The pump was key to reviving Wheal Gwenna. Isaac wanted nothing more than to accept this offer, but the price was far too high.
“You look glum.”
Isaac was wrenched from his thoughts. Matthew entered the counting house, whistling, and tossed his hat on the table.
“I do?” Isaac folded the letter and tucked it in his coat. “Well, you seem quite happy.”
“I am.” Matthew shed his caped greatcoat and pulled an apple from his satchel, tossed it in the air, caught it, then turned to Isaac. “You’ve not asked me why.”
“I assumed you would tell me.”
“I’ve just come from Lanwyn Manor. As you know, the dance is tonight, but I managed to talk with Lambourne for a few minutes. We had a very interesting conversation.”
Isaac’s already frustrated mood soured further. “About Bal Tressa?”
“No. About Julia.”
The use of her Christian name stabbed like a knife. Isaac held his breath as he waited for an explanation.
“He’s given me his blessing with regards to her. It’s perfect.”
“As in marriage?” Isaac jolted. “Are you serious?”
Matthew whistled, tossed the apple again, and then took a bite.
Isaac tensed, preparing himself for the answer to his next question. “Do you love her?”
“Bah, love.” Matthew waved a dismissive hand. “Love’s nothing to do with it.”
A thread of anger tightened in Isaac’s chest, and he stood from behind the desk. “I have to wonder if Miss Twethewey feels the same way.”
“This isn’t about her, as you well know. ’Tis all about Bal Tressa. Our plans.”
“Your plans. And I thought mining didn’t suit you.”
“It doesn’t. But the only way to get out of it is to work through it—make enough money so I never have to set foot in the counting house again. There are a couple of ways to do that. Marrying his niece, for a start.”
Matthew threw his head back in hearty laughter. “Oh, don’t look so disapproving. You look just like Father with your brows scrunched like that. Besides, you know me. I’ve no intention of actually marrying anyone. It won’t come to that, you can be sure. As long as I can get into Bal Tressa, I can find a way to break things off after that. Lambourne just needs to think I’ve got marriage on my mind.”
Needing to redirect his frustration, Isaac snatched the stack of letters and flipped through them. The next letter was addressed to Matthew. Isaac extended the missive to his brother. “Here.”
Commencing his whistling again, Matthew leaned over the desk, lifted the letter, and then popped the seal and walked to stand next to the sitting room fireplace while he read it. His smile faded. The whistling stopped.
Intrigued by the sudden change in demeanor, Isaac glanced up.
Matthew stared at the page for several moments, flexed his jaw, then crumpled the letter and threw it in the fire.
“What was that?”
“That? Nothing.” Matthew wiped his hands together and turned back to Isaac. “I’m going to Tregarthan to prepare for tonight. Do you still want to attend together?”
Isaac nodded, eyeing his brother warily.
“It could be a late night. Best to take the carriage. I’ll be by the cottage for you.”
Isaac nodded again and watched as his brother exited. He was about to turn back to his letter when something caught his eye.
The letter Matthew had thrown into the fire had not reached the flames. It rolled out and now sat crumpled and charred on the hearth.
Curious, Isaac retrieved the missive. He held it up. The edge had been singed, but the letter was still readable.
Study
12 tonight
HP
He flipped it over, but there was no other sign. Matthew was always up to something strange, but this was odd, even for him.
Isaac tucked it away in his pocket, determined to find out what it meant.
Chapter 34
Trepidation hovered over Lanwyn Manor the day of the country dance.
For the past few weeks, everyone’s attentions—from the master to the servants—had been focused on this night, but no one quite knew what to expect.
Even so, Julia knew what was expected of her. To be a charming hostess and to encourage the attention of Matthew Blake. Her aunt had been abundantly clear.
The thought tore at her.
She’d only seen Isaac from a distance in the weeks since the Tregarthan dinner. What he must think of her. With any luck, tonight she’d finally be able to speak with him.
Julia pinched her cheeks for added color and paused to assess her reflection in her looking glass. She smoothed her gown of ivory silk and ran her fingertips over the shimmery, finely netted overlay. The seamstress had spent hours embroidering tiny violet flowers on the high, corseted bodice and hem. At the bustline the bodice gave way to a gauzy skirt of sheer ivory silk, embroidered with the same violet flowers over a silk underskirt. She ran her finger along the gold necklace about her neck and adjusted the golden ribbon woven into her upswept hair.
Caroline entered Julia’s chamber, running a long pink ribbon through her fingers. “You’re not hiding up here, are you?” she teased. “Don’t you dare. If the rest of us must endure this night, then you must too. And isn’t this what the Penwythe Twetheweys are all about? Community and such?”
Julia could not help but smile. Yes, this would be a common occurrence in her home. But then she sobered as she remembered whom she would likely encounter. “I’m ready, I suppose.”
“Well, you look lovely, even if you don’t sound very enthusiastic.” Caroline stepped forward to adjust the sash at Julia’s empire waist. As if reading her mind Caroline said, “I saw Matthew Blake down in the great hall. He looks as handsome as ever.”
Julia stepped away from her cousin and leaned down to put on her slippers, then moved closer to her looking glass. Caroline had adopted her mother’s sentiments on Matthew Blake, and the constant reminder of him was wearing.
Caroline stepped behind Julia and looked over her shoulder, patting her own golden hair into place. “Are you not eager to see him?”
Not knowing how to respond, Julia pressed her lips together.
When Julia remained silent, Caroline clasped her hands before her. “Ah, I see. I should not tell you this, but I will.”
Finding the lilt in her cousin’s tone alarming, Julia whirled around. “Tell me what?”
Caroline fixed her gaze on Julia. “Mr. Blake has asked for Father’s permission to properly court you. Officially.”
Julia stiffened. “What?”
“Yes. All of his flirting seems to be leading to something more meaningful. He said he hoped one day to unite the families. Is that not exciting?”
Julia groaned and sat on the bed.
“I must say.” Caroline’s hand flew to her chest, as if she were shocked, and then she pivoted to assess her reflection in the looking glass. “I thought your response would be happier.”
“Oh, Caroline, Matthew Blake is not the man for me. Surely you see it. I hope you see it. I wish Uncle would have at least discussed it with me.”
Caroline leaned her shoulder against the bedpost. “If you don’t want that to happen, you should probably make it quite clear, and the sooner the better.” She tilted her head to the side, her tone softening. “If I’m not mistaken, I believe there is a certain reason why you are not interested in a union with Matthew Blake. Or perhaps I should say a certain person.”
Julia huffed, shook her head, and busied herself fussing with the ribbon on her bodice.
“Oh, come now.” Caroline straightened. “You’ve been moping about, staring out the window every morning since Mother forbade you to go on your morning rides, and I don’t believe for a single moment that the reason for that is because you really enjoy riding all that much.”
Heat crept up Julia’s neck. Her cheeks. But she could not deny it.
Caroline’s eye
brow rose. “He’s downstairs too.”
Julia snapped her eyes upward toward her cousin.
“He is, and he looks handsome. Well, they both do since they look exactly alike, but you understand my meaning.” Caroline stood and shook the folds out of her gown. “I’m going back down, but only because I’m worried that Mother is going to faint with the thought of the miners in her drawing room. Don’t be too long. It might take both of us to keep her calm.”
Caroline withdrew, leaving Julia alone with her thoughts.
Perhaps she had not done as good a job as she’d thought masking her feelings about the younger Blake brother.
But that did not matter now.
What mattered was that he was here, and now she could finally explain what had happened.
She lifted her candle and began to descend the stairs. Music and laughter could be heard even at this distance from the great hall. She took the back stairs. It was quicker, and if her aunt really was hysterical in the drawing room, she would arrive there faster.
But as she reached the ground floor and traversed the corridor, she slowed her steps.
No one was supposed to be in this part of the house, and yet light glimmered from the study.
Curious, she stepped into the room.
Miss Prynne stood in the middle of the room, her thin back to the door and a delicate lace shawl draped over her shoulders. She held a candle and stared at the portrait above the fireplace.
“Why, Miss Prynne.” Julia stepped in farther. “Whatever are you doing in here?”
Miss Prynne did not move. She didn’t even flinch when Julia said her name.
Concerned, Julia stepped closer and placed her hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Miss Prynne?”
As she turned to her, candlelight glimmered off the tear tracks on the older woman’s cheeks.
“What’s the matter?”
Miss Prynne still did not respond. Instead, she turned her gaze back to the painting and held a shaky, thin hand over her mouth.
Julia beheld the portrait of a woman in old-fashioned dress. Auburn tresses flowed over her shoulder, and her bright-green eyes were vibrant. The woman did not smile, but her eyes sparkled, as if she held a great secret.
“This house holds a great deal of memories for me,” Miss Prynne whispered at last, her gaze unwavering. “I’ve spent a great deal of time here over my life. Sometimes happy, sometimes sad.”
Julia had heard that Miss Prynne had been close to the previous residents, especially Mr. Rowe, but not much had ever been said about it. She struggled to make sense of it. “But surely that is not something that should upset you?”
“No, it doesn’t upset me.” She forced a smile and reached for Julia’s hand. “Don’t mind me. I’m an old, foolish spinster, merely reliving a memory, for you see, I am that lady in the painting.”
Chapter 35
Julia did not feel right about leaving Miss Prynne alone in the study, but it was what the older woman had wanted.
A dozen questions swirled in Julia’s mind after the odd interaction.
What was a portrait of Miss Prynne doing in Lanwyn Manor’s study? Furthermore, were her aunt and uncle aware that she was the subject? And what of the painting of Mrs. Rowe? Why would that not have been in Mr. Rowe’s study?
Julia thought of all the times Miss Prynne had been within Lanwyn Manor’s walls and never said a thing about it. None of it made sense. Rumored treasure. A painting of a village spinster. Stolen items. Curses and secrets. Noises and shadows in the night.
It all had to be connected.
Didn’t it?
Trying to put the interaction behind her, she followed the music and the chatter to the great hall. When she arrived, her breath caught at the sight and she stopped midstep. She’d seen the hall decorated before everyone arrived, of course, but with dancers swirling and musicians playing and dozens of candles lighting the space, it really was a sight to behold. Garlands hung from the rafters. A jaunty, lively tune echoed from the walls. Candles hung from the ceiling in round, iron chandeliers and were positioned around the room in freestanding candelabras.
But as she adjusted to the magic of seeing the space alive with dancers, she wrung her hands before her. She needed to find Miss Trebell. The women were the best of friends, and perhaps she would know how best to comfort Miss Prynne.
Then a voice sounded very close to her ear. “You look distressed.”
She turned around.
There he was. Isaac Blake.
She’d not expected to see him so suddenly. Perhaps after a few minutes of mingling. But it was more as if he had been waiting for her.
Her heart thudded within her chest.
He looked so much like Matthew, but instead of the ominous feelings of dread that often curled through her when she saw the older brother, her heart soared.
He appeared as if nothing odd had transpired between them at all—as if no time had passed.
Nay, he did not seem annoyed in the least.
His clean-shaven cheeks dimpled ever so slightly with his easy smile. His fair hair curled over the high wool collar of his frock coat, and the lighting made his hazel eyes appear even brighter. There was so much she wanted to explain to him—starting with why she had not met him at the wall—but in that moment, with him staring at her so intensely, words would not form. She’d anticipated seeing him for days, and now that she was standing so near to him, she felt almost stunned.
“Distressed?” She gave a nervous little laugh. “No, not distressed. It-it’s just that I saw the oddest thing.”
“Here?” His eyes twinkled, and he scanned the rough crowd. “I find that hard to believe.”
She smiled in spite of herself, relaxing in his presence. “No, not the miners. I passed my uncle’s study and saw light inside. Miss Prynne was in there. She was crying.”
“What?” His brows drew together in concern.
“I asked if she was all right, but she said she was merely reliving a long-forgotten memory and that she was the woman in the portrait hanging above the mantel.”
“Ah.” His shoulders relaxed.
“You’re not surprised by that?”
He leaned his head closer. “Do you remember at Tregarthan when I told you she had strong ties to Lanwyn Manor?”
She nodded, unblinking.
“It’s not my place to share her stories, but you should know. Miss Prynne and Mr. Rowe had a very interesting relationship—a relationship beyond the bounds of mere friendship.”
“I-I thought Mr. Rowe had a wife.”
“He did. She died in childbirth many, many years ago.”
Julia widened her eyes. “I wonder if my uncle is aware that Miss Prynne’s portrait is hanging in his office.”
“I doubt it. I suppose it isn’t something that comes up in everyday conversation. Everyone who has lived in Goldweth for any length of time knows of it and it is just accepted.”
“How odd that she should be crying.”
“That is the greatest question, is it not? They’d been friends since they were children and were always together. But they never married. It’s quite sad, really.”
She let out a little laugh, thinking of all the uncomfortable conversations she’d had with the older woman about marrying young. “No wonder she is always speaking of marriage and so forth.”
“She speaks to you of marriage?”
When she realized what she had said, warmth flushed her cheeks. “She has strong opinions on it, ’tis all.”
“He married his first cousin at his family’s urging. It really is no secret that theirs was not a match of love, and when she died, it was always assumed that he and Miss Prynne might marry, but they never did. It was said that on his deathbed he called for her, but by the time she arrived, it was too late. By all accounts it was a devastating scene. She wept over the body as if she were his widow.
“I never understood it. I would think that when a man finds a woman he loves, he would do whatever
necessary to keep her by his side, regardless of circumstances and obstacles. Rowe had money and power. But on his deathbed, nothing could be done to change the past, and none of that money or power meant a thing.”
“So that’s why she never married.” Julia breathed deeply, almost in relief, as one who’d finally unscrambled a riddle.
“Yes.”
She forced a smile, attempting to keep the conversation light. “Perhaps your brother was right. Perhaps whoever lives in this house is cursed.”
At the reference to his brother, his smile faded and his countenance darkened. “Oh, I don’t know.”
“Don’t you believe in curses?” She tilted her head to the side.
He drew a deep breath, looking around the hall. “Curses are only true if you believe in them. I much prefer to think a man has more control over his outcome than to let it be affected by a ridiculous curse.”
She liked his answer. He was ruled by common sense. “You and your brother are very different men, aren’t you?”
“Matthew is drawn to the dramatic.”
“And you?”
“The practical, I suppose. Not very exciting, I fear.”
She looked back toward the entrance to the hall, to the corridor that led to the study. Miss Prynne finally appeared, but she seemed more like a lost child than a woman who had been at the heart of the community for so long. “My heart aches for her now. I wonder if she misunderstood his intentions, or if she was content to have things the way they were.”
“A misunderstanding?” he repeated. “I wonder, Miss Twethewey, if there has been a misunderstanding between us.”
She trembled under the weight of his gaze. “Us?”
“Yes.” He took a small step toward her. “I did wait for you at the wall the morning after the dinner at Tregarthan Hall. I’d hoped to see you there.”
The Thief of Lanwyn Manor Page 20