The Thief of Lanwyn Manor

by Sarah E. Ladd

  She tilted her head to the side. “Eh, I heard all about your adventures. Trouble do find ye both, there’s no denyin’ that. Come in afore yer soaked to the bone. You too, Isaac. Got a stew on the fire.”

  Isaac dipped his head in greeting and removed his hat as he stepped over the threshold and ducked to avoid hitting his head on the low doorway. “Thank you.”

  The cottage’s main room was small but homey. A cheery fire hissed and popped beneath the black iron pot, and the scent of potatoes and salt pork reminded him that he’d not eaten since midday. A modest settee faced the fire, flanked by two simple high-backed chairs, and a square table and chairs stood near the large cupboard against the back wall. A simple ladder led the way to the sleeping chamber above.

  “Papa!” A ruddy-cheeked, black-haired boy came running from the corner and jumped up against Charlie. “You’re home!”

  With a husky laugh Charlie swept the boy up and swung him in the air, careful to keep free of the low ceiling. “There ye are, Jory. Give your papa a kiss now.”

  The boy wrapped his arms around his father’s neck and kissed his cheek.

  “Did ye help yer mama with the water, like I asked?”

  The boy nodded energetically.

  “Good boy.”

  Jory wiggled down and ran back to the corner where he was playing with a whittled horse, and Margaret shooed Isaac and Charlie to the table.

  “Heard you went chasin’ after them.” Margaret retrieved two bowls from the cupboard and scooped stew into them. “Did you find anythin’?”

  “Not a thin’.” Charlie arched back to allow his wife room to place the bowl before him, then leaned his heavy elbows on the rough-hewn table. “Are ye still of the opinion it be the miners what worked Bal Tressa behind this?”

  Isaac shrugged. “If they are trying to send a message to Lambourne, ’tis one way to do it. I didn’t recognize any of them, from what I saw.”

  “If it was the miners, they’d have had to get someone else to do it for ’em. Everyone knows everyone ’round here. If I were Lambourne though, I might think about sleepin’ with one eye propped open.”

  “Perhaps I’ll find out more tomorrow.” Isaac shifted in his chair. “Matthew and I are supposed to dine at the Lambournes with other mine owners, but in light of recent events, I’m not sure we are still invited.”

  “Hmm.” Charlie spooned stew into his mouth before he turned to his wife. “Ye hear anythin’? Did ye say ye was over at the Jamesons’ last week? He worked at Bal Tressa, didn’t he?”

  As a midwife Margaret tended to villagers from all over the area, not just those in their little community. She retrieved two pewter mugs and placed one before each man. “Yes, I saw ’em and delivered ’em a healthy baby boy with some of the blondest hair I ever did see. No one was talking much about mines.”

  Isaac stretched his long, booted foot over the stone floor. “If the unrest is leading to violence, I think we all have something to worry about.”

  “There ye go again.” Charlie winked as he shifted to allow his wife room to pour cider into the mugs. “Borrowin’ trouble.”

  “Sad as it is, it’s a fact.” Isaac folded his hands on the table before him. “When one mine closes, it affects everything, you know that. Prices. Workers. Wages. Nothing is spared.”

  “’Twould be easier for the workers if they knew why Lambourne closed Bal Tressa.” Margaret sank into the chair next to Charlie. “As it is, it seems as if he closed it just to spite everyone.”

  “I told you both what I heard. He thought he was being swindled by the men providing the goods—the gunpowder, candles, fuses, things of that nature—and closed it until he felt he had a better handle on it.”

  “That was six months ago.” Charlie heaved a dramatic sigh and leaned back in his chair. “Well then, when one mine closes, another must open.”

  Isaac read his friend’s challenge. “You’re talking about Wheal Gwenna.”

  “’Course I am.” Charlie flung his arm out, his deep voice booming in the small space. “Big old mine, ripe for the pickin’. Won’t be long now that betwixt the two of us we can get her runnin’.”

  “You make it sound simple.” Isaac took a swig of the cider. “There’s much to consider.”

  “Ah, nothing is simple, is it, friend? But I’m a simple man, and all I know is the longer the miners are out of work, the more restless they get. And if they have been driven to the point of holding Lambourne’s niece at gunpoint, well then, I’ll let ye draw yer own conclusions.”

  “You forget one thing.” Isaac leaned forward. “Running a mine takes capital. Even with what you and I have scraped together, we are still hundreds short.”

  “Did you speak with Richards when you were in Plymouth?” Charlie smiled up at Margaret as she stood to retrieve a bundle of bread.

  “I did. He said that with the current price of copper and with the economic decline, he passed.”

  “Even after telling ’im of the north lode?” Charlie leaned back to allow his wife to place the bread on the table.

  Isaac laughed. “You know as well as I that the north lode is a legend. And if it were true, don’t you think my father would have found it before he died?”

  “Hmm.” Charlie tore off a piece of bread with his thick fingers and popped it in his mouth. “I’m not about to give up. I may not have a mine to me name, but I’m ready to invest in yers. I’ve a mind to make something of meself, you know.”

  “Well then, you are as much a dreamer as I, my friend.” Isaac accepted a piece of bread from Margaret. “But in the meantime we’ve got our hands full at Wheal Tamsen.”

  “Yeah, and that mine be belongin’ to yer brother, and any profits line his pockets far more’n yers, and ’specially more’n mine.”

  “Well, that mine puts a roof over both our heads, as well as half the men in Goldweth. It’s as just a cause as any.”

  After enjoying the company of his friends and then bidding his farewells, Isaac donned his damp felt hat, stepped outside, and walked down Miner’s Row. The broad road gave way to the narrower lane that led to Wheal Tamsen. He traversed the familiar path, then paused at the main gate marking the mine’s property entrance. Even now, in the black of night, workers were fathoms below the surface, seeking their fortune by lantern and candlelight.

  It was a steady mine, and he was grateful for that. Since Bal Tressa’s closing, the price of copper had improved, albeit marginally, which was good for Wheal Tamsen but devastating to the community. As it was, Wheal Tamsen could only afford to take on a handful of additional tributers, tut workers, and dressers, and with many of the other mines having closed down, villagers were scattered across Cornwall and Devon searching for work. Sadly, it did not surprise him in the least that someone would try to send such a message to Lambourne, for now he was one of the most hated men in the area.

  Isaac continued on the road past Wheal Tamsen and followed it along the forest’s edge to the fence that separated Tregarthan Hall land from moorland. On the other side of the stone fence was Anvon Cottage, his home. Whereas all of Tregarthan had been left to his brother, their father bequeathed the cottage, a bit of farmable land, and Wheal Gwenna to him. At the time Father had said it would be everything Isaac would need to be successful.

  As the months dragged into years, Isaac was not so sure. It took every ounce of both Matthew’s and his energy to keep Wheal Tamsen profitable. Surely Father would have known that. Would there ever be an opportunity to step away from Wheal Tamsen without abandoning those who depended upon him?

  As he approached Isaac assessed the humble cottage. The structure—fashioned from granite, coated with white lime render, and capped with a slate roof—had been part of Tregarthan land for more than a century. In the night the outside walls glowed almost blue, and a pale light flickered from the ground-floor rooms. His housekeeper must have kept the fire kindled for his return.

  He slowed his steps. What would it be like to retire to a home lik
e Charlie’s, with a wife and child? He and Charlie were the same age, both five and twenty, and yet aspects of their lives were so dissimilar. Whereas Charlie married early, Isaac’s life hurled in a different direction when his father died four years prior and the responsibilities of running the mine fell to Matthew and him.

  He pushed the gate open and stepped toward the door.

  As the empty home loomed before him, Isaac could not help but wish he had taken a little more time to see to his personal life. But with the state of the economy, his focus was required elsewhere, and he needed to accept that.

  Chapter 5

  With a toss of her long blonde hair, Caroline looped her arm through Julia’s and guided her from Lanwyn Manor’s front hall toward the staircase. “Never you mind Mother and Father,” she whispered, leaning close. “They’re glad you’re here, even though right now they are acting more like children than adults. Mother is always cross with Father these days for one reason or another.”

  Julia nodded but remained silent as they crossed the foyer.

  Truly, this was not the reception she had anticipated.

  Indeed, Lanwyn Manor was nothing like she expected.

  Julia trailed her finger along the wooden banister as they ascended the stairs, noting the intricate scrollwork. At one time it must have been very grand. Now, dust gathered in the railing’s carved nooks, and a fraying rug curled on the bowed steps.

  She lifted her gaze from the dark paneled walls to the peeling plaster ceiling. The candle Caroline carried cast odd, bending shadows on the portraits and faded tapestries lining the staircase. Twice the uneven wooden stairs creaked beneath her boot, and each time Julia gripped the banister, uncomfortable as the stair gave slightly beneath her weight. She’d assumed her aunt would be satisfied with nothing less than marble halls and the finest furnishings, but while this hall was stately, it was far from the finery of the Lambournes’ London home.

  To her right, rain tapped and slid down the outside of the stair-stepped leaded windows. Surely by the light of day this would be an elegant and comfortable abode. Her nerves were just unsettled, but hopefully, within the hour she would be nestled in bed. Come the dawn, everything would surely seem brighter.

  “What an ordeal you’ve had.” Caroline squeezed her arm as they continued to climb higher. “Did a man really point a pistol at you?”

  Julia nodded.

  “How terrible!” Caroline tsked. “Goldweth is a lawless place, you’ll find. I can’t imagine why Father insists we remain.”

  Surprised, Julia slowed her steps. “I thought you were fond of it here.”

  Caroline tilted her head to the side, offered a weak smile, and then paused on the spacious landing. “We’re on the first floor of the tower now. Mother and Father both have chambers on the ground floor below us. This floor is Jane’s domain at present. Her sleeping chamber is to the left, and the lying-in chamber will be on the right when the baby arrives.”

  Julia sobered at the mention of her other cousin’s name. “Is Jane asleep now?”

  Caroline nodded. “She’s always asleep by this time of evening.”

  “Is she very bad?”

  Caroline lowered her voice. “She’s been ill nearly every day since the beginning. It pains me to see her in this state, but what can be done? You will find her much changed, I think.”

  “There is naught her physician can do?”

  “Mother has engaged one of the most highly respected accoucheurs in London, and he visits twice a month, but he says that some women are simply plagued with frail constitutions and are ill for the duration. He’s tried bloodletting and every sort of remedy and concoction, but Jane can barely eat.”

  Julia’s stomach tightened. She didn’t like the thought of her bubbly, vivacious cousin unwell. “I have never really thought of Jane as having a frail constitution, have you? I do wish I could do something to help her.”

  Caroline gripped Julia’s hand. “Your presence here will undoubtedly be the best medicine for her. And selfishly, for me as well, for I’m ever so glad you’ve arrived. It’s been so dull around here with no company to speak of. Come now, our chambers are on the next floor, and I know you are ready to be settled.”

  Julia cast another glance toward the closed door, behind which Jane presumably slumbered.

  Dear Jane.

  After all, Julia’s visit had been her cousin’s idea. Jane had insisted there was nothing like a change of scenery to get one’s mind off her troubles, and Julia hoped her cousin was right.

  It was much easier to claim that she was coming to Lanwyn Manor to be a companion for her bedridden cousin than to reveal the truth.

  They climbed another narrow flight of steep stairs. Once at the top Caroline swept out her arm and sighed. “Here we are—the second floor. The view is lovely from those windows over there, but the climb does grow tiresome.”

  Stepping up next to her cousin on the landing, Julia drank in the shadowed sight of the ornately carved chairs, unlit candle sconces, and heavy side table.

  “That is my chamber there, and yours is on the left.” Switching her candle to her other hand, Caroline opened the rounded door. “This is yours—the Tapestry Room.”

  Eager to see her new chamber, Julia followed. A gentle fire bubbled on the north wall. Opposite the door were two banks of three arched windows facing the west. A large walnut bed, curtained with heavy embroidered cream and light-green linen bed hangings, stood opposite the windows. A large carved wardrobe occupied the near wall, and a writing desk and three chairs with embroidered cushions filled the space near the fire. Her trunks had been placed at the foot of the bed. The most unique aspect of the chamber, however, were the tapestries hanging on the walls, covering nearly all the oak paneling.

  “Will it do?” Caroline leaned against the threshold.

  “Of course. It’s perfect.” Julia ran her fingers down the tapestry on the wall next to her. “My, there are a lot of tapestries in this house.”

  Caroline laughed. “Some of them are hundreds of years old, or so I’m told. This house is full of antiquities. Father wants nothing changed, much to Mother’s chagrin.” She stepped in farther and used her candle to light a few others around the room. “I’m so eager to hear your news, but I’ll leave you to get settled, and then tomorrow we can have a long chat. I’ll send up the maid to help you.”

  After kissing Julia on the cheek, Caroline quit the chamber, and Julia waited for the sound of her footsteps to vanish into nocturnal stillness. Exhausted, she exhaled and sank onto the high-backed chair by the fire. Her mind felt sluggish and cried for solace.

  She stared up at the portrait of a stern woman with an exquisite black coiffure and an elegant blue dress from a bygone era above the mantel. A forlorn expression marked the woman’s thin face and tightly drawn mouth.

  How sad to be frozen for eternity with such a melancholy expression.

  Julia swept her gaze to the left. Again, she was struck by the darkness of the room. It was night, of course, but the room itself, the colors, the heavy furniture, nearly blended into the shadows. She was used to her bright, airy room at Penwythe Hall, with its white curtains and vibrant views of lush gardens and delicious sea breezes.

  The thought of home tugged at her.

  Tears welled and she sniffed them away.

  She would not give in to weakness. After all, this was what she had wanted—a new beginning. A fresh start. A new environment where every nook and cranny did not remind her of him.

  Julia stood and pulled the thick woven drapes closed over the leaded windows. Tomorrow she’d be able to see the view that would greet her every morning, but for now, she would only be as happy as she made up her mind to be. She determined to put the day’s events behind her and start new at dawn.

  * * *

  By the time Julia awoke the following day, crisp autumn sunlight slid around the edges of the drapes. By its brightness she could only imagine she’d slept quite late.

  Afte
r brushing her hair away from her face, she indulged in a yawn and stretched her arms over her head, extending her tight muscles. But as the memory of the previous night’s events besieged her, she stopped midstretch.

  The tiresome journey.

  The ghastly incident at the inn.

  The man shielding her from the pistol’s fire.

  The tension amidst her arrival at the manor.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, as if to block out the gravity of it all.

  She was safe now . . . comfortably tucked within the ancient guarded tower of Lanwyn Manor.

  She opened her eyes and blinked. The chamber did not appear much different by daylight. The tapestries were more vibrant, more intricate than she’d first thought. Thick, delicately carved beams crossed the plastered ceiling, forming grids in the square chamber. The portrait of the woman in blue captured her attention again, and Julia stiffened. She didn’t like the feeling of the woman—whoever she was—watching her.

  With a sniff she shook the blankets from her legs, stepped down the two steps that led to the tall bed, and shook out the folds of her white flannel nightdress. The planked pine floor felt cold against her stockinged feet, and she padded toward the closest bank of windows. She pulled back the faded velvet curtain, and her breath caught.

  The view from this height was breathtaking. A broad lawn stretched out, a dormant shade of brownish-green, and a smattering of outbuildings, made of the same slate stone as the gatehouse, dotted the grounds. A gray drystone fence bordered the lawn’s far edge, and beyond that a leafless tree line shivered in the gusty wind. Thick, silvery clouds churned and blotted out any trace of blue sky.

  Her heart jumped at the sight. Already, she could imagine herself exploring the nuances of this expansive countryside, wild and new, with the bright Cornish breeze on her face and in her hair. She’d ask her aunt for permission to take a horse out riding, as was her morning habit at Penwythe Hall, for surely they had a spirited mare they could spare for her.

  Julia turned back around. Someone had been in her chamber while she slept. The fire beneath the portrait had been tended recently, for it popped and danced, a lively contrast to the stillness of the room, and her pink wool gown, which the maid had unpacked the previous evening, now hung tidily in the wardrobe.