Sophia faced the woman with a strained look. “Gwynna?”
Gwynna—it was her—looked up with a startled expression. Her features were finer than Sophia remembered. She had high cheekbones and an olive complexion, no doubt from spending too much time in the sun, but the color only accentuated her round, amber eyes.
She was pretty, no mistaking. A great deal more so than even Miss Kinsey and Miss Ward. In truth, if Gwynna wore a fine dress, Sophia was sure the young woman could pass as a lady, even with her freckles.
“Miss Rosewall? What are ye…”
Sophia held up Mrs. Merrick’s cloak. “I came back to return this.”
Gwynna retrieved the cloak with a grateful nod. “Mama will be pleased.”
Sophia held up her basket of strawberries next. “And I brought these.”
Gwynna’s eyes widened as she accepted the basket, now juggling one in each hand. “So many of them?”
Mortified, Sophia looked away. Why had she brought such a large quantity? Gwynna obviously didn’t know what to do with them all. “Lowena Cottage is practically overrun with them. I didn’t wish to see them go to waste.”
“Well, I be that grateful for them, miss. And how are ye doin’, after the other night?”
Sophia looked away. “Much better because of you and your family.”
Gwynna nodded. They stood in an awkward silence. For reasons she could not understand, Sophia wished to linger, but with nothing else to say, and no reason to remain, she took a step back. “I hope you enjoy the strawberries. Do let me know if you ever wish for more. Good day, Gwynna.”
“Oh, but, miss,” Gwynna said, stopping her departure, “this be a lot of strawberries. I don’t think we’d be able to finish them ‘fore they rot.”
As if on cue, a strawberry tumbled to her feet. Sophia reached down to retrieve it, her cheeks redder than the fruit. “Forgive me, I did not realize.”
“No, ‘twas generous, miss. I only meant, well, my father is at the mine, and I was to bring the men some food of our own.” She raised her basket. “There’s not much, mind. But I’d wager he and the other men be yearnin’ for somethin’ sweet like these strawberries. Would ye like to join me there now?”
Sophia blanched. The mine, Wheal Favour. Father’s old mine. “Oh, no. I’m afraid my mother wishes for me to return home straightaway.”
Gwynna’s face fell. “Are ye certain?”
“Well, I…” Sophia paused.
Going to the mine her family once owned would be too cruel a reminder of all they had lost. Her humiliation would be acute if anyone recognized her, which they were sure to do, as Gwynna’s family had.
But it had been quite a while since Sophia had been with someone who wished to be near her, and Gwynna had seemed genuinely upset with Sophia not joining her.
Gwynna readjusted the cloak and the baskets in her hands, and another two strawberries tumbled from the mound. Both baskets would be terribly cumbersome to carry all the way to the mine. Sophia bit her lip. Perhaps if she wore her bonnet low enough, she could remain unnoticed. And if she stayed but a moment…
“Very well,” she said, reaching for the basket of strawberries. “Allow me to help.”
Gwynna’s face brightened, and she handed the bushel to Sophia. “I be glad, miss, to have ye join me.”
Sophia stared for a moment, taken aback at the sincerity with which Gwynna spoke. Sophia couldn’t understand why the woman wished to be around her and her depressed spirits, but she wasn’t about to discard the amity. Not after her only supposed friends had rejected her.
Gwynna put her mother’s cloak inside, then returned to Sophia. They moved alongside each other in silence. Sophia fought for something to say, a task she’d never struggled with before.
In the end, it was Gwynna who concluded the silence. “Can I ask ye a question, miss?”
Sophia nodded. “I suppose.”
“What really happened that night, the night I found ye all wet and shiverin’?”
Sophia stumbled on a rock. She retrieved the few strawberries that had tumbled to the ground before continuing. She couldn’t meet Gwynna’s stare. “It’s as I said. The ball simply didn’t suit me that evening.”
“If ever I attended a ball, I’d not leave. Father’d have to pull me out by my hair. I’d love bein’ at the center of all that attention.”
Sophia sniffed with derision. That was what had caused her humiliation at the ball in the first place, her desire to draw attention to herself by endlessly speaking. All that had done was provide fuel for gossip. “It is not as wonderful as you may suppose.”
She caught Gwynna’s curious look, but Sophia hesitated. The embarrassment of what really happened that evening had nearly buried her. She felt insecure and inferior for the first time in her life. Now she simply wished to hide, to cower away like Mother.
“Ye can keep your secrets, miss, like we all. But I’d not be the one to judge ye, happen you’re worried of that.”
Sophia nodded. Of course Gwynna would not judge. She seemed more than sincere in her desire to know what was troubling Sophia. But reliving that night by speaking about it would be unbearable. Wouldn’t it?
A strange wind of carelessness slipped past the blockade attempting to protect Sophia from discomfiture. What did it matter if Gwynna knew? Sophia’s foolishness for attending the ball was sure to be known already throughout all of Society.
She wet her lips. “You have heard what has happened to my family,” she began.
Gwynna nodded.
“Well, the truth of the matter is, I left the ball because I am not welcome in my own class. I was foolish enough to ask for help from people I once considered my friends and to join a ball I had no right to attend. Because my family and I have no money, we are no longer seen fit to attend social gatherings. We have nothing to our name, so we are worth nothing to others.”
She waited for the weight to lift from her shoulders, but the shame of those disapproving eyes at the ball continued to judge her.
Gwynna didn’t respond, a solemn expression to her face. She was no doubt upset that such a thing could happen to the Rosewalls. Yet, as Sophia recalled her own words, her throat tightened.
Gwynna could be under no illusion that high society looked upon the working class with condescension. Though, for Sophia to throw such words in her face, to tell Gwynna that she was worth nothing simply due to her financial state, even after all she had done for Sophia, it was unthinkably cruel.
Shame filled her, not only because of her choice in words, but because she was guilty of thinking the same thoughts as the class that no longer wanted her.
She tried to take back her unkindness, but her words refused to cooperate. “I meant, in the eyes of Society, that they believe—they thought that my family is nothing.” She sighed. Never had she felt so inelegant. “I am sorry, Gwynna. I shouldn’t have said such a thing.”
Gwynna raised a shoulder. “No need to ‘pologize, miss. I’m well aware of what Society thinks of I. And ‘tis no matter. I’m happy with my way of life.” A weakened, half-smile spread on her lips. “Though, I wouldn’t mind dancin’ more. We can’t afford a subscription to those assemblies in town, but we do a fair bit durin’ our gatherin’s on the beach, and that more than suffices us simple folk.”
Sophia looked away. She couldn’t dwell on Gwynna’s way of life any longer. It too greatly resembled her own now. Unable to afford simple luxuries, to attend social gatherings. Unable to be truly happy.
Gwynna, at least, had loving parents who were concerned about where she went and with whom she spent her time.
Sophia did not.
They followed the muddy pathway, reaching the view of the shimmering ocean once more, continuing over the curves and hills of the cliffside.
As they arrived at the top of the next incline, Wheal Favour’s copper-colored chimney appeared. Grey smoke billowed from its top, lingering only a moment before disappearing into the blue skies.
&nb
sp; A jumble of nerves caused Sophia’s stomach to lob. “How long has your father worked at the mine?”
“Long since ‘fore I was born.”
Sophia motioned to Gwynna’s basket, a grey cloth draped across the top. “Do you bring him food every day?”
“Lately I have.” She stared out to the sea. “I used to be a bal maiden, see, but now I pass the days away by bringin’ food for him and the others who ain’t got family for a simple fee each month. ‘Tisn’t much. But every little bit helps me family have food on the table.”
Sophia’s brows rose. “You were a bal maiden?”
“I was.”
When she was a child, Sophia had occasionally joined Father as they rode to the mine. She recalled seeing women breaking apart the stones that the men had brought up earlier. If Gwynna had worked for Father, as well, had Sophia ever seen her?
“How old were you when you started?” she asked.
“Eight or nine, I believe.”
Sophia’s mouth parted. “So young?” When she was nine years old, Father had just purchased her first horse for her. While she was learning to ride, Gwynna was performing manual labor. She pushed the unpleasant image from her mind. “However did you manage?”
“‘Twas hard when I was young, but my arms grew strong. I was used to the work ‘fore long.”
That morning, Sophia had been upset about having to dress herself and pick strawberries on her own. Yet Gwynna did not utter a word of complaint about spending her childhood working at a mine.
“May I ask why you stopped?” Sophia asked next. “Did it not suit you any longer?”
Gwynna’s eyes pulled away. Sophia didn’t know how, but she had gone too far with her questioning. She would have to be careful when she spoke with her again.
Sophia paused, taken aback. She wished to speak with Gwynna again. The young woman certainly proved a fine distraction for Sophia’s troubled life, and her conversation was surprisingly entertaining. More so than Miss Kinsey’s and Miss Ward’s. Mother would hardly approve of the acquaintance, but she didn’t need to know.
Before long, the grey and brown stone structure of the mine came into view, drawing her full attention.
Wheal Favour stood near the edge of the cliff. A pathway and a steep incline of grassy rocks were all that divided the mine from the sheer drop of the cliff that revealed the rushing sea below. The engine house was built against the side of the sloping land, four stone walls shooting straight into the air far overhead.
Sophia had forgotten how tall it was.
“Papa’ll be just this way,” Gwynna said. “He comes up ‘round this time each day.”
Sophia followed her along the pathway past the front of the mine. The land around them bustled with miners. Men, women, and children alike transported, broke down, and cleaned the rocks. A few of them glanced toward Sophia with curiosity, so she ducked her head and stared at the pathway.
“There he be,” Gwynna said.
They stopped a short distance from the engine house. Sophia spotted Gwynna’s father sitting with a few other men near a pile of discarded rocks.
Their clothes were darkened, and their dirty faces glistened with sweat. She didn’t remember them being so filthy, or so tired looking.
“Mornin’, Papa,” Gwynna greeted. “Miss Rosewall here has brought us some fruit from her patch at the cottage. She wanted to share ‘em with us all.”
Sophia hadn’t blushed so much since she was fifteen and her dress had been caught in a doorway at her first ball. Why had Gwynna not taken credit for the strawberries? Then the attention could’ve been on her.
Sophia stepped forward, ignoring the looks of the men as she thrust the basket unceremoniously into Mr. Merrick’s hands where he sat. “Here you are.”
She shuffled back, standing slightly behind Gwynna before realizing she’d dropped more strawberries, the fruit now resting at Mr. Merrick’s feet.
He simply stared at the basket. “Th-thank ye, miss.”
Quick footsteps sounded nearby, a few of the younger girls running toward them. Their faces shone red from the sun and exertion. One of them appeared to be no older than seven. They stared at the strawberries with widened eyes and smiling lips.
“How much for one, miss?” asked one of the older girls, her brow wrinkled as she looked up to Sophia.
Sophia blanched. “Oh, no, we brought them to share, free of charge.”
Their faces brightened, and they crowded around the basket at once. Sophia moved a few paces back to allow them more room.
Mr. Merrick handed the basket to the girl with the wrinkled brow. “See they’re shared, Delen.”
She handed them out one-by-one to the children before moving to the gentlemen. Sophia would’ve enjoyed their eagerness, but as she watched their little smiling faces, heard their giggling and quiet whispers for more, her heart twisted.
They were thrilled over strawberries. Strawberries that were in such abundance at the cottage that they were rotting on the grass beneath the vines.
She looked at their calloused, dirtied fingers and rosy cheeks then turned away. She wanted this feeling gnawing at her heart to leave. But when a loud cough pulled her attention to Mr. Merrick, Gwynna standing at his side, her mouth grew as dry as sand.
The man’s whole body shuddered as he coughed into his blackened handkerchief, the noise so loud, Sophia thought for sure he would injure himself. No one else in the group gave him a second glance. Was this a common occurrence, this coughing as if his own lungs were choking him?
She recalled dinner parties that occasionally mentioned miners, their harsh working conditions and hours, but to see it firsthand, she could not pull her eyes away.
Gwynna’s hand rested on her father’s back until the coughing subsided, then she reached into her basket and extended him a Cornish pasty. Mr. Merrick’s haggard breathing leveled as he accepted the food, then he caressed his daughter’s cheek with his sullied hand and took a large bite of the pasty.
As he chewed, his dark eyes fell on Sophia. They hardened instantly. She looked away, her cheeks ablaze. For one reason or another, the man disliked her.
Father had mentioned his investors being displeased with some of his decisions with the mine. Did that mean the miners had been upset, as well?
She glanced around, noting more stares like Mr. Merrick’s, hardened, accusatory, and her breathing shallowed. They did not want her there. Whether it was because of Father’s past decisions or the fact that the Rosewalls’ circumstances had changed, they didn’t approve of her presence at the mine. She didn’t belong at Wheal Favour. Just like she didn’t belong at the Madderns’ ball.
If she didn’t belong in either of those places, just where did she belong?
“Merrick!”
She jumped at the sound of a man shouting near the engine house. Mr. Merrick stood, kissing his daughter on the cheek. “The foreman’s havin’ us meet the new owner and a few of his investors. Tell your mother I’ll be home late tonight.” He walked past Sophia. “Thank ye for the strawberries, miss.”
His voice was hardly warm, but he nodded all the same as he walked away. Gwynna was too busy handing out Cornish pasties to see the exchange. Everyone, Mr. Merrick included, seemed upset about the Rosewalls’ history. So why did Gwynna not?
Sophia looked back to the woman’s father. But as the crowd parted, her eyes landed on someone else, and a jolt cut through her stomach.
“Mr. Hawkins?”
Chapter Nine
Sophia’s heart stumbled. There was no mistaking Mr. Hawkins’s confident stance, his hands clasped behind his back. He certainly didn’t need to puff out his chest like another gentleman she knew. Or stand on the tips of his toes to be higher. His broad shoulders and tall, cut figure were enough on their own.
Was he one of the mine’s new investors? Did he know she was there?
She whirled away before he could see her, wringing her hands. It was only a matter of time before she was noticed. Sh
e stood out from the miners and the bal maidens like a wrinkled dress at a private ball.
Dress. Her dress!
She looked down at her skirts. The lavender muslin was covered in grass stains and strawberry drippings she didn’t know she’d acquired. With her lack of curls and loose stays, she must look even worse a sight. This was not what she needed in her fragile state, to be seen as the poor woman she was already deemed to be. Her only option was to flee. Quickly.
She moved to Gwynna, whose brow pulled together with a look of concern as soon as she saw Sophia. “Are ye well, Miss Rosewall?”
Sophia glanced over her shoulder. She didn’t have time to explain. She didn’t know what to explain. “Of course, but I fear Mother needs me at the cottage now.” She nodded in departure then walked the opposite direction from which they had come.
“But, miss,” Gwynna called out, pointing to the engine house, “if ye go that way, you’ll be back at home sooner.”
Sophia dared a glance at the pathway where the men still spoke. There was no way she could walk by without Mr. Hawkins and the rest of the miners noticing her.
No, she would go the opposite way, even if it took her an extra hour to return to Lowena. “Thank you, but this way will suffice.”
Gwynna gave her an odd look, but Sophia scurried away as quickly and unnoticeably as possible. She forced herself not to run, picking up her skirts slightly to avoid any chance of tripping and slowing down her progress, though the mud already hindered her in that regard.
She moved away from the mine along the pathway, the sea to her right, a small incline to her left. She didn’t hear any horse and rider approaching, nor her name being called from behind, but perhaps she simply couldn’t hear due to the ocean below.
She peered over her shoulder. There was no one in sight. Only the mine’s chimney was visible above the crests and turns of the cliffs she’d walked by. Thank goodness she’d escaped.
She slowed her footsteps and held a hand to her side, soothing the stitch that had formed beneath her ribcage from her hasty departure.
She was not used to the exertion after spending so long at the cottage with hardly any exercise. She would have to remedy that, so long as she didn’t venture too far from Lowena. She couldn’t bear the thought of happening upon Mr. Hawkins again.
For The Lady 0f Lowena (A Cornish Romance Book 2) Page 12
