Julia allowed herself to be ushered into the modest parlor. A cheery fire glowed in the grate, and two worn settees covered in faded, embroidered cushions flanked the carved mantel. Three women sat in wooden chairs near the fire. At their feet were baskets brimming with fabrics and yarn. All three glanced up from their sewing.
Miss Prynne wrapped her arm around Julia’s. “Ladies, Miss Twethewey, the Lambournes’ visiting niece, has joined us to aid in our cause. Isn’t that wonderful? Miss Twethewey, you must allow me to introduce you to Mrs. Finn, Mrs. Bray, and Miss James.”
Julia straightened and smiled, hoping she did not look as sheepish as she felt. She’d not really considered the other women who would be present, but these women eyed her coolly.
Nerves tightened within her. Was it possible these were the women she’d overheard in the churchyard gossiping about her family?
Miss Trebell, also seated next to the fire, pushed up the small, round spectacles on her nose. “Miss Twethewey, you join us at last! Do be seated, and I’ll pour you some tea. It’s still hot, I believe.”
Within moments Julia was settled in a tufted chair next to the fire with a cup of tea in her hand and a basket of sewing supplies at her feet. Before she even had time to get settled, the other women had returned to their sewing.
Miss Trebell patted her arm and pointed toward the basket. “There’s a scarf that’s been started but abandoned. Would you like to try your hand at completing it?”
With a nod Julia picked up the half-finished piece and assessed the stitching on the garment of green and gray wool, feeling clumsy and awkward. True, she had done this sort of work before, but it had been a long time.
She’d figure it out as she went.
The conversation resumed, and Julia glanced around Miss Prynne’s parlor. It was much smaller than she had anticipated. Given that Miss Prynne visited with her aunt, Julia expected the older woman to have greater means, but her surroundings suggested the opposite to be true. Two candles added their light to that from the fire. Sparse furnishings dotted the chamber, and a single painting of a jovial-faced man hung on the wall. Despite its plainness, a sense of cheeriness prevailed in the space. Striped curtains of pink and blue hung at the windows, filtering the day’s bright sunlight. To look out the window one might think it a warm day, but the cold air seeping in told another story.
Julia’s attention shifted once the women’s chatter resumed.
“She’s faring better than one would dare expect,” Mrs. Finn said, whose light-brown hair was pulled back tightly from her face. “Who would have thought that a miner as experienced and dedicated as Charlie Benson would perish in such a way? ’Tis nothing short of a shame. How quickly one’s life can be altered completely.”
Mrs. Bray nodded. “I heard the timber gave way, but they aren’t sure why.”
“Sometimes we never know the reason for such things.” Mrs. Finn pulled an errant stitch. “Poor dear has suffered so much heartache. First her mother, now her husband.”
“Well, you know Charlie and Mr. Blake always were on friendly terms.” Miss James reached for the scissors on the table next to her. “There was a rumor they had been planning to reopen Wheal Gwenna.”
Julia’s interest piqued as she heard the Blake name. She slowed her stitching to listen.
“But Charlie’s gone now. I have no idea if Mr. Blake plans to continue.”
Mrs. Finn’s eyebrow rose. “Mr. Blake may have other plans now.”
“Meaning?”
“He was observed walking Mrs. Benson home from church recently. I’ve heard she no longer wants to live in Miner’s Row and has asked for his assistance, and you know they’ve always been quite friendly. Perhaps a bit too friendly. It’s almost scandalous, if you ask me.”
“Gah, Mrs. Finn,” protested Miss James. “He’s only offering assistance, surely.”
“Maybe, maybe not. All I’m saying is that it’s quite suspicious.”
Julia shifted uncomfortably as the women discussed Isaac Blake. Would she ever be able to hear his name and not think of the day he rescued her?
Time and time again she’d convinced herself that Isaac was not the man to catch her eye and that Matthew was the more suitable match. But for the past two mornings, she’d encountered Isaac on her morning rides. Their talks had been brief and they’d spoken of little more than the weather and the landscape, but it had been enough to set her imagination flying.
But now, after hearing the women talk, perhaps she had misinterpreted the situation. He might be a kind man simply in the habit of rescuing ladies in need, whose interests were firmly with the widow.
Regardless, they’d spoken a name she’d not heard. “What’s Wheal Gwenna, if I may ask?”
The three other ladies jerked their heads up in unison and stared, as if she had asked for the moon.
Miss Prynne leaned forward. “Wheal Gwenna is a copper mine owned by Isaac Blake. It has been closed for decades, but rumors abound that he might reopen it.”
“Oh.” Julia returned her attention to the scarf in her hand, trying to ignore the heat of embarrassment flaming her cheeks. She looked up to see Miss Prynne watching her, and she gave a nervous laugh as the yarn she was holding tumbled to the floor. “Perhaps I’m a bit out of practice.”
Miss Prynne leaned back and offered a reassuring smile. “You are doing just fine. Isn’t she, Miss Trebell? After all, it is the thought and intent behind the actions, dear. Surely you’re aware of that fact.”
“Yes, but it would be even better if what I make is actually useful to someone.”
“So it shall be.”
Julia was about to show the women her progress when a childlike giggle caught her attention. She looked toward the door to discover the source. She had not been aware that there were any children in attendance, but a fair-headed girl, who could be no older than six or seven years of age, peeked around the corner. A single, long golden braid fell over her shoulder, and freckles dotted her upturned nose.
“Oh,” Julia exclaimed. “Who’s this?”
“This is Sophia.” Miss Prynne extended her arm toward the child and motioned for her to draw closer. “She’s staying with me awhile, along with her brother. Are you not? Come in, child.”
Sophia eyed Julia thoroughly before she tiptoed into the room, then in a sudden burst of energy, she ran toward Miss Prynne.
Once the child was settled, Julia put her work aside and leaned forward. “How do you do, Sophia? I have a sister named Sophia. It’s a very lovely name.”
Instead of responding, the child reached out a tiny finger and touched the blue ribbon on Julia’s skirt.
“Sophia!” Miss Prynne pulled the child back. “Please, keep your hands to yourself.”
The child’s eyes grew wide, and she bit her lower lip.
“That’s all right. Do you like that ribbon? I think blue is my favorite color.”
Sophia did not break her gaze, but she leaned back against Miss Prynne, who smoothed the child’s hair away from her face affectionately and whispered to her. With a smile Sophia reached for a biscuit on the side table and ran from the room.
“What a lovely child.” Julia watched as the little girl disappeared around the corner. “I don’t know when I’ve seen such large brown eyes before.”
“She is lovely. And her brother is just as charming. It’s a sad story, though. Her mother is a dear friend of mine, but at the moment she’s very, very ill. We all pray for a miracle, but her recovery is doubtful.”
“And their father?” Julia furrowed her brow. “Is he living?”
“He is, but he took a position at a mine in the west when your uncle closed Bal Tressa. He’s been gone ever since. To my knowledge they’ve not heard from him in months.”
Julia’s stomach tightened at the mention of her uncle.
Then it struck her.
No wonder the other women did not seem to warm to her.
Julia tucked a long lock of hair behind her ear. “I
know very little about mining, yet it seems the mine closing has had an immense effect on a great number of people.”
Mrs. Finn cut a glance toward Miss James.
“You’re very perceptive, Miss Twethewey,” Miss Prynne said. “There are dozens of mines around, of course, but none as large as Bal Tressa. There are just not enough mines to employ everyone. Mr. Rowe was a great champion of the working miner, and his presence—and his attitude toward his workers—is dearly missed.”
Julia fixed her eyes on her work and pulled a stitch. “What will happen to Sophia and her brother?”
Miss Prynne sighed and shook her head. “Hopefully her mother recovers. If not . . .”
“’Tis sad to think of a child losing her mother.” Julia straightened, understanding her meaning fully. “Did you know that I am an orphan?”
The women blinked at her.
It was a personal tidbit to share, but it was true. There was nothing to be ashamed of. “My mother died when I was a bit older than Sophia, and my father died when I was twelve. After that my brothers and sisters and I went to live with my paternal uncle at Penwythe Hall.”
“No, I did not know that,” Miss Trebell said. “How interesting.”
“I was fortunate to have so much family. My uncle took in all five of us and made us feel quite at home, and we’ve been happy there ever since. I’ll always be grateful to him, just as I’m certain Sophia and her brother will be grateful to you. Life often calls us to step out of what is familiar and comfortable to help those around us, does it not? But the rewards far outweigh the pains along the way.”
“We do what we can, but unfortunately there are stories like this in villages all over the area, and not just in Goldweth. It’s a pitiable state of affairs, to be sure. But now, look at how much progress you’ve made!” Miss Prynne pointed to the scarf.
Julia lifted it, allowing it to dangle freely. The first rows were crooked, but the farther she progressed, the straighter and tighter her stitches became.
As time ticked past during the afternoon, the iciness she had felt from the other ladies melted. Julia liked the Ladies League and looked forward to attending their meeting again.
Chapter 24
Julia bolted upright in bed.
She blinked in the darkness.
Something—or someone—was banging against her bedchamber door.
Springing to life with all the alarm of one yanked from the depths of slumber, Julia thrust the bed curtain out of her way and stumbled to the floor, her muscles sluggish with sleep’s effect.
Before she could step to it, the door flung open. Caroline stood in the threshold. A single candle clutched in her slender fingers illuminated a face pale as the linen of her nightdress.
“Caroline?” Julia gasped, still unsure if she was awake or dreaming. “You scared me half to death! What is it?”
“Do you not hear that?” Caroline’s light eyes widened.
“Do I hear what?” Julia strained to hear.
“Oh, bother.” Caroline scurried closer and reached for Julia’s hand. “You can’t hear it here, can you? Come with me. Quickly.”
With surprising insistence Caroline half dragged Julia from her bedchamber across the small landing that connected their rooms and into her own. Caroline stopped suddenly and stood very still. Her long blonde plait swayed as she angled her head to listen. “There! Do you hear it?”
Julia sighed, prepared to hear nothing. If anything, perhaps a mouse had found its way behind the bureau, or a bird had perched on the ledge just outside her window.
Then Julia heard it—scratching, coming from above.
At first she thought she might be imagining the sound.
“What in heaven’s name?” she whispered.
Caroline tightened her grip on Julia’s hand. “The staff always say there’s a ghost in this house. Of course, I never believed it.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Julia tilted her head to hear better.
The scratch sounded again, followed by a thud.
“Perhaps we should get your father,” Julia suggested, concern mounting.
“He left for London last night, remember? He won’t be back for days.”
“Ah, yes. Your mother, then.”
“No. She already hates Lanwyn Manor, and something like this would put her in hysterics.”
Julia raised her eyes toward the beamed ceiling. “What’s above this room?”
“Attic space, I think.”
“Do any servants sleep up there?”
“Not in this tower. Their quarters are in the attic above the kitchen.”
“Well then.” Julia grabbed Caroline’s hand. “Let’s investigate.”
“What?”
The scratching intensified.
The cousins froze.
The scratching stopped.
The women gaped at each other.
“Have you another candle?”
“You can’t be serious.” Caroline snatched back her hand. “It could be a wild animal. Or a person.”
Julia propped her hand on her hip. “If it’s an animal, then it probably isn’t a very big one and nothing to worry about. And what person would make that noise?”
“No.” Caroline shook her head emphatically. “I’m not going.”
“Well, I shan’t sleep a wink knowing something or someone is up there.” Julia took up a candle and, using the fire in the grate, lit it. “There. Now, are you coming with me, or not?”
“Oh, Julia. I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“Come on.” Julia stepped back into the corridor. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“Wait, where are you going?”
Julia did not stop to respond, and yet she heard the pattering of her cousin’s feet behind her.
Together they made their way to the staircase. With Caroline clutching her arm, Julia could not help but smile. Growing up, her brothers would often play tricks on her, and now she felt quite fearless, and Caroline’s extravagant dramatics were almost amusing.
The moment her foot fell on the attic landing, damp coolness surrounded her.
Perhaps she was not as brave as she thought.
Julia lifted her candle, and with the aid of a tiny sliver of moonlight coming from a window at the corridor’s far end, she attempted to assess the space.
Like the floor below it, the rooms were positioned on either side of the corridor, but instead of the spacious rooms present below, these appeared much smaller. No doubt, at one time they had been used for storage or servants’ quarters. Some of the doors were open, some were not.
A sharp scratching noise halted her observation, and fear prickled her back. But she had come this way under the guise of bravery. She’d not fall short now.
She walked to the space above where she estimated Caroline’s chamber to be and put her hand on the doorknob, turned, and pushed.
Empty.
Julia frowned. “Surely this is above your chamber, but nothing’s here.”
Caroline dragged the toe of her stocking across the uneven layer of dust on the floor. “How odd.”
Growing more confident that no person was present, Julia explored the other rooms. They contained a few trunks and a few pieces of furniture, and even on this floor, tapestries hung on the walls and covered the floors. She stepped to the window and looked out.
They were in the highest part of the tower. Frost had covered the surrounding land with a silver shroud in the cool moonlight. She was about to turn from the peaceful sight when something caught her eye. She squinted. A dark figure raced along the edge of the woodland, away from the house and toward the forest.
Alarm tremored through her.
Surely whatever that was, whoever that was, was not related to this noise.
She watched until the figure was no longer visible, and then she stepped away. The same sense of fear she’d felt that night at the inn returned, only this time, Isaac Blake was nowhere around to intervene. With her uncle ou
t of town and her cousin prone to dramatics, she decided to keep this sight to herself. It would do no good to point out something like that to Caroline, not in her current frame of mind. After all, what could be done?
Julia forced confidence to her voice. “Well, whatever was making that noise is no longer here.”
Caroline snipped, “I can’t abide it here. I cannot wait to marry and return to London.”
“Well, that isn’t tonight, so try to put it past you and go back to bed,” Julia said as nonchalantly as she could. But as she stepped down the tower steps, she could not shake the uneasy feeling that something was amiss at Lanwyn Manor.
Chapter 25
Isaac whistled a tune as he guided his horse from Anvon Cottage’s courtyard. A gray, ethereal mist hovered over the muddy lane and faded grasses, and above him, thick clouds churned, blocking out the morning sky.
Despite the gloomy weather outside, today would be busy, for it was setting day. This afternoon all the local miners would gather and bid on the work that needed to be done at Wheal Tamsen for the next two months. And he was ready.
One day, with any luck, he’d be holding such meetings for Wheal Gwenna.
As he turned from the narrow lane to the main public road, Isaac slowed his horse and surveyed the Lanwyn Manor lawn that ran along the road. For the past several days he’d encountered Miss Twethewey on her regular rides. Each morning, their talks grew longer. More meaningful.
As he’d hoped, he saw her sitting atop her white horse, straight and elegant, clad in a habit of brilliant green. The wind whipped her hair about her face with untamed abandon, and it tugged persistently at her skirt’s hem. Instead of walking, the horse stood motionless. Miss Twethewey’s back was to him, and she appeared to be looking down at the ground.
At the sight of her his heart felt light.
Even though Matthew had made his plans to woo her clear, Isaac found it difficult to take his brother’s intentions earnestly, for he suspected that Matthew’s interest did not lie in Miss Twethewey, as he professed. His interest was solely in Bal Tressa and the money it could generate.
The Thief of Lanwyn Manor Page 14
