Abigail had done her best to improve the lighthouse—especially the sitting room—in the weeks before their arrival. A small vase of flowers rested on the bookshelf, shells of various sizes and colors were arranged near the hearth, and floral curtains framed the windows.
Even with the improvements, however, Abigail knew the sight must have been underwhelming.
“What a lovely home,” Gertrude said, though she warily eyed a crack in the corner of the ceiling.
“And positioned in such a stunning location,” Lionel added more sincerely.
Gavin nodded. “You must wait until the sun shines. The view is spectacular. My wife is particularly fond of it.”
Abigail shifted her feet, growing uncomfortable with more curious glances in her direction. She could do with a short break.
“You must be tired after such dreadful traveling conditions,” she said. “Would you care for some tea?”
“Please,” Gertrude said.
Abigail darted across the room as quickly as she could. Her unease did not bode well. If she could not bear a single moment in their presence, how was she to endure weeks with them in her home?
“Oh, Mrs. Kendricks?” Gertrude’s words stopped her. “Before I forget, would you mind very much directing our help to your servant’s entrance and quarters? I should like them to settle us in straightaway.”
Abigail froze, looking to Gavin for aid.
“We have but one entrance, I’m afraid,” he explained. Gertrude’s eyes bulged, though she tried to disguise it with a quick succession of blinks. “But we will be happy to show them in. Excuse us for one moment.”
Abigail left the room, turning to Gavin, who followed directly behind her. “They must think we are paupers,” she whispered when they were out of earshot.
“Nonsense,” Gavin responded softly. “We are simply unspoiled, that is all.”
“I am unspoiled,” she retorted.
Gavin chuckled and headed toward the sopping wet servants still standing out in the rain. Abigail went to the kitchen to find Mrs. Honeysett already laying out a tray of tea.
Abigail glanced over her shoulder to see the servants filing past the doors with trunk after trunk, and her eyes widened.
“‘Tis going t’ be a tight fit in ‘ere, ma’am,” Poppy said. “With all them trunks and servants.”
Abigail looked back to the girl, who had paused in scrubbing a spot on the floor.
“Yes, it is,” Abigail said with a sigh. “I do not know how we are going to manage.”
“With our help,” Mrs. Honeysett said.
She extended the tea tray to Abigail, who accepted it with gratitude and left the room.
“Mama,” Abigail heard Poppy say, “does Lieutenant Harris know they’ve arrived? Per’aps I ought to tell ‘im.”
Abigail did not hear Mrs. Honeysett’s response, but she could not help but be amused at the girl’s obvious excuse to be near the lieutenant.
Abigail made for the sitting room, avoiding the stares of her new family as she placed the newly purchased tray rather noisily on a small table and began to pour the tea. Gavin had returned and was standing with his brother near the fire. Gertrude still sat at the edge of her seat, as if leaning back would soil her gown.
In truth, Abigail was not sure that it wouldn’t. They had not yet reupholstered the furnishings of the room.
“Your husband was just telling us you have only now employed a maid-of-all-work and a cook, Mrs. Kendricks,” Gertrude said. “Is that true?”
Abigail ducked her head. “Yes, my uncle could not afford to keep much help before.”
“You must find it strange to live here, brother,” Lionel said, “when compared with Clowey Hall and the number of servants we employ.”
“You forget I have not lived there since I was a boy, Lionel,” Gavin responded. “And being at sea helps one to realize what is necessary and what is not to live a happy life.”
Abigail listened to the conversation with growing interest. She knew Gavin had often expressed his happiness with his life at Golowduyn but hearing him say as much to his brother soothed her worries further.
She handed a teacup to Gertrude—noting the woman discreetly flaring her nostrils as she sniffed at the tea—then gave one to Lionel and Gavin. Lionel watched her with an inquisitive look, though he smiled with gratitude.
The visit progressed, the brothers speaking of their memories from childhood as their wives sat by in silence. Gertrude noiselessly sipped at her tea and took the smallest bites of a biscuit that Abigail had ever seen.
“We were quite a pair, were we not?” Lionel said with a chuckle. “We must have driven our parents mad.”
“Indeed,” Gavin agreed.
“Most children do, I think,” Gertrude added, setting her cup to rest on the plate on her lap. “Including our boys.”
“How are they faring?” Gavin asked.
Lionel flashed a smile. “Growing into fine, strapping men, like their father.”
Gertrude quirked a brow. “And becoming as troublesome as their father. At times, I do wish they were still babies. They were far easier to care for than the thirteen and fourteen-year-old boys they have grown to be.” She turned to Abigail. “I am certain you are grateful that you do not have the added burden of children, Mrs. Kendricks, what with your work at the lighthouse.”
Gertrude’s tone was innocent, but a strange ache twisted Abigail’s heart. How wrong the woman was, for Abigail greatly desired children of her own.
Still, she did not need to admit as much aloud. Not with Gavin watching her so closely. She smiled weakly at Gertrude before averting her gaze.
“Oh, but that cannot last for long.” Lionel eyed his brother. “I recall you mentioning the desire to have a large family of your own one day.”
Had Gavin not told his family the truth of their marriage? A blush burned her cheeks.
Gavin stared into his cup of tea. “I believe any man would wish to raise a child with the woman he loves.”
Abigail’s heart took flight. Raising a child, a woman he loved? What did his words mean? Had their kiss changed Gavin’s expectations in their relationship? Having a child of her own—Gavin’s child—was too wonderful a thought. She needed to distract herself before his words caused her to float in the air with sheer giddiness.
Fortunately, Lionel’s words brought her back to earth.
“So, Mrs. Kendricks,” he began, “I must ask you, as my brother is not inclined to giving up information willingly. How did you meet one another?”
Abigail’s eyes darted to Gavin. “You mean, they do not know?”
“Know?” Gertrude asked, her interest piqued for what Abigail was sure was the first time that morning. “Know what?”
“They know only of the shipwreck,” Gavin said to Abigail, “nothing further.”
“Of which we heard about first in the papers,” Lionel said with a pointed look in Gavin’s direction.
“I told you eventually,” Gavin said. “I was merely busy.”
Lionel scoffed before returning his attention to Abigail. “So please, my dear sister, do tell us how this all came about.”
Alarm shot through her limbs. If Gavin’s family did not know how he met Abigail, then that meant they were also unaware of the true reasoning behind their marriage, just as she had suspected. If Gavin wished to keep it a secret, what was she to say?
Her silence continued until thankfully, Gavin responded, coming to her rescue once again.
“It’s an interesting story, our meeting,” he said, his eyes bright as he told the story. “My wife, wearing a cap and jacket, rode her horse to the site of the shipwreck and lit the way to the shore for the men in the boats. Then she rowed out to sea herself, past rocks and in a storm, to save me and my lieutenant from drowning. She then proceeded to clean the sizeable wound on my arm, as well as giving aid to the other injured sailors that evening.” He looked in her direction. “I was rather taken with her and have been ever si
nce.”
Abigail was grateful she was sitting down. That half-smile of his always made her knees quiver.
It was fortunate that Gertrude sat, as well, for her smooth skin had turned a sickly shade of green. Lionel, however, merely stood by in a stunned stupor.
Abigail had hoped to make a good first impression with Gavin’s family, but now…that was hardly likely. Her unladylike behavior was certainly shocking to them. Still, she found it difficult to mind much, what with the way Gavin still smiled in her direction.
Lionel cleared his throat. “Well, I think you may have to go into a little more detail than that, Gavin.”
“I’d be happy to,” Gavin replied.
Before he could continue, however, Gertrude stood abruptly from her chair. Her voice was faint as she spoke. “I am very glad to see you safe, brother. And that your wife…rescued you. However, I fear such tales have caused a weariness to come over me. Mrs. Kendricks, would you be so kind as to show me to my room?”
Abigail nodded, standing at once to lead Gertrude from the sitting room, though she wondered if she ought to stand behind her, just in case she needed to catch the woman mid-swoon.
When Gertrude was safely situated in her room with her lady’s maid to attend to her, Abigail returned to the sitting room. She listened as Gavin recounted the story of their meeting—Abigail adding bits of information from her side of the experience—as Lionel listened, enraptured.
But Abigail hardly noticed Lionel’s response, for she was far too taken with the look of admiration in her husband’s eyes, admiration that made her heart soar.
* * *
Gertrude remained in her room the rest of the day. Her lady’s maid brought her a tray of food during dinner while Abigail listened to Gavin and Lionel update one another on the happenings in their lives.
The storm gradually faded away, and the sun began to set on the horizon. The Honeysetts and Lieutenant Harris had left a few hours before, so Abigail made for the watch room with a pail of oil in her hands.
But Gavin stopped her. “Lionel has a desire to see the lamps, so I thought I’d show him. You are welcome to join us, of course.”
Abigail declined the offer, however, wishing for the brothers to spend some time alone instead.
With dinner cleaned, the house near-spotless, Gertrude sleeping, and the brothers occupied, Abigail found herself, strangely, with nothing to do. She wandered about the house, knowing she ought to do something productive, but the warm, yellow light shining in through the window called to her.
She donned her shawl and left the house behind. Her boots squished in the moisture on the grass, the bottom of her skirts darkening with water.
She stopped at the edge of the cliff, eying the sunset before her. Dark clouds hovered low on the horizon, promising more rain that night. But the sun had broken through the cracks in the clouds for a moment and cast bright rays in every direction.
The scent of the sea and the fresh air from the storm filled her senses. The rhythmic motion and soothing sound of the waves below lulled her fretful mind into a more peaceful state.
Having Lionel and Gertrude stay in her home for two weeks was certainly going to be exhausting. But she could manage. For Gavin, she would manage.
She remained there as the sun disappeared into the clouds, a muted gray shading the ocean and countryside. But she was still not ready to leave the serenity she’d found by the sea.
“I thought you would be out here.”
She turned to see Gavin approaching. To her relief, he came alone.
“Seeking respite while you can, I see.” He stood close to her, their shoulders grazing.
“Did your brother reach the lamp room with you?”
“Only just. His extent of exercising is using a horse to do it for him.” He chuckled. “I told him you have been making the ascent since you were a child, and he was rather impressed.” He paused. “It is good of you to allow them to stay. And to occupy so much of our home.”
“It certainly is the least I could do after what you have done for me.”
Their eyes met. “How did you find my family?”
She contemplated her answer. “They are very fine. Though, I fear I do not have much in common with either one of them.”
“Nor do I.”
She raised a disbelieving brow. “How can that be true? He is your brother.”
“Yes, but we have different priorities.”
Abigail could not deny the truth in his words. She had noticed the differences as she had listened to them. Lionel was kind, but he spoke a great deal too often about the parties they hosted and the new clothing he’d ordered.
She would be forever grateful she had married the brother she had.
A thought occurred, and she stared at Gavin thoughtfully. “Do you ever consider how your life might have differed had you married a lady who followed the rules of Society? One who is poised and regal, like your brother’s wife?”
He seemed to contemplate her question, and instantly, she was overcome with regret. What on earth was she doing, putting such ideas into his head? Well, if he hadn’t before, he would certainly desire a finer marriage now.
She could not handle hearing him say such a thing.
“Forgive me,” she said. “That was a silly question. And one you certainly need not answer.” She folded her arms and took a step away from him. “Excuse me. I am feeling a little tired after today. I think I will retire. Goodnight, Gavin.”
And she scurried back to the house without awaiting his response. When she reached her room, however, noticing his belongings within—and the small cot situated near the fireplace—her heartbeat thudded hollowly within her ears.
She would not be escaping him so easily that evening.
Quickly, she changed into her night dress and hopped into bed, pulling the blankets to her chin and willing herself to fall asleep before Gavin arrived.
However, when darkness swallowed the lighthouse, and a soft knock occurred at her door, she still lay wide awake.
“Come in,” she answered softly, rolling away from the doorway.
The door creaked slowly open, and Gavin entered the room. She swallowed.
“Sorry if I woke you,” he said softly to her back.
“You didn’t,” she mumbled in her blanket.
His footsteps crossed the room, and her ears seemed to grow three times larger—and work three times better—as she listened to him remove his boots, waistcoat, and shirt. Then on went his nightshirt before he settled into his bed. The cot creaked underneath his stature.
Abigail forced her breathing to remain steady. Everything was perfectly fine. Gavin was simply in her room to avoid freezing to death overnight in the watch room. They would go to sleep, and she would not even take a second glance at him as she awoke to see to the lamps that night.
She would not think of him again. Never mind that she could hear him shifting in his cot. Never mind her desire to casually roll over toward him, just to catch a glimpse of him before she fell asleep.
“Abigail?”
Her heart leapt in her throat. “Yes?”
“You did not allow me the chance to respond to your question earlier. If I have ever thought of how my life might be, had I married another.”
Abigail froze, her back still turned toward him. She did not want to hear his answer. She closed her eyes, wincing as she awaited his words.
“The truth of the matter is,” he said, “I do, at times, imagine how my life would have differed. And each time, I am relieved that I made the choice I did. I am well aware of my great fortune in having you as my wife.”
New life beat within her. She kept her eyes closed, afraid that if she looked at him, he’d seen her desire to kiss him written plainly across her feature as he continued.
“I am more than happy to be married to a woman who cannot only listen to brave tales, but take part in them, too. A woman who is selfless and courageous. A true lady.”
Abigail flin
ched. Her brows drew close together. Gavin had soothed her worries…until those final words.
She was no lady. And when he heard the truth, he would not think so either.
* * *
“Do you see anything you like, my dear?”
The four Kendrickses walked along the crowded roads of St. Just the following day. Stacked shops lined the thin streets and wooden signs with painted letters hung above them. They passed a stall with ribbons draped over the stands, the colorful fabric lifting in the breeze.
Gertrude shook her head silently in answer to her husband’s question before placing a hand to her temple.
“Is it still bothering you?” Lionel asked her.
“I’m afraid so.”
Abigail and Gavin exchanged glances behind them just as Lionel turned to explain.
“My wife has been suffering with a headache since last evening,” he said. “We were hoping the fresh air would alleviate the pain.”
“Sleep might have helped, as well,” Gertrude said, fingering a red ribbon with a wince, “were I able to receive any. I really do not know how the two of you manage living so close to the sea. It is so very loud.”
“I find it difficult to sleep without it now,” Gavin said.
“As do I,” Abigail agreed.
Gertrude didn’t seem to hear them. “Well, my lack of sleep caused a delirium of sorts to come about me. I thought I heard footsteps moving about the house all throughout the night. Though, I suppose that could have been the servants.”
Abigail thought the woman was teasing, but when she saw her serious expression, she looked to Gavin with a quizzical look. Had he not told his family they saw to the lamps all night?
Before she or Gavin could explain, Lionel rested a gentle hand on his wife’s shoulder. “My dear, those footsteps you heard were Gavin and Mrs. Kendricks seeing to the lighthouse.”
Gertrude looked away from a yellow ribbon. “No, Mr. Kendricks. This continued throughout the night and well into the morning.”
Her husband nodded, and her brow lowered. She turned to Gavin and Abigail. “It was you?”
Abigail nodded. “The lamps need to be refilled throughout the night.”
Behind The Light 0f Golowduyn (A Cornish Romance Book 1) Page 22
