A Castaway in Cornwall Page 27

  “Miss Callaway is niece to Mrs. Hilgrove,” Alex explained. “She lives with a local nurse, Mrs. Tobin.”

  “Susan Hilgrove . . . That is . . . Mrs. Hilgrove, yes. A . . . gracious lady.”

  “You are well acquainted?”

  “Not as well as I should like, but I shall say no more. Not gentlemanlike, I reckon, to talk about a lady. Her niece, you say? I did not know she had a niece coming to visit.”

  “I think it’s fair to say our arrival was most unexpected.”

  “Well, I shall have to pay a call and learn all about it.” A flash of eagerness shone in the man’s eyes.

  “Then, perhaps I shall see you again.”

  “I hope so.” The older man extended a strong, rough hand. “Bert Gillan.”

  Alex took it. “Alexander Carnell . . . That is, Captain Carnell.”

  Again the bushy eyebrows rose. “Captain, is it? Well, well. I won’t ask which side. I am neutral, after all, since I do business with both France and England.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  “Staying with Mrs. Hilgrove, are you?” the man asked wistfully.

  “No, I’ve taken a room at La Folie.” Alex pointed to the small inn tucked away in a sheltered corner of the harbour.

  The man glanced at it and nodded. “Lot of character in that old place. And a lot of characters frequent it too. It’s a favorite with sailors, pilots, dockers, and the like. Local fishermen sell their catch right outside its doors.”

  Yes, Alexander had seen and smelled the mounds of fish and hoped he didn’t carry the smell with him when he visited Miss Callaway.

  Alex turned to take his leave, saying in parting, “May I mention to Mrs. Hilgrove that I met you?”

  “Yes, and put in a good word for me while you’re at it, ey?”

  Alexander grinned. “Indeed I shall.”

  Her aunt insisted Laura rest, but later that evening, after a nap and a good dinner, the two sat together once more. Mrs. Tobin joined them.

  Laura asked about Captain Carnell.

  “We have not seen him since this morning,” Mrs. Tobin said. “He walked off in the direction of the harbour.”

  He was looking for a ship to take him to France, Laura guessed, her heart aching at the thought. It was only a matter of time until he sailed away from her. As her parents had . . .

  Turning to her aunt, Laura began, “When Mamma and Papa left me to the fickle mercies of an English boarding school, I felt abandoned, like an inconvenience sent off so that they could travel without impediment. Then again, I was an irritable adolescent.”

  The two shared knowing looks at that.

  “I received no letters from them, and assumed they had forgotten all about me as they enjoyed the delights of their new island home.”

  Mrs. Tobin shook her head. “They did not forget about you, my dear. I can vouch for that.” The nurse handed her something. “Your mother wore this almost continually.”

  Laura accepted the locket and stared down at the golden oval. She’d all but forgotten about it. Opening it, she saw the miniature portraits within—her father, and herself as a girl.

  “She loved you both very much,” the nurse said. “She clutched that to her heart as she drew her final breaths.”

  Tears burned Laura’s eyes. She had misjudged her mother. I am sorry, Mamma, she whispered in her heart. Please forgive me.

  “Your mother wrote you a final letter,” Aunt Susan added. “I planned to forward it, once I had located your direction, but as I never did . . . well . . . I still have it.”

  She retrieved the letter and handed it to Laura. Then the women left her to read in private. She recognized her mother’s handwriting, but the words were shaky, and hard to read at times.

  My dearest Laura,

  I am afraid our trip to Jersey did not turn out as we had hoped. I know you resented being left behind. But in hindsight I cannot regret leaving you in England, for you have escaped this illness that has claimed so many.

  I am sorry to tell you that your dear papa died four days ago. He was too weak during his final days to leave his bed, but before that he was tireless in visiting the sick here and doing all he could to relieve their suffering. This fever, whatever it is, has swept through the barracks and much of St. Helier.

  I had hoped to be spared. I thought God would surely not take us both. Not leave you orphaned.

  I was wrong.

  I am so sorry, my darling daughter. I had hoped to watch you grow up. To guide you a little and love you a lot along the way. Apparently that is not to be. My own sister is gravely ill as well, but I trust your father’s sister—your aunt Anne—will fill my shoes and become a second mother to you. I hope you will allow her to love you and care for you as I am sure she will be eager to do.

  You have always had a strong will and strong mind, Laura Callaway. And though it saddens me to send you into adulthood alone, I know that you will live a good and God-honoring life that would make me, your father, and your heavenly Father proud.

  Life may disappoint you. Friends may desert you. But God is faithful. Stay close to Him, and you won’t stray far from the right path.

  I am praying for you even now, my dearest, and I will always love you.

  Mamma

  Tears overflowed, streaking her cheeks and cleansing the final traces of resentment from her heart.

  One of our most familiar little waders, especially on rocky, seaweed-covered shores at all times of the year, is the Turnstone.

  But it has never nested here, despite claims to the contrary.

  —R. D. PENHALLURICK, BIRDS OF CORNWALL

  Chapter 21

  The following days passed in quiet, comfortable routine. The women took meals together, and talked while they sewed or read in the evenings. Mrs. Tobin regularly went out to visit ailing elderly people in the town and did what she could for them. Both women were active in charity work, but now that Laura had come, Aunt Susan stayed home with her so she would not be left alone.

  They had not seen Alexander in a few days, and Laura began to fear he had left the island without saying good-bye.

  That afternoon, Mrs. Tobin came into the parlour, eyes alight. “A gentleman to see you, my dear. Do you feel equal to a visitor?”

  Anticipation tingled through Laura’s chest at the thought of seeing Captain Carnell again. “Indeed I do.”

  She rose, smoothing back her hair and then her bodice, pausing to press a palm to her pounding heart. Be calm.

  But the handsome gentleman who strode into the room, hat in hand, was not the man she’d expected.

  “Treeve! What a surprise.”

  His lips pursed in an uncertain grin, and he twisted the hat brim. “Not an . . . unhappy surprise, I hope?”

  She had rarely seen him look less confident. “No, of course not. I have been wondering how you fared after we parted, what, nearly a week ago?”

  “Ten days.”

  “Really? I’m afraid I have been ill, so my awareness of time passing has been unclear.”

  “Ill?” His golden eyebrows rose, and he looked sincerely concerned.

  “Never fear. I am well on my way to a full recovery.”

  “I am glad to hear it. Do sit down. Don’t stand on my account.”

  “Very well.” She reclaimed her seat and gestured to the one near it.

  He sat in the low chair, his knees high, his long legs looking decidedly coltish.

  “And I am glad to see you have not been arrested,” Laura said. “What happened with the revenue cutter?”

  “They never searched that cove, thankfully. To be safe, however, we hid our tools of the trade in a nearby field, most of which the locals carried off. It will be costly to replace them.”

  “Then, perhaps you should not. Perhaps this is a sign to you. A chance to choose a new path.”

  He looked down, again twisting his hat brim in restless fingers.

  She changed tack. “How did you find me?”

  “Was n
ot difficult. I knew you were coming to St. Helier, so I asked around the harbour until I found someone who had seen you or Captain Carnell. A ship owner who’d met the captain directed me here.”

  “It was kind of you to seek me out.”

  He shrugged. “I wanted to assure myself you had made it to Jersey as you’d intended. I still feel terrible I was unable to deliver you myself.”

  Was that the only reason he had come? Laura wondered. Or in hopes of something else?

  “There is no need to feel bad.”

  “It is a relief to find you safe and whole and . . . in at least reasonably good health. I would have come sooner, but the men and I decided it would be wise to wait for a time before we made another attempt to cross the Channel.” Treeve glanced around the small parlour. “Is . . . the good captain not with you?”

  Laura hesitated, for in truth she did not know where he was. “He was here in St. Helier, but we have not seen him in a few days.”

  Treeve, she noticed, watched her carefully. Laura hoped her expression did not reveal her disappointment. She added more brightly, “I imagine he is busy trying to find a ship to take him to France.”

  Treeve winced apologetically. “I’m afraid I can’t volunteer for that duty. Our narrow escape had a sobering effect on us all. I believe Dyer would mutiny if I suggested he sail into enemy waters, and I would not blame him.”

  “Nor I,” Laura agreed. “After all, he has a family at home. As do you, Treeve—don’t forget.”

  “But Dyer has a wife, and I do not.” He shifted uneasily in his chair. “Had I a wife encouraging me to get out of smuggling as Dyer has, it might be easier to do so.”

  Laura slowly shook her head. “Don’t change for a woman, Treeve. Change because it’s the right thing to do. To live inside the law and your God-given conscience. I know you said your family is facing financial hardships, but imagine the far worse hardship and heartache if their eldest son and heir were to be imprisoned.”

  Again he looked at the floor, and regret stabbed Laura. “Forgive me. I did not intend to speak harshly or to judge your actions. It is not my place.”

  He looked up at her through blond lashes. “It could be.”

  “Oh, Treeve.” Laura’s heart thumped and her stomach knotted. “Thank you. I am flattered truly, but you and I are not suited. Besides, I could not bear the thought of my home and livelihood being supported by ill-gotten gain. To worry every time my husband sailed away that he would be arrested.” She shook her head and attempted a teasing tone. “Once an up-country lass, always an up-country lass, I suppose.”

  She leaned forward. “But there is a woman worthy of your admiration and respect who knows what you are involved in and cares for you deeply even so. She too might demand you stop, but she would happily marry you. You have been fortunate indeed to win Miss Roskilly’s regard. I hope you will be mature enough not to disdain her for the flaw of admiring you. I daresay if I had flirted with you as devotedly as she or Eseld had, you would disdain me too.”

  He managed a dry chuckle. “Sadly true. Aware of my faults as I am, I can’t respect any woman who admires me.”

  She studied his vulnerable expression. “You have always seemed so confident, but I have wondered if that was truly the case. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. We all lack assurance in some areas, and we all have flaws.”

  “And what possible flaws have you, Miss Callaway?”

  “Many. I have been proud. I have stood in judgment of my neighbors because their ways seemed foreign and wrong to me. I have felt superior to them, and at the same time, unworthy of their acceptance. I have been unforgiving and resentful. Oh, and let’s not forget my red hair.”

  A shadow of a grin flickered over his lips. “And is Carnell aware of these so-called flaws of yours? He clearly admires you anyway.”

  “I believe he is aware of my faults, yes. As to the extent of his admiration, that remains to be seen.”

  “Shall I wait until the future is decided between you? Or is there no hope for me?”

  Laura considered. It was tempting to leave this door open. A sure way to return to Cornwall and visit Uncle Matthew. But no, it wouldn’t be right. Nor fair. Not to Treeve, and not to Kayna Roskilly.

  She slowly shook her head. “We shall always be friends, Treeve. And I shall always care about you. But don’t wait. Go home to your family, and to Miss Roskilly.”

  He rose. “I thought you’d say that. Still, I had to try. Once more for old times’ sake.”

  She rose as well. “I sincerely appreciate your visit. Please do greet my uncle and Eseld for me, won’t you?” Her voice cracked. “And Perry, and Miss Chegwin, and . . . Well, I don’t suppose you often socialize with Mary Chegwin, but—”

  He raised a staying palm, accompanied by a brave smile. “I will happily pass along your greetings to all who love and miss you. I include myself in that number.”

  He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “Good-bye, little turnstone.”

  Laura blinked back tears, her throat burning. “Good-bye, Treeve Kent.”

  The sound of footsteps penetrated the poignant moment. At the creaking of the door, Laura turned. There stood Captain Carnell. He stopped abruptly in the threshold, expression inscrutable as he looked from Laura to her visitor.

  Laura extracted her hand from Treeve’s. “Look who has come to visit!”

  Treeve Kent’s bravado reasserted itself, and he straightened to his full lanky height. Hand to heart, he said in gallant tones, “I could not rest until I assured myself all was well with Miss Callaway. And with you too, of course.”

  A wary light shone in Alexander’s eyes. “I did not realize you planned to visit, Mr. Kent.”

  “Nor I,” Laura added. “I was stunned but relieved to see him well and free. I worried he might have landed in a spot of trouble after trying to help us.”

  “I worried about that too,” Alexander said. “Though I imagine Mr. Kent is too charming and too well connected to face any serious consequences.”

  “Your confidence in me is heartening, Captain. But I would not have been the first gentleman to face legal consequences for smuggling.”

  “Is that why you are here? To free trade?” Alex asked. “Or simply to see Miss Callaway?”

  “Both. We hope for one more profitable haul to cover our expenses and help see us all through the long winter ahead. After that, Dyer is out. I can’t speak for the others.”

  “And you?”

  “I have not yet decided.”

  “In the meantime, do be careful,” Laura said earnestly. She touched Treeve’s arm, immediately drawing both men’s gazes. Noticing, she quickly removed her hand.

  “I shall be. Thank you. Well, I had better take my leave.” He bowed. “A pleasure to see you both again.”

  “And you,” Laura said. “Godspeed.”

  Laura and Alexander stood there awkwardly as Treeve’s footfalls faded down the corridor and the sound of a closing door echoed through the house.

  “Well, that was a surprise,” she said.

  “Agreed, but perhaps it should not have been. The man obviously cares for you.”

  Laura shifted uneasily. “Well, we are friends, after all.”

  He studied her face. “How are you feeling?”

  About seeing Treeve again or physically? she wondered, and chose to respond to the latter. “So much better. Still a little weak and I tire easily, but overall, I am remarkably well.”

  “I am glad to hear it. You gave me a scare.”

  “And what have you been doing? I have not seen you in days.”

  “I did not wish to intrude on your reunion with your aunt. And along with seeking a ship, I searched for my grandparents’ former house. Turns out, it’s not far from here.”

  “I would like to see it.”

  “I . . . could give you the direction, but I may not be here long enough to show you. I have found a merchant who might be willing to take me to France on one of his ships.”
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  “Oh. Well . . . Well done.” She forced a smile.

  He did not ask her to join him, she noticed. Alexander had a family, after all—a father, brother, sister-in-law, and nephew—who, she guessed, would rejoice at his return despite past arguments. She did not belong at a Carnell family reunion. Besides, she had made it to Jersey, which had been her goal.

  She began, “I would like to see you returned home, but—”

  He held up his hand. “I know. You have just found your aunt again and are reluctant to leave her.”

  “True,” she allowed. Nor would she beg to go along.

  Aunt Susan entered, and Laura turned to include her in the conversation. “Have you met my aunt, Susan Hilgrove?”

  “I have, yes. A pleasure to see you again, madam.”

  “And I you, Captain. Thank you, again, for bringing my niece to me.”

  “In truth, she brought me.”

  “Well, however you got here, thank you. I know you have done your best to take care of her and see to her safety.”

  He winced. “I regret the journey stole so much of her strength.”

  “Do not blame yourself,” Laura said. “It was my choice, and I am growing stronger every day.”

  “And what will you do now, Captain Carnell?” Aunt Susan asked.

  “I hope to sail to Brittany as soon as may be. A Mr. Gillan has offered to take me on one of his ships. Regularly trades there, apparently. He also mentioned being acquainted with you.”

  A surprising blush rose to her aunt’s cheeks. “Yes, a charming man, if a bit . . . eccentric.”

  Alexander nodded. “My impression as well.”

  “And when you reach Brittany?”

  “I shall visit my father, and my brother in prison, and see what I might do to help secure his release.”

  “In prison . . . why?”

  Shame colored his features. “He has been charged with treason for spying. I hope to prove another man was the informant officials tracked to our village.”

  Laura knew he referred to François LaRoche. Might he manage to escape the militia and return to Jersey?

  “Spying for the British?” Aunt Susan asked.

  “Perhaps.”