Near the Ruins of Penharrow (A Cornish Romance Book 3)

by Deborah M. Hathaway

  She knelt down beside him, her knees pressing hard against the crooked floorboards. “Sophia don’t believe she be better than I, not anymore. And I have everythin’ I need here. Ye and Mama. A warm fire. A full stomach. How could I not be happy, Papa?”

  His brow softened, and he smoothed his thumb against her cheek. “What would us do without ye, Gwynny?”

  “Ye never will ‘ave to answer such a question.” She stood, placing a kiss against his temple. “I’ll be back after midnight.”

  Papa nodded, sucking on his pipe before the smoke drifted once more around him. “Fine. Only promise to not allow that woman to coerce ye into doin’ things ye ought not be doin’.”

  “Heavens, Papa. What do ye imagine us to be doin’?” Her nervous chuckle sounded far too strained. “She be a lady. She ain’t be bein’ up to no good, ye know.”

  But Gwynna was. She was the one to have suggested attending a ball. Sophia had merely taken the reins and galloped ahead.

  “Worry not, Father,” Gwynna finished with a resolute nod. “I know me own will. I be strong.”

  His eyes creased at the corners. “Nobody stronger than a miner’s daugh’er.”

  “Or a miner’s wife?” Mama asked with a teasing smile.

  Papa took her hand from the stocking and placed a kiss to the top of her rough skin. “That be the very truth.”

  Gwynna watched them for a moment. She was fortunate to have the parents she did. Not even Sophia had that.

  So why was Gwynna dressing up in a fine gown and pretending to be someone she wasn’t? Was she truly that selfish, so ungrateful for what she did have?

  “Gwynna?”

  She blinked, looking to her parents, who watched her expectantly.

  “Are ye goin’?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  She forced aside her feelings and opened the door, pausing as Papa called after her. “If ye be comin’ home late, be sure to ‘ave her bring ye home in one o’ them carriages she has.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “And do try not to stay out too late,” Mama added.

  “‘Course.”

  With a small wave and a shared smile, she slipped from the house and closed the door behind her, pausing on the dirt path to draw a steadying breath.

  She’d done it. She’d convinced her parents to believe her. Now she simply needed to do the same with those at the ball, as well as herself.

  As she began her journey, however, no matter how she tried, she couldn’t remove the worry that she was betraying her parents’ trust, the work they’d done for her, and her heritage as a miner’s daughter. Surely wishing to be someone else for just one evening was not so distasteful.

  But then, should she not be grateful for what she had, instead of chasing after a dream of the upper class?

  This was going to be more difficult than she thought.

  * * *

  Gwynna curled her fingers around the golden fringe of the curtain she hid behind. Slowly, she pulled the heavy, blue velvet to the side, just enough to peer through the opening, though the rest of her body remained hidden.

  For the past quarter of an hour, she’d been tucked away in an alcove off of the ballroom, watching the guests trickling in like waves seeping through the cavity of a rock. With their fine dresses and jackets, their happy chatter and sparkling eyes, Gwynna wasn’t sure she could face them all.

  She recognized ladies she’d seen in town before, and a few investors from the mine. Mr. Pinnick, the gentleman who’d left the counthouse in a sneering huff days before, wandered through the crowds with a haughty smile. His jacket wouldn’t get dirty in this room.

  Gwynna had expected to see people she knew, but no one who might possibly know her, apart from the Hawkinses. Those of the upper class didn’t take much notice of miners and their families, and Sophia had done her best with fulfilling a smaller guestlist. She’d also reassured Gwynna countless times that she was unrecognizable.

  But was it worth the risk, walking around amidst those who might discover Gwynna’s true identity?

  A heaviness nestled at the bottom of her stomach. She rubbed a hand against her abdomen, attempting to settle the lead weight of her nerves, but nothing worked.

  She withdrew back into the dim light of her hiding place, staring at the smooth floor beneath her dance slippers. Sophia wouldn’t be happy with Gwynna expelling her morning’s meager breakfast of pillas porridge onto the polished wood, or onto Sophia’s pink footwear Gwynna had borrowed.

  Although, if becoming sick would provide an excuse for her to return home early and abandon this ridiculous scheme…

  Gwynna flattened her hands out to the side of her, steadying her body as well as her straying thoughts. She’d worked too hard getting to this point to give up now.

  After hours of primping, pulling, curling, and securing, she’d finally been made presentable for that evening. The oil and dirt had been washed clean from her hair that morning, and now, the brunette ringlets at her temples shone nearly copper colored in the candlelight. Her brown dress and greyed underpinnings had long since been replaced by a soft pink gown with ribbons and lace to match.

  She fit the part of a proper lady. The only problem was, she wasn’t.

  Music drifted toward her, the musicians tuning their instruments as the crowds brimmed. She leaned closer to the curtains, eying the splendor once again.

  The ballroom had been breathtaking during the day when she’d practiced her dances with Sophia. Now, with the candles aglow and reflecting off of the crystal chandeliers and gilded mirrors, the sight was stunning. Paintings of the seaside were depicted in the highest parts of the ceiling, and the same blue curtains she hid behind adorned the tops of every large window and alcove.

  Fynwary Hall’s previous owner—Mr. Rosewall—had clearly used his wealth to create the opulent ballroom, instead of improving Wheal Favour when he’d owned the mine. He clearly cared very little for the state of his workers and focused more on the state of his pride.

  A thread of guilt slivered round Gwynna’s heart at the thought, and she withdrew into the alcove once more. As much as she liked to point out Father’s dislike for Mr. Rosewall, Gwynna held just as much disdain for the gentleman who had since moved away from St. Just—disdain that she consistently and consciously had to let go.

  But was Gwynna not adding to the problem he’d started? Was she not now participating in all this affluence, while her lower class friends were at home in their brown dresses, dirty aprons, and worn boots?

  She couldn’t deny the pride she’d felt, admiring her appearance in the mirror beforehand. Now, that pride made her conscience squirm.

  “Gwynna?”

  A hushed whisper passed through the curtain nearby, and Sophia’s face followed, poking past the fabric. “Ah, here you are.” She slipped into the alcove, closing the curtain behind her. “I thought you’d be out already.”

  Gwynna remained silent, tugging her gloves more securely above her elbows. She was glad for them, if only because they covered her callused fingers and her childhood scar at the back of her arm.

  “Are you well?” Sophia pressed when Gwynna remained silent. She tipped her head to the side, her coal-black curls falling against her brow.

  With her dark hair and blue eyes, Sophia was an incomparable beauty. Although they shared the same height and thin build, Gwynna always felt dowdy around her friend, even now, after the hours of primping she’d just undergone. Sophia was a true lady. Gwynna was just a bal maiden.

  “I can’t do this, Sophia,” Gwynna said, her courage escaping her drop by drop, like water leaking from a poorly repaired roof.

  Sophia nodded her head straightaway, though disappointment and worry shaded her bright eyes. “Is that what you really wish for, Gwynna?”

  Gwynna groaned, rubbing her fingers to her temples. Sophia had worked just as hard as Gwynna to ensure they were both ready for the evening, but Sophia would never push to continue the charade if Gwynna didn’t wish t
o.

  Before, Gwynna had wanted to attend this ball so badly, but now that the consequences were laid out before her eyes, real and tangible, she wasn’t sure she could continue.

  “I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. “I just keep thinkin’ ‘bout someone discoverin’ me dressin’ above me station. I’ll be tormented by the upper classes and lose me place at Wheal Favour for certain. And Mr. Hawkins and ye will be ridiculed for allowin’ me under your roof. I can’t do it. I can’t.”

  She stopped, shaking her head adamantly until Sophia walked forward with outstretched hands, clasping Gwynna’s fingers in her own. “My dear friend, we were both aware of the consequences from the beginning. You must remember, we have discussed every possible outcome and have taken every measure to ensure you remain unnoticed this evening.”

  Gwynna closed her eyes, drawing in recurrent, steady breaths. Sophia was right. They had taken every precaution, from ensuring the smaller guestlist included no one who might truly recognize Gwynna to having her learn the ins and outs of proper behavior at the ball. She’d spent weeks learning dance steps and how to dine properly. Gwynna had curtsied until her calves were sore and practiced the calculated stroll of a lady until she never wished to walk again.

  They’d even taken measures to change her accent, though Gwynna had already decided to remain silent for the entirety of the evening. Her attempt at the upper class tongue was abysmal, no matter how Sophia ensured her it was “perfectly fine.”

  Yes, they’d planned for everything, even ensuring Gwynna knew where the servants were situated so she might avoid them all the better. Still, she was overcome with worry. “Mr. Rennalls and ‘is meddlesome wife be walkin’ ‘round, and now Mr. Pinnick is out there. I only just saw ‘im a few days past. He’ll recognize me, to be sure.”

  And he would not hesitate to involve the constable. Mr. Hawkins had already promised to use his status as a gentleman and intervene, should the constable be implicated, but would that stop Mr. Pinnick from pushing for the harshest punishment for dressing above her station—months for Gwynna in Bodmin Jail and the loss of her work at Favour?

  “Mr. Pinnick?” Sophia asked, twisting her lips. “Mr. Hawkins has told me how that man is always causing trouble amidst the investors at Wheal Favour, complaining about one thing to the next. If only he’d pull his investment so Mr. Trevethan might run the mine in peace.” She shook her head. “I assure you, Gwynna, with a man that concerned with himself, I’d be shocked if he looked at anyone else beyond his own likeness in the mirrors this evening.”

  Her words rang true to Gwynna’s agitated mind. After all, Mr. Pinnick hadn’t even looked at her that morning in the counthouse, unlike Mr. Trevethan and his son.

  Jack Trevethan’s dark eyes appeared in her mind’s eye, but she readily discarded them like she would a piece of ore with no vein of copper in sight. She wouldn’t have to worry about the father and son that evening. Mr. Trevethan had already declined the invitation. According to Mr. Hawkins, the mine owner would be occupied this evening with new investors, and his son would no doubt be joining his father.

  Sophia squeezed her hands reassuringly. “As I said, if you truly wish to leave now, you have my full support. But allow me to reassure you once again that no one will recognize you. No one will see you for who you really are. This is what you wished for, is it not?”

  Gwynna hesitated. That was what she’d wanted. But now, with rouge on her lips and cheeks, and white pearls encircling her neck, matching the ones decorating the chignon at the crown of her head, she didn’t even recognize herself. Her parents wouldn’t have either.

  She pulled away from Sophia’s hold and wrapped her arms around her middle. She’d turned her back on them, all of them. She’d been at war with herself all evening, but now, dressed as she was and about to make her appearance in such a grand room, she was slowly losing the battle against her conscience.

  How ashamed Mama would be of Gwynna’s lies. How worthless Papa would feel, thinking he hadn’t provided enough for his daughter. For surely, if he had, Gwynna wouldn’t be lying to experience a better life for one evening.

  “I just feel like I be betrayin’ me family,” she finally whispered aloud.

  Sophia was silent for a moment before she spoke, each word carefully thought out as her expression sobered. “May I speak candidly for a moment?”

  Gwynna eyed her warily from the side. Her hope silently scratched at its cage to be let free as she nodded for Sophia to continue.

  “Your work at the mine begins tomorrow,” Sophia said softly. “Your difficult labor, your real life, will begin anew. You have one night left, one night to be someone else. Please, do not waste a single moment longer on whether you are betraying your family or not. For you are not. You are simply allowing yourself to have one night of carefree frivolity.”

  Gwynna’s shoulders straightened as Sophia continued. “Forget your troubles for one evening, my dear friend. Allow yourself to be free of strife and responsibilities—to be a lady. Everyone deserves a night away from hardships and burdens and trials. And you deserve a night away after what you did to help me.” Tears welled in her eyes, though she swiftly blinked them away. “If this is still what you wish to do, then I shall do my very best to ensure you do not regret a single moment of it.”

  The firm pleading in Sophia’s voice slipped past Gwynna’s reservations and buoyed her courage. Gwynna had been through much, but so had many other maidens. The difference now was that very few of those girls would be so crazed as to risk their livelihood for one night of fun—and not one of them had a friend like Sophia.

  Finally, though her nerves remained unsettled, anticipation blossomed within Gwynna like the long-awaited sea thrift after a freezing winter.

  She sighed. “Fine. I’ll do it. But I be mad, ye know.”

  Sophia raised her shoulders. “We both are. But we certainly have more fun this way. Now I must leave to announce the first dance. You still do not wish to dance it, I assume?”

  Gwynna shook her head. She wasn’t quite ready for that.

  After a quick embrace and the promise to follow soon after, she watched Sophia disappear through the curtains. Finally, Gwynna gathered her courage that had fallen down around her then took her first step into the ballroom.

  Outside of the dim alcove, the blazing lights pulsed against her eyes, and she winced. The music and conversation were much louder out here, no longer muted by the thick curtains. The voices around her reverberated in her ears with a gentle hum, like leaves rustling in a summer breeze.

  From here, she could better appreciate the setting and the finery of those around her. Mothers stood by as sentinels, closely observing their daughters, who fluttered their fans and eyed gentlemen hungrily from across the room. The men stood a little taller with the attention, their starched collars and bright waistcoats holding their own in the colorful sea of women’s dresses.

  Smiles abounded as the dancers skipped and turned in the set, all in time with the lively music from the musicians at the front of the room.

  As Gwynna stood there, taking it all in, the corners of her lips lifted. Her entire life, she’d wondered what attending a high-society gathering would be like. Now, she was finally experiencing it, and as luck would have it, the sights and sounds were exactly what she’d hoped for, exactly as she’d imagined them.

  She ignored her conscience and focused instead on Sophia’s words.

  “I deserve one evenin’ free from strife,” she whispered.

  And she would allow herself to have it.

  With leaden feet, she took her first steps around the ballroom. A couple passed her by not a moment later, and before she could remind herself to be a lady, to play the part, both of them nodded their heads with polite smiles and walked on.

  Gwynna stared after them in stunned silence. Never had she been treated with such…respect. She couldn’t count how often she was ignored or brushed aside by the upper class. That was just daily life f
or her.

  That evening, she’d half-expected to be discovered the very moment she met eyes with someone, then chased off with a flaming candlestick and polished silverware.

  But that couple, they hadn’t known she was a miner’s daughter. They hadn’t known that she wasn’t one of them.

  She continued on, her step a little lighter. Two ladies walked past her arm-in-arm with another kind acknowledgement, and Gwynna reeled. Truthfully, she shouldn’t have been surprised, what with the change in her appearance, but this was just too strange to comprehend all at once.

  As she neared the top of the room, the crowds parted, and Mr. Pinnick emerged from the masses. Her steps faltered, and she nearly turned around to flee, but she froze when their eyes met.

  He narrowed his gaze slightly, clearing his throat to speak. Gwynna’s breathing restricted. Was he going to declare her identity? Alert the entire room of her presence?

  But he merely smiled and tipped his head with a pleasant, “Good evening, miss,” before going on his way.

  Gwynna bit her tongue to prevent a smile as broad as the pickaxes they used at the mine. She continued along the outer wall of the room, recalling Mr. Pinnick’s words.

  “As much as one might attempt, one cannot improve the state of a miner, nor his family. In manner or cleanliness.”

  Mr. Pinnick had certainly been proven wrong that evening.

  Gwynna had planned to merely make one round about the room then slide back into the safety behind the curtains. But then, she’d just deceived that gentleman into believing she was someone she was not. She should have felt remorse for her deception or perhaps slight hesitation. Instead, she felt free.

  She glanced around. No one treated her with disdain. No one peered down at her with feigned pity for her lower class life. She was their equal. She was a lady.