Humbled by his father’s statement, Jack lowered his eyes. How often had he thought Father was attempting to control his life? How often had he longed for an apology, an acknowledgement to Papa’s wrongdoings?
He cleared his throat of the emotion congregating within him like a choir of weepy vocalists. Crying wasn’t necessary. It didn’t help him receive what he wanted.
Father’s voice softened further. “I’m sure you are aware of how difficult your life would be to adjust to a marriage between a gentleman and a bal maiden. Society would spurn you. Gossip would abound. Finding a place you’d both be welcome would be nigh impossible, excepting Coffrow Place, of course.”
At least Father would not run him out as Jack and Amy now did, as Father had once done years before.
“I am aware of the issues. But…” Jack hesitated, picking at a sliver of wood poking up from the counthouse wall. Sharing feelings with Father was never easy.
Jack looked over his shoulder to ensure no miners or maidens were nearby—much like the way Gwynna had done when Jack had coerced her into speaking with him time and time again. The pathway was empty. The clinking of iron and clacking of ore told Jack most of the workers were still on the dressing floor.
Including Gwynna. Was she still rattled from Mr. Pinnick’s accusations? Weary of breaking apart ore all day?
No, she would have already forgotten her fears and sorrow and simply forged ahead. Yet another thing she’d taught Jack.
He gathered what remained of his fortitude. “I am not so very concerned about the effect such a marriage will have on me, as much as I am concerned for Gwynna’s sake.”
Father rubbed his jaw. “One would think she could look past such hardships, what with all she has experienced already. Besides, would you not be improving her circumstances vastly?”
“I would. But it is the matter of her family that is most disconcerting. Mr. Merrick has said that I would tear their family apart. I can’t ask her to sacrifice her family and everything with which she is comfortable, simply to marry me.”
Father seemed to contemplate Jack’s words. “Has she said she is unwilling to make such a sacrifice?”
“Well, no.” He kicked a stone away from his boot. “I haven’t exactly spoken to her about my concerns. But I’m fairly certain she could never agree to such a sacrifice.”
Father drew closer to him with a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Son, if there is one thing I learned from my marriage to your mother, it is that when a man assumes what a woman is thinking, more often than not, he’s wrong.”
Jack frowned, despite father’s look of amusement. “Fine, I very well might be wrong. But all the same, how could I ask her to make such a sacrifice?”
Father shrugged. “Either way, it seems to me that you ought to allow Gwynna the choice.”
Jack pulled his eyes to the sea shining in the afternoon sun. From his viewpoint at the upper cliff, only the top half of the engine house was visible, smoke puffing out from the red chimney and disappearing into the blue skies.
He tried to distract himself with the sight, but Father’s words dug deep into his mind.
Allow Gwynna the choice. Would Jack even be her choice? He knew she loved him. But was it enough to upend her life and marry him? Or was she relieved to learn that he was leaving Cornwall, no longer beholden to the gentleman who’d wrapped his life up so keenly next to hers?
Fear lunged sharp pains into his chest at the thought.
Father squeezed his shoulder. “Just remember one thing, son,” he said as he released his hold and walked past him.
Jack turned to listen to Father’s final words. “You have every right to be happy. And so does Gwynna.”
Jack didn’t hear Father’s retreating footsteps, nor his entrance into the counthouse. Emotions rushed through him so powerfully, he had to back up against the outer wall to avoid falling over.
His father’s words—they’d been exactly what Mama used to tell Jack as a young boy every time she would see him scowl.
Be happy, Jacky. You have no reason not to be.
For years, Jack had pushed the words aside, for he had every reason not to be happy. He had neither of his parents. He’d been sent to live with distant relatives. He numbed his pain with multiple vices. His life was in shambles with no joy or love to patch it up.
Until he met Gwynna.
With her, he had the chance to begin again. He could be happy, more so than he ever had been before. Was he truly so foolish as to risk losing her now, after all they’d been through, after the love they’d found with each other?
But he couldn’t just ask Gwynna to choose between him and her family. That would be unthinkably cruel. Mr. Merrick would never agree to their marriage—would he?
After the fist he’d launched toward Jack and the subsequent scathing words that extended to him even today when he’d helped Mr. Merrick to safety above ground, Jack had little hope.
But wasn’t Gwynna worth it?
With a fire in his step, he stormed around the corner and toward the counthouse door. Yes, Gwynna was worth it. She was worth everything to him.
He reached for the handle, but it swung away from his grasp. Mr. Merrick’s fierce glower greeted him.
“Mr. Merrick,” Jack said, taking a few steps back. “Should you be walking around?”
Mr. Merrick didn’t respond. He hobbled over the threshold and closed the door behind him with his good arm, all without removing his eyes from Jack.
Jack, however, could not maintain such a stare. He glanced to the heather swaying in the soft breeze. It’s carefree dancing mocked Jack as he trembled in his boots.
“I’d like to have a word with ye, Mr. Trevethan, if ye wouldn’t mind.”
Jack swallowed. “Yes, sir.” He fought the urge to shift his body away. He was fairly certain Mr. Merrick wouldn’t hesitate to injure his other arm to put Jack in his proper place, away from Gwynna.
“Me daugh’er tells me ye ‘elped the other miners after ye brought me up,” Mr. Merrick said, his scowl remaining.
He stood at the same height as Jack, so why did Jack feel so much shorter? “Yes, sir. I did.”
“I supposed ye were down there simply to ease me dislike of ye.”
A horse’s whinny from the rotating whim sounded behind Jack. He longed to turn around, if only to ease the pressure he felt under Mr. Merrick’s gaze.
But he wouldn’t cower any longer. If Mr. Merrick was to see Jack as the honorable gentleman he was attempting to be—the man who loved Gwynna more than his own life—then Jack needed to prove as much, firstly by being honest.
“I was down there to help you.” He paused. “And to help your daughter.”
Mr. Merrick shifted his wounded foot with a barely discernible flinch. “I suppose I ought to thank ye then. And for your ‘elp with that cakey Mr. Pinnick and his gawky fizzog.”
“Of course, sir.” That had to be progress, did it not? An expression of gratitude? Dare he ask his own question now? “I know you must think the worst of me, but I have something to say regarding…regarding my relationship with your daughter.”
Mr. Merrick’s eyes hardened, his lips disappearing as he frowned. “Ye know me opinion of ye, Trevethan. That ain’t changin’. But I must ask ye this, ‘fore I listen to anythin’ else ye might have to say: did ye take advantage of me daugh’er?”
Jack straightened, responding without hesitation. “No, sir. I did not, nor would I ever. Nothing occurred that night beyond a shared kiss.”
Mr. Merrick’s expression remained unchanged. Did he not believe Jack? “Sir, I—”
“Gwynna was up all night cryin’ after what ye said to her,” Mr. Merrick interrupted.
Jack’s chest burned with regret. He’d behaved so foolishly, so selfishly. How could he have hurt her again? “I did not intend to harm her. I sincerely wish only for her happiness. I know you do not approve of me, which is why I was intent upon leaving. I couldn’t ask her to sacrifice her relationship
with you for my sake.”
Mr. Merrick blinked, the crease between his brow disappearing into his dirt-covered cap. “That be the reason ye were leavin’? Not ‘cause she be a maiden?”
“No, sir,” he answered firmly. He took a step forward to add proof to his words. “I care not about her status. I care about her. I…I love her, sir. And I wish to marry her.”
He paused, bracing for another blow from Mr. Merrick. This one would be sure to render Jack utterly lifeless on the ground.
But as Mr. Merrick remained as still as a statue, Jack took courage and rushed forward. “I will devote my life to her, to make her happy and to keep her safe. I do not know for certain if she will agree to my proposal, but I would like to allow her the opportunity to choose for herself what her future holds. I-I can only hope you will allow me to give her that opportunity.”
Jack stopped, holding his breath as Mr. Merrick studied him with dull eyes.
Finally, the miner responded. “Ne’er will ye be good enough for me daugh’er. But no man ever could be.” He raised his finger, pointing it directly at Jack with a look of warning that chilled Jack to his very soul. “Don’t be a disappointment to her.”
Jack stared. Was that Mr. Merrick’s way of saying yes? Was he allowing Jack to propose to Gwynna?
His breath quickened. “I won’t, sir.”
Mr. Merrick sniffed disbelievingly, then left Jack standing on the pathway, withdrawing into the counthouse without a glance back.
Jack’s chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. He had her father’s permission. Yes, there were still many walls to hurdle should they marry, but now Gwynna wouldn’t have to make a choice between Jack and losing her family. Would that make it easier on her?
Or was Jack simply not worth any sacrifice?
He stared down the small hill leading to the lower cliff. He wanted to ask Gwynna now. He needed to know if he had any hope that she wanted to be with him. But he couldn’t very well ask her in the center of the mine, in the middle of her workday, all while she spalled.
Or could he?
He grinned, striding forth on the pathway, passing staring maidens and surface workers until he finally caught sight of Gwynna.
She didn’t notice him until he was nearly upon her. Her cheeks were ruddy, her bonnet dangling down her back and tied at her neck. Sweat tinged her brow, and the scanty rag around her head held all but a few stringy strands of hair down the side of her face. She looked tired, exhausted from the emotions and strain of the day.
But her freckles spoke of the enjoyment she received in having the sunshine blanket her cheeks. Her focused, amber eyes were witness to her determination and resolve to see through all of life’s hardships. And her lips held the promise of the words he so longed to hear her say—needed to hear her say.
His heart flooded with love. He’d never seen her so beautiful.
Chapter Seventeen
Gwynna’s spirits sank as Jack walked resolutely toward her. What was he doing? Had something happened with Papa? Was Mr. Pinnick back, this time with the constable?
She pushed aside her rampant thoughts. Jack didn’t look concerned. In fact, he resembled a prowling fox. Determined steps, steadfast eyes, focused stance.
But what was he hunting? His eyes were focused unwaveringly, unmistakably, on her.
Her heart jumped.
She lowered her hammer, catching Kerensa’s curious gaze just before Jack stepped between them, blocking her view.
“I must speak with you, Gwynna,” he stated without a smile or frown.
What was he about? The mine still bustled, despite the accident, the maidens working to break apart the ore brought up from the collapse. With each moment that passed, more maidens stopped to gawk at the mine owner’s son, who really had no business speaking with Gwynna.
“What, here? Now?” she questioned.
“Yes. Here. Now.”
She took a step back, unnerved by his concentrated gaze. “But the others be watchin’, sir. I thank ye for your help with Mr. Pinnick and savin’ me father. But-but if Papa saw ye…”
He wouldn’t hesitate to sprain his other foot chasing him down, then breaking his other arm dealing another blow to Jack’s jaw. Her eyes trailed off behind Jack’s shoulder to where the tip of the counthouse roof peeked up over the upper cliff ridge.
“I don’t want ye fightin’ again,” she finished.
A twinkle in Jack’s eye hinted at a smile. “You needn’t worry about that any longer.”
Gwynna stared. “Why? ‘Cause he can hardly walk?”
Jack shook his head, his eyes roving about her face in a soft caress. Why was he looking at her in such a way, his eyes so soft and warm?
Hope crept toward her like the remains of an approaching wave, just enough to wet the sand around her dried heart, but not to make any lasting impression.
She couldn’t put herself through this anguish again. They loved each other, but they’d both knew that marriage was not an option. She couldn’t give up her family, and he couldn’t marry a bal maiden.
It was far better for him to return to the Paxtons. Perhaps he’d fall in love with Miss Paxton without Gwynna there to distract him. He and the lady would make a fine couple.
Gwynna’s insides curdled like spoilt milk at the thought. “Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but I’d best be gettin’ back to me work.”
She pulled her eyes from Jack’s crestfallen look.
“But, Gwynna, I have something to—”
“I be sorry, sir, but I don’t want to hear it.”
She aligned the ore at her feet, ignoring the twinge within her for being so abrupt. She just couldn’t listen to what he had to say, for it wouldn’t be what she wanted him to say.
She propped the hammer on her shoulder. “Excuse me, sir.”
The light faded from his eyes as he stepped back.
Once he was a safe distance away, Gwynna swung toward the ore.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
Jack remained where he stood, watching her every move. The younger girls near the cobbing table paused to watch them with curious tilts to their heads. Kerensa stole a glance after each swing of her own.
Gwynna refused to make contact with any of them, cracking open another rock before dropping her hammer to the ground with a dull thud.
Jack returned to her side as she tossed the ore into the hand barrow. “Gwynna, please. I only ask for a moment of your time.”
She straightened, catching the eyes of two elderly maidens whispering disapprovingly in their direction.
She stepped to the side so Jack might block her view of them. “Can’t ye see what ye be doin’, sir? The rumors ye be causin’—”
“I care not about the rumors.” He took a step toward her. “Let them be spread. Let the entire mine, let the whole of Cornwall know of my love for you.”
She froze, the pieces of ore in her hand clacking together as they fell to the earth. A surface worker with a wheelbarrow passed by with wide eyes, skittering away. Kerensa stared open-mouthed, disbelief etched across her face. A few other maidens paused to watch with hands over their mouths.
How could Jack do this? How could he declare his love for Gwynna, knowing full-well nothing could be done of it? And now he would simply leave her to deal with the repercussions? It was unthinkably cruel.
She backed away, shaking her head in dismay. “What’ve ye done, Jack?”
“Gwynna, I—”
She spun on the heel of her boot, taking a running leap over the hand barrow and bolting in the opposite direction of the engine house, of the mine, and of Jack.
“Gwynna, wait!”
He followed after her, his boots scuffling against the hard dirt, but she didn’t stop. She needed to escape from the invasive eyes and judgments. From Jack and the fruitless love they shared.
She rounded the ridge of the cliffside, fleeing down the pathway as the intrusive noise of the mine began to fade from her ears, replaced with the loyal waves rush
ing below.
“Please, wait! I didn’t mean to upset you!”
Jack’s voice sounded closer, but Gwynna didn’t halt until his hand wrapped around her wrist, holding her back.
She spun around, wrenching her arm from his grasp. “No, Jack! Just leave me be.”
She wiped the moisture trailing down her cheeks. Curse these tears. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t cry anymore over the man.
Wheal Favour was no longer in sight, but Jack’s pleading brown eyes remained. “I will leave,” he said, holding up his hands as if to surrender. “I swear, I will do as you ask. If you truly wish for me to leave, I will turn around and leave Cornwall this moment.”
Sorrow pressed the remaining joy from within her like a forgotten fruit under the weight of a boot.
His voice softened. “Truly, if that is what you wish, I will do so. For you.” He waited, his broad chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. “Is that what you want, Gwynna? For me to leave you?”
Gwynna bit her lip. Her hope screamed to be heard, but her flattened heart warned her of the pain that would inevitably follow. She unwrapped her gloves as she stared out at the clear waves of the sea, so translucent the water shone nearly green in the sunlight.
She attempted to gather her strength from the sea, to keep her thoughts her own. But would she not regret this moment for the rest of her life if she had the chance to ask him to stay—and she didn’t?
She drew in a deep breath, finally allowing her words to spill forth with her tears. “No, Jack. I don’t want ye to leave Cornwall, and I don’t want ye to leave me either.”
In an instant, his arms wrapped around her. She returned his embrace, her makeshift gloves dropping to the ground as she willed herself to remember the curves of the muscles in his back, the feel of his nose burrowing into her hair, the musky scent of his cologne infiltrating her senses.
What she wouldn’t give to remain here forever, held securely by the one she loved, who loved her in return.
This was not meant to be. She needed to pull away or his departure would be all the more difficult. But she couldn’t. She clung to him as if it would keep him with her forever.
Near the Ruins of Penharrow (A Cornish Romance Book 3) Page 27
