Perhaps they’d consider her as ignorant as her uncle.
Matthew’s somber expression softened. “You’re good to be concerned, Miss Twethewey. It does you credit. And you are correct. I should be on my way, and I’ll be following my brother shortly. I merely came back in to bid our hostess farewell.”
“I will come with you and do what I can.” Her uncle stepped forward.
“That’s kind, but this could be of a sensitive nature. However, if you would like to come out to Wheal Tamsen, I would be happy to show you how our operation works. Later this week, perhaps? The sooner we can resume normal activity, the calmer the men will stay.”
Conversation swirled. Tones of renewed disbelief and words of shock echoed around the space.
Julia wondered at the seeming heartlessness of it—as if such an event was business as usual.
Maybe it was.
Matthew turned to Julia. “Perhaps you’d like to join your uncle, if the weather is more pleasant.”
Julia caught sight of her aunt’s eager gaze and subtle yet insistent nod of encouragement. “Thank you, Mr. Blake. Weather permitting, I will.”
He bowed and then moved to another group to bid his farewells.
Caroline, who had been noticeably absent for a great deal of the evening, came up and looped her arm through Julia’s.
“This is a sad business,” Julia said softly to Caroline. “Lives have been lost.”
Caroline sighed and tilted her head. “I don’t know much about mining ventures, but I know there’ve been a handful of deaths since we moved here. I’ve heard Father and the servants talking about it. It happens with regular occurrence.”
“Have you been to visit a mine?”
“Me? Heavens, no. But I daresay Mr. Blake did not invite you to Wheal Tamsen just to see the mine.”
Julia drew her brows together.
Caroline gave a little huff. “Come now, Julia. He’s not taken his eyes off you, and that is flattering for any woman. But . . .” Her voice faded away, and Caroline tossed a nod across the room. “You’d have no way of knowing this, but normally Miss Davies is quite the amusing guest, but she’s particularly quiet this evening. She fancies Matthew Blake as her beau, and I daresay he is. But perhaps not for much longer.”
Caroline raised her brows and gave Julia a half smile before she swept over toward her mother, leaving Julia alone in the center of the chamber.
She looked at the young brunette at the pianoforte. No wonder her manner had been so cold. Julia felt almost ill and her shoulders slumped. The last thing she wanted to do was make an enemy.
Music sounded, so she returned to her chair, grateful that for the moment, she did not need to interact with anyone.
So far, her time in Goldweth had been a whirlwind. First the attack and now this. Her intention had been to come and care for her cousin and seek a diversion. Unfortunately, these were not the diversions she had in mind.
Chapter 14
Isaac knew what catastrophe awaited him at the mine.
He’d seen rock falls before. There’d be chaotic piles of rubble. An endless hovering of dust and bits of earth. All would be made worse by the dark of night. He urged his horse faster over the meadow, and Dunstan and Beale were close behind him.
With every breath he recounted what he knew and struggled to make sense of what he had heard. Danny Williams dead. Two were injured. And Charlie Benson was one of them.
Isaac may not know all the details, but he did know exactly where the miners had been working—and exactly who’d been present. With naught but tallow candles as their guide, the tributers often worked during the midnight hours, and it was always dark beneath the surface. This particular pitch had been a tricky one. The workers had been instructed to stay away until further exploration could be done, but apparently eagerness to find and follow the lode had interfered with common sense.
And now it was too late.
He could recall several times when he’d accompanied his father on a ride like the one he was making now.
“People. People make a mine, Son.”
But Charlie was not just any person. Not just an underground captain who contributed to Wheal Tamsen’s success. He was a trusted friend—perhaps his greatest friend.
Isaac’s arm muscles tightened as his horse thundered beneath him, traveling a familiar, worn path they could traverse in their sleep. The appearance of the inky outline of Wheal Tamsen’s engine house against the charcoal sky urged him to move faster. Torchlight and fires cast eerie, dancing shadows on an area that should have been quiet and tranquil. Tragedy always summoned the curious and concerned, and men, like shifting black shadows, lurked about like ghostly vapors.
Once through the mine’s iron gate, Isaac rode to the small courtyard and slid from his horse. Each step toward the mine shaft’s entrance was faster than the other, half fearing, half anticipating what he would see.
Nate Minear, one of the men who’d been working the pitch, met him. “Derwin’s going to be fine, but Benson’s in a bad way. Bal surgeon’s on his way.”
The men who’d been standing at the shaft’s entrance stepped back as he approached, and Isaac dropped to his knees next to Charlie’s slumped form, close enough that he could see the blood streaking down his friend’s face and the rips in his linen shirt.
Threatening darkness lingered, and that combined with the fog and dust that hovered in the air produced the ambience of a nightmare.
Isaac tried to force lightness to his tone. “Thought we agreed to stay away from falling rock.”
Charlie’s gritty voice was barely audible above the torches’ crackling and the men moving about the courtyard. “My luck’s run out, ain’t it?”
Isaac touched Charlie’s shoulder. “’Course not. Let’s move you inside. Everything will be fine.”
“Don’t lie.” A throaty, forced chuckle burst out. “You’ve more respect for me than that.”
“Aye, I do.” Isaac looked up as two men approached with a stretcher. “They’re coming to take you to the counting house now.”
With sudden desperation Benson grabbed Isaac’s sleeve. “My wife. She’ll be alone.”
“Don’t say that. The surgeon will be here soon, and—”
“I know what’s happening. I seen it a’fore, just not from this side.”
Isaac had never seen Charlie so pale. Never had he seen the beads of perspiration so thick or the anguish of pain so intense.
Isaac could argue. He could fill these final moments with talk of hope. But they both knew the truth and Charlie was right—Isaac had too much respect for him to pretend something was other than it was.
Isaac swallowed, his throat tight. “What can I do?”
“Margaret. I promised her everythin’. Gave her nothin’. Get her Wheal Gwenna. Like we talked.”
“Charlie, I—”
“Promise!” Intensity radiated from Charlie’s eyes, and fear poised in his expression.
Isaac could only nod.
Several men lifted Charlie onto the stretcher. Isaac gripped one end of the stretcher’s handles, clenching his jaw as his friend’s groaning met his ears.
Chapter 15
The morning after the dinner, Julia awoke early, as she did every morning at Penwythe Hall. Dawn had not broken yet, and a cold, murky blue light was just beginning to glimmer to the east. A steady, chilly rain pinged against the leaded windows and pelted the dormant grounds below.
In her dark-paneled bedchamber a lethargic fire simmered in her fireplace. It felt more like the dead of night rather than the start of a new day, but eager to be about her normal activities, Julia rose from her bed and rang for Evangeline.
As Julia stood still, waiting for the maid to dress her in a long-sleeved gown of light-brown wool, she revisited the previous night’s events in her mind. Still, a sense of shock sobered her at how nonchalantly many of the guests responded to the tragedy.
Julia pivoted to allow the maid to fasten the back of her
gown. “Have you heard any news about the men at Wheal Tamsen?”
“No, miss.” Evangeline tightened the bodice’s lacing between Julia’s shoulder blades and secured it snugly. “I ain’t ’eard a word.”
Evangeline stepped back, and Julia turned to face her. “And my cousins? Have they awoken yet?”
“They sleep quite late. Mrs. Lambourne too. I wouldn’t expect them to be up for several hours.”
“So long?” Julia frowned, disappointed but not altogether surprised to hear of her cousins’ hours.
“Yes, miss.” Evangeline scurried around the space, retrieving Julia’s night clothing and tending the fire. “Shall I bring you some coffee or something to eat? Cook won’t serve the morning meal for a few hours yet, but I could find you something if you’re hungry.”
“That’s not necessary.” Julia forced a smile. “I can wait.”
Evangeline departed, and Julia turned to watch the rain pelting the earth. Silence ensued, and the first bits of homesickness crept in. She thought of her aunt Delia and uncle Jac, her siblings. How she missed them, and how she missed the things that were familiar. How would she fill the time—the hours until her family would wake? At Penwythe Hall responsibilities and activities busied her from morning to night, but here, she felt useless.
She pressed her lips together. It would do no good to wallow in such thoughts. It might be early, but she needed to find something to do. Aunt Beatrice had mentioned in passing that there was a library off of her uncle’s study.
Julia decided to find it.
As she descended the dim, narrow stairwell, the steps creaked beneath her slippered feet, as if hinting at secrets, and the banister groaned under her grip, as if the house were as alive as she. The sounds combined with the testy rumble of the late-autumn thunder, intensifying the mysterious symphony. Matthew Blake had spoken of ghosts that roamed Lanwyn Manor’s halls, and while she didn’t believe in tales, she had to admit that the ancient halls and archaic artifacts lent themselves to such lore.
She made her way toward her uncle’s study—presumably the one she’d passed the first day of her arrival when she overheard the magistrate and her uncle talking. The corridor seemed a forgotten part of the house, used only by her uncle and the servants as a shortcut to the tower staircase. No candles winked from this hall, and she wished she’d thought to bring one.
She was almost content with letting her imagination run away with her until she turned a corner.
There stood Mrs. Sedrick.
Julia jumped at the suddenness of seeing the woman, clad in black, there in the morning shadows. The woman seemed to materialize in the oddest places, at the oddest times. It was as if she was watching her.
Or following her.
The housekeeper pinned a dark glare on Julia. “Looking for something, Miss Twethewey?”
Julia blinked, taken aback by the sharpness of the question. “I—was looking for the library.”
“It’s an old house, Miss Twethewey. Lots of twists and turns. One could get lost here.”
They locked eyes for several moments—an unusual battle. Julia resisted the urge to shrink back, as if she’d done something wrong. Neither spoke, and then the housekeeper relented. “Follow me.”
Wordlessly, Julia followed Mrs. Sedrick down the narrow hall, taking note of the gray streaks in the housekeeper’s dark hair. Her curiosity about the woman was increasing. Why was she so cantankerous? Why did she dislike Julia so? Or was it just visitors in general she detested?
After a sharp corner, Mrs. Sedrick turned into the study through a different door than Julia had used before. The chamber looked as it had the previous day, with dark-green walls and a large desk anchored in the center of the room.
They crossed over the plush rug to yet another smaller painted door that had been closed on Julia’s previous visit and stepped through it. Her breath caught at the sight. Gray morning light filtered through tall windows along one wall, illuminating a layer of dust atop the room’s single table. The entire opposite wall was covered with books from floor to ceiling. Still, straight, silent, like soldiers guarding some sort of secret. But what?
She almost laughed. She was letting Mr. Blake’s stories affect her, and with little else to occupy her mind, she was giving them far too much credence.
“This room does not get a great deal of use. You’ll excuse the dust.”
“I find it hard to believe this chamber is neglected.” Julia stepped forward to get a better view. “There must be hundreds of books here, if not thousands!”
Mrs. Sedrick did not look at the shelves. Instead she clasped her hands primly before her. “What are you seeking?”
Julia did not take her eyes from the books. “Merely something to read, and Aunt said I was welcome to whatever I found in here.”
“Will you be wanting a fire?” Mrs. Sedrick gestured toward the carved stone mantel above the hearth that stood on the wall opposite the door.
“No, I shan’t be in here long enough for that.” Julia pulled a book from one of the shelves by its spine.
“Very well.” Mrs. Sedrick nodded toward the bellpull on the wall. “Should you need any further assistance, just ring for us and someone will help you.” Then she turned on her heel and vanished, as quietly as she had appeared.
Julia dismissed the odd experience and breathed a sigh of relief as the woman’s footsteps turned into the corridor.
A chill lingered and Julia rubbed her arms, wishing she’d brought a shawl, but at least now she was free to explore at her leisure. With the exception of two portraits hanging on the near wall, bookshelves covered every open wall. She walked along the rows, pausing to peruse the titles.
She continued along until a door broke the row of bookshelves. It was a narrow door, apparently disguised by paneling, barely as wide as her shoulders. She noted its odd location.
Curiously, she placed her hand against it and pushed. The iron hinges creaked loudly as it gave way. Dust swirled with the door’s movement, and she coughed as motes took flight, dancing and darting around her. The door opened to another, smaller chamber. A long, narrow table in the center of the room, which must have once been quite handsome, was covered with grime. Half-burned tallow candles still stood in the candelabra atop it, and upon closer inspection, she noticed the dust was disrupted in areas, as if someone had been in here recently.
More books and rolled maps were stored haphazardly on shelves, and even in this forgotten room, tapestries adorned the walls. She approached the space between the chamber’s two windows and looked down to the small courtyard—an enclosed bit of land that contained the sleeping kitchen gardens. From what she understood, it was often used as a servants’ pass-through from the kitchen to the dining room and gave the windows of interior rooms access to daylight.
“How curious,” she muttered as her attention shifted to the map hanging next to the window. It was a rendering of Cornwall, but odd markings and lines on it meant nothing to her. As she leaned toward the map to get a better look, she stubbed her toe. At her feet was a trunk as grit-covered and forgotten as the rest of the room. She knelt to lift the lid, but it was locked.
Glancing around to confirm no other doors existed, she shivered. A gust of wind slammed the pane and slid through a crack in the window. As Julia returned to the library, she glanced back at the curious little space. She had the nagging suspicion that there was more to this room than what met the eye, and she decided that, in time, she would learn its secrets.
Chapter 16
After Julia’s odd experience in the library, she retreated to her tower chamber with a couple of books tucked in her arms. With the Lambourne women still slumbering, she called for Evangeline to bring her a quill and inkwell so she could write to her aunt and sisters with details of her first days at Lanwyn Manor, careful to omit the news of the attack at the inn for fear of inciting unnecessary concern.
When Evangeline notified her that Jane had awoken, Julia set her letter writing asi
de, grabbed the book she had selected for her cousin, and made her way to Jane’s chamber. She found her cousin propped against her pillows, needlework in hand.
Jane’s expression brightened, and she lowered her sewing to her lap. “Julia! Evangeline tells me you have been up for hours. I’d expected you would sleep later after last night’s dinner.”
Julia shrugged and sat on the settee next to the bed. “I hardly ever sleep late. I’m a creature of habit, I suppose. Besides, the rain woke me. Tell me, how are you feeling this morning?”
“The same as I feel every morning.” Jane smiled. “Large. And quite sluggish.”
“Well, you are one day closer, and tomorrow you will be closer still.” Julia squeezed her cousin’s hand. “I brought you this. I found it in the library. I thought you might enjoy it.”
Jane accepted the book. “So kind. Poetry. I’ve not yet been down to the library. The accoucheur insists that I remain abed, and Mother enforces his instructions to the letter. I’m not even permitted to walk to the window to look at the lawn. To be honest, I’m growing weary of staring at these four walls.”
Julia gave her cousin a quick overview of her morning’s experiences, from her interaction with Mrs. Sedrick to the door that led to the tiny chamber. They talked and laughed like they had done as children. Jane returned her attention to her needlework, a small smile curving her lips. “Now, tell me all about the dinner last night.”
With a sigh Julia leaned against the tufted back of the settee. “It was pleasant. I do wish you could have been there.”
“Well, I could not, so I must live it through your account. Caroline did sneak away to see me while everyone was gathered in the drawing room. She said Matthew Blake was quite smitten with you.” She arched her blonde eyebrow. “And that you have been invited to visit his mine when Father does.”
Julia thought back to the handsome man, with his dark-blond hair and hazel eyes. His attention had been flattering, but it was his brother and his quieter, subtler style that intrigued her more.
The Thief of Lanwyn Manor Page 9