Love Inspired Historical October 2015 Box Set

by Lacy Williams

“We are fine.” Maris tried to stand, but her knees refused to hold her. Now that the crisis was past, they wobbled like a sapling in a high wind.

  His hand under her elbow assisted her to her feet. Her breath caught when he put his arm around her waist so she could lean against him. Knowing she might be playing with fire, she rested her head on his chest. His rapid heartbeat told her he was frightened for Bertie, too.

  Calling for the children to follow, he steered her into the house. Servants crowded into the entry hall. Baricoat instantly took charge, sending the household staff off to do their duties.

  Maris, loath to leave Arthur’s side, started to step away, but the viscount’s arm tightened around her. She began, “I must—”

  “Let someone else handle the situation for once.”

  “I should get the children upstairs before it is time for tea.” Any chance for a nap was gone. Even if the horse had not almost stamped on Bertie, the approaching thunderstorm would keep them from sleeping.

  “Baricoat,” Arthur said, keeping her within the arc of his arm, “have someone take the children to the nursery and watch over them.”

  The butler looked at her as he said, “Yes, my lord.”

  “Irene would be good.” Maris was unsure if she should offer a suggestion, but many of the younger maids would rather gossip about the footmen than keep an eye on the children.

  “Ask Irene,” Arthur ordered. “Mrs. Ford surely can do without her for a short time.”

  “Mrs. Ford, like any of us, would do anything for the children, my lord.” Baricoat drew himself up to his straightest posture.

  “I am pleased to hear that.”

  Maris urged the children to go with Baricoat and have fun with Irene. Promising she would be with them soon, she watched them follow the butler upstairs.

  “I believe I insulted him and the kitchen in one fell swoop,” Arthur said quietly so the words would not go past her ears. He suppressed a laugh. “Fortunately, he is a forgiving man.”

  Maris looked at the bespectacled man standing near the front door. Lord Warrick wore a troubled frown.

  “Thank you,” she said, walking to the baron. “Bertie is safe because of you, Lord Warrick.”

  His frown deepened. “Have we met?”

  “I am Maris Oliver, the children’s nurse. I was with them when they visited one of your mines a month or so ago.”

  He nodded. “Yes, I remember you being there, though we were not introduced.”

  “You were busy that day working on the beam engine.” Heat rose along her cheeks. She had spoken as if they were long-standing friends. What must Arthur think of her lack of propriety when she was supposed to provide a good example for the children?

  If he was annoyed, she saw no sign of it. He offered his hand to Lord Warrick and welcomed him to Cothaire.

  “What about you?” Arthur asked. “How are you, Warrick?”

  “Other than my nerves, I daresay I shall survive.”

  “I am glad. You obviously are here for a reason.”

  “To speak with you, Trelawney.” His face remained grim.

  Maris dipped in a curtsy. “I will ask you to excuse me.”

  The baron shook his head. “Miss Oliver, I think you should hear what I have to say, as well.”

  “Me?” she squeaked, sounding no older than Bertie.

  She was given no chance to ask another question as Arthur took her arm and led her and Lord Warrick toward the small parlor the family favored. As always on chilly afternoons, a fire burned on the hearth. Arthur closed the door behind them and suggested she sit on a chair by the fireplace. She did, after removing her coat and folding it over the back.

  Lord Warrick chose a chair while the viscount pulled a third one from near the glass doors. The panes shook as thunder exploded close to the house.

  “Our timing is better this time, and we did not get soaked.” He smiled at Maris. Turning to his guest, he said, “I can see something is wrong, Warrick. What is it?”

  “Have any other children been found in Porthlowen?”

  Arthur glanced at Maris, shock naked on his face. “Not that I have heard of.”

  Lord Warrick sighed. “When I thought of the children found in the cove, I hoped the one that has gone missing would be here also.”

  “A missing child?” Maris choked the words out, even though she should remain silent.

  The baron nodded. “Yes.”

  “Who? From where?” asked Arthur.

  Lord Warrick pushed his brass spectacles up his nose in a motion that looked habitual. “One is missing from the biggest mining village on my estate. No one knows where the child is.” His mouth worked, then he added, “Nobody can even tell me the last time the child was seen.”

  “How old?”

  “Two.”

  “Like Lulu and Molly,” Maris murmured, but Arthur must have heard because he patted her arm.

  Lord Warrick cleared his throat, and she guessed he had not missed the motion. “The missing child is a little girl. Her grandmother says she was wearing a pale blue dress and her hair was in a single braid.”

  “Have you talked to her parents?” Arthur asked.

  “Her father is dead, and her mother is accused of theft at the house where she worked. If she is convicted, and it seems likely she will be, her punishment will be transportation to a penal colony. That is why the child was in the care of her grandmother.”

  Maris drew in her breath sharply. Lord Bellemore had warned if she continued to accuse Lord Litchfield, she could be arrested for slander. He did not say what punishment she might face, but she had nightmares about being sent away to a strange and untamed land, far from everyone and everything she knew. When she had fled from the betrayal and lies in tears, she had heard Lord Litchfield laugh and call, “Bon voyage!”

  She blinked back tears for a mother she did not know. Even if the woman were a thief, punishment should not separate her from her child. That was too cruel.

  The door opened, and Lady Caroline stepped into the room. For once, she was not carrying the baby. Instead, she held a book.

  “Oh, I did not realize anyone was in here,” she said.

  Arthur and Lord Warrick had risen as soon as Lady Caroline entered. Maris did, as well. Even though she was invited to be part of the discussion, she could not forget her place in the household.

  With a tight smile, Arthur said, “You are not interrupting, Carrie. Please sit here while I get another chair.”

  Lady Caroline held out her hand as she crossed the room. “Lord Warrick, to what do we owe the pleasure of you giving us a look-in?”

  He took her fingers and bowed awkwardly over them. As he straightened, he said, “I am not here for a call, my lady.”

  Her smile dissolved into distress as he explained why he had come to Cothaire. Lady Caroline grasped Maris’s arm, her nails biting into her sleeve. Maris put her hand over the lady’s, saying nothing.

  “Carrie, we need to decide what we can do to help.” Arthur put another chair into the arc in front of the hearth.

  “There must be something, Arthur!”

  He seated his sister in the chair beside where Maris had been sitting. His glance urged her to sit, as well. Maris withdrew her handkerchief and handed it to Lady Caroline to blot away the tears rolling down her cheeks.

  “Forgive me,” Lady Caroline said. “I cannot stop thinking about the pain the family is suffering. To lose a child and have no idea if he or she is even alive…” She pressed the handkerchief to her lips.

  Again Arthur looked at Maris. She understood his silent message as surely as if he had shouted it. He worried about his sisters if—no, when he discovered where the children living in the nursery belonged. They would agree to return them to their grieving families. However, even knowing they were doing the right thing would not lessen the sorrow at being parted from the tiny castaways.

  Sitting, Arthur folded his hands between his knees. “I can promise, Warrick, we will spread word of
the missing child through Porthlowen. We are gathering tomorrow night to discuss other matters, but we will make sure everyone who has not heard learns about the child then.”

  “We will pray,” added Lady Caroline. “We will ask God to guide our search and return the poor child to her grandmother.”

  Maris envied the lady her certainty that God would protect the missing girl. Once she had been as sure of God’s presence in her life. She hoped He would be there for the child. Please.

  She listened to the others discuss the best way to find out who was behind children disappearing and appearing where they did not belong. When Lord Warrick suggested they try to get further information from the children at Cothaire, Lady Caroline vetoed the idea.

  “I cannot imagine we will discover anything new,” she said, her voice as taut as her lips. “You must understand, my lord, that the children are little more than babies. What information they have given us is from a child’s point of view. Asking them to describe people in their lives gains us words like tall or laughing, but no clue where to look for their families.”

  Lord Warrick sighed again. “It is obvious that you are struggling to find answers for yourselves. To be honest, I felt as if I were invoking the Spanish Inquisition to obtain information about the missing child from her grandmother.”

  “But,” Maris said, shocked, “if she reported the child missing—”

  “She didn’t. A neighbor did. The child’s grandmother reluctantly admitted the little girl was gone. I don’t know if she was afraid of being labeled a poor guardian for the child or if there was another reason for her reticence. I find you Cornish baffling at times.”

  “The miners are a clannish lot,” Arthur said. “They squabble among themselves, but stand as a united front against outsiders.”

  “And I am an outsider to them. Perhaps if I had spent more time on the estate when I was younger, I might find them easier to puzzle out. I assumed my cousin would inherit, but he died a short time before my uncle did, and suddenly the estate became my responsibility, when I would have preferred to continue teaching.” He stood. “Pardon me for babbling.”

  “Don’t worry about it. We all are upset about the children,” Lady Caroline said.

  He looked at her and nodded. “Keep your children close to you. I must return to the mine and make sure the repairs on the beam engine are progressing. The fool machine seems determined to find as many new ways to fail as possible.”

  Arthur frowned. “But beam engines are simple. Why is it failing over and over?”

  “Another thing I wish to find out. Every day it is not working, the men cannot go into the mines because we cannot risk the tunnels flooding. When the men cannot go into the mines, they become frustrated.”

  “Can they work on the machinery?”

  “Few have the skills.” Lord Warrick pressed a smile on his lips. “However, that is my problem, and I will not punish your ears, ladies, with a recitation of such matters. Good day, Lady Caroline, Miss Oliver.” He bowed his head to them, then turned to Arthur. “Trelawney.”

  “I will see you out,” Arthur said, surprising Maris, because she had thought he would remain to offer solace to his sister.

  As the two men left, Lady Caroline sighed. She returned the damp handkerchief to Maris as she said, “If you don’t mind, Miss Oliver, I will go to the nursery with you. I feel a great need to be with the children.”

  “I understand.” And she did, because Lord Warrick’s news warned that the children could vanish from their lives as quickly and mysteriously as they had appeared.

  *

  As Arthur followed the baron out of the parlor, the soft voices of his sister and Maris wove together in a lovely melody he would have liked to listen to far longer. He pushed that from his mind as he walked with Warrick toward the entry hall.

  Abruptly the baron stopped and faced him. “Is there somewhere we can talk alone?”

  “Yes.” The question startled Arthur. He had thought Warrick could speak frankly in Maris’s and Carrie’s presence. “Third door on your right may provide what you are requesting.” He opened the door to his father’s smoking room.

  As Arthur expected, it was deserted. Motioning for Warrick to enter, he followed him in and closed the door. He twisted the lock on it and on the one opening onto the formal dining room. He did not offer Warrick a seat. He doubted the man could have sat still for even a moment. Stepping to one side, Arthur watched as the baron paced from one end of the smoking room to the other.

  As he himself had done in the day nursery two nights ago when he went to seek out the one person he wanted to listen to him. When he had seen Maris sitting there, the lamplight aglow on her golden hair flowing around her shoulders, he had almost changed his mind about staying. He was unsure if he could keep from pulling her into his arms. She was lovely, and her emerald eyes too often mirrored his own, filled with sadness and loneliness. He should have listened to his own good sense, because if Bertie had not interrupted as he did, Arthur would have discovered every inch of Maris’s lips. He should be grateful to the child, and he was, but he yearned for the kiss that had been denied them. The memory of the sweet flavor of her cheek lingered on his lips.

  Warrick stopped. “Trelawney, I did not want to say this in front of the women, but the child reported missing may not be the only one that has vanished.” He glanced toward the parlor. “Those children found in Porthlowen Harbor…”

  “Disappeared from somewhere. I have been thinking much the same myself. Since my younger sister married, the search for their families has languished. I have begun to ask questions, though I have not learned much other than I should concentrate those questions on Porthlowen.” Without saying where he had obtained the information, he shared what Higbie had told him. “At the meeting tomorrow night, the main topic is not the children. I had wondered how to introduce the subject without looking as if it truly is the real reason for the gathering. I suspect people will be talking about the child missing from your village. Miss Oliver and my brother and I are going to see what we might learn by talking with those who attend.”

  Warrick’s cool smile matched his voice as he said, “Ingenious, Trelawney.

  “If I learn anything, I will let you know.”

  “And if I can help, do not hesitate to call upon me.”

  “Thank you. I plan to send footmen into the village to tell those who are already sharing the news of the meeting to let everyone know about the missing child.” He told himself to be certain one footman’s first stop would be the Winwood twins’ cottage.

  Shaking the baron’s hand, he rang for the butler while Warrick took his leave. Arthur was not surprised when Baricoat arrived even before the last clang of the bell had faded. He asked the butler to send footmen into the village as soon as possible with the news.

  “I will arrange it,” Baricoat said, but did not move.

  “Did you wish to speak to me about something, Baricoat?”

  “Rumors reach my ears, my lord.”

  “Such as?” Had someone seen him alone with Maris in the nursery? When he had gone to seek a sympathetic ear, he had not paused to think how he could ruin her reputation.

  Arthur realized his worries were misplaced when Baricoat said, “Low places such as The Spider’s Web are never without those who will reveal what they know for a price. Especially when they can spread stories about those of a class far higher than their own.”

  “I was there on business.”

  Baricoat looked him straight in the eye, something he had not done since Arthur was a mischievous child and needed to be reprimanded for sneaking into the silver room and leaving his fingerprints on every recently polished item. The butler had reprimanded him, but agreed to say nothing to Arthur’s parents if he repolished every piece before a grand dinner the following night. It had taken Arthur more than twelve hours to finish the task by working that day and the next. When he was done, he received no more than a nod from the butler.

  N
ow the butler wore the same disappointment, but Arthur was a grown man and capable of making good decisions. Baricoat knew that, too, because deference remained in his voice as he said, “I have no idea what would compel you to go to such a place, my lord, but may I remind you there are many within these walls who would gladly go in your stead?”

  “I appreciate that, Baricoat. However, there are some things I must do myself. I will not risk someone else when the obligation is mine.”

  “Very well, but keep what I said in mind.”

  Arthur put his hand on the butler’s shoulder, momentarily shocked at how bent it was, because Baricoat showed no outward signs of growing old. “Thank you. I will remember what you have told me. In return, I ask that you remember me in your prayers until I finish what I must.”

  “This family and this household are always foremost when I ask God for blessings,” he said with the dignity that was his hallmark. “If you will excuse me…”

  As the butler walked away, his steps were a bit slower, but not much, Arthur noted. He respected the butler and the vital role he filled at Cothaire. Like Arthur, Baricoat had assumed duties the earl once had done.

  Arthur looked across the room to where his father usually sat. While he could not talk to him about the search for Cranny’s killer, he could discuss trying to unravel the mystery around the children’s arrival and get his father’s insight. It was long past time.

  Chapter Ten

  “This arrived for you, my lord.” Goodwin walked across Arthur’s sitting room. He held out a folded page as he had many times before.

  Arthur put down the book he was trying to read. The words would not stick in his brain. His thoughts were whirling in too many other directions: the missing child; the six children found in the harbor; Cranny’s death and the duties Arthur had assumed in its aftermath; how he must ask Gwendolyn to be his wife. And most often, thoughts of Maris and how much he longed to hold her…just once, even though he knew once would not be enough.

  He saw the black wax sealing the page closed. After Gwendolyn took so long between messages last time, he should have guessed the next note would come soon. That often was the case, because information was carried to Cornwall by smugglers. They could sail only when the sea and wind allowed it.