Sebastian reached for her arm. “Let me help you at least.”
“You’ll help me, but you won’t listen, will you?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw as they started forward together. “No. And I’ll ask you to stop talking about it.”
* * *
Sebastian did not choose the beautiful Hall Walk as their route. Instead, he led Julia out of the woods to follow a cart track that crossed the meadows of their farm. The hay fields were lush and wet after the storm, brushing their clothing as they walked silently together past the cows and sheep and the medieval chapel built by Charlotte Trevarre’s ancestors.
He knew that his wife felt a connection with his home. From the moment they first arrived, to the sight of a neglected manor house that anyone else would have shunned, Julia had embraced the echoes of the past that were everywhere.
“Hello Mabel,” she greeted a spotted cow who stood with her calf on the other side of an old hedgerow, watching them with soft eyes.
It amazed him that she cared for all the animals and they seemed to return her affection. He knew that soon they would reach the house and the doors would burst open and the occupants of the Hall would rush out to greet their mistress. A part of Sebastian longed, even ached, to feel at home here as Julia did, but a different, dark feeling always closed around his heart and eclipsed that longing.
“Mrs. Snuggs and Primmie have doubtless been very worried about me,” Julia was saying, seemingly to herself more than to him. “I’m not certain that Mr. Snuggs cares for anything but his cider.”
And just then, as they came down into the courtyard, the door did open and Primmie and Mrs. Snuggs emerged, beaming.
“Ah, my lady, you be well!” cried Primmie, wiping her hands on her apron as she and the old woman approached. “We’ve missed you.”
“You must have worried that a terrible fate had befallen me,” said Julia.
“Oh, no, yer ladyship,” cried Mrs. Snuggs. “Lord Senwyck do come and tell us that you be away with his lordship.”
“He told you that?” She turned a quizzical look up to Sebastian, who schooled his own features to betray no reaction. “I saw Tristan in Fowey, and he warned me to go home because a storm was brewing. How could he possibly know—?”
Before Sebastian could suggest that they discuss it later, Dick the tiger cat came racing out the open door, closely followed by a barking liver-colored spaniel. As they ran right through the kitchen garden, trampling the tender lettuces, Mrs. Snuggs pursued them armed with a broom.
“Where the devil did that dog come from?” Sebastian demanded. It seemed that he inevitably felt like a stranger in his own house.
“Why, Sylvester is our dog!” cried a voice that was unnervingly familiar. “That cat delights in provoking him, I fear.”
He and Julia turned at once to behold Polly Faircloth standing in the doorway and wringing her plump white hands. Clad in a lilac gown fashionable enough to grace the Bath Assembly Rooms, she looked alarmingly out of place on the crumbling doorstep of Trevarre Hall.
“Mama?” Julia was looking at her as if she didn’t believe her eyes.
“We thought you would never return,” Polly said in stricken tones, “and we would be stranded forever in this ruin at the end of the world!”
“But, why are you here?” Sebastian tried to keep the note of annoyance out of his voice. “We had no knowledge that you planned a journey to Cornwall.”
“Indeed, my lord, but I think that when you learn the reason for our visit, you will understand.” As Polly spoke, Sarah and Freddy came up behind her, accompanied by a portly gentleman who wore an old-fashioned white wig and a broad smile. “Lord Sebastian, I would like to present to my daughter and you the Honorable Clarence Pippet. Dear Pip and I are…betrothed!”
* * *
Julia and her sister, clad in batiste nightgowns, sat close together in Sarah’s bed. The window was open to let in the summer breeze, and on the bedside table, a candle flame danced and flickered.
“How I have missed you!” cried Sarah as she lovingly plaited Julia’s hair into a long braid down her back. “Aren’t we fortunate that we can pick up like this, even after a separation. I can almost imagine that we are back in your bed at Turbans.”
Julia tried to imagine it also, but far too much had happened to her since their last late-night tête-à-tête in her bed. On that occasion, she had informed Sarah that she meant to marry Sebastian in her stead.
It seemed almost as if she had been another person, living a different life, so changed did she feel.
“I’m exceedingly glad to see you, darling,” she told her sister. “I have missed you, too! But you must tell me now about Mama and that Pip person. I had no inkling—”
“They met at the Pump Room. Mr. Pippet had come to Bath from London to take the waters, soon after the death of his wife from a wasting disease.”
“I see. Well, he does seem to be a nice enough man.”
Sarah widened her eyes tellingly. “Yes, and he has means. Considerable means.”
“I’ll own that I am shocked by this. Papa has only been gone for a few months…”
“I know. But Mama insists that love has no regard for time.” In the candlelight, her face took on an impish glow. “She also says that this is an opportunity we all must seize.”
“Indeed? But Mama should still be in mourning. I noticed that her gown was vivid lilac, with not even a black accessory. It is behavior that would horrify her if anyone else engaged in it.”
“Yes. Perhaps it may help you to understand if I reveal that Mr. Pippet lives in London, in a large home in Russell Square. It may not be Mayfair, but you will appreciate that it is a more impressive address than we claimed. He has ten servants and two carriages. He insists that Mama deserves only the best, and that he means to provide her with it.”
Julia held up her hand. “You needn’t go on. I understand completely that all of this has turned her head. No wonder she is calling him ‘Pip’.”
Overcome by mirth, Sarah threw herself back on the pillows and giggled for long moments. “Oh, Julia, I have missed you so! Only you could know what is really happening, and how Freddy and I feel. You know, Mama insisted that we all travel to Cornwall, not only to get away from the gossiping dowagers in Bath, but also because she thought you might be unhappy, and would want to join us in our new life in London.”
Julia ignored the sentiments directed at her and asked, “Are you pleased to be going to London? What about Mr. Whimple?”
“Oh, Charles and I are finished!” Sarah exclaimed dramatically. “I don’t know how I could have ever entertained such tender feelings for him.”
“Really! This is quite unexpected.”
“I think that, when he learned the Faircloth family no longer possessed a fortune of any size, he stopped caring for me.”
Julia saw tears sparkle in her sister’s eyes. “How odious. I am grateful, then, that we had a change in circumstances, if only because it brought out Mr. Whimple’s true colors. He did not deserve you, my dear.”
“No, I realize that, too. Do you suppose I shall ever meet a man who worships me and longs to take care of me?”
“I have no doubt of it.” Although she was smiling at her sister, Julia thought how terribly different they were, for their dreams of a man to love were very far apart.
“I must confess that, even before he proved himself unworthy, Charles was growing tedious. I even grew tired of his poems. Do you think that I am terribly inconstant?”
As they talked, Julia remembered why she had been so unsatisfied by society and the effervescent quality of life in Bath and London. There was no substance to any of it, at least as far as she was concerned. She needed more, and she had discovered it here in Cornwall…with Sebastian.
“I don’t think you are inconstant, Sarah. I think you are merely growing up, as I have been doing since I married.”
Her sister’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Is it thrilling?”
Julia didn’t have to ask what she meant. “I suppose it depends on the man,” she replied vaguely, all the while feeling a traitorous heat rise in her cheeks. “Darling, it’s late. I am very tired. Do you mind if I leave you now?”
“Are you happy then?”
“Happy? It’s more complicated than that, I’m afraid.”
“Yes, I can only imagine! Lord Satan, if I may still dare to call him that, remains quite terrifying. You can come away with us, you know. Freddy and I would adore it if you did, and no one would know about your past.” Realizing that she might have gone too far, Sarah amended, “Or you could simply visit us in London for long periods of time…”
“We’ll talk more tomorrow.” Julia embraced her sister, then slipped out of the bed and went across the corridor to her own bedchamber.
Beyond the white muslin bed hangings she had put up for summer, she saw Sebastian, lying in his customary sleeping position, on his back. He was brown in the moonlight, his black hair ruffled, his chiseled features proud even in sleep. Nearby, Clover lay curled, purring, her plush gray face resting in the palm of his hand.
After a moment’s hesitation, Julia threw caution to the wind. She unplaited her hair and let it fall free, slipped the bed gown over her head, and went naked to join her husband under the soft sheet.
It felt like heaven to be home at last, nestled into the crook of his strong shoulder. A moment later, sleep carried her off.
Chapter 31
“There’s nothing like good clotted cream from Cornwall,” Mr. Pippet pronounced as he helped himself to a large dollop. “And this jam is nectar from the gods.”
Julia smiled at him from across the garden table. “Thank you. It’s made with hedgerow berries from our farm.”
“Never heard of ’em before, but now I will see to it that we obtain a plant for my garden in Russell Square.” He leaned closer to Polly Faircloth, who wore a giddy expression. “Would you like that, Mrs. Faircloth?”
“I’m afraid that that’s impossible,” interjected Sebastian. “These berries grow wild on old Cornish hedgerows and in no other place in England.”
“I am finding Cornwall to be a magnificent place!” Freddy chimed in as he started on a second plate of eggs and scones. “It is filled with legends, you know. One can almost imagine Tristan and Isolde in those woods by the river.”
“We shall explore the Hall Walk later today, Freddy, and I’ll show you the place where King Charles the First was shot at during the Civil War!” said Julia. She was beginning to enjoy the novelty of having her family at Trevarre Hall, all eating breakfast together in the sunlit garden. The hydrangeas and roses she had been tending were in full bloom, Clover and Dick were actually lying together on the flagstones, the kitchen garden looked prosperous, and warblers were singing in the hedges.
Sebastian pushed back from the table. “How ironic that Freddy should mention the legendary Tristan, for I see our own Lord Senwyck making his way toward us.”
The wide-shouldered, slim-hipped young man walked down the gentle hill from the stables, again wearing the naval uniform that served a new purpose now that he was a Riding Officer. The sun shone on his russet hair that appealingly stuck out a bit, as if he’d just lifted a hand to absently ruffle it.
“Good morning,” said Tristan as he drew near. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Not at all.” Sebastian rose and introduced their guests, finishing with, “I would like you all to know our friend and neighbor, Tristan Penrose, Viscount Senwyck.”
Julia watched as her family and Mr. Pippet exchanged greetings with Tristan. However, when her gaze fell on her sister, it appeared that Sarah had fallen under a spell. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes sparkled, and she tilted her head shyly to one side.
“Lord Senwyck,” she murmured prettily. “It is a great honor to meet you.”
“Are you named for the sixth century Tristan who was King Mark’s nephew?” Freddy interrupted excitedly.
“Well, it is a Celtic name, and fairly common in Cornwall, but my mother did confide that she had that knight in mind when she chose my name,” Tristan told the boy with a grin. “Are you a student of history?”
“Most emphatically yes, my lord! I am currently deep into a study of ancient Greece!”
Before he could continue, Sarah gave her brother a glance that immediately stopped his chatter. Then, turning her lovely face up to Tristan, she said, “My lord, may I say how fine you look in your uniform? Are you in the service of the King?”
“I am indeed, Miss Faircloth.” He bowed to her and the sun flashed on his gilded sword scabbard. “I have served in the Royal Navy and am currently a Customs Riding Officer.”
Julia felt her face growing warmer when she heard him say those words. She glanced at Sebastian, but he seemed perfectly at ease. Now that she knew the truth, his association with Tristan took on new meaning. As she wondered how Sebastian could be so cool in the company of a trusted friend who was also unwittingly dedicated to his capture, it occurred to Julia that there might be more to the situation than met the eye.
“A Riding Officer? Whatever might that be?” Sarah asked. Julia had never seen her sister appear more fascinated by another person.
“We are endeavoring to apprehend the smugglers who would take the law into their own hands and deprive His Majesty of much-needed tax revenue,” Tristan replied soberly.
“Lord Senwyck,” Julia said, wishing to change the subject, “may we offer you breakfast? Mrs. Snuggs has baked her famous currant scones, and we have fresh clotted cream.”
“Thank you, my lady, but I have already eaten. I have come to beg your husband to accompany me to Bodinnick. A friend wishes to meet with him.”
“Ah yes. You must mean Polarven,” Sebastian said, looking rather relieved to have an excuse to escape from the Faircloth family. To Julia, he added, “Jasper was the factor here at Trevarre Hall for many years. He lives in Bodinnick now.”
“How interesting. Perhaps he can be persuaded to return?” Julia wondered why was it so difficult for Sebastian to focus on this estate and forget about Severn Park in Hampshire. He didn’t seem to want to discuss the matter, though, for he and Tristan had begun their goodbyes to the Faircloth family and Mr. Pippet.
“My lord,” said Sarah, attempting to gaze into Lord Senwyck’s blue eyes, “I hope that we may meet again before I leave Cornwall.”
He surprised Julia by blushing slightly and nodding. “Miss Faircloth, I think that we may.”
* * *
The Ferry Inn in Bodinnick, which was only a few dozen yards up the steep hill from the river, looked out on a charming view of Fowey on the opposite bank. The ferry had been in constant operation since the thirteenth century and the inn was just as busy, providing refreshment and a resting place for tired travelers.
Behind the inn’s public room there were two steps leading down to a low-beamed, damp-smelling chamber used for storage and, occasionally, private meetings like the one Sebastian had convened that day.
“Where’s Keswick to?” asked Jasper, sipping his cider in the gloom. “How can we hold a proper meetin’ if he not be here?”
“He may turn up yet,” Sebastian said in ironic tones. “He received a message from an unidentified person and has gone out for a few hours. You might imagine that he would confide in me, but in fact, Keswick can be vexingly inscrutable.”
“Let’s get on with it, then,” said Tristan. “Lynton has become very edgy and he isn’t talking much, either. It wouldn’t do for me to turn up late for our afternoon patrols.”
“Has he mentioned anything about a Revenue Cutter giving chase to a smuggling ship at sea two nights ago?”
“God, no. I take it that was you?”
“Yes. Quite exciting, but I do worry a bit that the Peregrine could be identified if we take her on another run. I’ve been pondering a solution. Do either of you have any thoughts?”
“We might paint the Peregrine,” Jasper mused.<
br />
Tristan looked slightly alarmed. “We can’t just wait for things to die down a bit? Lynton was already foaming at the mouth before the last run, when Julia had to be abducted and taken along. He insisted that I and the other Riding Officers cover every inch of the coastline near Polridmouth Bay because the smugglers had been spotted offshore there. If indeed he knows about the Admiralty ship pursuing you at sea, and he’s decided to keep it to himself, I can only imagine what thoughts he’s having…”
“We can’t put off this run, if that’s what you’re suggesting.” Sebastian said flatly. “A very special cargo is being assembled in the Roscoff warehouse. St. Briac is waiting. And perhaps most importantly, a smuggler’s moon is in store two days hence.”
Jasper’s eyes went round and then he repeated with relish, “A smuggler’s moon!”
“What the devil is that?” demanded Tristan.
“It means no moon at all.” Sebastian calmly leaned back in his chair. “It’s ideal for a landing, and if we wait, it will be a missed opportunity. Perhaps we might throw Lynton off balance by choosing a different beach, on the east side of the Fowey estuary?”
“Lansallos,” murmured Jasper. “It be a long walk t’ the cove, down a path hacked through the stone cliff. The Revenue men do never think of it.”
“Fine then. You and Mixstowe work out the details. All that’s left is the matter of the ship—”
Just then, Keswick called out from the steps leading to the public room. “We have come just in time to provide a solution!” He was bent over in the doorway, smiling, a mug of ale in his hand, and he raised it to Sebastian. “You’ll thank us, my lord, when you hear the plan we have arranged.”
Perceiving that Keswick intended to convey this information privately, Sebastian stood up. “All right then, Senwyck is off to play at being a Riding Officer, Polarven is going to make the arrangements for the landing and distribution with Mixstowe, and I’m going to see what Keswick has in mind.”
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