With such bitter feelings, Abigail had taken to avoiding both of the gentlemen, though the task proved difficult in such close living quarters.
One morning, a few days later, Abigail rode for St. Just the moment she extinguished the lamps. She was relieved to be away from the lighthouse, if only to escape Uncle Ellis’s constant fawning over the captain—and Captain Kendricks’s constant gaze in her direction, as if he were watching to see what she needed help with next.
She meandered through the streets and visited a few shops before begrudgingly returning to her horse. The longer she put off her chores, the more she would have to see to later. Unless, of course, Captain Kendricks had already seen everything finished.
“Good morning, Miss Moore.”
Abigail recognized his deep voice before she even turned around to face him.
Captain Kendricks strode toward her, leading his dark horse behind him. At his side were the Causeys, a young, newly-wedded couple Abigail had known since childhood.
“How are you, Miss Moore?” Mrs. Causey asked first after curtseys and bows. Her blonde ringlets fluttered against her temples, and her dimples deepened as she beamed on the arm of her husband. The two had been married for nearly a year, and still, their glow remained.
“Fine, thank you,” Abigail responded. She glanced between the captain and the couple. “I did not know the three of you were acquainted.”
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Causey responded, “but only just. Captain Kendricks was kind enough to help Mr. Causey and I when our carriage became stuck in the mud a few days ago.”
“Because someone insisted on venturing forth in the middle of a storm,” Mr. Causey said with a wink in his wife’s direction.
“Please, Mr. Causey, you were just as anxious as I was to go out of doors.”
Abigail’s lip twitched. She had always liked the both of them. Their carefree nature and kindness made her feel more comfortable than most people in St. Just did.
“Well, we shall not keep you any longer, Miss Moore,” Mrs. Causey said. “Lovely to see you again, Captain Kendricks.”
The Causeys nodded in departure before ambling down the street, their heads close together, as if carrying on a secret conversation for only their ears to hear.
“Charming couple,” Captain Kendricks said.
Abigail turned to face him. “Yes, they are.”
They stood in silence for a moment, and Abigail fidgeted with the reins still in her hands.
“I did not know you were coming to St. Just today,” he said, “otherwise I would have waited to join you.”
“I was merely picking up an item for my uncle.” She turned around, stroking her horse’s roan neck in an effort to not look at the man. “And what manner of business brings you to town?”
“Just a friendly visit with Lieutenant Harris.” He moved a step closer. “We were discussing the latest news concerning the Sanders brothers.”
Abigail tried for indifference, but her interest was piqued. “Have their trials been set yet?”
Captain Kendricks explained that the younger brother would remain free thanks to the elder. “But Sanders’s trial will be within a week or two, when enough captains are in Penzance to hold the court martial.”
“Is Myles still upset with you?” she asked.
“Of course.” He stroked the bridge of his black horse’s nose. “But I do not blame him for his anger. After all, I am responsible for what is to happen to his brother.”
Abigail pulled in her chin, a bewildered look on her brow. “Both of them behaved freely, Captain. They knew what they were doing. I believe guilty men ought to take responsibility for their actions, but guilty, you are not.”
He studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Thank you, Miss Moore.” Their eyes met, and she looked away with discomfort before he spoke again. “Are you to return to Golowduyn now?”
She nodded silently.
“Might we return together then?”
Abigail chewed the inside of her lip. If she spent more time with the man, she might grow to like him—even more than she already did. And where would that leave her once he left? No, she would be better off protecting her heart and keeping the captain far enough away that he could not break down any of her walls.
But as she could hardly admit her plan to keep away from him, she had no option but to accept his offer.
“Yes,” she eventually said with a soft sigh, “that would be fine.”
He moved to her side at once, lacing his fingers together and leaning forward at the side of her horse. She stared blankly for a moment before realizing he was there to help her mount. She muttered a quick thank you before gingerly placing her foot in his hands. He effortlessly hoisted her up, and she situated herself as he moved around his own horse.
A voice called his name from nearby, and Abigail turned to see an approaching, open-top carriage slowly pulling to a stop in front of them. She noticed Captain Kendricks facing the mother and daughter sitting within, dressed in their finest, with eyes focused solely on him.
The Stedmans.
Months had passed since she’d had the misfortune of being near the both of them in town. If only she had left a moment sooner, she might have missed them altogether.
“Captain Kendricks,” Mrs. Stedman greeted.
Her daughter’s eyes focused on the captain unabashedly.
Abigail forced herself to appear unruffled, but even the mere voice of the woman wrapped icy arms around her middle, preventing her from drawing in a breath. How did they know each other? Captain Kendricks had spent each evening at the lighthouse, and nearly every moment each day, so how could he have found time to become acquainted with the women?
“Good morning,” he returned. “I trust you both are well.”
“Oh, exceptionally well, sir,” Miss Stedman responded with batting lashes. Her slow blinking reminded Abigail of the mouth of a fish she had caught the day before.
She wondered if Captain Kendricks noticed Miss Stedman’s shameless stares, or if he enjoyed the attention.
An uncomfortable burn settled in her chest.
“We are surprised to still see you here, Captain,” Mrs. Stedman said. “We were sure you would have left for your brother’s already.”
“No, but I will be in the next week or two, ma’am.”
“In that case, you must dine with us this evening.” Mrs. Stedman leaned forward. “You know, we have both been quite anxious to look after your well-being ever since meeting you while visiting Mrs. Rennalls.”
Of course. Captain Kendricks would have had his wound tended to by Mr. Rennalls, the physician. And if there was one thing Abigail knew about Mr. Rennalls—it was that he had the most gossip-mongering woman in St. Just for a wife.
“Thank you for the offer, Mrs. Stedman,” he said. “But I have already promised myself at the Moores this evening. Another time, perhaps.”
The Stedmans finally focused on Abigail. She wondered if they had been ignoring her on purpose or if they truly had not noticed her sitting directly behind Captain Kendricks.
“Oh, Miss Moore, lovely to see you,” Mrs. Stedman said. “I hope your uncle is in good health.”
There was nothing Abigail disliked more than rehearsing pleasantries with people she did not wish to speak to.
Especially the Stedmans.
“He is, ma’am.”
The brightness in Mrs. Stedman’s eyes faded. She turned to Captain Kendricks. “How do you find your stay at the lighthouse, sir?”
“Very enjoyable. So much so that I quite dread having to leave.”
Abigail knew he answered politely, but she could not deny the satisfaction that swelled within her at the disappointed look on Mrs. Stedman’s face.
“Lovely,” the woman murmured. “Oh, Miss Moore, I heard that you have been unable to hire a serving girl still. You must be positively exhausted taking on all that menial labor yourself. Poor girl. You really must allow me to help. I’m sure I could fin
d someone willing to work for what little pay you are able to offer.”
The indignation swirling within Abigail scorched her insides. She glanced to Captain Kendricks, who appeared unaware of Mrs. Stedman’s veiled slight as they awaited Abigail’s reply.
For some reason, his ignorance was what bothered her the most.
“Thank you, Mrs. Stedman,” she said, sweeter than even the woman herself had managed, “but as always, we are not in need of your help. Or have you forgotten my uncle telling you the same many years ago?”
Mrs. Stedman’s brown eyes hardened, but Abigail hardly took notice as she urged Glastaish forward into a trot down the street. She told herself she did not care if Captain Kendricks joined her. If he enjoyed the company of the Stedmans, he was not the man she thought he was.
Moments later, however, reaching the outskirts of town, he caught up with her. “Miss Moore? Are you all right?”
Abigail glanced at him sidelong. He sat tall and sure on his steed. His jaw was shadowed in whiskers. He must not have had time to shave that morning before leaving for St. Just. Not that she minded. It gave him more of a rugged look, something she quite liked.
She tore her gaze away. How had she allowed her thoughts to stray to such a thing?
“Of course I am well. Why would you think differently?”
Glastaish shook her head. The reins jingled as Captain Kendricks spoke. “Because of your abrupt departure from the Stedmans. Did they say something to upset you?”
“No.”
He eyed her in apparent disbelief. “After you left, she asked me to extend an invitation for you and Mr. Moore to dine with her next week at Pryvly House.”
“How very generous,” Abigail said.
She knew the invitation was meant to show the captain how very kind Mrs. Stedman was, but he clearly could not see it.
“Will you accept the invitation?” he asked.
“No. I will not.”
“May I ask why?”
She sighed. Perhaps she would be better off explaining. With any luck, his questions might cease then. “Because…there is a rather unpleasant history between our families.”
Captain Kendricks waited, curiosity clear in his dark eyes.
“When the lighthouse was first built,” she began, “and we were newly arrived in Cornwall, Mrs. Stedman pursued my uncle.”
His eyebrows raised in surprise. “I see.”
“Her husband had died two years prior,” she continued, “and as Uncle was wealthy and considered quite handsome when he was younger, naturally, he caught her eye.”
“What happened between them?”
“My uncle humored her calls for weeks. She often hinted that I needed a mother figure if I had any hope of becoming as beautiful as her own daughter. Fortunately, Uncle told her he had no interest in marrying anyone. She was obviously offended, and her visits ended.”
“Understandably,” Captain Kendricks said. “Is she trying to make amends, do you think, by inviting you both to dinner? Accepting would certainly be a way to mend the gap between your two families.”
Abigail pulled her horse to a stop. “You think that is what she does by extending her invitation?”
He shrugged, stopping his horse, as well. “Her kindness could hardly be misconstrued. It would be rather unfeeling of you to deny the invitation.”
His tone was innocent enough, but his words sickened her.
“Unfeeling of me?” she questioned. “Her kindness? I suggest you do not speak your opinion on matters of which you know nothing, sir.”
“Well, has she been unkind to you?”
“Of course she has,” she answered. “She has taken a marked dislike to me ever since Uncle refused her. The rumors she has spread about the both of us are…”
She ended with an aggravated sigh. Why should she share more about their past when he would believe the Stedmans’ words over hers anyway? They were far more refined than a lowly lighthouse keeper’s niece. Of course he would take their side.
“Miss Moore, I did not mean to upset you, I only meant to—”
“I know precisely what you meant to do, Captain Kendricks,” she said, nearly baring her teeth. “You meant to bring our families together. You meant to help. But as you have not learned this lesson yet, allow me to inform you plainly. Meddling in the affairs of others only makes matters worse for all involved. If you would be so kind, sir, my relationship with the Stedmans is none of your concern.”
Her words were harsh, but his suggestion that she was at fault—not the Stedmans—for the deterioration of their relationship caused a stinging in her soul she could not subdue.
With a short shout for her horse to ride on, she left Captain Kendricks behind, willing herself to think no longer on the man calling after her, or the painful memories his words had produced.
* * *
That evening, Abigail slammed doors, stomped from room to room, and refused to respond in anything more than a grunt and a scowl when spoken to. She did not care if the men thought she behaved poorly. She had treated the captain, and her uncle, with kindness from the very beginning. What was it all for if Uncle Ellis did not notice and Captain Kendricks called her unfeeling?
After lighting the lamps, she went straight to bed, pouting in her room as she heard the hum of their voices coming from the sitting room until well after dark. Her uncle never remained awake with her to speak for hours on end. What were they both speaking about—apart from the captain’s many accomplishments?
She folded her arms, staring at the ceiling. She imagined Captain Kendricks telling her uncle that Abigail could no longer manage the lighthouse on her own. Her uncle would no doubt agree. Perhaps he had been planning all along to replace her with the better-suited captain so that Uncle Ellis might retire, and she would be forced to assume more ladylike pursuits.
Her insides churned at the thought.
Only after the first refilling did Abigail finally fall asleep. She dreamt that Captain Kendricks had married Miss Stedman. After they both moved into the lighthouse, there was no room left for her, so Uncle Ellis sent Abigail to live in the stables, where she shoveled manure for the rest of her days.
She awoke with a groggy mind, feeling even worse than before. After retrieving the oil, she padded up the stairs.
She knew her musings were silly, and her dreams even more so, but Uncle Ellis’s doting attention on Captain Kendricks only magnified her insecurities.
With a heavy heart, she entered the watch room, but she paused when she heard the familiar clang of an empty pail coming from the lamp room.
“Uncle?”
Guilt lurched in her chest. She had been utterly thoughtless that evening. Uncle Ellis had clearly heard her petulantly tramping about earlier and had decided to fill the lamps now to ease her burden.
She imagined the pain he must have felt when climbing the steps, to have made it up with the oil, and her heart twisted. But when she saw two black boots descending the steps instead of her uncle’s worn brown ones, her mouth went dry.
The captain’s face came into view. His mouth parted, but he made no sound.
“Captain Kendricks,” she began, confusion settling upon her brow. “What are you doing?”
Her eyes traveled down the length of his loose, untucked shirt and rolled up sleeves before focusing on the empty pail in his hands—the sides still glistening with residual oil.
Her tone dropped. “What are you doing?” she asked again.
Captain Kendricks took a step toward her, holding up his free hand, as if to tame a wild animal. Her frustration grew.
“I was only trying to help, Miss Moore. Your—”
“Help?”
Her words came out in a squeak. Logic blurred as rage rose. Everything from the few days before crashed down upon her—exhaustion from her lack of sleep, anger from her interaction with the Stedmans, diffidence from the captain’s flowering relationship with her uncle. She couldn’t handle it any longer. She couldn’t han
dle any of it.
“How are you helping, Captain?” Her nostrils flared, and her lips thinned as she spoke. “I have tried greatly to keep quiet about your incessant need to cast your aid about while you are here, but tonight? You have gone too far, sir.”
“If you will only allow me to explain, I—”
“No.” She placed her pail of oil on the ground, unable to trust her trembling hands to keep their grip. “You do not have the right to be here. The keeping of this lighthouse is not a game, in which anyone can play the part of keeper, no matter how well-intentioned. There are lives at stake. You of all people should know that.”
His brow lowered. “I do not consider the safety of this lighthouse, nor my fellow comrades in the Royal Navy, a game to be played.”
“Your cavalier behavior would suggest otherwise. After all, you are not trained to refill the lamps. You are not qualified.”
“I am well aware, however, your uncle—”
“My uncle would be appalled to find you up here!”
He took a step toward her. “No, we—”
“What?” she interrupted. “You what?”
Dark thoughts surfaced, worries from before escalating until she could no longer keep herself from revealing the fears she had buried deep within her heart.
“Of course,” she said, her voice slow and steady, venom dripping from each word. “This is what you must have planned all along. Your clear interest in the lighthouse, your camaraderie with Uncle Ellis. You showed him how supportive and kind you were to his helpless, struggling niece. All of this was to show him how much better you are than me. All of this was to take my place here.”
He drew back with a look of disbelief. “That is not what—”
“Yes, it is. You intend to find purpose in running my lighthouse, to push me out so you might fill the days of your naval retirement with something more satisfying. What other reason have you to be up here other than to prove to my uncle that you are more capable than his own niece in looking after Golowduyn?”
He stared at her, aghast. “I cannot believe you are in earnest.”
Blood rushed in her ears. She could hardly hear him. She could hardly think. “I want you to leave Golowduyn, Captain. I want you gone by morning, and I do not ever wish to see you here again.”
Behind the Light of Golowduyn (A Cornish Romance Book 1) Page 8
