The Thief of Lanwyn Manor

by Sarah E. Ladd

  In surprising contrast, Aunt Beatrice spent little time with her daughter, claiming that her knees could not take the walk up the stairs, and Caroline seemed wholly indifferent to her sister. Julia feared the bloodletting and strange, foul-smelling concoctions were doing more harm than good.

  But that was not what concerned her at the moment.

  She paused. “Mr. Blake. What a surprise.”

  “I didn’t see you at church yesterday. And when I wrote to your uncle and heard no response, I became worried.” He extended his hands, his grin broad, his cheeks ruddy from the cold. “So here I am.”

  She smiled, ignoring the little flutter in her chest. It was lovely to be flirted with. “Uncle did not respond because he’s not here. He’s away. I’d wager your note is sitting in his office untouched.”

  “But he’ll be back in time for our dinner at Tregarthan Hall later this week, will he not?”

  Julia’s stomach tightened. The fluttering ceased.

  The dinner at Tregarthan Hall.

  Isaac would be there. She’d almost forgotten. “Yes, Uncle should return in the coming days, weather permitting.”

  Matthew toyed with his hat in his hands. “I was worried that one of you ladies had fallen ill. This weather will do that to one.”

  “You are kind to be concerned. We are all well, with the exception of Jane, of course.”

  “Is her condition much worse?”

  Julia shrugged. “The accoucheur assures us that she will be fine, but she’s so weak.”

  “Have you garnered a second opinion? I’d happily call on my family’s physician. He’s a great friend and I’m certain he’d be happy to pay a call.”

  “You’re kind, but Aunt has placed her full confidence in Mr. Jackaby, and I’m afraid she’ll not be dissuaded. Apparently he’s quite the rage in London.”

  “You don’t share her opinion?”

  “I fear it matters little what I think.”

  “And Mrs. Townsend’s family? Surely they have thoughts on the matter.”

  “Her husband is away fighting, and his family is from the northernmost parts of England and are quite removed.”

  “How difficult it must be for Mrs. Townsend to be apart from her husband now.”

  “It is.”

  “When I marry, I shan’t leave my wife’s side,” he declared, confidence dripping from his tone. “No doubt she’ll grow weary of my company, but I don’t understand how one can be away for so long.”

  It surprised her, a little, to hear him speak so openly of sentiment. “Well, Jonathan will do his duty to his country and then return to his wife and child very soon.”

  There was no denying the flirtation in his words or the intent expression on his face. Had Isaac told him about what happened with Mrs. Benson? If he had, she suspected Matthew would have brought it up and vocalized his outrage on the matter. The relationship between the brothers remained a mystery to her. They seemed close. Their professions were intertwined, and yet a distance remained. Two people could not be more different. Ironic, considering they looked so much alike.

  Matthew widened his stance and cleared his throat. The volume of his voice lowered. “I am happy to encounter you alone, for there is something I—”

  Commotion at the door stopped his words.

  They both turned to see Mrs. Sedrick. How long had she been standing there? Had she been eavesdropping? Watching? Whatever she’d been doing, her tight expression screamed of disapproval. “Mrs. Lambourne is in the sitting room and will receive you now, Mr. Blake.”

  He smiled at Julia, a boyish, almost apologetic grin, and waited for her to precede him into the corridor.

  Once in the sitting room, Julia saw that Aunt Beatrice was seated like a queen on her throne, bejeweled in dazzling gems at a time of day when it might be considered audacious. Yet they suited her. “Sit down, Mr. Blake, next to Julia on the sofa there. How nice to have a visitor. It’s such a shame that this part of the country is woefully lacking in such graces.”

  Before obeying her direction, he took her hand and bowed low over it. “I was telling Miss Twethewey that I was concerned since I didn’t see you all in church Sunday. I was worried you or one of the other young ladies had fallen ill.”

  Julia observed the conversation with incredulity. Oh yes, he was charming, with his dimpled cheek and the lock of pale hair that fell so carelessly over his forehead. And judging by the flush on her aunt’s cheeks, his words and charisma were having the desired effect.

  She tensed, aware of the conflict brewing within her. Aunt was right. Matthew Blake was aptly suitable for her. In so many ways. Why did she always have to complicate things? Why could she not put all thoughts of Isaac out of her head and focus on Matthew? He’d made his intentions clear. If she were to offer the least bit of encouragement, no doubt her life could take a very dramatic turn.

  So what could be done? At what point should one allow one’s head to rule over one’s heart?

  Hours after Matthew’s impromptu visit, Julia reclined on the settee in Jane’s chamber. Jane’s illness intensified earlier that afternoon, and Julia had promised that she would not stir from her side, lest she should fall ill again, but the longer she sat in deafening silence watching her cousin sleep, the more her stomach churned.

  How much longer could Jane continue in this state? She grew weaker by the day, and regardless of any prompting from Julia or Caroline, Aunt Beatrice refused to summon the accoucheur for a return visit.

  When Jane woke an hour later, she requested Julia write a letter for her, and Julia complied. It felt horribly intrusive to be writing words of affection and dreams of the future a wife intended for her husband, but what else could be done? Julia could not help but wonder what it would be like to write such a missive to her own husband.

  Husband.

  For so long Percy’s face had filled that space in her imagination. Her sense of sadness turned into anger. The last face she wanted to see in that role was Percy.

  But now, in spite of her better judgment, another face was taking that place.

  She could not deny it.

  A bloodcurdling scream shattered the night’s stillness.

  Julia jumped, nearly upsetting the bottle of ink. She whirled to face Jane’s ashen countenance. “What in heaven’s—?”

  A sharp shout, followed by a cry, echoed.

  Julia dropped her quill and raced to the corridor. More muffled cries echoed from the floor below. Julia hastened down the stairs to the ground-floor level, where her aunt and uncle’s chambers were.

  Wide-eyed and breathless, Caroline rounded the corner from another direction. “What is it?”

  Julia shrugged. Together they scurried into Aunt Beatrice’s open chamber door.

  The older woman was still dressed in her shimmery wrapping gown around her full form, her light hair loose around her shoulders.

  “Aunt, what is it? What has happened?”

  “They’re gone! My emerald-and-diamond brooch, my ruby necklace, my amethyst pendant—they’re all gone!”

  Eager for more information, Julia whirled to Aunt Beatrice’s lady’s maid, who was stammering, grasping for words. “I—I always put them in the top drawer there.”

  Julia’s muscles tensed. Not again. Not more items missing.

  “Isn’t it clear? They were stolen!” cried Aunt Beatrice, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Is this what this place has come to? No longer content to be stealing our silver, but now my jewels? Oh, this is not to be borne. Fetch Mrs. Sedrick, quickly!”

  The horror-stricken lady’s maid bustled from the room, and Aunt Beatrice returned to the jewelry box and yanked open drawers.

  “Please, Aunt, do try to stay calm,” Julia implored, gaping helplessly as her aunt continued to tear through the jewelry chest. “Caroline, help me convince her!”

  Caroline placed her arm around her mother’s shoulder, turned her from the box, and guided her to the settee. “Mother, please, we don’t know what h
as happened. Let’s not assume the worst.”

  Julia retrieved the smelling salts from the dressing table and held them to her aunt’s nose.

  Mrs. Sedrick and the butler appeared in the doorway, and Aunt Beatrice pushed past Julia and hurried to the housekeeper. “I should have taken your words of caution more seriously, Mrs. Sedrick. Now look what has happened!”

  Caroline drew close to Julia and lowered her voice. “I don’t think it is a coincidence. Do you? Surely this has something to do with what we heard in the attic.”

  Julia pressed her back against the wall as her cousin began to pace. The memory of the figure flashed in her mind. “We are not even sure what made that noise.”

  “But strange noises? The missing silver, and now Mother’s jewels are gone? It is far too coincidental. Perhaps I should send word to Father to urge him to come home as soon as possible. I know he is due home shortly, but he knows of none of this. Perhaps it is time he did.”

  Julia could not deny that this went far beyond coincidence. “Yes, I agree. I’ll find a footman and send him to Uncle with a message right away.”

  Chapter 29

  The night of the dinner at Tregarthan Hall, Julia along with her aunt, uncle, and Caroline bundled into the Lambourne carriage. It was not a far drive, but it was a cold one. The errant wind seeped in through the windows and cracks at the door. Even the foot warmers with heated coals did little to ward off the icy winter chill.

  The bitterness in the air, however, was no match for the frigid tension between Aunt Beatrice and Uncle William.

  As the carriage rumbled over the rutted roads, Julia studied her uncle’s profile against the day’s fading light. Uncle William returned the day following the discovery of the missing jewels, but instead of bringing comfort to the situation, he’d been frustratingly dismissive, suggesting they’d overreacted and imagined the events. In turn, Aunt Beatrice blamed him for every recent ill that had befallen them, and she did not hold back.

  If any opportunity remained for Aunt Beatrice to accept Lanwyn Manor as her home, this incident erased it completely. It was one thing to have silver stolen; it was another matter entirely to have her personal property invaded.

  If this evening’s excursion offered any reprieve from the heaviness at Lanwyn Manor, it was that the black cloud hovering over Aunt Beatrice seemed to lift at least momentarily. The anticipation of dining at Tregarthan Hall seemed to raise her spirits and create a much-needed diversion for them all.

  Aunt leaned toward Caroline and patted her leg. “Did I not tell you all that Mr. Blake would take to Julia quickly? Mark my words, we’ll have a proposal before the winter’s out. Although I do worry about setting you up to live here in Goldweth. Wretched countryside.”

  Aunt Beatrice waved an authoritative finger in the air. “I’ve told you before, dear Julia, ’tis a woman’s duty to marry well. Now, we will have no more talk of it for now, but I expect you to be encouraging and kind to Mr. Blake. He’s been most affable to come and visit us and to be so very concerned for our welfare.”

  “I haven’t been anything but kind.” Slightly offended at the implication, Julia sank against the seat and looked to the window, trying to push the family frustrations aside and focus on the evening.

  The carriage turned a sharp corner, and a tall house of gray stone loomed before them. She’d only seen Tregarthan Hall from a distance, and it was much larger than she’d anticipated. Instead of possessing a full courtyard like Lanwyn Manor, the house itself formed a U-shape, with two wings that jutted forward of the main entrance. The building rose three stories, imposing and stately, and boasted banks of tall leaded windows overlooking the broad grounds below.

  She lifted her gaze to the tops of the numerous chimneys as her foot hit the drive.

  So, this was where the Blake brothers grew up.

  This was where Matthew Blake still resided.

  The woman who eventually married Matthew would be mistress of this mansion.

  Now that she beheld the home, her head understood her aunt’s insistence. But even so, as she looked to the door and saw Isaac just inside, her heart told her something entirely different.

  Chapter 30

  Isaac had to hand it to his brother. If there had been any question, it was now answered: Matthew Blake was a mastermind at getting his way. His shrewdness and cunning were beyond anything Isaac would have suspected him capable of.

  Over the past several weeks, Matthew had worked his way into the affections of an entire family.

  Mr. Lambourne trusted him.

  Mrs. Lambourne adored him.

  And, no doubt, Miss Twethewey had to be aware of his intentions by now, and there was no reason for Isaac to believe that she did not return his attentions, especially after how things had been left at the cottage on Miner’s Row.

  Almost immediately upon Miss Twethewey’s arrival, Matthew ignored all other guests and focused on none but her. He sat by her at dinner. Praised her. Flirted with her.

  Once Isaac caught Miss Twethewey’s eye while everyone was seated for the meal. At the subtle interaction her cheeks flushed to match the salmon color of her lace-trimmed gown, and she quickly looked away. Isaac had attempted to speak with her twice upon her arrival, but Beatrice Lambourne was determined that she speak with no other man besides Matthew.

  After dinner, the ladies retreated to the parlor, and as the men lounged around the dining table, Isaac sat amazed.

  Matthew had made clever, intentional invitations for the night’s festivities. Not a single other mining man was in sight, just the vicar, the physician, and a solicitor. With such guests Matthew could control any potential mining talk that might arise and steer it to his benefit.

  Almost amused to see how his brother would direct the conversation, Isaac sipped his port as Lambourne apprised the men of the odd occurrences at Lanwyn Manor. Isaac already knew about many of the happenings, for Miss Twethewey had shared them with him, but even so, Lambourne’s version of the same stories proved interesting.

  Lambourne paced the room with animated gestures, his full face florid and flushed as he relayed details. “All the women in my family are frightened of our very home! Somehow, in the last six weeks, the place has gone from a diverting retreat from the hassle of London to a frightening house of horror. If it weren’t for Jane requiring bedrest, I think I should be forced to return all the ladies to London.”

  The vicar, Mr. Bequest, a tall, lanky man with thinning hair and gray side whiskers, leaned forward, folding his hands atop the table. “Have you informed the magistrate?”

  “Oh, of course,” Lambourne snipped, his blue eyes popped wide. “Several times. But the blackguard takes nothing I say to heart. Not a single word.”

  “Let me ask you this.” Matthew stood from his chair, commanding the attention of the room, lifted the decanter of port, and moved to refill Lambourne’s glass. “Have you considered that the magistrate is from a mining family?”

  Lambourne’s head jerked up. “What’s this?”

  Matthew shrugged and returned the decanter to the table, his voice smooth as the liquid he’d just poured. “The magistrate is a man of the people, so to speak. His brother is a principal investor in Bal Anne Marie not ten miles north of here, but of course, you’d have no way to know that. Furthermore, he had family—two cousins, I believe—who worked at Bal Tressa.”

  Lambourne’s countenance darkened, and his lips flattened to a thin, unflattering line. “No, I wasn’t aware of his mining connections. Are you suggesting he’s purposely turning a blind eye to the happenings?”

  Matthew eased back down to his chair, leaned back comfortably, and crossed one long leg over the other, pausing to swipe a bit of dust from his tall, polished boot. “It’s a sad state, but the mines are taken very personally around here—but I needn’t tell you that.”

  “The uprisings are due to lack of employment,” Mr. Bequest interjected matter-of-factly with a sharp shake of his head. “Everyone’s frightene
d of the unknown. Even the other mine owners. These are precarious, uncertain times.”

  “Unemployment, you say?” Lambourne growled, his cheeks darkening to an angry purple. “Bah. The employment status of the miners in the area is not my concern. I’ve nothing to do with it. I’m well aware they think if Bal Tressa were to reopen it would solve all their problems. If that’s the case, let them put their own money up against it. The land is mine, and I’ll do with it as I please, just as any of you would do. Do you think I got to where I am by acting rashly? Of course not. None of us have. My predecessor may have been seen as somewhat of a saint around here, but he ran his business into the ground.”

  “I understand,” Matthew soothed, his calm voice a sharp contrast to Lambourne’s passionate declaration. “I do.”

  “Do you?” Lambourne pointed his thick finger in Matthew’s direction. “You own your land and work it. There’s a great difference. I own the land, but before I make decisions on its future, I must be more informed. I’ll not be taken advantage of, and I’ll not be pushed into making a decision by those who feel they’ve a right to be employed by my land.”

  “Well said, and I daresay there is not a man in this room who disagrees with you.” Matthew retrieved his snuffbox—slowly, methodically—from his pocket and placed it on the table before him. “I admire you for refusing to be made a fool of. Mining is tricky business, and there’s a great deal of the unknown. But you do have options.”

  “Such as?” Lambourne dropped into his chair, breathing heavily like a man who had just run a race.

  “Well, you could contract with adventurers, as Rowe did. It would be the easiest for you but perhaps not the most profitable. You could join forces with investors and open it yourself. Of course, there would be a certain bit of education you would need, and you’d need to partner with men who share your vision for the future. Or you could sell the land outright, gather your profits, and be done with it once and for all.”