Behind The Light 0f Golowduyn (A Cornish Romance Book 1)

by Deborah M. Hathaway

  Mrs. Stedman extending the invitation to Gavin—after already knowing of Abigail’s refusal—was nothing more than the woman’s attempt to draw closer to Gavin.

  The woman was a snake.

  “Well,” Gavin began, apparently unaware of the anger raging in her soul, “now that Golowduyn has passed the inspection, might you reconsider your answer? Lieutenant Harris will be more than capable. We could leave and return before the first refilling. And if it storms, of course, we could remain here.”

  Abigail could not understand his desire to go. Did he not recall the fact that Mrs. Stedman had spread rumors about the Moores? She toyed with the idea of telling Gavin Mrs. Stedman’s current plan—to have her daughter destroy his marriage—but she suppressed the idea at once. To say such a thing aloud would be humiliating.

  “So would you like to attend?” Gavin asked.

  “Thank you, but I would rather not.”

  He paused. “Because it is a dinner party?”

  “Because the Stedmans are hosting,” she clarified. “If you knew what they…”

  She shook her head. She could say nothing further. She was too afraid. Afraid of leaving the lighthouse when the lamps needed looking after, afraid of confronting the Stedmans, afraid of being made a fool in front of them. Again.

  And Gavin. She was afraid of disappointing Gavin.

  She was well aware of who she was, where she had come from—and how she could not compare to the fine women in Society. But what would happen when Gavin discovered the same? Would he realize his mistake and long for a grander life, and a finer wife? She knew he would not leave her. He was too honorable for that. But could she bear to be with him if she knew he regretted his decision to marry her?

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Abigail,” Gavin said, breaking up her thoughts, “Mrs. Stedman seems to have moved past what occurred between your two families. She may not have behaved perfectly long ago, but perhaps she is wishing to make amends. Perhaps she has changed. Can you not?”

  A flame ignited in her soul. She took a step toward him, her brow low. “In regard to the Stedmans, no, I cannot change. I will not change. You may attend if you so wish. But I will not step foot in Pryvly House again.”

  “Again?”

  She ground her teeth together. She would not explain herself. Not after the last time Gavin had simply brushed aside her words about the Stedmans.

  She turned away from him and focused instead on the curtain in her hands, refusing to say another word.

  After a moment, his retreating footsteps reached her ears—as well as his sigh. And when he left the house, closing the door behind him, her shoulders slumped forward.

  She looked to the empty doorway with a sigh of her own before her eyes fell upon the packages still resting on the settee.

  She chewed at her bottom lip, eying the top package once again. Should she not wait to open it, for when she was in a better mood? Or perhaps the item within would be just the thing to put her in a better mood.

  Dropping the curtain on the side chair, she reached for the package and unwrapped it. At the sight of the gift, she winced.

  A brand-new book. A collection of poetry, bound in red leather with thick, cream-colored pages.

  She recalled the first time she had shown Gavin around the lamp room. He must have recalled her wish to receive a new book.

  She clutched the book to her chest and marched through the house, swinging open the front door with a great sigh. Her eyes immediately focused on Gavin as he hammered at the paddock fence. Lieutenant Harris propped the wood up with one arm and his waist.

  “Very well,” she called out. Both men looked up to her in surprise. “I will go with you to Pryvly House.”

  Gavin’s eyes dropped to the book she held. “Are you certain?”

  She pulled her lips close together and nodded. Gavin’s eyes wrinkled at the sides as he exchanged a glance with Lieutenant Harris. But before Gavin could say a word in response, she turned around and vanished back into the house.

  Chapter Nine

  “It certainly is nice to see you in a different gown, Abigail. You look lovely.”

  Abigail could hear the sincerity in Gavin’s tone, but she brushed his compliment aside. After all, he would hardly think she looked lovely when they arrived at Pryvly House and he was reminded what a true lady looked like.

  They walked across the countryside, heading in the direction of the Stedmans’ home. Gavin had offered to rent a carriage—they were still waiting on the one he had commissioned when they were first married—but Abigail had insisted on walking, hoping it would calm her nerves.

  It didn’t.

  She looked down at her soft yellow gown. Embroidered golden flowers trimmed the bottom of her skirts and around her sleeves, and a dark yellow ribbon was tied beneath her bodice. It was in no way excessive, nor was it very fine, but Gavin had assured her the gown was perfect for a dinner party.

  She only prayed she would not draw too much attention to herself, as she had the first time she’d worn finery, the first time she’d been to Pryvly House. When she was a young girl, she had attended a party to celebrate Miss Stedman’s birthday. They accused her of dressing above her station, of attempting to be someone she would never be.

  Of course, such a thing would not happen again, now Abigail was a grown woman. She would not allow it.

  In an attempt to distract herself from the leaded feeling in her feet, she focused on the scenery in the evening’s golden light. Sparrows flew from tree to tree. Puddles lined the drying pathway they walked on—evidence of the storm they’d had the day before. If only the rain would have lasted through tonight. Then she could have stayed home.

  “Are you worried about leaving Golowduyn?” Gavin asked.

  Abigail had been so wrapped up in her thoughts, she’d nearly forgotten she walked beside him. “Not terribly.”

  In truth, that was the one thing she was not overly concerned about. They had already lit the lamps and would return before they needed refilling, and Abigail was certain she and Gavin had been thorough enough with their instructions to Lieutenant Harris.

  “I trust the lieutenant,” she said. “And I don’t imagine anything will happen to the lighthouse in a few simple hours.”

  “You are handling it far better than I expected, I must admit. So, if leaving the lighthouse does not trouble you, what causes the look of discomfort upon your brow?”

  She removed the creases from her forehead and forced a smile. “Nothing, I assure you.”

  He regarded her curiously, but she ignored him, looking ahead as Pryvly House finally came into view.

  The mere sight of it made her insides harden, as if she prepared for a direct strike to her stomach. She had not been inside since she was a child. And she had truly hoped to never return.

  Three stories tall, Pryvly House rested neatly on the highest section of a small hill. Red brick spread out across the structure in between countless windows stretched tall and thin. The grounds matched the house with immaculate care—the grass neatly trimmed and curved hedges making for a lovely image in the garden. A large pond filled the area to the left of the house, and a decorative statue stood in the center—a goddess in flowing robes. Mrs. Stedman had clearly enjoyed spending the money she had been left with after her husband’s death.

  As they finally reached the daunting house, Abigail’s nerves weakened her limbs. She clung to Gavin’s jacket sleeve, praying to glean some of his own strength to use for herself.

  When she was younger, she had attended local gatherings on Tregalwen Beach—a white, sandy shore located south of Golowduyn—at her uncle’s insistence. She had always remained close to his side, hardly speaking to anyone, until she finally managed to escape back home.

  Would Gavin mind terribly if she did the same with him, remained at his side the entire evening? Perhaps he wouldn’t, if she tried to remain until the rest of the party dispersed.

  She reminded herself not to cower
, that she was attending for the sake of her husband, who had already done so much for her. But as the footman answered the door and led them through the familiar house, bringing them to the drawing room, her courage vanished.

  She stepped over the threshold and willed herself to remain unintimidated by the grand room, though her eyes roved over the décor.

  It had been redecorated since she was last there. Cream paneling lined the walls. The long, floral curtains were tied open to allow the glowing light from outside to soften the room. Paintings of family members in their gilded frames covered nearly the entire east wall.

  Abigail clutched her hands together in front of her. Though she felt out of place, she raised her chin. No matter the eyes around the room darting away from her, unwilling to make eye contact—just another brand of judgment—she would not cower. She would not shrink.

  “Captain, Mrs. Kendricks, welcome to our humble home.”

  They turned to face Mrs. Stedman, who walked toward them with open arms. “I was so pleased to receive your note, saying you would join us after all. Do come in.”

  Abigail struggled not to stare. If she did not know any better, she would have thought the woman had changed. Mrs. Stedman’s sincere smile reached out to both Gavin and Abigail, and her eyes shone brightly.

  But Abigail knew the truth. Mrs. Stedman had been perfectly clear outside the door of Golowduyn. And Abigail would never forget the words she had overheard.

  “What a lovely new gown, Mrs. Kendricks,” the woman said. “I trust you did the needlework yourself?”

  Abigail stiffened. There she was, the true Mrs. Stedman. Though, she spoke so sweetly, Abigail was sure Gavin would not notice the reproach. Just like before. “No, I ordered it from Mrs. Follett’s.”

  “Oh, of course. I forget you would be allowed such delicacies now.” Mrs. Stedman glanced to Gavin with a knowing look. “Well I do hope you will not feel too overwhelmed here, Mrs. Kendricks. I understand a young woman’s first dinner party can be quite unnerving. You must ask my daughter if you are in need of guidance. After all, she has been attending them for years now.” She looked over her shoulder and motioned her daughter closer.

  Miss Stedman, who had been standing nearby, floated toward them in a delicate, puce gown that flowed with every movement she made. Her dark hair was pinned up in an elegant twist. She curtsied first to Abigail—who struggled to return the gesture willingly—before facing Gavin.

  “Captain Kendricks, you look well this evening.”

  The young woman was no more than nineteen years of age, and yet, Abigail felt like a child around her poised elegance. She cursed her choice to wear her simple, yellow gown. She should have chosen something nicer. By not drawing attention to herself, she was certain to inadvertently drive her husband’s attention elsewhere.

  “Thank you, Miss Stedman,” Gavin responded. “As do you.”

  Miss Stedman’s dimples deepened, and a pink blush tinted her otherwise snowy-white cheeks.

  Abigail scratched unconsciously at the freckles dotting her nose.

  She had hoped the girl would have said no to her mother’s scheming. But it was clear that Miss Stedman would vie for Gavin’s attention whether he was married or not.

  But Gavin would not fall for her charms…would he? Doubt poured into the cracks already forming in Abigail’s confidence. He had already taken more notice of the beautiful young woman than his dowdy wife, had he not?

  But when Abigail looked up at him, she was surprised to see him staring down at her with an encouraging smile. She was struck again with how handsome he was. His high collar and dark dinner jacket, his confident stance and easy countenance, made clear one thing—Gavin was born for such parties and elegant company.

  And Abigail was not.

  “We are fewer in numbers today, as you can see,” Mrs. Stedman said, breaking into her thoughts. “The Madderns are not feeling well, this evening, and the Rosewalls are in London, I believe. We are happy our numbers are not so very few with you in attendance, though.”

  Abigail glanced around the room.

  The physician, Mr. Rennalls, and his considerably younger wife stood in the corner of the room, speaking with the Biddles, a droll expression on both the vicar’s face and his wife’s. Nearby was Mr. Burke—a single gentleman who had just taken over his father’s estate nearby, and the Summerfields, Mrs. Causey’s grandparents. The short, elderly couple had always been kind to Abigail and her uncle, just like their granddaughter.

  Abigail was certain Uncle Ellis had dined at one point or another with each person in attendance, all before he was injured—all while she had watched over the lighthouse.

  She had always wondered what it would be like if she and her uncle had switched places. If she had attended the parties and he saw to the lighthouse. Now she knew. She was far more comfortable in the safety of Golowduyn.

  As Abigail observed the others in the room, Mrs. Stedman prattled on about what to expect for the rest of the evening.

  “The food selection we have is divine, as I’m sure you’ll agree, Captain Kendricks, and then we shall hear my daughter sing and play the pianoforte, a most remarkable talent.”

  Finally dinner was announced.

  The guests filed into the dining room and sat around the table. Abigail moved to the far end, her eyes upon the spread. Shining silverware, smooth tabletops, glass goblets—it was all rather impressive. But she longed for her humble kitchen, with a modest fire roasting a pheasant that warmed the house with its aroma.

  She looked to the other end of the table. Gavin was situated on the opposite side of her, seated right next to Miss Stedman.

  Abigail cringed. She hardly touched her bowl of soup during the first course. Her eyes continually darted around the table, wondering what judgments were being made about the lighthouse keeper seated in the midst of them. But most of the guests seemed too occupied with the food and conversation to take much notice of her at all.

  She contemplated sidling out of her chair and creeping from the room, but Gavin would notice. He’d hardly removed his eyes from her the entire meal, though she had only seen so from the corner of her eye. She couldn’t look directly at him, for she would see Miss Stedman, as well. And then Abigail would have to acknowledge how well the young woman’s finery matched with Gavin’s.

  When the second course began, the conversation finally shifted from Mrs. Stedman’s continual doting of her daughter to the lighthouse, and Abigail’s eyes darted toward Gavin.

  “Is it true you have hired an assistant keeper, Captain?” Mr. Summerfield asked, seated directly across from Abigail.

  “We have,” Gavin responded. “He was my first lieutenant aboard the Valour. He suits the task very well, does he not, Mrs. Kendricks?”

  All eyes fell on Abigail, and she peered down at the small portions she’d placed upon her plate. Of course Gavin would try to include her. But did he not realize she was just fine being invisible? “Yes, he does.”

  “That is fine news,” Mrs. Summerfield said, seated further down the table on Abigail’s side. Her cheerful voice sounded much like Mrs. Causey’s, only older. “I do hope this means we will see more of the both of you.”

  Her eyes nearly disappeared as she smiled warmly at Abigail, and Abigail’s discomfort eased, if only slightly.

  “Do you enjoy reading much, Captain?” Mrs. Stedman asked in a lowered voice. She was clearly attempting to create a more intimate conversation between those at the head of the table.

  “I do,” Gavin replied. “But my wife is a more voracious reader than I.”

  Abigail nearly groaned at his attempt to include her yet again. Mrs. Stedman clearly had no desire to speak to anyone but Gavin.

  “Oh, my daughter reads more than anyone I have ever known,” Mrs. Stedman continued as if she hadn’t heard him acknowledging his wife. “She reads often to me. Her tone is most melodious. Her own husband, when the time comes, will be blessed to have such a voice at his disposal.”

/>   “To be sure,” Gavin responded with all the politeness of a gentleman.

  Abigail felt sick. In an effort to avoid returning the contents of her stomach back onto her plate, she focused her attention on the other conversations around her.

  “There is a new shipment of lace at Mrs. Follett’s. I am anxious to see if they are as fine as she has suggested.”

  “We ought to go together.”

  “Did you hear Mr. Rosewall’s mine has suffered a cave in again?”

  “His workers must be desperate if they remain working there.”

  “As I mentioned before, my daughter plays very well. Having been at sea, Captain Kendricks, you must not have had the opportunity to listen to the pianoforte for some time.”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  How had Abigail returned to listening to the conversation centered around Gavin once again? She glanced furtively toward him, the muscles in his jaw working as he chewed.

  “Do you miss the sea, Captain?” Mr. Rennalls asked.

  Abigail noted Mrs. Stedman doing her best to hide her displeasure at her conversation being usurped.

  “How could I miss it while living right at its doorstep?” Gavin responded.

  “Ah, but the life of a sea captain,” Mr. Burke piped in between his chews. “How much less troublesome to live on water than land.”

  “Oh, not for the captain seated before you,” Mr. Summerfield said, the wrinkles in his brow increasing as he smiled. “Surely you have heard the tale of Captain Kendricks’s arrival?”

  Mrs. Rennalls’s eyes were wide with excitement. “Of course he has. Captain Kendricks was all the talk of St. Just.”

  Mrs. Summerfield nodded. “He still is. Despite the terrible occurrence of the shipwreck.”

  “Yes, but how did it even occur?” Mrs. Stedman finally joined in the conversation. “Was Golowduyn not shining to warn you of your approach to land?”

  Abigail nearly pulled a face at the woman’s insinuation.

  “No, Golowduyn’s light certainly shined,” Gavin responded. “In truth, the lighthouse was the very thing that directed us toward the smaller rocks first. That is how we were able to avoid more casualties than we suffered. The storm and broken anchor cables were the true causes of the shipwreck.”