Isaac braced himself, mentally preparing what he’d say to his brother. But the form that filled the doorway was not Matthew.
A tall, wiry man with greasy, long, unbound black hair and a dirty coat appeared. An eerie grin slid across his face, revealing several missing teeth. “Yer surprised to see me, I can tell.”
Isaac blinked, not sure what to make of this man.
But the superior manner in which the man walked into the room, the air that he had the right to do so, was disconcerting. “I know, I know. Ye told me ne’er to meet ye here no more, but I knew ye’d be wantin’ this.”
Clearly, this man thought he was Matthew. In the room’s faint light, the mistake would be an easy one to make.
Isaac leaned forward to accept the packet. He loosened the leather strip binding the portfolio and opened it. Inside was a stack of papers. “What’s this?”
“Those? Why, they be the travel arrangements ye asked for. Took some work, but me men got it, quiet like, just like ye said. Travel to set sail to the East Indies, fortnight hence.”
Isaac stiffened. The East Indies? What on earth would his brother do there?
Determined to show no response, he closed the portfolio and set it atop the desk. “And?”
The wooden planks squeaked as the man shifted. He gave a nervous laugh. “Beggin’ yer pardon, but there be the matter of payment.”
Isaac speared him with a hard stare. “Come back for it later.”
The man opened his mouth to protest.
“I said come back for it later,” Isaac snapped in his best impression of Matthew. He repeated the visitor’s words back to him. “I told you not to come here. You’ll get your money. Soon. You can go.”
The man hesitated, as if prepared to argue, but then he tipped his crumpled hat. “Ye know where to find me.” And with that, he withdrew through the same door he entered.
Isaac searched his memory, hard and fast, to see if he knew this man, but surely he’d remember one with such a lack of teeth. No, he did not know him, but apparently Matthew did.
The minutes slid into an hour. And Isaac grew angrier with each moment. Fuming, he began to pace the crowded space. If his brother was in dire financial straits, how was he buying expensive passage? There was one way to find out.
The family strongbox.
It was behind a low-hanging portrait of a hunting dog. Everyone in the house knew of its location, so it was not the safest place to hide things. He had to have been a boy the last time he looked at it, but his instincts itched to look inside.
He retrieved the key from the top drawer of his father’s desk and then went to the strongbox. He opened it, reached inside, and retrieved a small wooden box. Holding his breath, he opened it.
Jewelry glistened inside. Gold rings and small silver and ivory trinkets.
His stomach fell as he thought of the jewelry that had been taken from Lanwyn Manor. Surely these were not any of those pieces.
Surely.
“Snooping?”
Isaac flinched at the suddenness of the words, but he did not move.
Matthew.
“Or are you looking for something in particular?” Matthew’s footsteps padded over the rug as he approached.
Refusing to delay the inevitable, Isaac picked up the topaz pendant and held it before him. “What’s this?”
Not breaking his stride, Matthew stepped to the side table. “Don’t know. Maybe it was Mother’s? Haven’t looked in there in ages.” He held up the decanter of port. “Want some?”
Isaac stepped forward. “What’s jewelry doing in here?”
Matthew’s expression darkened as he uncorked the bottle and poured a drink. “Why exactly are you in my personal space, rifling through my things like some vagabond thief in the night? How would you like it if I came to the cottage and searched through your things?”
“I’ve nothing to hide,” Isaac shot back.
“And I do?” Matthew’s hazel eyes narrowed. “You know, I could have you thrown in the lockup for this.”
Isaac smirked, unable to control the sarcasm slipping from his tongue. “Who then would run your mine?”
Matthew’s nostrils flared, and for a moment Isaac thought his brother might strike him. He clenched his fists, ready to respond.
After several seconds engaged in a visual duel, Isaac said, “Miss Twethewey told me that an item fitting this description had been stolen from Lanwyn Manor.”
“So you’ve been speaking with Miss Twethewey, have you? How interesting.” A sly, almost sinister grin crossed his face. “Speaking of Julia, perhaps she’d take a fancy to that piece. Perhaps I should make it a gift.”
“You’d be wise to stay away from her,” Isaac said through clenched teeth.
“Ah.” Matthew threw his head back in sardonic laughter. “’Tis happened at last. I knew it would. My little brother’s taken a fancy to a young lady. And I commend your choice. But I hate to inform you that I’m the one who captured her heart. She told me as much when she was in my arms at the ball. Think on it, Brother. Do you really believe she’d prefer someone with little means? Bah. Tell yourself what you will, but I’ve captured her heart, and her uncle’s mine.” Matthew cocked his head to the side. “I hear the widow is available.”
Isaac lunged forward. He stopped himself just before he slammed his fist against his brother.
“What, are you going to hit me? Like when we were boys?” Matthew challenged. “’Twas always your weakness, your inability to control those fists of yours. One would think you’d have outgrown such a habit.”
Isaac had to stay calm. Matthew was luring him, baiting him as one would a fish.
“I’d like to think we’ve grown up from that,” Matthew continued. “Besides, why are you calling my judgments into question? Need I remind you, I’ve seen you make a call or two that had a shade of dishonesty to it. Don’t play the saint.”
The brothers glared at each other.
Matthew shrugged. “I wondered when it would come to this.”
“Come to what?”
“A division. We have managed to keep things civil since Father’s death, and it has served us. You and I look alike. Sound alike. But we’re hardly identical. Not at the core of who we are. I’m not surprised this cordial brotherly alliance of ours crumbled. Are you? It was based on loyalty to a man who expected more from both of us. So now that we’re clear on that point, perhaps it would do you well to leave my property alone.”
Anger seethed through him. Was his brother forcing him from the family home? In that moment he made a decision. “You are right, Brother. We are very different. In fact, I find I don’t know you at all.”
Isaac turned around to the open box, his body blocking Matthew’s view. Instead of returning the pendant to where he found it, he slid it in his cuff. He then locked the safe, turned to toss his brother the key, and quit the study.
Chapter 44
With the exception of going to Jane’s bedchamber, Julia did not venture far from her room over the course of the next several days. She didn’t even take her meals in the dining room, nor did she go into the village to help with the sewing circle or the reading sessions. Not only was she fearful of encountering whoever wrote the messages, but Aunt Beatrice had all but forbade her from stepping foot out of doors.
Despite Aunt’s insistence that Julia have no contact with anyone outside of the house, Matthew Blake had called every day. Julia could not avoid him, but with each encounter, she noticed subtle changes in him. He seemed pale. His hair, which was usually so tidy, was wild and curly. Dark circles shadowed his eyes. His speeches, which always had been grandiose and flattering, grew in their flamboyance.
It was impossible to see Isaac. The memory of his arms around her and his lips on hers had to sustain her for the time being. Even so, every morning she sat at her window, hoping to time it just right so that she might catch a glimpse of him on his way to the mine.
She believed him when he said he’d prot
ect her. She had no doubt he was doing as he said—watching out for her. Trying to find out what was going on.
One morning, as she sat watching for a glimpse of him, a sharp, pain-laced cry sliced the predawn silence.
Julia bolted upright.
Another cry. Followed by, “Help. Someone help!”
Jane.
Julia leapt from the window seat and snatched her wrapper as she ran from her room. Legs still wobbly from lounging and sleep, she stumbled down the stairwell to the floor below, punching her hands through the sleeves with each step.
She burst into Jane’s room. “What is it?”
Perspiration dampened Jane’s face. Her hair clung to the side of her face. She gasped for air. “There’s a pain. Here.”
Julia hurried to the bed, gasping as her cousin suffered.
Was this her time? Surely not. She still had more than a month to go. “What can I do?” Julia inquired, wide-eyed, feeling helpless.
Jane reached out and gripped Julia’s hand. “I think we must call Mr. Jackaby.”
Before Julia could respond, Aunt Beatrice appeared at the door, hair wild and frizzy, and clad in a dressing gown. Horror reddened her round face, and immediately she tugged the bellpull next to the door to ring for Mrs. Sedrick. “Oh dear, oh dear! And with your father out of town.”
Jane groaned and writhed.
“Mrs. Sedrick!” Aunt Beatrice shrieked, as if the bellpull was not enough to summon the woman. She nudged Julia aside so she could take her place at the bedside.
Caroline soon joined them in the chamber and, once inside, gripped Julia’s hand, not taking her gaze off of her sister. “What if it’s her time?”
“I’m not well versed in these things, but isn’t it too early?” Julia responded. “The accoucheur said he was certain there was at least another month.”
For the next several hours, frantic activity ensued. Mr. Jackaby and Uncle William were sent for, and the servants did everything in their power to make Jane more comfortable.
But Jane’s distress did not diminish.
Aunt Beatrice had descended into hysterics and taken to her own bed.
Someone had to remain sensible. Someone had to take charge. All Julia could think of was the curse she’d heard about at church all those weeks ago—about no child surviving.
She could send word to Isaac or Matthew, or Miss Prynne or Miss Trebell, but all that would take time.
Julia turned to Mrs. Sedrick. “Send for the carriage and have it ready for me immediately.”
Caroline popped her head around the corner. “Where are you going?”
Julia’s movements slowed when she saw the look of disapproval in the housekeeper’s eyes. “Jane is getting worse, and no one under this roof seems to know what to do.”
“If the baby is coming, there are women here who have dealt with ladies who are in the family way,” Mrs. Sedrick said.
“But it’s too early. Something must be wrong.” This was absurd. Julia pushed past Mrs. Sedrick and would call for the carriage herself. Julia ran to her chamber, retrieved her cloak, and encountered Caroline once more in the corridor.
“Try and keep Jane comfortable.”
“How? And where are you going?”
“I’m going to get help.”
Chapter 45
Julia pounded on Mrs. Benson’s cottage door with her fist and stepped back, watching the door expectantly. After several seconds she arched her head to the side, looking for motion through the dark window.
Nothing.
She tapped her hand against her leg and sighed. The afternoon light seemed dark for the churning clouds, and frost plumed from her mouth with each breath. “Please be home.”
Relief flooded her when, at length, noise echoed from inside, and the door opened just enough for a set of light eyes to peek out.
Julia’s words rushed out at the first sight of the midwife. “Please, I need your help. My cousin is having her baby, at least I believe she is, anyway, and ’tis far too early. Something’s not right and she’s in a great deal of pain. She is—”
Mrs. Benson shifted to the side, and Julia’s words caught in her throat.
Directly behind the midwife stood Isaac, his hazel eyes wide.
Julia stared at him for a moment, the shock of seeing him there momentarily robbing her of speech. Her heart tore. Isaac . . . and the widow?
The reality slammed against Julia, hard and fast. She’d heard the rumors herself but had almost forgotten them. They must be true. The evidence existed right before her eyes. Her thoughts muddled and a fogginess descended over her.
She had to be strong. She had to. Her cousin could be dying.
Regaining her composure, she reached forward to touch the door so it wouldn’t close. “P-please. She could die, and her accoucheur is in London. I beg you. My uncle can pay you for your services.”
The widow pressed her lips together and looked over her shoulder at Isaac before she returned her attention to Julia. “Wait here. I’ll get my bag.” Mrs. Benson disappeared inside the house.
Careful not to look at Isaac, Julia leaned her back against the house to wait. She gritted her teeth, hoping—praying—that he would not step out to speak with her.
But that was just what he did, the breeze rustling his hair. “What can I do?”
She shook her head, fighting the feelings of betrayal, regardless of how unfounded they might be. “Nothing.”
“Shall I call for the apothecary? Anyone?”
“Mrs. Benson will help us.” She turned her back to him and started for the carriage.
“Surely I can do something.” Isaac touched her arm.
She jerked her arm away.
“Julia, I can imagine what you think. I’m only here to deliver news that—”
“It doesn’t matter,” she snipped and paused to meet his gaze fully. “You owe me no explanation. On anything.”
She continued her course to the carriage. She couldn’t look back at him, not for another moment, for he might see every emotion. She knew too well the danger of letting a man monopolize her thoughts, and she’d not been careful enough.
Once at the carriage Julia paused and turned in time to see the widow emerge from the cottage and hand a bag to Isaac. In a flurry of activity, he assisted them both into the carriage and then, once they were settled, he said, “I’ll send word to the physician in Cardow. Anything else, Margaret?”
Julia winced as the woman’s Christian name passed his lips. Every moment seemed to offer fresh information confirming a relationship between the two—a relationship that, if it existed, would shatter the newfound hope her heart had fostered.
The widow leaned forward, partially blocking Julia’s view of Isaac. “Ask the neighbor to watch Jory, will you? And fetch Miss Prynne and Miss Trebell and bring them to Lanwyn as quickly as you can.”
With a nod and another glance in Julia’s direction, Isaac closed the door and stepped back. The carriage lurched forward abruptly, as if the horses could sense their riders’ urgency.
Almost immediately the midwife’s voice rose sharply above the crunching of carriage wheels and pounding of hooves, “Tell me of her symptoms.”
“She is c-crying in pain,” Julia stammered, refocusing her attention on Jane. “Writhing.”
“Is she bleeding?”
“Yes.”
“Fever?”
“I think so.”
The widow peppered her with more questions about Jane’s condition, and as the carriage jostled back through the woods and over the bridge, Julia apprised the widow of everything she knew. When the carriage finally drew to a stop in front of Lanwyn Manor, Julia grabbed the midwife’s hand. “Thank you. For coming.”
Together the women hurried through the courtyard and the great hall and toward the tower stairs. In the time that Julia had been gone, Jane had been moved from her bedchamber to the lying-in chamber and was now dressed in a birthing gown. The curtains were drawn, the fires were blazing,
and all was warm. Someone had plaited Jane’s hair tightly against her head, and cries echoed from the stone walls.
Mrs. Benson wasted no time. She swept into the room and went straight to Jane.
Aunt Beatrice, already present in the chamber, jerked her head up at the intrusion. “Who is she?”
“Mrs. Margaret Benson,” Julia explained. “A midwife.”
“A local midwife?” Aunt Beatrice’s voice rose two octaves. “Oh no. No, no, no. Not for my daughter. Absolutely not!”
“Have we a better solution?” Julia implored. “None of us knows what to do, and a midwife is the only one who has any experience in this. We’re all frightened, and she might be our only hope.”
Aunt sniffed and stepped aside, all the while glowering at the midwife.
“I will require hot water, blankets, and brandy,” Mrs. Benson ordered. “Bring more candles and as many linens as you can find. Let’s prepare to meet this little one.”
* * *
Pulse wild and heart thumping, Isaac sprinted back to the mine’s counting house.
He’d located Miss Trebell quickly and delivered her to Lanwyn Manor without delay.
Miss Prynne took much longer to locate. It was not until late in the afternoon he was able to find her at one of the cottages on Miner’s Row, tending to Sophia’s mother. He’d accompanied her to Lanwyn Manor.
He’d done what he promised to do. But he hadn’t done what he needed to do.
He needed to talk to Julia. He saw it in her eyes—the mistrust. The sting of perceived deception. He didn’t know much about the man who had broken her heart, but he did know that he’d betrayed her for another. Isaac feared she might think he would do the same.
How he wanted to set the record straight, but he’d have to wait, even though each hour that passed with this obstacle between them would only breed more distrust. More pain.
His reason to be at Margaret’s house was an honest one. He pulled the second letter from Richards from his pocket, advising them that he would soften his terms and set limits on costs. He would still require them to purchase materials exclusively from him, but the costs would be agreed upon beforehand.
The Thief of Lanwyn Manor Page 24