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

by Deborah M. Hathaway

  It had been a clear warning to them both that should Gwynna marry Jack, she would no longer be welcome in her own family.

  How could Jack ask her to sacrifice so much for him, a man hardly worthy of everything she could give him?

  “No, Gwynna.” He tightened his grip on his horse’s reins and turned away. He wouldn’t look at her amber eyes now shining like gold with her precious tears—tears he’d once more caused by his cruelty. “You deserve someone who makes you happy, someone who does not ask you to give up so much. I am sorry, but I cannot be that man for you.”

  Gwynna’s quiet sob caught in her throat, sounding as a muted gasp. It was the final twist to fully tear apart Jack’s heart. He bit hard on his lip, mounting his horse and galloping away before he could convince himself to return.

  This was for the better. He was making Gwynna happier this way.

  So why did it feel like he was doing the opposite?

  Chapter Fifteen

  The days were getting harder to work through. Not even the clear skies, cool breeze, or sea was comfort enough for Gwynna. The blue water sparkled like the sapphires Sophia liked to wear—a wedding gift from her husband. Gwynna used to imagine what that would be like, to have wealth, to be gifted finery from a loved one. Now she realized how silly that was of her. She didn’t want jewelry or dresses or rouge.

  She wanted Jack.

  Crack!

  She kicked the broken ore to the side, drawing in more rocks with the head of her hammer, avoiding any sight of the upper cliff. She hadn’t expected to see Jack again after he’d delivered his letter the day before, yet there he was, standing next to his father and Mr. Harvey.

  He’d no doubt been persuaded by his father to have one last walk around Favour before he left. To Bath or to London, Gwynna still wasn’t sure, nor should she care.

  She’d spent hours convincing herself that Jack’s departure was a good thing. They couldn’t have made a marriage work between them anyway. Gwynna was willing to sacrifice all she was comfortable with—her home near the sea, her place at the mine, her freedom to brawl and curse and run with her skirts at her knees. She even could have dealt with the criticism she’d inevitably face from both classes.

  But she couldn’t give up her family. And since Papa would never approve, marrying Jack would never work.

  Not that Jack had wanted to marry a bal maiden anyway.

  She turned her back on Jack and the other gentlemen, averting her gaze from Kerensa, as well. Kerensa had asked after Gwynna’s lowered spirits, but Gwynna had brushed aside any questions with a strained smile and an assurance that all was well. She hadn’t patched up her broken heart enough to speak readily about it yet.

  Gwynna had cried herself to sleep last night in her room in Mama’s arms, just like she’d done the day Jago had died. Her mother hugged her and whispered comforting words as she combed her fingers through Gwynna’s hair.

  “Ye be fine to cry now, Gwynna,” she’d whispered. “But on the morrow, ye must be strong and accept what’s ‘appened. The pain’ll subside. One day, ye be fine again.”

  But Gwynna wasn’t sure if she would be. Jack loved her. She was certain of it. The day before, he’d tried to sidestep his reasoning for leaving, but she’d read between his words. He loved her, just not enough to disgrace himself by marrying a bal maiden.

  The fact that she was not good enough for him made the blow of his rejection all the more painful.

  A surface worker dumped a new pile of ore at her feet and walked away without a glance. Gwynna sighed, the knee-high pile of rocks as insurmountable as a mountain.

  Was this her future, one pile of ore after another? One swing, one crack, one aching muscle at a time?

  She swung the hammer again overhead and railed against another piece of ore. The crack cut through the air like a clap of thunder. Where once the sound had been satisfying to hear, now it snapped annoyingly in her ears.

  Perhaps Papa was right. Perhaps she should leave the mine and help Mama at home now. Her parents deserved some obedience from their daughter after all Gwynna had put them through.

  She’d spotted her father standing in her doorway the night before as she’d cried. Though he’d kept his distance and his words to himself, his eyebrows were drawn with compassion before he’d slunk from her room.

  That morning, he’d embraced Gwynna longer than usual. “Bein’ away from the mine’ll allow ye to forget your heartache, Gwynny,” he’d whispered, then he’d departed for the shaft, his last day below ground before his promotion to surface worker began tomorrow.

  Gwynna tossed a few pieces of the ore into the hand barrow, sighing with exasperation as a rock bounced out and tumbled across the dirt. She stomped toward the rock and threw it into the barrow like a petulant child asked to tidy her toys.

  She was behaving like a child. She needed to stop wallowing in her misery and focus instead on her blessings. She lived by the sea, she had friends in both classes, her belly would soon be full of the pasty Mama had made for her, and she had parents who would do anything to keep her safe and happy.

  Her parents deserved their only daughter to appreciate the life they’d given her, so she would be happy, no matter what the future held.

  Then the ground rumbled at her feet.

  Confusion slipped its muddling fingers over Gwynna’s eyes. She stood in a stagnant daze, trying to decipher what was occurring as the older women screamed. Surface workers and young maidens dropped their tools with shattered expressions. The whole mine seemed to merge as one, each worker converging toward the shaft.

  When the tin bell pierced through the air like an errant bullet, Gwynna finally understood.

  The shaft had suffered a collapse.

  “Father,” she breathed.

  She took off toward the opposite side of the engine house with the others. Shouts of alarm and whimpering cries from children rippled through the crowds. A few men disappeared into the engine house, heading below ground to help the survivors and the injured…and to count the dead.

  Gwynna drew in haggard breaths as she stopped, waiting with the others. Fear threatened to loosen her hold of reality, just as it had done when the lean-to had broken on top of her in the storm. Instead of Jago’s fear-stricken face haunting her thoughts, Father’s worry-etched brow took to the forefront of her mind.

  Was he suffering? Wounded? Or had he…

  She closed her eyes off to the image of his ashen face. No, she wouldn’t believe it. She couldn’t. Papa couldn’t die. She and Mama wouldn’t be able to live without him.

  She opened her eyes, glancing around at the tears being shed. Kerensa stood back from the others, her arms draped around her sisters’ quivering shoulders. The three of them cried. They had no family below ground, but the memory of their father’s death in the last mining accident was no doubt fresh in their minds.

  She and Kerensa shared a wary look.

  “He be all right,” Kerensa shouted with an encouraging nod.

  Gwynna swallowed. Would he be?

  “Please, make room!”

  All eyes shifted from the engine house door to the approaching gentlemen making ripples through the crowds as they cut their way toward the shaft.

  Gwynna charted Jack’s progression behind Mr. Harvey and his father. Just before he followed them into the engine house, his eyes caught hers.

  Time stood still for a moment. He gave her a firm, reassuring nod, then he disappeared through the door, taking the last of Gwynna’s hope alongside him.

  * * *

  Jack folded his arms, fighting the urge to tap his boot impatiently on the floor of the engine house.

  “If the whole shaft has collapsed, they’ll be gone already,” Mr. Harvey said.

  Father shook his head. “But the timber we purchased, would that not have prevented an entire collapse?”

  “You know, sir, there are no guarantees in this business.”

  Jack peered down the shaft. The surface workers who had de
scended to help the others were nowhere in sight. Why were Father and Mr. Harvey moseying along? Every moment that passed in conversation was another moment that could be spent saving Gwynna’s father.

  Jack hadn’t been certain the man was even below ground until Gwynna’s fearful eyes had confirmed his suspicion. Now he knew he had to do everything in his power to ensure tragedy did not strike her family again.

  And if that meant taking control into his own hands, then so be it.

  “We can only hope for the best, sir,” Mr. Harvey said.

  “I just don’t see—”

  Jack growled in frustration, interrupting his father’s words as he tore off his jacket and untied his cravat. “Well speaking about it isn’t going to save them.”

  “Son, what are you doing?”

  Jack ignored Father’s anxious tone and retrieved a candle.

  “No, Jack. You cannot go down there. It is too dangerous now.”

  Jack shot him a pointed look. “So you’ll leave them all to fend for themselves?”

  Mr. Harvey frowned. “We’ve sent men to survey the damage. Until then, we must wait until they deem it safe.”

  Jack scoffed. “You’re allowing them to risk their lives to save yours.”

  Father looked away. “They’ve experience in—”

  “I care not.” Jack took his first step on the ladder down the shaft. “I do not deem my life greater than any of theirs.”

  “I highly advise against this,” Mr. Harvey called down from above. “There are rules we must adhere to!”

  Jack ignored him and plunged into the darkness. He knew it was dangerous, but he had to do this. For Gwynna.

  Just like before underground, the same apprehension crept into his lungs, preventing a steady breath. But what did it matter? He was already panting from exertion and fear—fear that Mr. Merrick was not alive. Fear that he’d have to tell Gwynna that another member of her family perished in yet another mining accident.

  The ladder shivered beneath Jack’s fingers, and he glanced up to find Father following closely after him.

  “Mr. Harvey highly advises against this, Father,” Jack said, mimicking the man’s words.

  “It is fortunate, then, that I am the owner and he is not.”

  Jack would have grinned under different circumstances. Who would have guessed he had inherited his rebellious nature from Father?

  They moved together, soon joining the other miners as they moved from ladder to ladder, tramping through standing water, shrouded in darkness. The shouts and moans from the injured men replaced the usual clanking of tools, hauntingly echoing up the shaft.

  Soot permeated the air as Jack neared the bottom of the shaft. He coughed into his sleeve as he ran alongside the other miners down the tunnels.

  “How many are injured?” Father asked as they reached the area Jack had first been shown with Hugh.

  A few miners exchanged surprised glances to find the owner and his son joining them. “Eleven, sir.”

  Jack’s couldn’t draw in a deep breath as he visually sifted through the wreckage. He’d expected to see the cave-in closing off access to the tunnels, but only a few boulders piled up against the rock walls.

  “Casualties?” Father asked next.

  “None, sir.”

  None. Relief rushed over Jack. Gwynna’s father was safe. But then, where was he?

  He cast his eyes to the others as Father continued his conversation.

  “I’m so pleased to hear that,” he said, relief apparent in his tone.

  “The timbers be doin’ their job, sir,” the miner said.

  Timbers. Gwynna had mentioned them long ago—Father paying the extra expense to ensure the safety of his miners—and they’d worked.

  Sudden emotion overcame Jack. He looked away, furiously blinking away the tears in his eyes. How wrong he had been about his father. He had far more goodness than Jack could have ever guessed.

  “We must bring ‘em to grass to be treated,” a miner called out. “There be broken bones and the like.”

  Jack pulled out of his thoughts, clearing his throat. Now was not the time to be sentimental.

  He slogged through the mud, shining his light down on the men who laid against the walls and on the ground. Finally, he found Mr. Merrick propped up against a large boulder. The man grimaced with closed eyes, his long hair snaking out from his filthy cap.

  Jack knelt down beside him. “Mr. Merrick, where are you injured?”

  His eyes pulled open, instant fire in their depths. “I be fine.”

  “His arm be broken,” a miner next to him declared. “And he sprained ‘is foot.”

  Mr. Merrick scowled, still facing Jack. “The other men be worse off. See to ‘em first.”

  Jack noted Mr. Merrick’s right arm limp at his side. “I’m afraid I cannot do that, sir.”

  He reached forward, grasping Mr. Merrick’s left arm and helping him to stand with a huff.

  “This doesn’t take back what ye did to me Gwynna,” Mr. Merrick whispered, favoring his arm as Jack escorted him to the ladders.

  “I did nothing to her, sir,” Jack said, glancing around to ensure no one could hear their conversation.

  He shuddered to think what Mr. Merrick thought Jack could do to Gwynna.

  But Mr. Merrick’s glare chilled him straight through, like a frozen saber. “Ye broke her heart.”

  Jack stammered, a crushing weight falling on his shoulders, as if the shaft had collapsed upon him. “I-I didn’t mean to. I was doing what was best for her.”

  Mr. Merrick scoffed, pushing Jack away and hobbling through the tunnels and to the ladder himself. The man was stubborn and independent. Just like Gwynna.

  And Jack had broken her.

  Mr. Merrick attempted to clamber up the ladder with only one arm and a smarting ankle, but after multiple grunts of pain, Jack couldn’t let him carry on any longer.

  He reached forward, holding Mr. Merrick upright with an outstretched hand as the man used his one good arm to climb to the top at a slow pace.

  The only thing that spurred Jack forward was the sweet relief Gwynna was sure to experience once she saw her father alive.

  * * *

  Gwynna clasped her hands to her chest, fixing her eyes on the engine house. Only minutes before, the first injured young man had been brought forth from the shaft, and word had spread that not a single miner had been killed in the accident.

  She was still afraid to believe such incredible news, but when Father—alive and walking—exited the engine house with Jack supporting him, a sob escaped her lips.

  “Papa!” she shouted, running toward him as tears wet her cheeks.

  She wrapped her arms around him and cried into his neck.

  “I be well, Gwynny,” he whispered into her hair. “I be all right.”

  She smiled through her tears, relief and gratitude rushing through her limbs.

  “The surgeon be arrivin’ just now,” a miner nearby called out.

  She pulled back just as two others approached her father. “We be helpin’ ye up now, Merrick.”

  Gwynna took a step back as they helped her father forward. She eyed his limp foot and arm as they walked away. Things could have been far, far worse. Thank heavens for the timbers. Thank heavens for the Trevethans.

  Thank heavens for Jack.

  She turned to express her gratitude, but he no longer stood nearby. She glanced from side to side, spotting him in the doorway of the engine house.

  Their gazes met, his brown eyes framed in red.

  “Thank ye, Jack.” she said, backing away to follow her father up the incline. “Thank ye.”

  He gave a singular nod, keeping his eyes on hers until she turned around and made for the counthouse.

  Gwynna knew he would return down the shaft to help the other miners still hurting at the bottom.

  Because that was just the sort of gentleman he was.

  Chapter Sixteen

  With the last of the miners b
rought up from below ground, Jack wiped the mud and soot off his face and hands with the murky water near the tool house. Most maidens had already resumed working through their piles of ore on the lower cliffside, but a few miners continued to celebrate with happy smiles and proud claps to each other’s backs.

  Their laughter drifted toward Jack as he shook his hands dry. How different the mood would have been at Favour had Father not reinforced the shaft. Gwynna had been right. His father was a good man.

  With his jacket draped over his arm and cravat retied—despite his now filthy waistcoat—Jack made for the counthouse. He hadn’t seen Gwynna since he’d brought up Mr. Merrick. There was no sight of her spalling, so Jack figured she was within the counthouse, tending to her father.

  He hesitated outside the door. He didn’t want to face her again, nor hear anymore gratitude he didn’t deserve, but he needed to speak with Father.

  With a deep breath, he stepped inside. The main room had been turned into a makeshift infirmary, cots set up across the floor and into the spare bedroom to accommodate the injured miners. The surgeon fitted a splint on a young man while a few others groaned in pain.

  Jack tried to keep his eyes focused straight ahead, but he veered to Gwynna, who sat beside her father. Sorrow peeked through her eyes, though she smiled up at him.

  He tipped his head toward her, an action befitting the coward that he was, then took a quick search of the room. Father was nowhere in sight.

  Jack sidled past the cots and miners toward Mr. Harvey, who pored over his ledger book behind the desk.

  “Do you happen to know where my father is?” he whispered, not wishing to disturb the few miners who were finally able to rest.

  Mr. Harvey didn’t look up from his scribblings. “He went to the engine house with a few investors but should return shortly.”

  The engine house. That should take Jack far enough away from Gwynna.

  He inched toward the door again, avoiding the penetrating eyes of both Gwynna and Mr. Merrick. But his progress halted halfway as Father entered the counthouse, followed shortly by two other gentlemen.