by Jo Ann Brown
“We will.” He absently shoved at his spectacles. “Between Beverly and me, we will set every soul to the task.”
As he opened the door, Killigew burst in. “Howell asks for you to come to the stable, my lord.”
“Why hasn’t he left for the mine already?”
“He said you will understand when you come out to the stable.”
“Kittens,” Carrie said.
“What?” Jacob had no idea what she was talking about.
“The kittens. Gil knows you have more than one cat here. He has been talking about getting another kitten for the nursery. He believes his is lonely because it doesn’t have a baby as your mother cat does.”
Jacob grasped her hand and pulled her outside. Snow spit tiny, sharp flakes against his face. For the first time he wondered if Gil had taken a scarf and mittens when he left Cothaire. Carrie had mentioned he had his coat, but could the little boy button it closed on his own?
“I hope Howell knows enough to keep Gil from slipping away again,” she said as the wind tried to snatch her words away.
“I am sure he does.” He squeezed her fingers gently. “The lad has a good head on his shoulders.” He did not release her hand as they rushed together to the stable and was glad she did not pull her fingers out of his. Right now, he knew she needed the touch of someone who loved Gil as much as she did. And he needed the same. That connection strengthened him, a constant reminder they were a team with a common goal.
Howell met them at the stable door. The lad seemed to grow taller and thinner each time Jacob saw him. His bony wrists protruded from his sleeves when he motioned for them to follow him into the stable.
“Is Gil here?” Carrie asked.
With a nod, Howell smiled. “I saw him here just before Killigew came with your message, my lord. This way...”
Jacob put his hand on Carrie’s back as they walked past the stalls and toward the haymow. She looked up at him once. Her expression was both hopeful and unsteady.
When they reached the three steps to the haymow, he heard a childish giggle. Carrie must have heard it, too, because she ran up the stairs. She called out Gil’s name and rushed to where he sat in a corner, playing with a half dozen kittens.
“Cuddle kitties.” The little boy smiled as if he came to the haymow every day. “See me cuddle kitties?”
“Yes, I see.” Jacob thanked Howell quickly, then went to squat beside the child. “Do you see Carrie’s face? Do you see how scared she has been since you left Cothaire without telling anyone?”
“I told someone.”
“Who?”
Gil squared his narrow shoulders with pride. “I told Bertie and Joy. Told them I come to cuddle kitties.”
Picking up a gray kitten that was launching an attack on his coat, he handed it to Carrie. “Gil, you must tell Carrie before you leave Cothaire.”
“Tell Carrie?” His eyes grew round, and Jacob guessed the little boy was finally comprehending how he had frightened them. He got up and gave Carrie a hug. “Carrie, cuddle kitties. See Gil cuddle kitties.”
“I see.” Her voice was gentle and patient. “But next time, Gil, tell me before you go.”
“Tell Carrie. Cuddle kitties,” he repeated solemnly.
“Yes.” She gave him a warm smile. “Don’t forget.”
“Gil not forget. Tell Carrie. Cuddle kitties?”
Nodding, she said, “Cuddle kitties now.”
“Make sure you don’t scare Carrie again,” Jacob added, “and I will take you to visit the beam engine at the mine day after tomorrow. Would you like that?”
“Yes!” The little boy grinned before throwing his arms around Jacob once more.
“As long as Carrie says you can come.”
“Of course.” Her smile was for both of them, but it warmed his heart where cold had existed too long. “That sounds like fun.”
She set the gray kitten on the stone floor, and it raced back to the rest of the litter with Gil in pursuit.
“Do you think he understands?” Jacob asked quietly.
“About coming here to visit the kittens? Yes, but he is too young to realize he should tell me before he leaves the house for other reasons. One lesson at a time.”
“Like with me?”
Her laugh was soft and weary. “I hope I don’t have to explain every detail of every possible scenario to you.”
He looked at the little boy, who was laughing again as he played with the kittens. “The easiest way to keep him from coming here on his own might be to let him take one of these kittens.”
She smiled and said, “If I take one, I need to take two. Bertie will want a kitten of his own if Gil brings home another. Thankfully, Joy is too young to expect one.” As he turned to go to speak to Gil, she added, “But he should not take them today. I don’t want him to think he will get a reward when he has done something as naughty as leaving the house without telling me where he was going.”
“Come back whenever you wish with the boys. We have such a crop of kittens, and there will be more in the spring.”
“I’m sure Bertie will want to select his own.” Her smile wavered as she added, “Jacob, I am sorry I intruded on you and Miss Bolton.”
“Your arrival gave us the excuse to put an end to the stilted conversation neither of us was enjoying. I can tell she is only pretending to be interested in what I have to say, and to own the truth, she was talking about people I have never met.”
“A gentleman—”
“Allows a lady to lead the course of the conversation. See? I have listened to your lessons, Professor Dowling.”
“It seems you have no more need of my tuition, for you have learned your lessons well.”
“I am sure I have many more lessons to learn.”
“We each learn something new each day.”
As he watched her collect Gil, who reluctantly left the kittens, he pondered her words. Did she have any idea that what he had learned today was how much she and the children had become vital to his life? He had no idea how to change that without hurting them. Maybe it was as simple as telling Carrie the truth about his greatest ignominy; then she would understand why he could not offer her his heart. He could not face the possibility of losing her as surely as he had Virginia.
* * *
Light danced off the church windows as wind slipped through any gap around the glass. Clouds hung low over the cove but swept through the sky as if fleeing. In the village, every cottage was lit against the storms threatening Porthlowen.
Inside the church, there was laughter and anticipation and chaos. The first rehearsal of the children’s choir was underway, and Carrie was glad Elisabeth had offered to assist. At first, Carrie had hesitated, knowing how many other aspects of Advent and Christmas a parson’s wife had to oversee. Elisabeth had been suffering from a stomach ague prevalent in the village, but she seemed fine as she auditioned the older children for speaking roles in the Nativity play.
Carrie stood in front of the altar rail where she had gathered the other children to practice the carols they would sing on Christmas morning. She had made sure everyone knew the same words and tune to “The Coventry Carol” and “This Endris Night.”
“Everyone together one more time.” She raised her hands to get the children’s attention.
Most of them quieted immediately, but some of the boys had to jostle each other before obeying. A frown in their direction quelled them. As they sang, their enthusiastic voices filled the church. They would be a wondrous addition to the Christmas morning service.
She was about to start them on another carol when Elisabeth asked to speak to her. Telling the children to sing “The Coventry Carol” another time, she turned to her sister-in-law.
“Do you know that woman?” asked Elisabeth as she gla
nced toward the rear of the church. “She asked to speak with you.”
Carrie’s eyes widened when she saw Beverly Warrick standing by the porch door. “That is Mrs. Warrick.”
“Lord Warrick’s stepmother?”
“Yes. Let me find out what she needs. In the meantime, will you have the children sing the final verse again? I don’t think the younger ones have learned the words yet.”
Elisabeth nodded and gave her a bolstering smile before turning to the children. Her sister-in-law’s cheerful voice accompanied her up the aisle.
Carrie greeted Mrs. Warrick.
“I was told I would find you here,” said Mrs. Warrick with a smile. She looked at the children, who had begun the next song under Elisabeth’s direction. “How adorable! A children’s choir is a wonderful idea.”
“We have one each year. The children enjoy it as well as the chance to be in our Nativity play.”
“Do you have mummers in Porthlowen on Christmas Day?”
“They perform on New Year’s Eve. I know most places have mummer plays on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, but Porthlowen has always had mummers with the New Year’s celebration.”
“Interesting...” She glanced around the church again. “Jacob tells me the church is always as full as it was when we attended on Sunday. Are you considering adding on?”
“That decision will be Father’s and Raymond’s, but the congregation is growing. Many new members have joined us temporarily from the parish on your family’s land. Once the parson there is well enough to hold services again, they will likely return to their own parish.” She halted herself, knowing a discussion of expanding the church was not the reason Mrs. Warrick had asked to talk with her. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“Yes. I want to talk to you about Jacob. He is in love with you, you know.”
She flinched and stared at the older woman. “We are friends, nothing more.”
“Does he know that?”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
Mrs. Warrick glanced toward the altar. “Perhaps we should discuss this elsewhere.”
“Yes.”
She slipped her arm around Carrie’s and walked out of the church. The wind off the land was colder than when it came from the sea, and Carrie shivered.
She forgot about the chill when Mrs. Warrick said, “I like you, Lady Caroline. You are a mature woman who comprehends the ways of the world. That is why I am going to speak candidly.”
“I appreciate that, and I will be as candid when I say Jacob and I are friends. We both know what is the best for us, and marriage is not in our plans. Certainly not to each other.” Even as she spoke, she could not keep from imagining Jacob drawing her into his arms.
No! Allowing such fantasies into her mind would only lead to heartache. She had nothing to offer a man who loved children as Jacob did and would want some of his own.
“I know you believe you are only friends,” Mrs. Warrick replied, “but he has changed.”
“Of course. He has responsibilities and a life he never thought would be his. Leaving the university and coming here to where he has the livelihood of so many people dependent on his decisions would change anyone.”
“I agree, but for most of his life, he has preferred spending time with books rather than with people. Now he uses any excuse to go to Cothaire to see you and your children. Do not misconstrue my words when I say you and the children are not what he needs. He needs a wife, and my beautiful niece would be perfect for him.”
“Miss Bolton is lovely.” What else could she say? That Mrs. Warrick should warn Miss Bolton how she would drive Jacob away if she pouted whenever he talked to another woman.
“I agree, as does Jacob, but he insists he has no interest in marrying now. I could accept it if I believed it to be true. When I see how he glows with happiness in your company, I wonder if he is being honest.”
“Jacob does not lie.”
“How quickly you come to his defense, Lady Caroline! Are you sure your feelings toward my stepson are mere friendship?”
“Yes.” They cannot be anything else! She could not be Jacob’s wife. After the work he had done to repair the mines and Warrick Hall, he must do the proper thing and choose a woman who could give him children. “Let me assure you, Mrs. Warrick, I have no plans to marry again. My life is full with my family and the children and my friendships.”
“I understand loving children you did not carry in your womb. I love Jake and Emery as if I had brought them into the world myself, but I know, as much as Jake enjoys spending time with your little boy, he must have a son of his own.” She sighed. “I know you are accustomed to the needs of succession with a title, but I find it uncomfortable to talk about Jacob needing an heir after he came close to dying once.”
“He almost died? When?”
“It was quite a few years ago. A tragic carriage accident. He was severely injured. Fortunately he recovered.”
She wanted to ask why, if Jacob had survived, Mrs. Warrick called the accident tragic. There could be but one reason. Someone else had died. Was that the cause of the pain she had seen half hidden in Jacob’s eyes when he thought nobody was watching? She considered the times when he had reacted strangely if she spoke of him driving a carriage or another vehicle. He had resisted, vehemently, if he might have passengers with him.
Mrs. Warrick went on, “God was watching over him, and I believe it is because Jake—I must remember to call him Jacob now that he is a baron—is meant to give our family the way of life and social status it would have had if my husband and his brother had not been driven apart by arguments.”
“Is that what happened?” she asked before she could halt herself. Such a personal question was rude.
“I am surprised you didn’t know.” Mrs. Warrick seemed to take no offense at Carrie’s question. “Maban Warrick was your family’s closest neighbor his whole life.”
“He may have told my father what happened, but I seldom saw him other than at church.”
“You spend so much time at Warrick Hall now I assumed you had when my husband’s brother was alive.” She folded her arms in front of her. “I see I was wrong. However, I am not wrong about how Jacob feels about you.”
Before Carrie could think of a suitable answer, she heard Jacob ask, “What are you two doing outside in the cold?” He strode toward them with a smile. “I know you are both intelligent and know enough to come in out of the cold.”
Had he heard his stepmother’s comment? Carrie replayed it in her mind. If he had overheard her last few words, he might not realize Beverly insisted he was in love with Carrie.
“We did not want to distract the children from their practicing,” Carrie said quickly. “Would you like to come inside and listen to them?”
“No, I need to get to the mine.” He raked his hand through his hair. “The beam engine is stopping again for no reason I can see. I have to postpone Gil’s and your visit.”
Aware of Mrs. Warrick watching them, Carrie said, “I will let him know.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint him.”
“I know.” She forced a smile. “Maybe he will forget tomorrow is the day you planned to take him to see the beam engine.”
“Thank you for understanding.” He bid them a good afternoon before he hurried to his horse tied to the lych-gate.
Carrie watched him ride away and wished there was some way she could ease his frustration with the beam engine. As hard as he worked to make life better and safer for the miners as well as his own family, she wanted him to succeed.
A sniff pulled her gaze from him to his stepmother, who arched her brows as she said, “Only friendship, you say. Look in the mirror, my lady. If that is mere friendship on your face when you look at Jacob, then I am the king of England.” She strode away.
&nb
sp; Putting her hands to her abruptly hot face, Carrie backed toward the church’s porch. She could not be falling in love with Jacob. She must not.
Not ever.
Chapter Twelve
Why hadn’t he told her the truth?
Jacob listened to the even beat of the beam engine, but he saw only Carrie’s face. He was as sorry to disappoint her as he was Gil. The little boy might mistake the day, but she knew he was unable to do as he had promised.
“Pym, go home and have your supper,” he said. “I will watch over the beam engine until you return.”
His assistant shifted uneasily as he glanced at Yelland, who must have come in while Jacob was lost in reverie. When Pym opened his mouth, Jacob cut him off by repeating his order. The short man nodded as he edged past Yelland, who gave him a condescending smile.
When the mine captain was about to follow, Jacob said, “Wait. I want to speak with you.”
“Are you going to do my duties, too, my lord?” His drawl turned into a sneer on the last two words. When Jacob did not react, he frowned. “I have work to do.”
“Apparently you have been a very busy man.”
Yelland glowered at him from narrowed eyes. “Why don’t you say what you mean? Your uncle always did. I liked that about him.”
“Really? I would have thought you liked the fact he seldom came to the mines and left you to your own devices.”
“I won’t lie. I did like it. The old baron, he trusted us. He didn’t breathe down our collars every day. He took a miner at his word. If a miner said he would have a fathom worked out by a set date, the old baron left him to do his job and checked only when the job was done.”
Jacob tried to keep from clenching his teeth. How could Yelland have overlooked the truth right in front of him? Because of Maban Warrick’s indifference and failure to keep the mines safe, men had died. Miners and their families had come close to starvation. The most desperate had turned to crime and paid a horrible price.
“There is no sense arguing about my uncle’s ways and mine,” he said as calmly as he could. “He is dead, and I am Lord Warrick now. I do not appreciate you trying to thwart my work.”
