Promise of a Family

“Gil.” The smallest boy jabbed a finger at his chest.

“You are Gil?” she asked.

He nodded and ordered, “Down!”

“As you wish.” She set him on the ground. When she straightened, she saw the playful twinkle in Captain Nesbitt’s eyes. No doubt he recognized Gil’s tone because it sounded much like his arrogant one.

Why was she letting the ship’s captain slip into her thoughts so often? Her focus should be on the children and discovering why they had been floating in a jolly boat in Porthlowen Harbor.

As if she had made that last thought a request, Gil took off running faster than she could imagine such short legs could move. She gave chase, but slowed when the little boy stopped beside the man who was feeding the swaddled baby.

Gil tapped the blanket and said with pride, “My baby.”

Susanna glanced back at Captain Nesbitt. She was not surprised that he was watching intently. He had been honest when he said, because he had saved them, he considered these children his duty.

When he motioned for her to take the lead, probably because he had trouble understanding the childish talk, she asked, “Does your baby have a name, Gil?”

“My baby. My—”

A shriek silenced everyone, and she saw the two older boys swinging at each other. The man trying to keep them apart was not succeeding, because one boy ran in and slapped the other before the man could halt him.

“Captain...” she began.

He pushed past her, shoving the twins’ hands into hers. Scooping up the blond boy, he draped him over one shoulder. Then he grabbed the dark-haired boy and balanced him on his opposite hip. They wriggled but halted when he barked a sharp order.

Susanna laughed. She could not stop herself. The two boys were frozen in shock, and Captain Nesbitt looked a bit green about the gills with one of the boys’ rear ends close to his nose.

“My baby!” Gil cried, patting the baby’s swaddling.

The baby screamed again.

He pulled back in horror. “My baby!”

Susanna gave him a swift smile. Babies cried, but not usually with such intensity. At least not when she held one during church services.

Looking past Gil to the old man holding the baby, she asked, “Is the milk fresh?”

“Aye.” He motioned to a lanky boy standing beside him. “Tell m’lady where ye got the milk, lad.”

He stared at his feet. “At the shop. The lady there said it was delivered this morning. Her assistant poured it out while I was watching, and it smelled as fresh as if it had just come out of the cow.”

“What do you know of milking, boy?” demanded the old man.

“Grew up with cows, I did,” asserted the boy.

To halt the argument before it went further, Susanna said, “If Miss Rowse told you that, it is the truth.” She released the twins’ hands and held out her arms. “May I?”

“Aye,” the old man said gratefully. He settled the baby in her arms, then stood with the help of the lad who had gotten the milk.

As she went toward a row of low boulders, a young woman followed her and asked, “Do you need more milk for the little one, my lady?”

Susanna smiled at the young woman. The hem of her dress and apron were covered with wet sand like Susanna’s. Wisely she had bare feet, so she did not have to deal with shoes caked with heavy sand.

“Are you Peggy who is helping Miss Rowse at the shop?”

She nodded. “Peggy Smith, my lady.” She dipped in a quick curtsy but kept staring at her toes. No doubt, the dark-haired girl wondered what Susanna had heard about her, knowing that news spread quickly in the small town. A newcomer like Peggy would be the talk of Porthlowen until something else caught the gossips’ fancies.

“Thank you for bringing milk for the baby. He or she seems full for now.”

The girl started to say something, then hurried away. Sand sprayed behind her as she sped toward the village.

Behind Susanna, Captain Nesbitt barked an order, but the little boys kept swinging their fists at each other. They managed only to hit him. He put them on the ground, trying to keep them apart.

Gil refused to be parted from the baby. He had trailed Susanna to where she sat on a stone. He watched intently as she placed the baby on her lap. She cooed nonsense words to the baby, but it kept crying with all its power. His lower lip began to tremble, warning he was ready to sob, too.

What is wrong? Lord, help me help this suffering child. Both of them.

With care, she began to undo the blanket that had been wrapped tightly around the baby, keeping it secure and warm. It stank like the other children. Each motion of the blanket seemed to pain the baby—a girl, she discovered—more. She slipped her hand under the long shirt so she could rub the baby’s stomach. It was not hard with colic, but the baby screamed again.

“My baby!” cried Gil, tears oozing out of his eyes.

Her own widened when she raised the shirt and saw a tattered piece of paper attached to the garment with a straight pin. Pink spots on the baby’s chest and stomach showed where the point jabbed her at the slightest motion.

“Oh, you poor dear,” she murmured.

“What is that?” asked Captain Nesbitt.

She looked up, shocked, because she had not heard him approach. His dark coat was stained, and the seam on one shoulder had torn. “The other children?”

“Being watched closely by some of my crew while others shake sand out of the canvas and fit it into the carriage so the seats are not ruined.”

“Thank you,” she said, telling herself she should not be astonished. He had shown his compassion toward the children from the moment she was introduced to him.

“What do you have there?”

“I don’t know.” Careful not to prick the baby again, she drew out the pin and wove it through a corner of her shawl.

He caught the slip of paper before it could fall into the sand. As he scanned it, he clenched his jaw. He handed it back to her.

She struggled with the bad spelling and splotched ink. She guessed it said:

Find loving homes for our children.

Don’t let them work and die in the mines.

Whoever had pinned the note to the baby’s shirt must have been desperate to have that message found.

Beside her, Captain Nesbitt growled something wordless, then said, “Their own families put them in the boat and set them adrift.”

She wanted to deny his words. She could not. Looking from the sleepy baby on her lap and the little boy leaning against her knee back to Captain Nesbitt, she whispered, “How could anyone do that to these sweet children?”

His eyes burned with fervor as he said, “That, my lady, is what I intend to find out.”

Chapter Three

“Good night, sweet one.” Susanna tucked the blanket around Lucy, who shared a mattress with her twin sister. Both girls were lost in dreams and sucking their thumbs, Lucy her right one and Mollie her left.

The house had been in a hubbub by the time Susanna returned with the six children. She had been sure that Captain Nesbitt would send someone from his crew with her, but he escorted them himself, insisting that he must speak with her father. She was curious what they discussed, but Papa would let her know if he felt it was necessary.

She had turned her attention to tending to the children and trying to restore order in the house. Baricoat had brought her a long list of obvious deficiencies in the nursery, so she decided to keep the children in her rooms until the nursery was safe and comfortable. Busy with making those arrangements, she still had noticed when Captain Nesbitt left.

He had stridden out with purpose and waved aside the offer of the carriage. He glanced over his shoulder only once before he vanished down the long drive to the gate. She had shifted away from the window so he would not see her watching him. Scolding herself for caring what he thought, she hurried back to the myriad decisions she needed to make to ensure the children’s arrival disrupted the household and her family as little as possible.

There was plenty of room in Cothaire for six small children, but somewhere hearts ached with worry. She did not want to imagine what had compelled anyone to put them in a boat and push it out into the waves. Even if the children had been born outside of marriage, every parish had ways of providing for them.

Help us find these children’s families, she prayed over and over. Ease their fears and point us in the right direction.

Two mattresses had been brought into Susanna’s dressing room while the children, except the baby, were offered tea and sandwiches and cake at a table in the kitchen. Mrs. Ford and her kitchen staff had served the youngsters whatever they wished and made sure they ate slowly so they would not sicken. All the children were thin. She wondered how long they had been adrift. Or had they been half starved before they were placed in the boat?

The past year had been difficult for Cornwall. The wheat and barley harvests had been poor and the pilchard season a disaster. The small fish, which the rest of England called sardines, usually provided a ready source of food along the coast. With her father’s permission, Susanna had ordered the Cothaire pantries opened weekly to allow local families to take food. She was unsure if other great houses shared the practice. If not, starvation among the fisherfolk, the farmers and the miners’ families was an ever-present threat.

Straightening, Susanna went to the next mattress, where the three boys were supposed to be asleep, too. Little Gil was rolled up like a hedgehog at one end, but the two older boys, who called themselves Toby and Bertie, were tussling again.

“Enough,” she said in a loud whisper that would not wake the other youngsters. “It is time to sleep.”

Toby, the slight boy with darker hair, whined, “He is taking my spot.”

“He is taking mine.” Blond Bertie glared at the other boy.

She took Toby by the hand and brought him to his feet. Picking up his pillow, she led him to the other mattress, where the twins slept. “Here,” she said.

“But—”

“Sleep here tonight. Soon you will have your own bed.”

His eyes grew as wide as tea saucers. “My own bed?”

“Yes, but you have to share tonight.” She waited until he curled up at the foot of the mattress and then pulled a blanket over him. “Go to sleep.”

He mumbled something as he looked past her toward the other mattress. She eased to her right, blocking his view of the other boys. Giving him a stern look, she waited until he closed his eyes.

Susanna left one light burning low in the dressing room and went into her sitting room. The lamps were dim there, too, but moonlight came through the trio of tall windows that looked out, as most windows in the house did, over the gardens and the rolling fields beyond them. She could mark the seasons by the flowers that bloomed and faded in the garden.

She dropped heavily to the chaise longue. Leaning her head back, she stared up at the ceiling. The mural there was lost in the shadows, but she could re-create in her mind every bright color of the fields and the orchard as well as the people who had gathered to flirt and pick apples.

Ah, to be so carefree! She could not even recall what it felt like. The weight of her added responsibilities ground down on her. On the shore, while she had the assistance of Captain Nesbitt, taking care of the children had not seemed like such a huge undertaking. Now...

A knock came at the door, and Susanna pushed herself to her feet. That must be one of the maids with the baby. Mrs. Hitchens, the housekeeper, had already selected a wet nurse from among the volunteers in the village. The young woman, who was about to wean her own baby, was willing to come to Cothaire several times a day to feed the nameless baby.

“Caroline!” Susanna gasped when she opened the door. She had not expected to see her oldest sibling at this hour when the family should have been at the table.

Caroline Trelawney Dowling had a welcoming face. That was what their mother had always said, and Susanna believed it was true. Kindness and warmth glowed from her pale blue eyes, whether she met a friend or a stranger. She was a bit plumper than fashion demanded, but that had not mattered to her late husband. John Dowling had loved her exactly as she was, and she had loved him for that.

Loved him still, Susanna knew. Neither death nor the passage of five years had changed that. Often, Susanna wondered what it would be like to have a man love her like that, but common sense always quickly returned.

“May we come in?” Caroline asked.

Only then did Susanna notice her sister carried a tiny bundle in her arms. “You did not need to disrupt your evening meal to bring the baby here.”

“There was no disruption.” Caroline smiled down at the baby. “Papa is taking his supper in his rooms, and Arthur has not yet returned from his visit to the far tenant farms. You know he never arrives home until long after dark when he goes there.”

Susanna stepped aside to let her sister enter. Pointing to the half-closed door that led to her dressing room, she put her fingers to her lips.

Caroline nodded.

“I have a drawer lined with blankets for this babe,” Susanna whispered, holding out her hands.

“May I hold her awhile longer?”

“Of course.” She should not be surprised. Her sister had longed for children of her own, but that dream had been dashed when John died. “Why don’t you sit?”

When her sister chose the chaise longue, Susanna turned up a lamp before sitting on a nearby chair. She watched as Caroline snuggled the baby close, gazing down at her with obvious affection. Susanna bit her lower lip. If her sister became too attached to the baby, her heart was sure to break when the children’s parents were found.

“Don’t fret, little sister,” Caroline said as if Susanna had spoken her thoughts aloud. “I know this darling sprite is here only for a short time, but that is no reason not to savor every moment while I can.” She looked up and smiled. “Tell me. Who was that very good-looking man who came to the house with you?”

“Drake Nesbitt. He is the captain of that listing ship in the harbor.”

“He seemed very solicitous of you.”

“You are mistaken. His thoughts were focused solely on the children.”

Caroline chuckled softly. “Then explain why he was watching you all the time.”

“He was?” She clamped her lips closed when her sister’s smile broadened, but she could not halt the quivers from deep in her center. Oh, bother! She had not intended to say anything so silly. Gathering her composure around her anew, she said, “Captain Nesbitt rescued the children, so he wished to make sure they were comfortable here. As I am the one arranging that, he had every reason to watch that I did as I promised.”

“I agree.”

“Good.”

“He had every reason to watch you, but why did you watch him leave Cothaire?”

Susanna refused to let her vexation surface that someone had noted her by the window and carried the tale to her sister. “I happened to be by the window.” That was the truth. “He is a sailor. I will never be so want-witted as to tangle my life up with one of them.”

Her sister’s face lost all color.

“Oh, Caroline! I am so sorry. I did not mean you were foolish to marry John.”

“I know you didn’t.” Her older sister sighed.

“I am sorry to remind you about him.”

Caroline drew her feet up beneath her and leaned back against the high end of the chaise longue, shifting the baby in her arms. “You did not remind me. I never forget. Not ever.” She squared her shoulders. “Papa tells me that I need to put the mourning behind me as it has been more than five years since John left on that voyage. I don’t know how.”

Moving to sit by her sister’s feet on the chaise longue, Susanna said, “You could ask Papa.”

“I don’t think he knows, because he still misses Mama more than he will admit.”

“What about asking Raymond?”

Caroline shook her head. “Take advice on love from my younger brother who is not yet married? I don’t think so.”

“But he is our parson.”

“I know, and I appreciate his concern and teachings for our congregation.” A faint smile smoothed out the lines of grief in her face. “Still, I cannot imagine speaking to my baby brother about the state of my heart. Perhaps I should speak to you instead.”

“Me about marriage?” Susanna gave a sharp laugh. “I am less of an expert than Raymond is.”

“But losing the one you love has nothing to do with being married. It has to do with healing your heart.”

Susanna opened her mouth but clamped it closed when a sharp cry came from the dressing room. She jumped to her feet. Racing across the sitting room, she pushed open the door just in time to see Toby and Bertie roll off the mattress and across the floor. Bertie got up. Toby chased him. Bertie screeched. The other children woke up and climbed off the mattresses, eager not to miss what was happening.

Susanna reached out and took each little boy by the back of his shirt. She pulled them as far apart as her arms could stretch. Bertie was cradling his arm, and, even in the low light, Susanna could see a bite mark near his elbow.

“He bited me,” Bertie cried, thick tears rolling down his face.

“Did you bite him, Toby?” She wanted to be fair, but she had seen the dark-haired boy tormenting the smaller Bertie all evening.

“He take my pillow.” Toby puffed up in righteous indignation. “He gots pillow. Me want my pillow.”

“He pinched me.”

“He stuck out his tongue.”

“He—”

“Enough,” Susanna said, wondering how she was going to keep the peace when the little boys detested each other.

“Are they hurt?” asked Caroline as she stepped through the doorway.

“My baby!” Gil flung himself against Caroline so hard that he knocked her back a half step. Her shoulder thudded on the door frame. Pain rippled across her face. Her grip tightened on the baby, and her eyes filled with fear that she would drop the little girl.

Torn, Susanna wanted to help her sister but knew the boys would begin fighting the second she released them. She hesitated only a moment, then rushed to her sister and plucked the baby from her arms. Behind her, Bertie let out another screech.

“Give me the baby,” Caroline said over Gil’s demands to see “my baby.”

“But you are hurt.”

“I hit my elbow, and my fingers went numb. I am fine now.”

“If you are sure—”

Bertie screamed.

“I don’t think we have any choice.” Caroline took the baby and bent to let Gil look at the little girl, who, remarkably, still slept.

Susanna whirled to halt the boys again. This time, she did not get as good a grip on their shirts. They squirmed away. Toby picked up a pillow and swung it at Bertie. The other children squealed with excitement.

“Stop now!” she ordered.

Toby hit Bertie again with the pillow. The blond boy fell to the floor and started screaming as if he had been dropped off the roof.

She wondered how much he was pretending to be hurt and how much was true. No matter. She needed to regain control. Again she asked the boys to stop. Again they ignored her. She seized the backs of their shirts, getting a better hold this time. They fought her and each other to escape.

“May we help?”

Not daring to release either little boy, Susanna looked over her shoulder. Raymond and Elisabeth stood beside Caroline. Her brother wore his usual black coat, waistcoat and breeches. One end of his white cravat popped out as he took Toby’s arm and drew him away from her and Bertie.

Elisabeth knelt in front of the angry child and tried to soothe him. He refused to be placated.

Raymond gave them a sympathetic smile. “Let me take...”

“Toby,” Susanna supplied, keeping a tight hold on Bertie.

“Let me take Toby,” Raymond said in his deep voice that was perfect for the pulpit. “He can stay with me at the parsonage tonight.”

“You don’t have room for a child there.”

“Quite to the contrary. I have far more room than I need.”

Elisabeth stood, still holding Toby’s hand. “If the situation remains tense, I have some special sweets at the store that might help.”

Both boys froze at her words.

“Sweets?” asked Toby and Bertie at the same time.

“Only if you behave nicely tonight,” Elisabeth replied. “I will check with Parson Trelawney and Lady Susanna in the morning.”

They both nodded hard.

“That is settled, then.” Raymond glanced toward where Caroline was gently rocking the baby. “Separating these two should make it easier on you.”

“It will.” Susanna relaxed a bit. “I have no idea how they did not tip the jolly boat over with their antics.”

“Because the good Lord had them in His hand, guiding them to this shore, where they would find a haven.” He smiled at them. “Don’t forget that the Book of Proverbs teaches: ‘Hear, O my son, and receive my sayings; and the years of thy life shall be many. I have taught thee in the way of wisdom; I have led thee in right paths. When thou goest, thy steps shall not be straitened; and when thou runnest, thou shalt not stumble.ʼ”

“And the right path was here to Porthlowen.” Caroline cradled the baby close. “I’ll have another mattress and that drawer brought to my rooms. I don’t think Gil will let his baby sister out of his sight again.”

“It appears we have excellent solutions for the children,” Raymond said. “Don’t you agree, Susanna?”

“So our solution is divide and conquer?” asked Susanna, only half jesting.

Elisabeth drew Toby with her toward the door. “Let’s give the children a chance to get to know us, and then we shall see how we can convince these two boys to get along better.”

“Thank you,” Susanna said. The two words could not convey the depth of her gratitude. She needed help to bring the house back to its usual serenity, and she was glad she did not have to ask Captain Nesbitt for it.

Where had that thought come from? There were many servants as well as her other brother to assist her with the children. Not that her older brother Arthur would volunteer as Raymond had. As the heir, Arthur seldom concerned himself with household issues, leaving, as their father did, such matters to Susanna. Even so, she had plenty of hands to assist her.

So why had Captain Nesbitt popped into her mind? Had it been Caroline’s comments about him watching her? Those comments had sent a round of warm shivers rippling along her exactly as when the captain smiled at her. No, it was more likely because her neatly ordered existence had collapsed, and he was part of the reason. The best way to banish thoughts of him from invading her head was to end the tumult in the house.

She would start now. Thanking her sister and brother again, she led the twins and Bertie back to the mattresses and tucked them in. One small step, but it was in the right direction.

* * *

“Captain?”

Drake shook himself like a dog coming out of the water. Benton’s voice had the impatient sound of a man who was tired of being ignored. Looking toward where his first mate stood by the main hatch and wondering how many times Benton had called, he walked away from the railing. He had been watching the crew sealing the outside of yet another small hole...until his thoughts drifted ashore and up to the grand house.

He forgot about the children’s plight and Lady Susanna’s dazzling eyes when he saw Benton’s grim expression. “What is the bad news? More holes?”

“We did discover a few more in the starboard hull. Captain, we would be done much sooner if you didn’t keep sending men off to ask questions about the children.”

“A few days will make no difference.” He saw disbelief on Benton’s face and was not surprised. Three days ago, before he had spotted the jolly boat, Drake had been as impatient as a wind-filled sail to get under way. “And they are keeping their ears open for anyone who needs cargo moved. We need to have something in the holds before we sail.”