The result was an uncomfortable cross between a grin and a grimace.
“My compliments to your cook,” said Sophia. “The star-gazy pie was the best I’ve had since returning to England.”
The innkeeper blinked rapidly, her words clearly breaking his train of thought.
“Thank ye, ma’am. ’Tis me ma’s recipe, God rest her soul, and now my wife makes it.”
Kit jumped in, calling the man’s attention back to him. “So you and your family have lived in Ponsnowyth for a while?”
“Nigh on seven generations,” he said proudly before dropping himself uninvited onto a spare chair. “I’m William Trellow; most folks call me Will. My ma and pa ran the Angler’s Arms before me.”
William Trellow was not subtle. The man was guileless and wore his curiosity openly. There was something in it that set Kit at ease. He offered his own name.
“I’m Kit Hardacre, and this is my wife, Sophia.”
Sophia inclined her head but Will never even looked her way. The man just stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed at Kit.
“Hardacre? Ye wouldn’t be a relative of Adam Hardacre would ye?”
Ah-ha! Adam – a name he hadn’t seen on the gravestones.
“The chances are almost certain,” Kit replied. He took another sip of the warm spiced wine and watched Will Trellow process that fact.
“I thought ye were, right from the very minute ye walked in! I said to Elena ye looked like our Adam Hardacre; the spitting image of him. Are ye visiting for Christmas?”
Kit smiled politely; only Sophia would know his expression masked caution. “You could say that, although Adam and I have never met.”
Chapter Six
“Have you decided what you’re going to do?”
Sophia lay on the bed in the Calliope’s master cabin. She lay with her eyes closed while he paced up and down the room.
“Did you want to go?”
“Oh no, Christopher John Hardacre, you’re not putting this back on to me. This has got to be your decision.”
He pulled a face, and, although her eyes were closed, Sophia grinned as though she could see him.
“You’ve faced down marauding pirates, sailed through violent storms, rescued women from harems, and blown up more ships than I can count,” she continued. “What is it that you’re really afraid of?”
“Maybe I won’t like him… maybe he won’t like me…”
Sophia opened her eyes and propped herself up on the pillows. “Do you think Sir Daniel and Lady Abigail would invite us to spend Christmas under the same roof as Adam and Olivia Hardacre if they didn’t think we’d all get along?”
“I hate the fact that we don’t have a choice in the matter. If I refuse, I lose the chance to find out more about my mother. If I accept, then we spend Christmas with a bunch of strangers. Frankly, Lady Abigail could teach Morwena a thing or two about manipulating people.”
Kit didn’t hear Sophia leave the bed until he felt her hand on his shoulder. “I know,” she said softly. “It’s been quite a strange turn of events these past few weeks. If Elias was here, he’d tell you it was a sign from above. A Christmas miracle.”
He picked up her hand and kissed it before drawing Sophia into his arms.
“I have my miracle,” he whispered. “I have you. I don’t dare ask for more than that.”
Her arms tightened around him. Kit swallowed against the lump in his throat. If they sailed, he could lose himself in the wind and the waves – the unpredictable natural elements were always a safer bet than the unpredictable natures of people.
He drew himself up. Lady Abigail’s invitation had taken him by surprise, but the reality was he couldn’t run away. His crew was at liberty until the middle of January. And he wanted to ensure Sophia was completely well before they set sail for home.
“We’ll go,” he whispered. “We’ll go and see what happens.”
In a deepening embrace, Sophia’s shoulder shook. He thought she was cold, but one look at her face revealed she was holding back a fit of the giggles.
“What are you laughing at?” he demanded.
“I’m just so relieved we’re not spending Christmas with Cousin Samuel.”
The thought of avoiding that brought a smile to his face.
“It puts things in perspective. Christmas with a wine-soaked worm or a bunch of strangers, one of whom is supposed to be my long-lost father. It’s a tough choice.”
*
Olivia waved the newly-arrived note. “They’ve accepted.”
Adam didn’t take the letter. He didn’t need to read it, and he didn’t need to be told who they were.
He was a man who had risked death among Napoleon’s spies yet he felt nervous at this prospect. What would they talk about? Would they simply look at one another, shake hands as strangers, and part with no more connection than that?
For the first time, he was rather happy to be spending time at Bishop’s Wood, the Ridgeways’ sixteen-room country house just outside Truro. There would be plenty of places to avoid one another.
“We’ll have to get them something to open on Christmas Day and…”
Adam experienced a twang of guilt for not listening to his wife as she talked, but all he could think of was imagining how bad the first meeting with his son might be. The churning in his gut was of the kind he felt when he was first rejected for his rightful promotion by the Naval Board.
The thought of being rejected by his own son would be so much worse.
“Father, are you not looking forward to Christmas? You’ve been in a mope all day.”
Little Charlotte stood before him, her hazel eyes large and questioning, her pale hair covered by the hood of the moss green cloak she wore.
How did he get here in the front hall, surrounded by luggage? Behind him, Adam suddenly heard Olivia and Julia chatting together as they came down the stairs.
Then the front door opened. Cold, salty air swirled in. The steady clop-clop of their two horses in harness approached.
And Charlotte still looked up at him, a little frown now furrowing her brows.
Life, love, and warmth flooded into him. He scooped Charlotte into his arms and held her tight. His daughter giggled and squeezed him tightly in return.
“I’m sorry, sweetness,” he whispered, “I promise not to be in a mope. We’ll have a lovely Christmas with Aunty Abigail and Uncle Daniel, and we’ll make some new friends.”
Hearing Saunders shoulder the first of their small trunks, Adam put Charlotte down and offered a wan smile to Olivia before picking up another of the trunks. If he were a gentleman, he would leave the work to his servants, but he wasn’t. He knew enough to play the part, but he was a working man at his core. If there was a job to be done, then he would roll up his sleeves and do it.
“Is someone else joining us at Aunt and Uncle’s for Christmas?” asked Julia as their laden carriage lurched into motion.
Adam and Olivia shared a look. He knew his wife so well to know her expression meant she would support his choice as to how much he told his daughters.
“Lady Abigail has invited some new friends to join us,” he began. “As coincidence would have it, they have the same surname as us.”
Both Julia and Charlotte wore matching expressions of surprise.
“Are we related?” asked Charlotte.
“We would almost certainly be,” said Julia with authority.
Charlotte was nearly squirming with delight.
“But a very, very distant one I would expect,” her sister continued. “I think if we didn’t know about them, they couldn’t be any more than very, very distant cousins. Isn’t that right, Papa?”
The look of Charlotte’s disappointment might have been amusing, except Adam found he’d held his breath and couldn’t release it. Thank God for Olivia.
“Well, we won’t know until we meet them,” she said.
“What are their names?” Charlotte asked, her enthusiasm quickly restored as only a child’s
could be.
Adam silently pleaded with his wife to answer in his stead.
“His name is Christopher and his wife’s name is Sophia. He’s a sea captain who lives in Sicily. Do you remember where Sicily is? We looked it up on a big map when we were naming the countries of the world.”
“We’ve been there!” announced Charlotte.
“No, that’s the Scilly Isles,” said Julia. “Sicily is a big island off the Italian peninsula, isn’t that right, Maman?”
“Well done, Julia, that is correct.”
Adam found he was able to breathe again. He even found enough in him to smile. Even after all these years, Olivia was still a governess and teacher at heart. Over the years she had taught him much to make up for his own lack of formal schooling.
“Have you sailed to Sicily, Papa?” said Julia.
“No, my ship the Andromeda sailed all the way to the Americas.”
“You and Captain Christopher will have a lot to talk about, won’t you?” chimed in Charlotte.
Adam simply nodded his head.
Plenty to talk about? Oh, pumpkin, more than you know. More than you can possibly know.
Chapter Seven
Kit squirmed uncomfortably on the heavily-padded leather seats in the liveried coach Sir Daniel Ridgeway had sent for them. He watched the view through the pane of glass Sophia insisted remain uncovered on their fifteen-mile journey from Falmouth to the outskirts of Truro.
He marked their journey by the water – alongside the wide mouth of the Penryn River, along the road that followed the River Kennall for quite some miles, then acre upon acre of farmland before crossing the Carnon River, a water crossing downstream of a mill on a tributary of Calenick Creek, and finally crossing over the Truro River.
At last, the carriage slowed and squeezed through a stone archway that opened up to a wide gravel drive and sweeping lawns designed to showcase the house which was the jewel at the center of Bishop’s Wood.
The Georgian manor house – with its regimented symmetry – was a sight to behold. It reminded Kit of the jauntily-colored terrace houses on the Packet Quays, except this was larger and grander by far.
Rendered in cream – in contrast to the blue-grey stone of many great buildings they had passed, this house gleamed, although the day was now overcast.
“Well, one thing is for certain, Morwena will certainly be pressing for more trade with the Ridgeways,” said Sophia.
“Can you imagine how many unfortunates and orphans Elias would house if his villa and estate was as big as this one?” Kit added.
He would be pleased to be out of the carriage. The drive may not have been too far, but he was getting a better understanding of how some of the Calliope’s passengers felt when they suffered a bout of mal de mer.
Kit knew full well, however, it was not the travel that caused his stomach to effervesce.
As soon as the carriage came to a halt, three footmen led by a butler emerged from the house. The liveried men swarmed over the carriage and retrieved the trunks without a moment’s hesitation or instruction; the butler discreetly drew attention to himself.
He was an imposing man, as wide as he was tall, with black hair not yet turned grey. The air of brisk energy about him gave the impression that managing a dozen different tasks at once was his specialty.
“Welcome to Bishop’s Wood,” he said. “I am Musgrave and at your service. Sir Daniel and Lady Abigail would like to welcome you in the drawing room, where you might warm yourselves after your journey.”
The drawing room was a large but cheerful place, the cold of the decorative marble offset by the walls painted in warm and sunny colors of reds, oranges and yellows. Indeed, a still life of a bowl of potted marigolds held a prominent place on a wall.
“Captain and Mrs. Hardacre! It’s a delight to see you again,” Lady Abigail greeted them with the over the top theatrical manner she had used in London.
Good. That was familiar to Kit, and he could wield the same weapon just as effectively. If nothing else, an evening’s entertainment with ever grander hyperbole and one-upmanship between him and his hostess should amuse.
Kit accepted her proffered hand and made the sound of a kiss over her wrist, making sure he kept an eye on his host. Some men took exception even to such obviously harmless flirtations with their wives, but Sir Daniel seemed to find the whole thing rather droll.
“You do us an honor inviting us into your home for Christmas, My Lady,” said Kit, “although I’m surprised you would not find Christmas in the country dull compared to the abundance of entertainments to be found in London.”
“I’m sure we’ll find plenty to amuse us here.”
Sir Daniel stepped in.
“Good to see you again, Captain,” he said. “Please, be seated.”
Sophia took a seat by the fire; Ridgeway and Lady Abigail occupied the gold velvet love seat together. Kit elected to remain standing at Sophia’s side.
Ridgeway cleared his throat. “There is a tale to tell, Captain Hardacre,” he began. “It is a story of a remarkable coincidence and I hope when I’ve finished telling it, that you won’t think too harshly of my wife’s actions. Are you prepared to listen?”
*
The wing of Bishop’s Wood where Adam and his family were placed was like a separate apartment. Separating the main bedroom from their daughters’ bedroom was a sitting room. Cream couches with cushions embroidered with pink roses stood on either side of an octagonal oak table. A dozen of real pink blooms stood in a bowl in the middle of the table.
The room was just as cozy as home with its own fire and a view out over the formal gardens and the woods beyond.
Around him were the domestic sounds of his wife and daughters making themselves at home – Olivia unpacked while the girls found a game of nine men’s morris to amuse themselves.
He’d seen Abigail and Daniel’s carriage return and caught a quick glimpse of Christopher Hardacre, although from beneath his hat and heavy overcoat, there appeared nothing remarkable, except a cane in one hand.
He seemed able to enough to help his wife down from the conveyance.
Did the Ridgeways mention a limp? He couldn’t recall. Or was the cane an affectation?
He heard a knock at the door and through the reflection in the glass, he saw Musgrave fill the doorway and the peak of a maid’s white cap behind him. Adam turned.
“Begging your pardon, sir, Sir Daniel requests the company of you and Mrs. Hardacre in the Marigold Room. This maid is Amy and My Lady has instructed her to attend to your young misses.”
The maid bobbed a curtsy.
Olivia emerged from their daughters’ room and self-consciously touched a hand to her hair.
“Thank you, Musgrave, we’ll be right down,” said Adam. He paused while Olivia reviewed her reflection in an oval wall mirror.
“Will they like us, do you think?” she asked.
“The captain and his wife will love you,” he assured her. “Who could not? But me on the other hand…”
Olivia turned from the mirror, caught his hand and squeezed it.
“Let’s see how far the apple has fallen from the tree.”
They followed Musgrave. Adam listened to the sounds of conversation from the room as they approached. The tone was congenial – so far so good.
“Captain and Mrs. Hardacre,” Musgrave announced.
“Two Captain Hardacres and two Mrs. Hardacres… that’s going to be a recipe for confusion, don’t you think?”
Adam turned to the speaker. The young man with longish blond hair grinned sardonically.
“Oh, Kit,” breathed the attractive, dark-haired young woman sitting on a chair at his side.
Adam felt Olivia at his shoulder and welcomed her presence as he regarded Christopher Hardacre. Hazel eyes, just like his, looked back at him. They were about the same height, although the young man had a slightly leaner build.
Daniel rose to his feet and formally introduced them, but a gulf as
wide as the ocean still stood between them. Adam moved first and held out his hand in greeting.
“Perhaps you’d better call me Adam.”
The young man hesitated a moment then clasped his hand firmly.
“Call me Kit. No one calls me Christopher.”
Now Abigail rose to her feet. “Shall we take a turn about the grounds? We keep country hours here, especially in winter. Dinner will be at six o’clock. That still gives us a few of hours of daylight to enjoy.”
She turned to Sophia and extended her hand. Kit’s wife rose to her feet, her hand in Lady Abigail’s.
“Olivia, did you know that Sophia is an accomplished academic? Something to do with ancient civilizations and ruins, but I know she’ll explain it better,” Abigail said, reaching out her other hand to take Olivia’s. “Since you are a teacher yourself, I know you’ll become fast friends.”
Lady Abigail nodded to the gentlemen, but gave a lingering look to her husband before shepherding her charges toward the door. “Let’s go out by the orangery. Our gardener has been very clever in getting orchards to bloom even in winter. I’m afraid it’s a rather profligate indulgence, but I can assure you it’s one of my few remaining vices.”
Daniel shook his head indulgently then sobered. “Gentlemen, shall we fortify ourselves?”
Without waiting for an acceptance, he splashed a double measure of brandy into three glasses and pressed one each into his guests’ hands.
“A toast: that the frost remains only outdoors and not inside the house.”
Chapter Eight
“Captain… yet you rose up through the ranks,” said Kit. “Saw the tattoo on your hand.”
Adam looked down at it. It had been an indelible part of him since he was twenty. Most of the time he forgot it was even there. But it wasn’t always that way. The crossed anchors on the web of his right thumb had barred as many doors as they had opened.
“Royal Navy for twenty years – never got promoted above Bosun because I didn’t have the right connections,” he answered. “Captain is an honorary title…” Adam took a sidelong glance at Daniel. “… for services rendered to the Crown.”
Father's Day (The King's Rogues Book 2) Page 4
