The Thief of Lanwyn Manor

by Sarah E. Ladd

“Please.” He waited until he could trust himself to speak. “Don’t cry.”

  Her jaw clenched, and she said nothing, only turned on her heel.

  Then she was gone.

  Chapter 54

  Two weeks later, Margaret stood at the mining house, her arms folded over her chest. “We can’t put Richards off any longer. He’s offered to pay for the pump. If we don’t accept soon, he might retract his offer.”

  Isaac shrugged. With each passing day he saw his dream of opening Wheal Gwenna fade a bit more. Now that Matthew was gone, every ounce of his energy had gone into doing the work of two men—his and Matthew’s. “At the moment my hands are full with Wheal Tamsen.”

  “Surely your brother will be back when this blows over. We don’t want to pass up this opportunity.”

  “Matthew’s not coming back.” Conviction rang in his voice. “How can he? You know what he did. Everyone does.”

  “But Wheal Tamsen? The workers? Surely all the responsibility for it does not fall to your shoulders.”

  “The mine has enough money to see things through for now, and I can do his part until we figure out this mess.”

  She lifted her eyes and fixed them on Isaac. “I was out at Lanwyn Manor today to check on Mrs. Townsend and the baby. They are leaving for London at week’s end.”

  As if this entire ordeal was not painful enough, the thought of Julia leaving the area for good was like a shot to the chest.

  “I personally think it is far too early for Mrs. Townsend to be traveling,” Margaret continued, “but Mrs. Lambourne will not be dissuaded.”

  “Can you blame them? Their home was invaded.”

  “No, I don’t blame them,” she said softly, and then eyed him carefully before she spoke again. “I heard rumors that Mr. Lambourne has officially sold Bal Tressa and Lanwyn Manor to a man from Falmouth. It’s also said that he’s to bring his own workers to run Bal Tressa.”

  Isaac forced his fingers through his hair and shook his head. “As far as I know, yes, it’s true. While it’s not ideal, Mr. Elliot is a revered miner. Perhaps in time he will open his mine to the local men. But only time will tell that, so that’s why it is so important that Wheal Tamsen stay strong.”

  Margaret tilted her head to the side and toyed with the hem of her sleeve. “While I was at Lanwyn Manor the night the babe was born, I chatted with Julia Twethewey.”

  Heat rose beneath Isaac’s collar. His jaw twitched. He’d managed to keep himself busy in an effort not to think of her. He’d taken another road to the mine every day. He’d stayed behind from church. It was best for her not to be involved in this embarrassment.

  “Do you not want to know what we spoke about?” she asked.

  He did not respond.

  “I was wrong about her. I know that now.” Margaret sat in the chair opposite the desk and tightened her shawl around her shoulders. “And she loves you. Any fool can see that. So that’s why I don’t understand you and what you’re doing.”

  “You didn’t see what I saw, Margaret. She may think she loves me, but she’d come to regret it. Matthew infiltrated their home. He used them. All of them. He—”

  “That’s it exactly. Matthew used them. You did not. Yes, what he did was inexcusable. You saved the entire situation from becomin’ much worse. Do you not see it? La, men are such simple creatures. She is in love with you, Isaac. Not Matthew. No doubt, to her, Matthew is already gone. I think the real issue behind this all is that you are hurting.”

  He huffed and leaned back in his chair. “Of course I’m hurt. My brother does the unthinkable and leaves me here to defend the indefensible.”

  “Don’t let him do that to you. You have the power to stop it. Do not let his crime become yours. Don’t let his pain and dissatisfaction become yours. Listen to me. You’ve been my friend for a long time, and you have been there for me since Charlie died. You have not let the gossips stand in the way of assistin’ me. Julia Twethewey will be there for you, and you’re not givin’ her a chance to make her own decisions in this matter. You’re a good man, Isaac Blake. Don’t punish yourself for something Matthew did.”

  * * *

  For the first time since the night Matthew left, Isaac took the public road to Anvon Cottage. He drew his horse to a stop next to the drystone wall and looked to Lanwyn Manor.

  Julia was inside.

  Perhaps she could see him from a window.

  If he were so inclined, he could guide his horse to the courtyard. Ask to see her. Whether or not she would agree to see him, he could not tell. As he urged his horse forward once again, Margaret’s words rang loudly.

  “She loves you. Don’t punish yourself for something Matthew did.”

  His gut twisted with the odd injustice of it all. He was suffering, yes, but her pain was twofold. She was also being punished for Matthew’s actions. He resumed his ride home, struggling to logically make sense of things. All he knew was that time was running out—for Julia. For Wheal Tamsen. For Wheal Gwenna.

  He’d heard nothing from Matthew. Details of his perfidy had leaked to the community, and even if Matthew returned, the workers would not trust him. The miners were furious, unsettled, and rightfully so. Without their mine owner, what was to become of them?

  He attempted to put the thoughts of Julia aside and guided his horse home, but when he arrived at Anvon’s modest courtyard, a horse was tethered out front. Curious, he dismounted, secured his horse, and went inside.

  There in his parlor sat Matthew’s private solicitor, Mr. David Lead.

  “Mr. Lead.” Isaac swept his hat from his head and hung it on the hook. “I wondered when I’d be seeing you. I had a feeling you’d not be away for long.”

  “I’m here to inform you that your brother’s bound for America,” he said, expressionless. “I’ve the official word. His ship departed yesterday.”

  “I thought it was the East Indies.” Isaac stepped in farther, making little effort to hide his sarcasm and forcing his fingers through his hair. “He’s left quite a mess behind. If you have contact with him, be sure to tell him that.”

  Mr. Lead nodded and extended a leather portfolio toward him. “He paid me a call before departing and asked me to wait a fortnight before giving this to you. Here.”

  Isaac accepted the stack of bound papers and thumbed through it. “What’s this?”

  “Read it. It explains everything. I need to be on my way.” His mouth twitched in a smile. “Congratulations, Mr. Blake.”

  Confused, Isaac shook the man’s extended hand wordlessly.

  Mr. Lead turned to leave but then paused. “Oh, and I almost forgot. He also asked me to give you this separate from the other documents.”

  Isaac took the sealed letter from the solicitor’s gloved hand and tucked it against the portfolio. “Thank you, Mr. Lead. Would you stay for a meal before you depart?”

  “No, no. I must be going. But if you have any questions, you know how to reach me.”

  Isaac watched the man’s lanky form as it retreated from the house and through the courtyard. When all was once again silent, he retrieved the letter. He stared at it for several seconds—at the familiar handwriting and the familiar wax seal. Part of him wanted to hurl the missive into the fire. Weeks had passed and his brother’s betrayal stung more than he cared to admit. But another emotion simmered below the surface—curiosity.

  Isaac,

  By now you know. I’m going to America. Miners are in demand. Whether I care to admit it or not, my knowledge might serve me well.

  There is the matter of Tregarthan Hall and Wheal Tamsen. I’m signing them over to you. You are now legal owner of both.

  This seems as if it is the way Father would have wanted it, after all. They were really both more yours than mine, weren’t they? Ever since we were children, you saw yourself as part of the history. I saw it as a noose tied around my neck.

  One never knows how to end such a letter. I made a mess of everything. There is no explanation I can give, no words
to erase it. Even if I wanted to, it would be impossible for me to return to England, let alone Cornwall—not and keep my freedom. Perhaps it is the coward’s way out. Perhaps it is the wise way out. But I’ve bid my homeland farewell for the final time.

  I will let you know where I settle. In spite of all, I wish you happiness, Brother. Perhaps one of us will restore honor to the family name, and as for me, I regret my part in tarnishing it.

  I was blinded. Blinded by desire to leave Cornwall with as much money as possible. It was never about Bal Tressa or Wheal Tamsen for me. It was always about the escape. I hope you will treat our legacy better than I did.

  Farewell. I do hope our paths will cross again, but for now, I accept things as they are. I am happy for you, Brother. You will do great things.

  Chapter 55

  Julia placed her silk gown in the traveling chest. It seemed like only yesterday she had packed her trunks to leave Penwythe Hall to come to Lanwyn Manor. Her heart had been broken then, just as it was broken now. But for a very different reason.

  She sniffed and handed Caroline another gown to add to the chest.

  “I can hardly wait to get to London!” Caroline giggled, holding the dress before her and gazing into the looking glass. “Just think, we will leave this wretched place, and with any luck we will never return.”

  Julia forced a halfhearted smile. For her cousin, she’d smile. She’d be happy. But how her heart ached for Isaac.

  Absently, she gazed down the public road on the far side of the drystone wall. He was not there, of course. She’d watched for him for days, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. But he no longer took the road. Could it really be true that she would never see him again? That she would never again laugh with him? Smile with him? Be held in his arms again?

  She sighed and refocused her attention on her cousin and the pile of clothes before her.

  “He will be there to greet us, you know,” Caroline continued, oblivious to the war raging within Julia. “I feel almost giddy. Imagine, in just a few short days, I will be by Roger’s side once more. Life will finally begin for me.”

  Julia nodded absently, for indeed she was happy that her cousin anticipated the reunion so. But a part of Julia’s heart—a desperate part that had broken free—would remain here in Goldweth.

  “I still can’t believe Matthew Blake. The scoundrel. But mark my words, London is the place to find a husband, my dear Julia. All this will soon be a distant nightmare and someone far more fetching will take Mr. Blake’s place in your heart. And we will be arriving in time for the season. Oh, you will adore it!”

  Julia stiffened. Matthew Blake.

  All this time Caroline and her aunt still believed she had underlying feelings for the man. She never corrected them, and she probably never would. For what good could come of it? Isaac had severed his tie with her. It would do no good to comment on a topic that was dead and gone.

  Caroline scurried back to her own chamber, leaving Julia alone with her thoughts. She moved to her desk to write her final letter to Aunt Delia from Lanwyn Manor. As she lifted her quill, she struggled with what to write. She could not tell anyone about her true feelings. Another broken heart? She could scarcely face the truth herself.

  She looked up to see Jane in the doorway, the baby cradled in her arms.

  “Jane! You should be abed.” Julia stood and hurried to her cousin’s side. “Oh, but I am glad to see you. And how is the little one today?”

  “Please don’t scold me about being on my feet. After being in bed for so many months, I am aching to walk and stretch my legs. And my little angel is as happy as can be this morning.” She nodded toward the desk. “What are you doing?”

  “Writing my aunt Delia.”

  “I suppose you have a great deal to share with her.”

  “Do I?” Julia could not resist a slight laugh. “What part of this unbelievable story should I share with her?”

  Jane stepped farther into the chamber and lifted a gown lying on the bed. “Yes, it has been a rather strange sequence of events over the past several weeks. And what of Mr. Isaac Blake? Have you had any word from him?”

  Julia considered Jane’s words as she followed her to the bed. Just as it had been when she first arrived, there was no need to hide the truth from Jane. She was the only one who realized that Julia had developed feelings for Isaac.

  Julia stiffened. “No. No word.”

  “How sad it must make you. I’m sorry.”

  “It was not meant to be.” Julia shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I must accept it.”

  Jane tilted her head to the side. “And still, I wonder.”

  Julia recalled the indifferent expression in his hazel eyes when they last spoke. “You did not hear him. See him. He wants nothing to do with me. I was a fool to even entertain the thought that it might be otherwise.”

  “No, I did not hear him. But consider, Julia. He essentially lost his brother. Furthermore, I’m sure he feels that his brother’s actions cast shame on the family name. Is it any wonder he withdrew?”

  Julia’s chest tightened. “But what’s to be done? I can hardly go to him. I made my thoughts clear—much clearer than I ever should have, in hindsight. When will I learn, Jane? When will I guard my heart more carefully?”

  “The heart freely given is a heart that is open to pain. But it is also open to the joys.”

  Unsure of how to respond, Julia rose and took the baby from Jane. “Let’s hope you have more sense about you than your silly cousin Julia.” She softened as the baby cooed up at her. “Are you ready to depart tomorrow?”

  “I can’t imagine how dreadful the carriage ride will be, so bumpy and jolty, but yes, we are ready. We will be that much closer to Jonathan’s family, so I am hopeful we can grow closer. Perhaps that will make him feel not so far away.”

  With Jane’s help Julia continued to pack up her gowns and slippers, her letters and her ribbons. All had contributed to her life here, and it seemed so strange that in just a few short days her life would begin again in London.

  But there would be one missing piece.

  A part of her heart would remain behind in the walls of Lanwyn Manor, and she feared it would not be easily repaired. For it now belonged to Isaac Blake, whether she cared to admit it or not, and only time would tell if it would ever be whole again.

  * * *

  Isaac bolted upright in his bed. Perspiration dripped from his forehead. Silence and darkness surrounded him, and he swiped his damp hair away from his face.

  The dream he’d had every night for the past week haunted him. Again.

  His father.

  The day Wheal Gwenna flooded.

  His mother’s bedchamber shrouded in black after her feverish, sudden death.

  The mournful sight of his father in tears at her burial—the only time Isaac ever saw him show any emotion.

  Julia was in the dream too. She was roaming the halls of Tregarthan, searching for something. He kept asking her what she was looking for, but she couldn’t see him. Couldn’t hear him.

  Isaac swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat on its edge for several moments, struggling to put the pieces together.

  He dragged his hand over his face, stepped over to his window, and turned the latch to open it. Icy air swirled in, and he stared into the blackness and breathed the frosty night air.

  The pain and the fog of the dream still pressed on him.

  It was as if he could feel his father’s grief. Feel the loss. Feel the loneliness.

  He reached for his father’s pocket watch and looked at the hour. Four in the morning. Today was the day the Lambournes were to leave for London—the day Julia would forever be out of his life.

  He squeezed his eyes shut. What had he done?

  Suddenly the threads of his dream slammed together. The dream was about loss of love. Loss of purpose.

  Sleep’s fog fell away, slowly at first, but then increasing clarity materialized.

  He was about
to lose Julia. And his own actions—his own fears—were to blame.

  He yanked on his breeches in the dark and donned his waistcoat. His fingers trembled as he fastened the buttons. Margaret’s words echoed loudly in his mind.

  “I fear you are not giving her a chance to make her own decisions in this matter.”

  It was true. For the past few weeks he’d been miserable. He suspected she had been as well. But in Margaret’s view, it was preventable. He wasn’t miserable because of what Matthew did. He was miserable because Julia wasn’t in his life.

  As soon as dawn broke silver and clear in the eastern sky, he mounted his horse and made his way to the circle drive before Lanwyn Manor’s gatehouse. Even at this early hour, two carriages stood at the ready. Footmen, drivers, and guards milled around, loading crates and trunks and calling instructions to each other.

  He was not surprised that they would make such an early start. He only hoped he hadn’t waited too long.

  He cantered his horse through the gatehouse archway into the courtyard. His heart raced at the sight of the family assembled.

  There is still time.

  Mr. Lambourne noticed him first, and then they all turned.

  His eyes latched onto Julia, and her mouth fell open at the sight of him. He slid from his saddle.

  “Blake.” Mr. Lambourne furrowed his brows. “What are you doing here?”

  Isaac ignored him. His attention was drawn to her, and everything else paled. She was clad in a traveling gown of blue velvet. Her dark hair was gathered at the nape beneath a bonnet. The cool air pinked her cheeks.

  Beautiful.

  He cleared his throat. “I would like to speak with Miss Twethewey. Alone, please.”

  The Lambournes exchanged glances, but Julia stared at him.

  For several seconds he thought she was not going to move, but then she handed a small bag to her cousin and stepped toward him, questions bright and brimming in her eyes.

  He guided her toward a small arch where they could talk in privacy. Once they were out of earshot and out of sight, he turned to her and gripped her hands. “I’ve been a fool.”