Kitabı oku: «Her Longed-For Family»

Chapter One

Porthlowen, North Cornwall November 1812

Jacob Warrick pushed his spectacles up on his nose as he followed a footman and wished he could be anywhere else. Not that his surroundings were not pleasant. In Cothaire, the great house overlooking Porthlowen Cove, elegant furniture and artwork filled the hallway. The walls were not pocked with chipped paint. No dust or wet stains created strange scents in the corridor. Servants moved in an easy, efficient rhythm through the home, doing tasks needed to keep the Trelawney family in comfort.

Everything was exactly as the manor belonging to the Earl of Launceston should be.

Everything was the complete opposite of Warrick Hall, his estate.

Until last night, he had not been bothered by the sorry condition of the house he had inherited from his uncle, along with the title of Lord Warrick. He had easily looked past the peeling wall coverings and the definite stench of mildew. Instead, he had focused on safety at the estate’s mines. His uncle had apparently paid as little attention to maintenance at the mines as he had at his house.

Jacob had intended to repair the ancient manor house someday...until the letter arrived from Beverly Warrick, his stepmother, announcing she and his brother, Emery, and Emery’s wife, Helen, would be arriving at Warrick Hall to spend Christmas with him. It was not until the final line of her excited note that she had mentioned Helen’s sister, Miss Faye Bolton—in his stepmother’s opinion, a well-polished young woman—would be traveling with them.

He knew exactly what those few words meant. His stepmother was not satisfied with having arranged the marriage of her niece Helen to his brother. She intended to wed her other niece to him.

Understanding that had set him to pacing his bedchamber all night. One of the great advantages of moving to Cornwall, far from the rest of his family, was he could escape his stepmother’s meddling. Ignoring her was impossible, and resisting her plans created an uproar. He should have guessed his new title would attract her interference in his life like a hound to the fox’s scent. And she would be as persistent as a dog on the trail of its prey.

He had no time for courting. In his few spare moments, he had begun the arduous task of writing a textbook on engineering for mine operators. He had considered himself a skilled engineer after years of study and teaching, but many aspects of tin mining surprised him. Once he completed the manuscript, he would have the book printed. The profits from its sales would allow him to continue updating the mines. That would save lives, for conditions at the estate’s mines when he had arrived in Cornwall last year had been deplorable. Two years ago, a half dozen miners had died. He prayed every night the miners would emerge from underground alive the next day. So far, his prayers had been answered, but he was determined to make the mines as safe as possible.

Finding a wife was a task everyone expected he must put his mind to at some point. The title, along with its obligation of assuring that it continued in their family, coming to him was like a cruel joke. How could he risk suffering that grief another time? After Virginia Greene had died, he had vowed never to fall in love again.

Yet, even if he wanted to marry, his concentration now must be fully on replacing the out-of-date equipment at the mines. Since he had started updating the machinery, fewer men had been hurt and none had died in the depths of the Warrick mines. He did not want anyone else to die because of his negligence.

That had been his plan, but now everything had changed. One look at Warrick Hall would confirm his stepmother’s belief he was in desperate need of a wife.

Immediately.

Even a single breach of etiquette would provide the proof his stepmother needed to show he was unprepared to find a proper baroness on his own. Without a doubt, she was already convinced, which was why she was providing him with the “well-polished” Miss Faye Bolton. The description made him think of a glossy table rather than a wife. A wife who could die as Virginia had because of his carelessness.

He had tried to tell his stepmother the truth about that horrible night. Or at least what he knew of it, because his memories were unreliable in the wake of the injury he had sustained. She refused to listen. She insisted on calling it an unfortunate accident. She was wrong, and he would not endanger another young woman who was foolish enough to fall in love with him and believe his promise she was always safe with him.

There was only one solution. Jacob needed to have Warrick Hall—or, at the very least, the parts of it any guests might see—meet his stepmother’s exacting standards by the time of her arrival. That way, he could show he did not need a wife straightaway.

He could scrape together funds for repairs, but where to begin and what to do? Those questions had kept him awake, and he hoped he would find the answer at Cothaire.

The footman stopped by a closed door Jacob recognized. The room beyond it overlooked the back garden and was small enough to be cozy. He had been in the informal parlor the last time he had called at Cothaire. Then he had come seeking the Trelawneys’ assistance in finding a child he believed had been abducted from his estate. The missing child had been found unharmed and returned to her family. All had ended well.

His mouth tightened as the footman placed a knock on the door and waited for an answer. He forced himself to relax. He could not greet the earl’s older daughter, Lady Caroline, with such a grumpy expression. Most especially when he was about to ask her to grant him a very large favor. He was not accustomed to asking others to help solve his problems.

The footman opened the door, stepped aside to let Jacob enter, then followed him in. Puzzled why the servant was shadowing him and clearing his throat quietly, Jacob glanced across the room to where Lady Caroline waited by the hearth. The light from the flames danced with blue lights off her sleek, black hair. Her neat bun accented her high cheekbones and crystal-blue eyes. She wore a simple yellow gown beneath a fringed paisley shawl draped over her shoulders. As nearly every time he had seen her, a baby girl was not far away. The infant and a little boy were on the rug in front of the fireplace.

“Good morning, my lady,” Jacob said, pushing his spectacles up his nose again after bowing his head toward her. “I appreciate you receiving me when I arrived without an invitation.”

The footman cleared his throat again, this time a bit louder.

Had Jacob said something wrong? Already? He hoped the heat rising from his collar did not turn his face crimson. He seldom blushed, but when he did, there was no hiding it.

That was why he preferred speaking plainly as he had while teaching math and science at Cambridge. Unlike Lady Caroline, who was poised and never seemed to say the wrong word, he had the manners of a man who had spent most of his life with his nose in a book and his fingers upon some piece of machinery.

Another deficiency his stepmother had put on her litany of the faults that would keep him a bachelor unless she stepped in to provide him with a bride.

“By this time, you should know our neighbors are always welcome at Cothaire, my lord.” Lady Caroline smiled, and the room lit up as if it were the sunniest summer afternoon instead of a chilly November morn. She walked gracefully to a chair near where the baby slept while the little boy played with wooden blocks. Sitting, she asked, “Will you join us here by the fire?”

“Thank you.” He took a single step, then halted when the footman cleared his throat again.

When Jacob glanced back, the liveried man repeated too quietly for Lady Caroline to hear, “Ahem!” Did the man have something stuck in his throat?

“My father will be sorry he is not here to speak with you himself,” Lady Caroline said.

“If this is not a good time—”

“Nonsense. As I said, you should always consider our door open, my lord.” Again she motioned for him to join her by the fire, then reached down to check the little girl. The baby had opened her eyes and stared at him sleepily. Lustrous curls topped her head.

“She has grown so big!” he said.

That brought an even warmer smile from Lady Caroline. “Yes, Joy is thriving at last. Just as Gil is.” She stretched to ruffle the little boy’s brown hair. “All six of the children have settled in well, whether here or at the parsonage with my brother or with my sister on the other side of the cove.”

The Trelawneys, from the earl to his four children, had taken six abandoned waifs into their hearts after the children were discovered floating in a rickety boat in the cove. The family had never stopped looking for the children’s parents, even though he guessed it would be a sad day when the Trelawneys had to return the children.

The footman cleared his throat yet again.

About to ask the man to stop making the annoying sound or take his leave, Jacob realized he still wore his greatcoat and carried his hat. Even he was familiar enough with propriety to know the footman had expected to take them upon Jacob’s arrival. He hastily shrugged off his coat and handed it and his hat to the servant, who had the decency not to smile.

He turned his gaze to Lady Caroline. He needed to obtain her help. She was the perfect choice, and not only because she had taken on the task of overseeing Cothaire after her mother’s death five or six years ago. From what he had heard, she had no interest in remarrying since her husband’s death around the same time, though he suspected such a lovely, gentle-hearted woman had many offers. She treated Jacob with respect but had not flirted with him during their previous conversations. Because of that, he was willing to ask her this favor. Another woman might see his request as a prelude to a courtship.

Stepping carefully around the children, Jacob went to where she sat primly. He lifted her slender hand from the chair’s arm and bowed over it before sitting across from her. His hope that he had handled the greeting correctly withered when he adjusted his spectacles and saw astonishment on her face. What faux pas had he made now?

He bit back the question as the little boy grinned at him, then pointed to the baby girl as he announced, “My baby!”

“Gil is very protective of Joy.” Lady Caroline smiled when the baby smacked the little boy on the arm and giggled. “Though some days, I feel I should be protecting him from her.” Her voice was soft and soothing as she bent toward the baby and said, “Do not hit Gil, Joy. You don’t want to hurt him, do you?”

“Gil is a big boy,” Jacob said with a smile Gil returned brightly. “He can take care of himself.”

“Gil big boy.” He tapped his chest proudly, then turned to Lady Caroline and repeated the words. Standing, he leaned on Jacob’s knee. “Big, big boy.”

“That you are, young man.”

When the little boy laughed, Jacob could not help doing the same. He could not recall the last time he had a conversation with a child as young as Gil. He had been more accustomed to talking to his students at the university, and now most of his discussions were with the miners who worked on his estate.

The baby girl picked up a shiny stick from the rug and stuck it in her mouth, holding it by one end that appeared to be made of silver.

Jacob’s bafflement must have been visible because Lady Caroline said, “Joy is getting her first tooth.”

“And the stick helps?” he asked.

“It appears so. She chews on the coral. Because it is hard, the coral seems to give her relief from the pressure of the tooth on her gum.”

“Do you have another teething stick?”

Her light blue eyes narrowed. “Yes, but why do you ask?”

“I would be interested in examining such a helpful device, but I dare not ask Joy to relinquish hers. She seems to be enjoying it far too much.”

She rose and walked past him without a word. He jumped to his feet belatedly. Was she going to the nursery now? He glanced at the children playing on the floor. She was leaving him with two babies? If she knew the truth of how untrustworthy he could be when his thoughts were elsewhere...

No! He was not going to blurt out the truth. Nobody in Porthlowen knew of his past, and he intended to keep it that way. He had no worries about his family discussing the tragedy that had left his darling Virginia dead the night he proposed to her; they preferred to act as if the accident had never happened.

“My lady—”

“Yes?”

Too late, he realized Lady Caroline held a bell to call for someone to fetch the teething stick. He should have guessed, but he was too unaccustomed to having servants ready to answer any summons.

Somehow, he managed to say, “If it is an inconvenience...”

“None.” She rang the bell, and the door opened in response.

While she spoke to a maid, Jacob tried to regain his composure. How she would want to laugh at him for being unsettled at the idea of being left alone with a two-year-old boy and a baby! Not that she would laugh. She was far too polite.

The maid returned moments later with another smooth stick. Lady Caroline took it, then handed it to Jacob before thanking the maid, who curtsied before leaving. As Lady Caroline went to sit by the children, Jacob examined the coral stick. The flat sides resembled a table knife.

“Fascinating concept,” he said, glad to concentrate on something other than his disquiet. He ran a single finger along the smooth, cool coral. The silver handle, which was connected to a ribbon, was embossed with images of the sun and flowers and birds.

“The ribbon can be tied to a child’s waist to keep the teething stick from getting lost, but my mother stopped doing that after I almost knocked an eye out with mine when I was a baby. Apparently, my cheek bore black bruises for a week.”

Jacob tried to envision Lady Caroline as an infant with a black eye. The image banished his dark thoughts temporarily, and he laughed. “It sounds as if your mother was a wise woman.”

“She was.”

The sorrow in her voice subdued his laughter. What a fool he was! Speaking of her mother’s death would remind her as well of her husband’s. He knew how impossible it was to forget someone loved and lost forever. Unsure what to say, he fell back on the clichéd. “You must miss her.”

“Yes.” She squared her shoulders and looked at him directly. “Now tell me what has brought you to Cothaire this morning, Lord Warrick. I know you are a busy man, and I doubt this is a social call.”

“I would like to ask you if... That is...” He was making a muddle of what should be a simple request. Taking a deep breath, he sat once more facing Lady Caroline and placed the teething stick on a table by his chair. He kept his voice even as he said, “I need your help.”

“My help? With what?”

“Please hear me out before you give me an answer, my lady.” When she nodded, words spewed from his lips before he lost the courage to say them. “My family is coming to Warrick Hall for the Christmas holiday.”

“How wonderful!”

He kept his smile in place. Wonderful was not the way he would describe the visit, because his stepmother loved drama and excitement while he preferred quiet for his writing and other long hours of work. “It would be wonderful if Warrick Hall was in any condition to receive guests.”

“That does present a problem, but we would be glad to have your guests stay here with us. We have plenty of room, and it is a short drive from here to Warrick Hall.”

“Thank you, but my family will expect to stay at Warrick Hall.”

“Of course.” She paused when the baby chirped. Lifting Joy, she set the squirming baby in her lap. “Forgive me, my lord, but I am confused. Will you explain how I can help you?”

He appreciated her getting right to the point. He would do the same. “I need help in redoing Warrick Hall so it is ready for my family. I suspect there is enough furniture in the attics, but I have no idea what pieces to use or how to arrange it. Nor do I have any idea which colors to use to repaint. Will you help me?” He jabbed at his spectacles, pushing them up his nose, and held his breath.

If Lady Caroline did not agree to assist him, he had no idea where to turn next to keep his stepmother from interfering in his life with disastrous results...again.

* * *

Caroline Trelawney Dowling struggled not to grin at Jacob Warrick. The baron was not as tall as her brothers, but of above-average height. His hair was ruddy-brown, his jaw firm and his face well-sculpted. However, the first thing she always noticed was his brass spectacles slipping down his nose. When she had been told he was calling, she had never guessed he would make a request that could gratify a craving in her heart. She had been struggling in recent months not to be envious when her younger brothers and sister began creating homes of their own. She had not realized how much she wanted to do the same. Cothaire had been her responsibility for the past five years, but that changed when her brother Arthur, Lord Trelawney, had married.

Even though she would always have a place to live at Cothaire, Caroline had been shunted from her position as the great house’s chatelaine. Not that Arthur’s wife, Maris, was anything but the epitome of kindness. She sought Caroline’s advice regularly. However, the household now looked to Maris for direction, not Caroline. It was as it should be; still, Caroline longed for a house to make into a home.

Now Lord Warrick was here with an offer for her to help him do exactly that with dilapidated Warrick Hall. Assisting him to make the old manor house comfortable for his family would show her father she should be allowed to renovate a house in the village for her, Gil and Joy. At last, she would have the snug cottage she had hoped to share with her late husband John and their children.

That dream had died along with John when his ship sank. Even before then, because she had been told by the local midwife the chances of her becoming pregnant diminished as each month passed and she did not conceive. She had continued to pray for as long as John was alive that she would someday hold their baby in her arms. Others wondered why she had not remarried in the years since his death, but how could she wed when she might never be able to give her husband a child? She had sensed John’s disappointment each month, and she did not want ever to hurt someone she loved like that again. It was better she remained unmarried and found a small home of her own in the village.

She looked at Joy who took a block from Gil, then let it fall to the floor as she giggled. God had heard her prayer and brought children into her life in a way she could not have imagined. And now He was answering another prayer from deep within her heart by giving her the chance to help Lord Warrick with renovating Warrick Hall.

“I would be glad to do what I can,” she said, proud how serene her voice sounded when her thoughts were whirling like a tempest.

Lord Warrick’s hazel eyes widened behind his brass spectacles. “Really?”

She smiled. “Yes, really.”

A flush rose from his collar. “My lady, I didn’t mean to suggest you would speak anything but the truth. I admit I expected you to demur because you would be busy with holiday preparations at Cothaire.”

“Our New Year’s Eve gathering has been held for so many years, everyone knows what to do in preparation.” She did not add that many of the tasks she had done in previous years would now be assumed by the new Lady Trelawney.

Joy cried and raised her hands. Caroline picked up the baby, who was growing rapidly and getting plump. She had guessed the baby was little more than a newborn when Joy was rescued along with five other children at the end of summer. In the past few weeks, Joy had begun to act a couple of months older than anyone had assumed. She pulled herself up on anything and anyone, and she made jabbering sounds, which had earned her the nickname of “little monkey” from Father. Soon she would start saying real words. Caroline wondered what Joy’s first word would be. She secretly hoped it would be “Mama.”

“When does your family arrive?” Caroline asked the baron.

“In about a month. Will that be enough time?”

“It must be, because it is all we have.” She stood as the baby gave a sharp cry. Reaching for the teething stick on the table next to Lord Warrick’s chair, she nearly bumped her nose into his as he came to his feet. He leaned away, and she snatched the teething stick from the table. She handed it to Joy, not looking at the baron. She hoped her face was not as red as his had been a moment ago.

Caroline froze at a distant rumble. The glass in the garden doors rattled sharply.

“What was that?” she asked as Gil jumped to his feet and ran to hide his face in her skirt.

“It sounded like thunder,” Lord Warrick said, lines of bafflement threading across his forehead. “But the sky is clear.”

“Storms can come up quickly at this time of year.” She did not add more as Joy cried out in pain. She put the baby to her shoulder and patted Joy’s back. The little girl flung aside the teething stick and began chewing on a seam along Caroline’s shawl.

“One more thing, my lady,” he said, clearly trying not to look at the widening spot of damp from the baby’s drool on her shawl. “I have no doubts my family will wish to entertain while they are here. Because of that, I must ask another favor. Will you help me learn the niceties and duties of a host so I can avoid any mistakes that might embarrass my family?”

Caroline blinked once, then twice, then a third time. “You want me to teach you the proper graces of Society?”

“Yes, if you are willing.” His unsteady smile warned her how important this request was.

Why? She wanted to ask that question but swallowed it unspoken. Lord Warrick’s explanation did not ring true for her. Other than his late uncle, no member of his family was of the ton, so why would they expect him to know the complex intricacies of the Beau Monde when, as far as she knew, he had never been to London or even attended many gatherings in Cornwall? There must be some other, more important reason he was not sharing with her, but asking that would prove her own manners were beneath reproach.

She could think of many reasons to say no. She needed to discover the truth about the children. She needed to spend time with Joy and Gil and her family, both its longtime members and its newest ones. That was very important, because she had no idea how much longer the children would be in her life.

Withhold not good from them to whom it is due, when it is in the power of thine hand to do it. The verse from Proverbs, one of John’s favorites, burst out of her memory. She had the time and ability to help Lord Warrick with both of his requests, and, to own the truth, she was thrilled to have the chance to see inside ancient Warrick Hall.

Gil took advantage of her silence to go to Lord Warrick and, grinning, hand him a wooden horse.

“Thank you, young man,” the baron said.

“You welcome.” Running to the other toys, Gil began piling blocks one on top of the other.

“You have taught him well,” Lord Warrick said, drawing her gaze to him. “Would it be any different to teach me?”

“Of course, it would be different. He is a child.”

“And I am as a child when it comes to etiquette. You have seen that yourself.” He held up his hand. “You need not be polite and try to deny it, my lady. I saw the truth on your face when I made blunders upon my arrival today.”

“If I made you feel uncomfortable or appeared judgmental, I am sorry.”

He crowed, “There!”

“There what?” she asked, confused.

“What you said.” He set the toy horse on the floor near Gil, and the little boy pretended it was galloping along a road of blocks. “Gracious and kind. I want to learn how to be as eloquent and cordial in social situations. Will you help me?”

“I will try.” She did not hesitate before she went on, “May I ask you for a favor in return?”

“Whatever you wish.” His words were casual, but she sensed an undertone of tension in them. What was he hiding?

“You know we are searching for the children’s families and are desperate to discover why they were left in a wobbly boat.”

“And by whom, so you know who was heartless,” Lord Warrick said, his voice as serious as a magistrate handing down justice. “I will be happy to do whatever I can to help in the search.”

She nodded, glad he understood. She could not imagine leaving six small, very active children in a tiny boat. Any of them could have tipped it over, and they would have drowned.

“Thank you.” She was happy to have someone else involved in the search that had been fruitless for more than four months.

“So?”

Caroline was startled by Lord Warrick’s abrupt question. “Pardon me?”

“Which lesson shall you give me first?”

“You want to start now?”

“Why not?” He gave her a grin that reminded her of Gil when the little boy was trying to wheedle her into reading him another story before bed. “Perhaps you can begin with what I should have done when I came into the room today.”

“As you wish.” She bent to put Joy down, but halted when the floor rocked under her feet.

Thunder erupted around her. So loud she could not hear the baby cry, even though the little girl’s open mouth was close to her ear. Gil threw himself against her. His small hands grasped her skirt again, holding on as if for his very life.

Broader hands tugged her to the floor that spasmed beneath her. Lord Warrick! He gripped the chair beside her with both hands. His arms surrounded her and the children.

The cacophony receded enough to let her hear the children’s frightened shrieks. She gathered them both closer to her, wanting to shield them from whatever was happening.

A warm breath brushed her ear. She started to turn her head, but a firm hand clasped her chin, holding her in place as Lord Warrick warned, “Wait. It may not be over.”

Was he shouting or whispering? She could not tell.

“What may not be over?” she asked.

His answer vanished beneath another swell of chaotic noise. The glass in the garden doors exploded inward into sharp splinters. She ducked, pulling the children and him toward the floor with her.

What was going on?