re frightening the dear child, Miss Trebell,” Miss Prynne teased. “If we cannot look truth in the face at our age, then what hope have we? Miss Trebell and I are spinsters. La, what a dreadful word! ’Tis not covetable, I’ll admit, but it’s a truth as sure as we’re sitting here. So, let us be an example to you. Marry early. Marry young. Better to have such security than to lose all hope.”
“Do not be so pessimistic, Miss Prynne.” Miss Trebell tapped her friend’s arm. “Miss Twethewey is as lovely as her cousins ever were. I’ve no doubt you will have a line of suitors, if you’ve not already.”
Julia’s stomach soured at the reference. What would they think if they knew one of the reasons she came to Lanwyn Manor was to recover from just that?
Aunt Beatrice pivoted to face her. “You’ve a duty, Julia, just as all young women do. A duty to marry well. You owe it to those who raised you, those who poured countless hours into providing for you and keeping you safe. By marrying well, you take the burden of your care from them. Your uncle Jac is a noble man, but his talent did not lie in amassing wealth. Oh no. So your dowry must be bolstered, and your uncle William and I will help with that.”
For the first time in a very long while, Julia felt dumbstruck. Never had someone spoken so bluntly to her about such a personal topic, let alone in front of strangers.
Miss Prynne leaned toward Aunt Beatrice. “We do not mean to monopolize Miss Twethewey’s time, but while we are here we must inquire as to whether or not you and your daughter intend to join us for the Ladies League this week? And Miss Twethewey, of course.”
Aunt Beatrice’s back stiffened, and she stroked her fingers against the dog’s furry head.
Confused by the sudden change in her aunt’s demeanor, Julia leaned closer. “If I may ask, what is the Ladies League?”
“Several ladies gather once a week to sew mittens and blankets for the miners and their children,” explained Miss Prynne. “With winter at our doorstep, we must work quickly. We have so much, and the miners have so little, especially in the current landscape. Even the women in mining families work at the mine, and there is little time for such things.”
“Women work at the mines?” Julia frowned. “I would have assumed that was a man’s occupation.”
“Yes, they’re called bal maidens. The men bring the ore to the surface, and then the women break it up with hammers and the like. ’Tis long, hard work, and many of them are forced to leave their children at home in the care of other children for hours on end. It’s really quite shocking.”
“And we’ve ever so many poor, especially now with Bal Tressa closed.” Miss Trebell shook her head. “The poor children.”
Julia flicked her gaze to her aunt. It was the second time this day she’d heard of Bal Tressa’s closure.
Aunt Beatrice pursed her thin lips and tilted her graying head to the side. “I care for the poor as much as anyone, but my eyesight can no longer endure the tedious attention of needle and thread. Julia, you may of course attend, if you wish.”
Julia hesitated as all eyes turned to her. Her aunt’s words said one thing, but her pinched brows and grimace communicated otherwise. It would be rude to decline after such freely given permission. Besides, she could not deny her growing eagerness to explore beyond Lanwyn Manor’s walls. “Thank you. I shall be there.”
After a fluster of polite farewells and much fuss over donning thick wool pelisses and voluminous bonnets, Julia found herself alone in the drawing room with her aunt.
Aunt Beatrice sat down again and adjusted the tiny dog on her lap. “I’m sorry, dear, to bombard you with guests on your first morning here. Miss Trebell and Miss Prynne are delightful ladies, but they often overlook basic social etiquette. They happened to arrive as I was passing in the hall, and they could not be put off.”
“I like them,” Julia announced as she returned to the sofa. “They are not afraid to speak their minds, are they?”
Aunt arranged her gown around her. “Regardless, they are pillars of Goldweth and have been here as long as anyone, from what I’ve been told. In fact, they’re said to have been very thick with Mr. Rowe, my husband’s late uncle, when he was master at Lanwyn Manor. Sometimes I think they believe their opinions hold as much merit here as when Mr. Rowe was alive, but they’re harmless. I’ll devise an excuse for you if you should change your mind. They’ve the uncanny tendency to coerce one into an activity before you truly know you’ve accepted.”
Without waiting for a response, her aunt glanced at the small watch pinned to her bodice. “Are you certain you are ready to attend a dinner this evening? I fear you will overtire yourself, especially after yesterday.”
“Of course.” Julia’s firsthand knowledge of Mr. Isaac Blake coupled with Miss Trebell’s accolades made her curious to see him again. She could not resist confirming. “You said Mr. Blake will be among the guests?”
“Yes, but . . .” Her aunt hesitated and her voice dropped in tone. “Dear, I must caution you about the younger Mr. Blake. Miss Prynne and Miss Trebell may sing his praises, but he’s simply not the sort of man a lady would associate with.”
“I only intend to thank him for his assistance, Aunt.”
“I’m sure that’s understood. I—”
The housekeeper’s appearance in the doorway curtailed her aunt’s words.
“Ah, Mrs. Sedrick,” Aunt Beatrice boomed. “Julia, I must tell you that Mrs. Sedrick has been an absolute necessity to me as we have relocated here. She’s been a member of the Lanwyn Manor staff for decades and has been instrumental in helping us become acquainted with the area.”
“You are too kind, Mrs. Lambourne.” Mrs. Sedrick smiled stiffly before she shifted her gaze to Julia and back to her mistress. “And I am sorry to disrupt you, but there is a matter of great delicacy that must be discussed with you. Privately, if possible.”
Aunt Beatrice frowned. “I can’t imagine there’s anything that cannot be said in front of Julia.”
Mrs. Sedrick interlaced her long, bony fingers in front of her. “It seems there is a problem with some of the silver.”
“A problem?” Aunt Beatrice smirked, jostling the dog that had just fallen asleep. “What could possibly be wrong with the silver?”
“Several pieces are missing. The teapot and some of the serving dishes.”
“Good gracious.” Aunt Beatrice’s hand flew to her ample chest as concern replaced her previous sarcasm. “What do you think has happened to them?”
Mrs. Sedrick’s jaw twitched. “I can’t rightly answer that, Mrs. Lambourne, but I do know that in all my years here at Lanwyn Manor, we’ve not had items of such value go missing before. And it concerns me greatly. I’m concerned foul play may be afoot.”
The apples of Aunt Beatrice’
s cheeks flamed, and she jerked in her seat, disrupting the slumbering dog. “Foul play? Are you referencing thievery? In our own home? I knew something was amiss. I knew it! And considering how horribly Julia was treated just yesterday, I cannot bear it. I warned my husband about this from the moment I set foot in this place. I sensed perfidy immediately.”
Julia reached to take the dog from her aunt before it fell from her lap. “I’m sure it’s only been misplaced. It will appear, I’m sure of it.”
“I very much doubt that.” Mrs. Sedrick cocked her head to the side. “That particular set of silver has been kept under lock and key, and the only key is in my possession.”
“Mr. Lambourne must be informed the moment he returns.” Aunt Beatrice stood, and her full cheeks shook with every syllable. “And in the meantime, question the staff about it. Even the out-of-doors staff. I will not have a thief in my home. Oh, how I shudder at the thought.”
With a nod and a glance toward Julia, Mrs. Sedrick curtsied and withdrew from the room.
Once the door closed, Julia stood and wrapped her arm through her aunt’s. “Do not worry, Aunt. Please.”
“You don’t understand. This place, Julia.” Aunt Beatrice freed her arm from Julia’s and paced the rug. “This vile, decrepit house and its secrets! Everyone, with the exception of Mrs. Sedrick, stares at us with sly eyes, as if hiding something. Watching us. ’Tis a prison.”
Taken aback but not altogether surprised by her aunt’s outburst, Julia moved to pick up Oscar again and cradled him in her arms. Unsure of what else to say, she thought it best to remain silent until she knew more.
Yes, Lanwyn Manor was proving to have introduced her to a number of interesting characters, but she needed to be wary. It was still too early to know whom she could trust and whom she could not. As she had learned, placing trust in the wrong person could only lead to heartache.
Chapter 7
The early afternoon following the odd encounter at the Gray Owl Inn, Isaac sat in Wheal Tamsen’s counting house with the mine’s monthly ledger spread before him. He rubbed the back of his neck and leaned back in the creaky wooden chair.
Normally, Wheal Tamsen’s counting house was a busy place, with people bustling in and out. Despite the constant whir of the pump from the engine house, the unmistakable ping of hammer against rock, and the occasional call from one worker to another, all was relatively silent.
The colorless sunlight, fleeting as it was, streaked in through the counting house’s dirty west windows, illuminating the ever-present smoke and dust motes dancing in the air. He forced his attention back to the ledger in front of him, but racing thoughts and unanswered questions made his concentration unsteady.
Last night, a man had pointed a pistol at him.
What was worse, that man had also pointed a pistol at a woman whose crime was nothing more than being a relation to William Lambourne.
Was this what it had come to?
Unrest had been increasing for years, but when Mr. Rowe had died and his nephew Lambourne inherited his mine and then closed its doors months later, tensions mounted to an unprecedented state. Lambourne claimed he’d reopen the mine quickly, but weeks spread into months, and the mine remained closed with little hope of opening anytime soon.
And the men who depended on the mines for their living were growing restless.
Isaac thought of the small woman from the inn. It hadn’t been hard to figure out who she was, even before Carew confirmed her identity. Visitors were rare in Goldweth—especially ladies—and word had spread far and wide of Lambourne’s niece’s impending visit. With the exception of the fearful expression in her blue eyes and a mass of wild, dark curls, he hadn’t really gotten a good look at her, and yet the vision of her, fearful and small, stuck with him. After the ordeal, though, he wouldn’t be surprised to hear that she’d packed her things and left Goldweth without so much as a backward glance.
Approaching voices jarred his attention, and the counting house door creaked on its iron hinges and flung inward. The brisk air swooshed in from behind his brother’s tall frame, disrupting the paper map hanging on the wall and causing the candles’ flames to waver.
Isaac pressed his hand atop the paper to prevent it from blowing from its spot. “Where’ve you been? I was up at Tregarthan this morning and your butler said you were gone on business.”
Matthew swept his beaver hat from his head and plopped it on the table inside the door, shook off his dark-brown caped coat, and raked his fingers through his pale hair. “Rode out to Falmouth yesterday to talk with Tom Sand.”
“Tom Sand?” Isaac returned his quill to the inkwell. “What business did you have with him?”
Matthew stepped farther into the room to the sideboard, uncorked the glass decanter, and poured the amber liquid into a glass. “He’s looking to take on investors for Wheal Hedra.”
“The tin mine?”
“One and the same. Can’t afford to keep it open much longer on his own, or so he says.” Matthew drank the beverage, returned the empty glass to the cupboard, stepped to the broad fireplace, and extended his hands toward the heat. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Haven’t had a good pull from there in quite some time, and with tin prices being what they are . . .”
Isaac gave his head a sharp shake and stacked the papers in front of him. It was what every mine owner feared. “I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later.”
“We could be in the same situation if we aren’t careful.” Matthew leaned against Isaac’s desk and crossed one leg over the other, his mouth curving in a lopsided grin. “Speaking of being careful, I heard you were quite the hero last night, stepping in to save the damsel in distress.”
“Hardly,” Isaac scoffed. “I offered a diversion tactic for Carew. Nothing more.”
“Did you recognize the men?”
Isaac shook his head. “They all had kerchiefs tied about their faces. Heard a rumor this morning that Gaines and his men might have been behind it, but I can’t be sure. None of them looked familiar, but you know how these men operate.”
Matthew stepped away from the fire and pulled his snuffbox from his pocket. “I also heard that Lambourne was conveniently absent. That true? He left his niece alone in that inn?”
Isaac shrugged. “I didn’t see him. Heard he left her there while he paid a call to Rogers, his solicitor.”
Matthew clicked his tongue as he popped open the snuffbox. “Not true.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve got it on good authority that he was speaking with Marcus Elliot, not Rogers like he claimed.”
“Elliot.” Isaac leaned with his elbows on the desk as he searched his memory. “Isn’t he the miner from over near Falmouth?”
“One and the same. He was passing through Goldweth specifically to speak with Lambourne, and yesterday was the only day they could meet. Apparently they were discussing the possibility of Elliot buying Bal Tressa outright.”
Isaac stood and crossed over to stand next to his brother near the mantel. “Well then, I don’t see the harm in that. As long as he is a fair man, it would at the very least get our men back to work.”
“Not necessarily. Apparently he has mining men—tutworkers, tributers, even carpenters and surface workers—that he’d bring with him. It could bring an entirely new problem to Goldweth and the surrounding villages.” Matthew pinched the black snuff between his fingers and extended the box toward Isaac as an offering.
Isaac waved his hand in refusal and considered what he had just been told.
Matthew was right.
At least now there was the hope of reopening Bal Tressa. If someone else came in with their own workers, not only would the price of copper go down, but many would not have the hope of employment.
Matthew held the snuff to his nose, inhaled deeply, and returned the snuffbox to his pocket. “The worst thing that could happen is for Lambourne to sell it to an outsider like that. It’s more important than ever that we convince him to
lease the land to us.”
Isaac nodded.
His brother had spoken often of trying to persuade William Lambourne and reopen the closed mine, but every other adventurer and mine owner for miles around was trying to do the same thing. No one could afford to buy it outright, and at least if one of the local adventurers were running it, there could be collaboration.
“And the lady?” Matthew inquired. “Lambourne’s niece?”
“What of her?”
Matthew raised his brows. “She might actually be the key to our success.”
Isaac moved to stoke the waning fire. “What makes you think a relative of Lambourne would have any interest in assisting us?”
“Think on it. You’ve done a service for Lambourne, have you not?”
“I’d hardly call it a service.”
“What else would you call it?” Matthew rubbed his palms together, like a man hatching a great scheme. “Listen to me. Bal Tressa sits empty. Lambourne hasn’t the first idea what to do with it, so we must convince him not to sell it to this Elliot fellow, but to allow local adventurers, hopefully us, onto the property. It’s money ripe for the picking. Everyone knows the copper’s there, but Lambourne fears being taken advantage of. We’ve been looking for the perfect way to get on old Lambourne’s good side, to gain his trust, to separate us from the other adventurers wishing to do the same. And now that you’ve offered his niece protection, the scales might be tipped in our favor. Well done, Brother.”
Isaac scoffed and returned to his chair and straightened the ledger. “Always the opportunist.”
“We need more money coming in, as you well know. Like everyone else, our dividends here have slowed. Unless we want to end up like old Sand, polling others for money, we need a plan of some sort, and I can think of none better. Things are progressing nicely enough here. We could spend time away to establish processes. Then, not only would we have additional revenue coming in, but the locals would be back at work.”
“That also could mean more copper for sale, which would deflate prices.”
The Thief of Lanwyn Manor Page 5