The Thief of Lanwyn Manor

by Sarah E. Ladd

  “So tell me about this niece of his.” Matthew ignored Isaac’s comment, snatched the ledger Isaac had been reviewing, and closed it. “Is she pretty?”

  Isaac pushed his chair away from the table and stood to his full height, which was only slightly taller than Matthew. “The man had a pistol pointed in her direction and then at me. Assessing her charms was hardly my top priority.”

  “Ah, doesn’t matter. You saved his niece. The way I see it, he’s in our debt. Well, at least your debt. We’ll use it to our advantage.”

  Isaac huffed, took the ledger book from Matthew, and returned it to the desk drawer. “That’s a terrible idea.”

  “Terrible? Why?”

  “Because those men were angry enough at Lambourne to point a pistol at an innocent woman. I can’t help but wonder whether, given enough time, they would have fired it. We don’t want to get involved. Not in that. We’ve enough trouble on our hands keeping our own employed and money in our own pockets.”

  “No need to be so fatalistic,” Matthew exclaimed, his expression injured as he straightened his waistcoat. “Besides, I fancy a challenge. I’m sure I could sway her.”

  “Sway her?” Isaac raised a brow. “I suppose she will just throw herself at you, will she? Why? What have you to recommend yourself?”

  His brother chuckled and waved a finger in the air. “A great deal. Don’t I? I’m young. Own an estate, and I own this mine.”

  “A mine whose business rises and falls at the whims of the metals buried beneath the surface. It’s hardly a steady income. Perhaps in our father’s time it was, but not now. And what of Miss Davies?”

  “Miss Davies?” Matthew’s smile faded ever so subtly at the mention of the brunette beauty. “She’s naught but sport.”

  “I daresay she, not to mention her papa, would disagree.”

  “I’m not a married man, Isaac. Egad, I’m not even a betrothed man. What harm could come of a little innocent flirtation?”

  “A great deal.”

  “Business alliances are forged all the time because of marriage relationships.”

  “Marriage?” Isaac reached for his hat and lifted his coat from the hook. “I’m afraid you’re getting ahead of yourself.”

  “Need I remind you of how angry the miners are?” Matthew’s lighthearted tone sobered. “Maybe after last night’s events Lambourne will take things more seriously, and this could give us the foothold we need. I’ll bring it up tonight at the dinner. Besides, aren’t you the least bit curious about her?”

  Isaac considered the frightened expression in her eyes. The feel of her in his arms as he shielded her. It had been an awkward, unusual encounter, and if it were up to him, he would walk away from the entire situation and leave it at that. But Matthew was right. The Lambourne mine was inactive, and there was copper beneath the ground—he knew it. Everyone did.

  Matthew slapped a heavy hand on Isaac’s shoulder. “You’ve already done your part, Brother, stepping in and saving the day. I’ll oversee the matter from this point forward.”

  Chapter 8

  In spite of her discomfort at the talk of marriage and suitors, Julia decided that she liked Miss Prynne and Miss Trebell.

  They were opinionated and slightly overbearing, but this was what she wanted, was it not? Anything that would distract her from the heartbreak was favorable in her eyes.

  And now she had a dinner to anticipate.

  Eager to return to Jane after her conversation with the women, Julia followed Aunt Beatrice’s directions to take another route to the family bedchambers in the tower. Instead of turning right out of the drawing room to go through the great hall, she exited, turned left, and continued down the broad corridor. To her left, windows set deep into walls of thick painted stone overlooked an overgrown, dormant garden. Benches and chairs lined the walkway, and beneath her slippers a faded carpet softened the stone floor. As her aunt had indicated, a narrow staircase appeared at the hall’s end. She approached it, but then the sharp echo of masculine voices drew her attention and slowed her steps.

  A door at the far end of the corridor, just before the stairs, was ajar.

  “We believe it to be an isolated attack,” said a muted yet distinguished voice. “Most likely personal.”

  “Personal?” Her uncle’s guttural response seemed more of a growl, gritty and low. “What am I supposed to do? Fear that every time I or my family step from the house we might be accosted?”

  “As I said, I believe it to be an isolated event intended to convey anger, not cause injury.”

  Uncle William huffed. “And how do you know that? A wild guess? Or perhaps you have information you’re not sharing with me.”

  “You have been apprised of everything we know,” said the unfamiliar male voice.

  “I don’t care if he intended to harm anyone or not. He threatened a member of my family. Justice must be served.”

  Julia stiffened. She did not need to see her uncle’s face to know he was angry. It was the same tight, high voice he’d employed with the constable the previous evening. Curious, she glanced both ways down the corridor to ensure she was alone and leaned closer to the door.

  At length the other man said, “You’ve not asked for my advice, but I’ll share it nonetheless. You own the largest producing mine in the area—a mine that employed nearly half of the villagers. You closed it, leaving them no choice but to scatter far and wide to compete for work. They are hungry and growing desperate. I fear that attack at the inn might be the first of others that come to push you out. I can’t do anything until they are caught in the act. My advice? Open the mine or consider returning your family to London.”

  “Bah! I will not be pushed into doing anything, especially by vagabonds intent upon tomfoolery and uproar.”

  “It’s your decision, but I’d hate to see something happen. Perhaps you’d be more confident if you hired your own man to sort things right.”

  Hasty footsteps pounded toward her, and Julia withdrew behind a tapestry on the far side of the door. She held her breath and waited until the footsteps subsided before she poked her head around the tapestry’s edge.

  Quietude once again reined.

  The stranger’s words echoed in her head: “My advice? Open the mine or consider returning your family to London.”

  Were the Lambournes in danger?

  Was she in danger?

  Julia stepped out from behind the tapestry, tiptoed toward the room the man had exited, and tapped her knuckles on the open door. All remained silent.

  She nudged the door open and looked around the room that was undoubtedly her uncle’s study. But he was nowhere to be seen.

  “Uncle?”

  Still no response.

  Where had he gone?

  Another assessment of the room confirmed that three doors led from this chamber. All of them closed. He must have departed through one of them.

  With a sigh she withdrew back to the corridor and tried to forget what she’d heard.

  She had hoped the attack the previous night had been a case of mistaken identity.

  But perhaps it was not.

  There would be plenty of time to learn more, and she intended to do just that.

  * * *

  Later that evening as a purple dusk descended over Lanwyn Manor’s frosty grounds, Julia sat at the dressing table in Caroline’s chamber, examining her reflection in the gilded mirror. Satisfied, she lifted her hand, barely touching the curl that escaped the chignon at the base of her neck.

  Her hair looked so elegant. She tilted her head right and then left, examining how her cousin’s maid had woven the silver satin ribbon through her dark locks.

  “Do you like the style?” Caroline inquired eagerly, nudging past her maid and tucking a wisp of hair beneath the ribbon.

  “It’s incredible. Truly lovely.”

  “Did I not tell you that Evangeline is the most accomplished hairdresser? She knows all the latest styles from London, although I fear such tale
nt might be lost here in Goldweth.”

  “I’ve never had my hair dressed before, not like this. My aunt Delia or sister always styled it.”

  “Well, I’m glad to have someone here who appreciates such things.” Caroline dropped to the chair. “Jane is not interested in dressing hair at the moment, especially not confined to bed, and few other ladies in the area concern themselves with such finery.”

  Julia turned as Aunt Beatrice, clad in a fresh gown of gold bombazine with a dazzling ruby pendant at her neck, breezed through the doorway, a large wrapped parcel in her arms. A giddy smile toyed with her thin lips, and she lowered the box atop the bed and faced Julia. “What a surprise we have for you!”

  “Oh, Aunt, that’s not necessary.” Julia stood from the table and dropped her gaze to the box. “You’ve already been so kind.”

  “No, no. None of that. You’re a brightness to us during Jane’s dark time, and the least we can do is offer you a favor in return.”

  With a ceremonious wave of her hand, Aunt Beatrice lifted the parcel’s lid, unfolded the thin paper within, and removed a gown of pale blue.

  Julia could only stare at the elegant billows. “A gown?”

  Her aunt scurried toward her and held the gown’s bodice up to Julia’s shoulders. “Jane selected the fabric. She thought the blue would accentuate your eyes. I wholeheartedly agree. Caroline and I worked with the seamstress on the cut.”

  Lace trim adorned the neckline, and tiny silver flowers were embroidered in the bodice. It really was beautiful, but new gowns were expensive, especially this lavish silk. Even at Penwythe Hall a completely brand-new gown was truly coveted, for they were always deconstructing existing gowns to reutilize the fabric, ribbon, and lace and altering them to fit the next sister.

  But this one was perfection. And no doubt costly.

  “It’s lovely, Aunt, truly, but I cannot accept it.”

  “Nonsense. It has been such fun for us, has it not, Caroline, selecting every embellishment? I even wrote to your aunt Cordelia so we could make sure it would fit you exactly.”

  Her aunt’s contagious excitement transferred to Julia. Pushing hesitation aside, she accepted the gown. “You are quite generous.”

  “And you will look exquisite in it, my dear.” Aunt Beatrice clasped her hands before her and gazed at Julia with such pride, one might have thought the woman crafted the gown herself. “I see Evangeline has already seen to your hair, and she’ll help you dress as well. We want you to present your finest to the guests and, of course, Mr. Matthew Blake.”

  Julia’s spine stiffened at her aunt’s comment. Her gaze fell to her own gown of pale-lavender muslin with ecru lace adorning the sleeves and hem. She’d always thought it pretty, but now it seemed inadequate. Perhaps this new gown was just that—a gift from her family to welcome her to their home. Perhaps it was a way to improve her country appearance, so they’d not be embarrassed to present her to Goldweth society.

  Either way, her stomach churned and her heart raced. This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? New people? New surroundings? A new situation?

  Nay, it went beyond that.

  She wanted to be someone different.

  Before long, the gown had been donned over Julia’s linen petticoat and chemise, and she turned to allow Evangeline to fasten the row of satin-covered buttons between her shoulder blades. After giving her approval on Julia’s attire, Aunt Beatrice departed, taking Evangeline with her and leaving Caroline and Julia alone in the chamber.

  Caroline, already clad in a gown of buttery satin, stepped behind Julia and beheld her image over Julia’s shoulder. “Don’t let Mother fluster you.” Caroline smoothed the lace trim of Julia’s gown at the base of her neck. “She is all bluster, as you well know. Now that I’m betrothed, I fear she’s desperate for another young soul on whom to bestow her matchmaking talents. Unfortunately, that’s you.”

  Julia smiled. Her visits to London had been few and far between, but even during those memorable visits, she could recall her aunt commanding attention and arranging those around her like toy soldiers. “Your mother does enjoy being in society.”

  “I hardly call the Goldweth residents society.” Caroline smirked and sank onto the bed. “There are times I still can’t believe Father moved us here.”

  Julia turned. “You aren’t happy at Lanwyn Manor?”

  “Here? In the middle of nowhere?” Caroline huffed. “I’m counting down the days until I am married and my husband sweeps me off to London to set up a household of my own.”

  The harshness of her cousin’s words sobered Julia. It was not the first time she had heard the Lambourne women voice their displeasure with Lanwyn Manor. She adjusted the small bead necklace around her throat. “Your mother doesn’t seem very content here either.”

  “She tolerates it, for Father’s sake.” Caroline glimpsed her own reflection in the mirror and bit her lower lip for color.

  “And your father?”

  “Oh, you know how he is.” Caroline waved a dismissive hand. “He’s determined that his fortunes lie in those dirty mines. But he’s away from Lanwyn most of the time, to London or Plymouth or some such place seeing to his other investments, and he doesn’t endure the day-to-day trials of living in such a place.”

  Julia swallowed. Her uncle had been known for his risky ventures. She repeated what she’d overheard earlier that day, hoping to glean more information. “I thought that his mine had been closed.”

  “It is. When Father inherited the land, the mine was being run by a man who Father thought was cheating him. As the landowner he had the right to cancel the arrangement. I believe it was his intention to let the land to another miner to operate it, but as of yet he has made no arrangements.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Six months or so.” Caroline shrugged. “I think the truth is that mining is a much larger venture than he thought it would be. But let’s not think on that now. Such dreary talk. Besides, you’ll hear your fill of mine talk tonight with all the adventurers in one chamber. Father seems to think that if he surrounds himself with others, he will become like them.”

  Julia’s brows drew together at the unusual term. “Adventurers?”

  “Ah. Yes. From what I have learned, an adventurer is a miner who pays the landowner for the right to work his land, and then, in turn, the landowner receives a portion of the mine’s earnings.”

  “Will there be any ladies in attendance?”

  “Yes. Mrs. Davies and their daughter, Miss Eleanor Davies, will be here with Mr. Davies. And two of the other miners are married, but their children are grown now and will not be with them.” Caroline patted her hair into place one last time. “Well, are you ready?”

  Julia followed her cousin’s lead and cast one last glance in the mirror, then pinched her cheeks for a blush. “I am as ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Chapter 9

  Isaac slowed his horse as he and Matthew approached Lanwyn Manor’s arched gatehouse entrance. Already, carriages were arriving for the evening’s event.

  Thick clouds blotted out any trace of the moon. Despite the intermittent drops of rain, torches lined the circular drive before the gatehouse, casting their vibrant orange glow on the activity. Footmen in fine livery assisted guests from their vehicles, and stable hands directed carriages and assisted the men who had arrived via horseback.

  After handing their horses to the stable hands, Isaac and his brother stepped through the gatehouse arch and into the grassy courtyard. It was a broad, impressive space, with a long cobbled pathway that parted the lawn and veered off to various torch-lit doors and passageways.

  Before them, light from the great hall filtered through the stained-glass windows, painting the courtyard in shades of green, blue, and red. How different it felt from the unassuming, sleepy Lanwyn Manor he remembered from his boyhood, when Mr. Elon Rowe reigned as master and the Lambournes had not yet descended upon Goldweth.

  Matthew lowered his voice as they cro
ssed the courtyard to the main entrance. “Impressive. Lanwyn looks fit for a ball instead of a dinner among friends.”

  Isaac raised his eyebrows. “Friends, indeed.” He nodded at the elegantly clad Pennas, and he and Matthew stopped to let them pass before them.

  ’Twas no secret that none in attendance was here for the sake of friendship.

  Every guest was from a long-established mining family.

  The Pennas. The Dunstans. The Davieses.

  And each desired access to Bal Tressa.

  Lambourne might be the most despised man in the village, but he could also make one adventurer potentially very rich. It was a game, pure and simple, and every person present played a role.

  Once the Pennas were out of earshot, Isaac jerked his head toward the line of torches. “If he’s making a point to declare his wealth, he’s succeeding in abundance.”

  Matthew chortled. “At least someone in the county is prosperous.”

  “Yes, and everyone already knows it. Now, if only he’d invest it in his mine or allow someone else the opportunity to do so, it might be worthwhile.”

  “He will.” Matthew puffed out his chest. “Give me time.”

  “Don’t do anything ill advised,” Isaac warned under his breath. “Need I remind you, Miss Davies will be in attendance. We can’t afford to make an enemy because you decide to strut around like a peacock.”

  Insincerity dripped from Matthew’s wry smirk. “I’ll be the model of polite behavior.”

  They entered Lanwyn Manor through the impressive great hall’s arched stone entrance. Gargoyles hovered above the stone threshold, which boasted a massive wooden door with intricate floral carvings and heavy iron nails. As Isaac handed his greatcoat and hat to the butler, Mr. Lambourne stepped near to greet them, his deep bellow filling the vaulted foyer.

  “Gentlemen, come in. So good of you to venture out on such a dreary night. Pity the weather did not pay heed to our little party, eh?”

  Isaac extended his hand to shake Mr. Lambourne’s pudgy one.