Olivia had not even considered that she’d have to abandon her garden.
She’d plant a new one at the Smiths’. One without so many flowers but with more practical harvests.
She lifted her hand and rubbed at her chest, which suddenly ached for no reason at all.
“Baby Harvey is still fussy about his milk. And Luke Jr. has yet to smile, I swear.”
Mary rose and poured more hot water for both of them. “They’ll come around. They aren’t the first to lose their mum, and they won’t be the last.”
So practical.
A knocking on the front door had both of them lifting their brows questioningly at one another. Olivia’s heart raced.
The last time she’d had a visitor, it had been Gabriel. When Olivia bit her lip, Mary rose and disappeared into the foyer.
A high-pitched panicked voice, followed by Mary’s, speaking in a quieter lower-timbered tone, interrupted the quiet of the morning. Something had happened.
Mary was leading Freda Whitley into the kitchen, the girl’s face white as a sheet. Pieces of her red hair had escaped her mob cap and extended down her back.
“Freda, slow down and tell Miss Redfield exactly what you told me.” Mary spoke steadily, but something in her eyes belied the normal calm she always possessed.
Freda nodded, took a deep breath, and then, “The mine’s caved in. They called the vicar, and he sent word to Luke Smith’s house to tell Miss Cline. She sent me to tell you. Too much rain, there was. They don’t know how many men.” She gasped on a sob. “But there were lots of them down there, mum.”
Olivia’s heart skipped several beats. “Who was inside?”
Gabriel!
“They don’t know, mum.” And then she burst into tears. Mary pulled a handkerchief out of her apron and handed it to the distraught girl before turning to meet Olivia’s gaze.
“Edgar. My brother Edgar is working up there.” Dear, steady Mary’s eyes swam with tears as well. Olivia handed her handkerchief to Mary.
“You must go to your mother, Mary. Freda must return to Mr. Smith’s and I’ll fetch my father.” Oh, dear God, Luke Smith was all those children had.
Olivia could not go to the mine herself. The vague thought that she’d visited the mine just a few days ago taunted her. And those men had seen her. Would they think it was her fault? She could not afford to imagine such madness, though, and thrust it out of her mind. Curses didn’t exist. They did not cause the earth to cave in where water had been eroding it. Nature did. Physics. Poor engineering.
Gabriel had told her he entered the mine and often worked beside some of the men. Had he been working inside this morning? He’d been worried about the water.
Her father must go up there. The mine sat on his property, after all.
Gabriel would require every man in the village to assist in the recovery.
Gabriel…
She could not allow herself to imagine him buried beneath the rubble…
Olivia couldn’t imagine a world without him.
“Perhaps it isn’t as bad as all that,” Olivia offered, daring to hope Freda had heard wrong and had simply become hysterical. Olivia rose in a clumsy motion, knocking the chair over behind her. When she bent down to right it, she stifled an unexpected sob.
“Douse the fire, Mary. This could prove to be a very long day.”
Oh, the children! They could not lose the only parent they had left! Olivia closed her eyes and drew a steadying breath.
She could not afford to become hysterical.
But please, God, don’t let him die. Don’t let him die. Don’t let him die. And then she wondered if God would even listen to her prayer. Because she wasn’t praying for the man who she had promised to marry. She was praying for a man she could never have.
Chapter 15
Disillusioned
Olivia rarely went to her parents’ home, and when she did, she never sought her father out. Breathless from walking and running intermittently across her father’s land, water dripping down her face and hair from the rain, she entered the front door without knocking, startling Mr. Carson, her father’s long retained butler with her sudden presence.
“My father,” she said on a gasp. “I need to speak with his lordship immediately. There’s been an accident.” Unless, of course, he’d already been informed. But if Mr. Carson’s curious expression was anything to go by, she surmised news hadn’t reached them yet.
“His lordship is in the drawing room, with her ladyship.” Without waiting for him to delay her or chastise her for the water and mud she’d dragged inside, Olivia dashed up the stairs and down the corridor. They’d be sitting in her mother’s favorite room. The curtains would be drawn to close out the unfavorable weather and several candles would be lit.
Memories of when she’d lived here, of when she’d been a normal member of their family, slammed into her. She ignored them and braced herself to face her father.
He’d blame her, of course. Olivia needed to divert his attention away from his superstitions and direct them to the matters at hand.
Without waiting to be invited inside, she pushed open the door. At her father’s startled but disapproving stare, she lifted her chin defiantly.
“Louella?” Her mother’s eyes widened in terror. “Has something happened to Louella and Stanton in London?” Her mother, at least, had the good sense to realize Olivia would not have come unless something was dreadfully wrong.
Olivia took a calming breath. “No, Mother. Louella is fine.” And then she turned to her father and stared at him steadily. He shifted his eyes away from her. “It’s the mine, Father. It’s collapsed. The duke will need your help. Lord Kingsley will need your help. It is your land, Father. They will have need of you.”
Silence weighed heavy in the room but for the clock on the mantel above the hearth, which ticked loudly.
“Several men were inside. They will have need of you.” Her father was not a young man but neither was he infirm.
Instead of turning to address Olivia, he turned to her mother. “The roads are likely impassable.”
“The mine is on your property.” Olivia stood firmly. “If you do not go, you will be deemed a coward for however much remains of your life.” If she knew her father at all, she knew that he cared what others thought of him. Hopefully, that would outweigh his fear of the mine’s curse.
“You mustn’t allow us to be dishonored, Hallowell.” And her mother cared even more. “Carson can order your mount prepared. Go slowly and I can’t imagine you’ll have any difficulty. The workers will need a steadying voice and you can provide that.”
“Crawford has likely already gone up,” her father grumbled.
“In which case then, you may very well turn back and come right home. But Olivia is correct in what she says. If you don’t go, you shall appear as though you are avoiding it because you fear the curse.”
At that word, her father finally glanced in her direction. His cold stare sent a tremor through her. “Get back to the dower house and don’t show your face anywhere. Do you understand?” If she’d ever doubted her father’s hatred for her, he solidified her belief at that moment.
Olivia would not hide herself today. She would assist Eliza with Mr. Smith’s children. She would cook an apple pie because her betrothed would likely be ravenous when he returned to his home.
It didn’t matter that Gabriel had liked her apple pie.
To appease her father’s superstitions, she nodded. He’d not cared enough to keep tabs on her for years; he was not likely to begin paying attention to her whereabouts now.
“Very well.” He rose from his seat reluctantly and Olivia’s mother rang the bell.
“Stay with me for a while, Olivia. The house is too quiet now that Louella has married. You can read to me.” At Olivia’s father’s disapproving glance, her mother waved him away. “She’ll not be seen by anyone if she remains here. Now, go. Before people start wagging their tongues already.”
&
nbsp; Olivia froze in place. Her mother acted as though her father was off to fetch her bonnet rather than oversee a rescue effort involving several men’s lives. Olivia could not afford to sit about and do nothing while Eliza did all the work at the Smiths’.
“I will do as Father says.” Olivia began backing out of the room.
“I would like you to stay awhile, Olivia.” A tenderness in her mother’s voice paused her. “Please.” Without waiting for Olivia’s answer, her mother pulled the bell pull again and an unfamiliar manservant appeared immediately.
“Foster, Have Mrs. Mimms draw a bath for Miss Redfield in Louella’s chamber. And bring out some dry clothes for her to wear afterward. And stoke the fire in here. I don’t want her catching a chill.”
Olivia crept slowly into the room and then stood near the warmth of the hearth, across from her mother, mindful of the state of her gown. As it was, she knew she’d made muddy footprints in the corridor and on the rug even.
She had no recent memory of the last time her mother had cared about her welfare.
Was she missing the company of her eldest daughter, now that Louella had married? As pathetic as the thought was, Olivia craved such affection, nonetheless. Her mother had not been the person to decide to send her to the dower house. She merely had not objected to her husband’s decision to do so.
If this was a genuine gesture, Olivia could not ignore it. “Thank you, Mother.” She lifted the damp material away from her legs and took another step closer to the fire. “I am a little chilled.”
And terrified.
Terrified of what was happening up at the mine. Terrified for Gabriel’s safety. And Luke Smith’s. And Mary’s brother and every other man who might be buried this very moment in dirt and rubble and mud.
The memory of her dream sent a tremor through her frame.
And then her mother appeared at her side to drop her own shawl around Olivia’s shoulders. “Come, now. Sit down. Foster will feed the fire, and it’ll be warm as toast in no time at all.”
Olivia allowed herself to be led to a nearby sofa to sit down beside her mother.
The comforting embrace was nearly too much to endure.
“What if it’s true, Mama? What if it’s collapsed on them?”
“Hush. I’m not surprised that you are so concerned. Do you love him?”
Olivia jerked her head up. How could her mother know? Had she and Gabriel been seen together that day in the water? Or yesterday on the road? She hadn’t told anyone, not even Eliza. And she certainly hadn’t mentioned anything about it in her letters to Louella.
“I did not think you’d accept him when your father mentioned that he’d given the man permission to ask you. But I suppose you get lonely from time to time. And by the look of you today, I can almost believe that you have a tendre for him.”
Was it possible Gabriel had actually met with her father?
“Lord Kingsley—“ she began. And then the truth hit her like a bucket of freezing cold water.
Her mother was speaking of Luke Smith.
But no one knew yet that she’d consented. She’d barely come to terms with it herself.
“I’m concerned for all of them, Mother.”
“But you intend to accept him?”
“I–I don’t know.” She couldn’t yet admit what she’d done.
“You’ll be a mother without the worry of passing on your affliction. I do hope Mr. Smith comprehends the dire consequences should you come to be with child.” Her mother dropped her gaze to her hands. “There are things both a man and a woman can do to prevent his seed from taking.”
Heat flushed Olivia’s cheeks. “I would not dream of speaking to him about any of this.” She jolted so that she sat with her spine taut and stiff, but her mother did not seem to notice and persisted with the uncomfortable topic of conversation.
“It’s bad enough we’ve had to deal with your curse. It wouldn’t do at all to have to deal with another one.”
This? This was why her mother had wished for her to remain?
Olivia could not leave without asking a question she’d wondered about for years. “Do you truly think that my eye is a curse?” Up until that moment, Olivia hadn’t really believed her mother had put any stock into her father’s convictions. But now…
Her mother dropped the arm that she’d had around her and shrugged. “One can never be certain. What with another collapse up there. And you are all too aware of other tragedies to have befallen on this family. Why take unnecessary chances?”
Why take chances? Because this is my life? Because I am a person!
“Didn’t you mention once that you had an aunt with a similar condition? Don’t you think it’s possible that it is something that is passed through a mother’s blood?”
Her mother smiled slightly. “Louella’s eyes do not wander, nor did William’s. Anyhow, if it did prove to be the cause, my dear, why ever would you wish to take such a risk? You wouldn’t wish this on another child such as yourself, now would you?”
She’d never thought it to be so horrible until her parents had told her it was. Until they’d ordered her to lower her eyes in the company of strangers.
Olivia rose, suddenly unable to spend another moment in her parents’ home. She uttered an awkward excuse and not caring that a bath was being drawn, or that her mother had wanted to comfort her in her own small-minded way, Olivia turned and practically ran down the stairs and out the front door.
Waves of wind and water pelted at her sideways, the storm having intensified while she’d been inside. Olivia could not remain beneath her father’s roof. She’d been naïve to believe that her mother wanted to offer her any comfort. She’d been a fool to believe that she could pour her heart out and expect affection from one of her parents.
Swiping the wet strands of hair away from her face, she ducked her head and marched determinedly along the familiar path. She’d run most of the way here. Lightning struck and immediately after, thunder boomed, causing her to jump. She’d go home and wait for another break in the storm before traversing the additional distance to the Smiths’ little cottage. She’d not donned a coat for her headlong dash up to the manor and water from before had seeped into her half-boots.
She was exhausted from lack of sleep, wet and cold, and scared to death of what the end of this day might bring.
She’d go home, change into dry clothing, and wait for the rain to let up.
Chapter 16
The Unthinkable
Gabriel threw down his shovel and, for the first time in God knew how many hours, dropped onto a nearby boulder for a moment of rest. Almost as though in a trance, he stared down at one of the ubiquitous puddles of mud but saw none of it.
Faces of men who’d not been accounted for—fathers, husbands, sons—all lurked in the forefront of his mind. His hands and feet were as numb as his emotions, but he wasn’t tired, and he felt no pain from the blisters and cuts he’d accumulated moving sharp rocks and broken pieces of metal.
He glanced at one of the mounds laid out nearby that had been covered with a sheet long since soaked through. Bloodstains streaked the white material, leaving no mistake what lay beneath.
The Duke of Crawford’s body had been the first casualty recovered and brought out.
And as much as Gabriel wanted to place all blame on the greedy blighter for this tragedy, the majority of that honor belonged squarely upon his own shoulders.
He’d done the computations, guessed as to the danger. And yet he’d not put a halt to any of it. He’d been a sniveling coward where Crawford was concerned.
He should have halted operations weeks ago instead of mucking up Olivia’s life.
Early this morning, before Gabriel arrived, a new leak had sprung up, one not so easily mitigated, and although all three engineers advised operations remain on hold for a few more days, workers had been sent below ground this morning anyway.
Gabriel hadn’t been present to contradict Crawford’s orders.
> Before Gabriel had found Olivia, distraught, he’d been on his way to speak with Luke Smith. Smith was something of a leader among workers, and Gabriel had thought it only fair to share such pertinent information with those men willing to risk their lives in order to feed their families. The mine had become increasingly more dangerous, and Gabriel had suspected Crawford would override the engineers’ advice.
But Gabriel had not gone to Smith’s house.
No, he’d taken himself to the Dog and Pudding Pot instead and drank into the early morning hours. At sunup, he’d ridden to the mine only to find that the boards blocking entrance had been taken down. Sounds of hammering and dirt removal rang out worryingly.
He’d stepped inside and come face to face with Crawford himself. Although nearing his eighth decade, the duke still appeared something of a virile man. Apparently insufferable greed and ambition agreed with him. He’d aged well.
“I was of the impression the engineers opposed operations today.” Gabriel had offered the words up calmly, despite the frustration brought on by this man.
The duke had sent him a withering stare. “We’ve dallied long enough.”
“But you’ve read the report, surely.”
Crawford had shrugged. “There will always be dangers in an undertaking such as this. You’re a man of the world, Kingsley, surely you appreciate that risks must be taken when a great deal stands to be gained.”
“But the treasure isn’t going anywhere, and men’s lives are at stake,” he’d pressed.
The duke shrugged. “I expect we’ll incur losses, as the project moves forward. But any delay costs money.”
Gabriel had felt sick. If not for Stanton… “Have you examined the leak, yourself?”
The sun shone brightly, and the sounds of water dripping seemed to have slowed. Perhaps the engineers had exaggerated the danger.
“I have, but I’m going down again. I cannot believe the size of that vein.”
Gabriel had considered his hands tied.
Had Stanton known Gabriel would run into so many difficulties? He’d likely had concerns but not realized the extent of trouble his father would stir up.
The Perfect Spinster: A Regency Romance (The Not So Saintly Sisters Book 2) Page 12
