The Thief of Lanwyn Manor

by Sarah E. Ladd

  “I’ve no wish to sell,” blurted Lambourne. “Even in spite of all the odd things that have happened. But I do need income to justify my presence here.”

  Matthew reached for the port bottle once more and swirled the liquid. “I feel I must inform you of something. Rumor has it that you intend to sell your property to Marcus Elliot. Now, I do not buy into idle gossip, but I also believe a man has the right to be informed when his name is being bandied about.”

  “Bah. Elliot.” Lambourne snorted, extending his glass for another refill. “He’s even a bigger fool than I thought. He offered me half of what the land is worth. Half! Nothing short of insulting. But if things continue as they have in Lanwyn Manor, I might be forced to cut my losses.”

  Matthew swiped his tongue over his lips and cut his eyes toward Isaac before he spoke. “Come now, no man should be forced into selling when he hasn’t a mind to, nor should he be coerced into accepting a farthing less than what his property is worth.”

  Matthew stood and paced the space for several moments before he clapped a hand good-naturedly on Lambourne’s thick shoulder. “You know what you need? Someone who can reevaluate your mine. It’s been closed for a while now, hasn’t it? Have you been down there?”

  “Me?” Lambourne scoffed, his face reddening with each second. “No.”

  “I know the basics of it, but most miners in the area do. You should let Isaac here go down and assess it. He is the best mine captain I know of, and he will tell you straight what you are dealing with, friend to friend.”

  Isaac stiffened at the mention of his name. He was not sure he wanted to be drawn into his brother’s game. Even so, he leaned forward. If assessing the mine would help it reopen, he’d do what he could.

  Matthew returned to his seat and drummed his fingers on the table before a grin creased his face. “There is another tactic.”

  “And that is?”

  “You must get the community on your side. The miners are angry. Bitter. It would not hurt for you to offer some sort of goodwill.”

  Lambourne laughed. “’Tis an impossible tide to turn.”

  “Difficult, but not impossible.” Matthew cocked his head to the side. “Have you considered hosting a gathering, a ball or dinner of some sort?”

  “What? For the miners?” A throaty laugh rumbled from his chest. “I doubt they’d come.”

  “Oh, I think they could be persuaded. We had our setting day at Wheal Tamsen a while back. Normally, the miners would celebrate the day afterward. ’Tis a typical occurrence, but with the recent death of one of our beloved miners, they didn’t feel much like celebrating. But now, time is passing, and a bit of merrymaking could be just what this lot needs. Think on it. In the meantime, let’s go to the ladies and enjoy the evening.”

  * * *

  Isaac shook his head in amazement. By the time the gentlemen arrived in the drawing room with the ladies, Matthew had completely convinced Mr. Lambourne that a ball was the best way to connect with the miners.

  He followed behind his brother and Mr. Lambourne—close enough to overhear their conversation, yet far enough away not to be a part of it.

  “Mr. Blake has given me the most wonderful idea,” Lambourne announced as they entered the drawing room, capturing the attention of all in attendance with his booming voice and grandiose sweep of his arm.

  “Well, I, for one, am not surprised.” Mrs. Lambourne lowered the cards in her hand and lifted her gaze to the men. “Tell us, what have you gentlemen concocted?”

  “A country dance.” Mr. Lambourne beamed with pride. “At Lanwyn Manor. For the villagers.”

  The other ladies at her card table smiled at the news, but Mrs. Lambourne’s mouth dropped open in horror. “Oh posh. Why?”

  “Goodwill, my dear.” Lambourne placed a thick hand on his wife’s shoulder and glanced down at the cards she held. “It’s been brought to my attention that closing Bal Tressa has caused grief for many local workers, and unfortunately that breeds negative rapport.” He paused to reorder the cards in her hand. “I’m not ready to open the mine at this point, but this gesture might smooth ruffled feathers and buy me a little more time.”

  Mrs. Lambourne jerked her cards from her husband’s reach. “I don’t like the thought of all those strangers in my house, especially with everything that has been transpiring.”

  “My mind is made up. This is how we’ll proceed.”

  Beatrice Lambourne shook her head, causing the cluster of jewels around her neck to shake. “Mr. Lambourne. I—”

  “If I may, Mrs. Lambourne.” Matthew stepped forward, interrupting the couple. “I believe your husband’s idea to be a splendid one. The miners are a fickle lot, and if they are acting out their frustrations, it pains me to see you under such duress.”

  Color saturated her face. “But what makes you think they would actually come? With the exception of the handful of people here, I’ve never seen such an unwelcoming lot of people in my life.”

  “I’m certain of it.”

  “Why?”

  Matthew grinned and raised his brows. “Because everyone knows of the treasure.”

  At this Isaac could not help but huff.

  Mrs. Bequest laughed. “Ah, but that is naught but a legend, Mr. Blake.”

  “Quite right, Mrs. Bequest. It is a legend, of course. We know that, but the miners are superstitious. Lanwyn Manor is ancient, and with a house that old, tales are bound to accompany it. You see, Mrs. Lambourne, it’s rumored that a treasure was built into the very stones of Lanwyn Manor hundreds of years ago. The story states that an ancient spirit guards the house, and when one is brave enough, clever enough, and cunning enough, the secret location will be revealed.”

  “Why, that’s ridiculous.” Mrs. Lambourne fluttered her fan in front of her face, disrupting the faded, forced curls at her temples. “Who’d believe such nonsense?”

  “Nonsense or not, it’s the legend that has surrounded that home for centuries, and one of the main reasons old Rowe stopped entertaining. He grew tired of people trying to deconstruct his house.”

  “How remarkable.” Fresh interest lit Mr. Lambourne’s expression. “How were we not aware of it?”

  “Because in reality, it’s just a story, folklore, and holds no merit,” responded Matthew. “But these are simple people who are curious.”

  Isaac glanced up to see Miss Twethewey sitting next to Miss Prynne, drinking in the conversation with her head cocked slightly to the side. He liked the way she looked in his family home. A small smile curved the corner of her lips as she listened to the banter, and she exchanged glances with Miss Prynne.

  Isaac took advantage of Mrs. Lambourne’s divided attention and strode over to her side.

  Miss Prynne shifted her position to face him as he approached. Instead of showing amusement, her expression hardened. “So there is to be a ball at Lanwyn? Did you have anything to do with this, Mr. Blake?”

  He held his hands in the air, declaring innocence. “Solely Matthew’s idea. But I support it. Don’t you? The miners suffer as a result of Bal Tressa’s closure.”

  Miss Twethewey looked up at him, amusement brightening her blue eyes, and she didn’t give Miss Prynne a chance to respond. “Do you think there’s really a treasure? How interesting.”

  He shrugged. “I suppose it depends on your definition of treasure.”

  “Folklore,” snipped Miss Prynne with surprising forcefulness, her face growing pale. “I’m shocked he’d mention it and encourage such talk. ’Tis shameful and disrespectful.”

  Miss Twethewey sobered. “My, Goldweth seems to be full of secrets.”

  Miss Prynne stood, her jaw twitching. “I don’t think it a good idea at all.”

  “Why not?” Miss Twethewey asked.

  “It’s trickery, plain and simple. Yes, it might appear on the surface a gesture of goodwill, but as soon as the memory of it fades and reality resumes, the kind sentiments will be for naught.” Miss Prynne excused herself in a huff, leavi
ng him alone with Miss Twethewey.

  She frowned and also stood. “I wonder what has upset her?”

  Isaac waited until Miss Prynne was completely out of the chamber before he spoke. “She has a very long, very personal history with the past residents of Lanwyn Manor. I’m sure it stirs memories she’d rather forget.”

  He was acutely aware of Julia standing near him in his childhood home. He’d sought out her presence, and now that he was alone with her, he was not sure what to say. Her scent of rosewater was refreshing—a bit of summer in the midst of winter, and the soft rustle of her gown seemed to disrupt any thought.

  The memory of their last conversation haunted him. The tears in her eyes. The anger in her expression. He wanted to right any wrong that might have passed between them. True, Matthew had sights on her, but Isaac was not ready to admit defeat. Not yet. He stepped closer to her. “I missed seeing you at the wall the past mornings.”

  She remained silent for several moments, leaving him to wonder if she was going to respond at all. Then she said, “The rain kept me indoors.”

  “The rain?” He glanced over his shoulder to see Mrs. Lambourne drawing Matthew into a game of whist. “Is that the only thing that kept you indoors?”

  She fidgeted with the lacy cuff of her sleeve.

  “I would hate to think that something I said or did made you upset with me.”

  She absently bit her lower lip a few seconds prior to responding. “You’ve done nothing. It’s just that I—”

  “Was it Mrs. Benson? She was out of line, but I think—”

  “It is a number of things, Mr. Blake.” She inhaled deeply, and then her expression softened. “I came to Lanwyn Manor to be with my family and to keep Jane company. I expect nothing more. From anyone. Be that as it may, I can’t help but feel like I owe you an apology.”

  “An apology?” He frowned. “I don’t see why.”

  As she leaned closer a tendril swept her shoulder, and the soft rose fragrance enchanted him anew. “You are right. The interaction with Mrs. Benson did upset me. But you only tried to be helpful, and I was rude to you.”

  Isaac held up his hand. “There’s no need. I—”

  “Please, Mr. Blake.” Her words silenced him. “You were attempting to be kind to me, I see that now. I didn’t respond well. Either way, I want you to know that I value your friendship, and I would hate to think that something would come in the way of it.”

  “Friendship?” His brow ascended at the word.

  “Yes, for are we not friends?” Her brilliant gaze pierced him. Surely this woman must be able to see right into his mind and read his every thought.

  “I like to think so.” He nodded toward her aunt, uncle, and Matthew, who were now laughing with the other ladies at the card table. “Although I do not think your aunt approves of such a friendship.”

  Miss Twethewey’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “My aunt has my best interest at heart. It would probably be wise to follow her guidance and yet, in some instances, we simply do not see eye to eye.”

  He tried not to read too much into her words, for perhaps they were just as she said. Or perhaps he was interpreting the glint in her eye properly. Perhaps there was more to her statement.

  In that moment, in that simple interaction, he knew what he needed to do.

  He stepped closer to her.

  She did not retreat.

  He lowered his voice. “Will you be at the wall tomorrow?”

  She looked to her aunt. The corner of her mouth twitched in a smile. “Weather permitting.”

  “You must know it is one of my favorite times of the day.”

  Isaac was so lost in conversation that he did not notice Matthew had approached. His brother placed a heavy hand on Isaac’s shoulder and nudged him to the side to give himself room to join the conversation. “You two appear to be discussing something quite interesting. Do tell me what it is.”

  Miss Twethewey looked toward Matthew, tilting her head to the side. “We were speaking of treasure.”

  “The Lanwyn Manor treasure?”

  Miss Twethewey raised a brow. “Indeed.”

  “Well, I do hate to interrupt such an enthralling conversation, but I had hoped that you might entertain us.” Matthew gestured toward the instrument. “Our pianoforte is quite old, and it hasn’t been played in years, but I’m certain with your talent, you will be able to make it sing.”

  She cut her eyes toward Isaac before she responded. “I should be happy to.”

  Isaac stepped back as Matthew offered her his hand and led her to the pianoforte. He instructed all to be silent, and Miss Twethewey was seated at the keyboard. She lifted her fingers and began to play, but Isaac was not sure he heard the melody.

  He marveled over their conversation. He searched it. Evaluated it. Dare he hope that she would consider him over Matthew?

  What a lovely picture she made, the candlelight bathing her in soft light. It caught the glint of her dark curls and shimmered against her gown. It was dangerous to entertain such thoughts, but with every note that sounded, the idea became planted more firmly in his mind.

  He could not let Matthew use her as a pawn. He would not let Matthew use her as a pawn. If he thought for a moment she returned any regard for him at all, he’d do whatever necessary to protect her from getting hurt.

  Her song ended, but at Matthew’s bidding, she started a new one. He was surprised—nay, shocked—when Mrs. Lambourne came and stood next to him near the back wall of the drawing room. Her lily-of-the-valley scent was as nauseating as Miss Twethewey’s rose scent was alluring. Normally, the prideful matriarch would not even acknowledge his existence, but now she leaned close, her throaty voice only loud enough to be heard above the music. “I am so pleased that Julia chose to come and stay with us.”

  Curious, he nodded. “Yes, she is a charming addition to Goldweth society.”

  Mrs. Lambourne’s gaze did not leave her niece and Matthew, whose hand was on the music, poised to turn the page at the appointed time. “She and Matthew look fine together, don’t they?”

  The brazen, bold comment took him aback. He had heard that Mrs. Lambourne was a doggedly determined matchmaker and opinionated beyond measure. He swallowed. “They do.”

  “Your brother seems quite enchanted, does he not? And I can hardly wonder why. She would make an excellent match for him. Imagine, uniting two of the prominent families in the area.”

  This topic was hardly proper, and yet he was well aware of what she was doing.

  By all accounts, Matthew did look every bit the doting suitor. His eyes were fixed on Julia’s every move. But what would Mrs. Lambourne say if she knew the truth behind his brother’s attentions toward her niece? Then again, perhaps that would not deter her.

  The music stopped, and Mrs. Lambourne finally turned to look him in the eye. “You never know, Mr. Blake. You could have a new sister very soon. She is the very thing needed to make this house into a home. Wouldn’t that be lovely? Surely you can see how advantageous that would be for everyone all around.”

  Chapter 31

  The hour was late when Julia and the Lambournes returned from Tregarthan, but Julia was not tired.

  Far from it.

  The night’s events swept through her mind with blinding speed, and her heart struggled to keep up.

  She’d barely spoken with Isaac over the course of the evening. Nearly every moment was spent with Matthew. But it was the few slivers of time with Isaac, and the unmistakable attraction pulsing between them, that dominated her memory.

  Even so, it was evident. Isaac Blake had feelings for her.

  For her.

  The few words that had been said during their brief conversation and the subsequent glances had been as full of meaning as any hour-long conversation.

  Once the carriage drew to a stop in front of Lanwyn Manor, Julia scurried through the darkened hall, down the narrow corridors, and to the tower where she encountered Evangeline.

  The blo
nde lady’s maid curtsied. “Mrs. Townsend asked me to tell you she is awake and hoped you wouldn’t be too tired to pay her a visit when you returned.”

  With renewed energy Julia hurried to Jane’s chamber. Candlelight glimmered from the space. She entered to see Jane abed, book in hand.

  “What on earth are you doing awake?” Julia stepped closer. “I would have thought you’d been asleep for hours.”

  “I can’t sleep. That’s the danger of sleeping during the day.” Jane tossed the book aside. “Besides, every time you return from an encounter with Mr. Blake, I expect to hear an announcement of your engagement.”

  “Surely you know me a bit better than that, and if tonight confirmed one thing, it is that Mr. Matthew Blake is not the man for me.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Julia thought back over the night’s subtleties. Matthew had been at her side all evening, but tonight his intentions were abundantly clear. He was wooing her aunt and uncle, not her. “He’s much more interested in gaining access to Bal Tressa than courting me.”

  “Oh, I doubt that, but one must be practical, I suppose. Matches are made all the time to align with business relationships. It is the way things have been done for centuries.”

  “Yes, but I’ll not marry for a business advantage.”

  “You sound awfully firm on that count.”

  “You refused to marry for a business alliance,” Julia challenged. “You married for love, remember?”

  Jane’s smile faded. “Yes, I did, but look at me now. Alone. Unable to rise from bed. A prisoner in my mother’s house.”

  Julia jerked at the acidic tone of her cousin’s words. “Do you really feel that way?”

  “I love Jonathan, with all of my heart I do, but I never see him. Sometimes, I wonder if Mother was right. If I had married Ichabod Cruthers as she’d desired, my husband would at least be by my side, and I’d have a secure home of my own.” Jane, as if regretting the bluntness of her words, forced an awkward smile. “But enough of me. Since you came bouncing in here with a grin on your face, I must assume the evening had some redeeming points. And I can’t help but wonder if Mr. Blake’s younger brother had something to do with that.”