Her Longed-For Family

“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?

Chapter Two

The din rolled away, fading like distant thunder. Beside Caroline, a lamp slid off the table, cracking and spreading oil into the rug. A pair of painted porcelain spaniels bounced across the mantel. One shattered as it hit the hearth, the other remained, hanging precariously, on the very edge of the mantel. Books crashed to the floor.

Joy shrieked in her arms, and Gil babbled in terror. She cuddled them close. Their heartbeats were as rapid as her own.

“Lady Caroline?” asked a taut voice.

She raised her head slowly and looked around. Every book had tumbled off the shelves along the far wall. Ornaments set on shelves or hanging on the walls were now on the floor. Most were broken. Paintings had fallen, too, and frames were chipped and awry. Glass from the garden doors lay splintered on the floor or glittering on the furniture.

“Lord Warrick, please take Gil,” she said.

“Where?” He lowered his arms from around them and drew back.

“Pick him up and keep him away from the glass.”

The little boy yelped when he was tugged away from her, but Lord Warrick said, “Come and help me save that dog on the mantel, young man.”

Caroline rose as far as her knees while the baron went with Gil to push the porcelain spaniel from the edge of the mantel. The room was a mess. What about the rest of the house? Had anyone been hurt?

As if she had asked aloud, Lord Warrick asked, “Are you unharmed, my lady?”

“Yes. You?”

“Relatively.”

She faced him and gasped when she saw blood trickling down his left cheek.

“Lady Caroline, what is wrong?” he asked as he rushed to her side. “Are you injured?”

“No, but you are!”

“Ouchie,” Gil said, poking at the baron’s face.

Lord Warrick gently took the little boy’s finger and moved it away from his cut cheek. Pulling out a handkerchief, he ripped off a piece and pressed it to the laceration where drying blood would hold it in place. “I was nicked by flying glass. Nothing to worry about.”

The door flew open, and her older brother, Arthur, burst in, shouting, “Carrie, are you in here?”

“Over here.” She stood, careful not to put her hand out to steady herself when her knees wobbled beneath her. Broken glass covered every surface. She felt the oddest need to weep as her brother used the nickname he had given her when he was unable to say her name as a youngster. She had not realized how fearful she was for her family’s safety. “Are we under attack again?”

It was not a frivolous question. Cornwall was in a precarious position in the midst of a war being fought on two fronts, Napoleon to the east and the Americans to the west. Most of the French fleet had been destroyed or captured at Trafalgar seven years before, but pirates flying the French flag haunted the Cornish coast. There were rampant rumors of Americans harassing shipping, as well.

“No ships have been sighted in the cove.” Her brother’s black brows lowered when he glanced toward their neighbor. “Warrick, you are bleeding.”

“I know. It is nothing.” Lord Warrick dismissed Arthur’s concern as he had Caroline’s. He took a step toward them but paused when glass cracked beneath his boots. “Anyone badly hurt?”

“Our butler, Baricoat, was going upstairs when the biggest blast hit the house. He twisted his wrist badly when he tried to grab the banister.” He grinned swiftly. “As you can guess, he is not letting that slow him down.” His smile faded as he added, “The house has suffered the most. Windows facing the moor have been shattered throughout Cothaire. Any that are seaward are intact.”

“The village?” Caroline whispered, her voice trembling as much as her knees.

“I sent a few men from the stables as well as the footmen to check on the villagers. They have instructions to visit the parsonage and Susanna’s house, as well.”

“Thank you.” Again she could not speak very loud. Their younger brother, Raymond, was the local parson and lived in the parsonage with his wife and a child who had been on the same rickety boat as Gil and Joy. She prayed they, along with Susanna, the youngest of the Trelawney family, and her husband and everyone at her house around the curve of the cove were safe and unhurt.

“Maris is working with Mrs. Hitchens to check that we have enough medical supplies.” Arthur’s gaze cut to Lord Warrick. “Mrs. Hitchens is our housekeeper. What of your people? Do you think you will need help? I was told several people saw a bright flash up on the moor.”

Lord Warrick handed Gil to her startled brother. The baron muttered what sounded like a curse under his breath, then added a hasty apology with a glance in her direction.

“You know what happened.” Caroline did not make it a question, because, in spite of his unpolished manners, Lord Warrick must have been furious to allow such a phrase to slip out when she and the children were nearby.

“Not for sure yet.” He ground out the words past clenched teeth. “But I intend to discover as quickly as humanly possible. If you will excuse me...”

“No.”

“No?” he repeated at the same time as Arthur asked, “Carrie?”

“I’m coming with you,” she said.

The baron frowned. “My lady, though I understand your need to ease your curiosity about what has occurred, under these circumstances, the mines are no place for a woman.”

“You said you don’t know for sure what the explosion was.” She held up her hand before he could retort. “There must be anxious families at the mine. Allow me to see to them while you investigate the explosions.”

“Arguing will gain you nothing with my stubborn sister,” Arthur said, shifting Gil to hold the wiggling boy more securely.

Lord Warrick opened his mouth to reply, then nodded. “You must promise me, my lady, you will not allow your fervor to entice you to enter the mines.”

“There is nothing in the world that would compel me to go even a step into the mines.” She shuddered at the thought of creeping into the deep shafts, leaving light and fresh air behind as the fear of rising water stalked every breathing moment.

“Good.”

She looked at Joy, who clung to her shawl. For a moment, she considered remaining at Cothaire to soothe the children. Irene, the nursery maid, loved them, and they returned her affection. She would ease the children’s fears.

“I will be only a few minutes,” she said. “If you don’t mind waiting, my lord, so I may ride in your carriage...”

“I came here by horseback.” He took a step toward the door, clearly anxious to be gone.

“I will not slow you once I have a horse saddled.”

Her brother said, “I will arrange for horses, Carrie, and get the supplies gathered while you settle the children. Give me a hand, Warrick?”

She followed them out of the damaged room. In the hallway, where paintings were askew on the walls, Arthur put Gil down. She took the little boy’s hand and went as quickly as his short legs could manage toward the stairs. She glanced back to see her brother and Lord Warrick hurrying in the other direction.

She wondered what they would find when they reached the mine high on the moor. Please, God, watch over us especially closely today.

* * *

Halting his horse in the shadow of the beam engine house, Jacob looked at the scene in front of him. The three-story tall building with its brick chimney was not silent, a good sign, because the pumps worked to lift water from the mine shafts deep below the ground. The rhythmic thud of the beam engine was unbroken. If a shaft had collapsed, the area would have been filled with desperate relatives and others trying to make a rescue.

The miners’ wives and daughters swept glass in front of the terrace houses where they lived. He had repaired rotten roofs and cracked foundations, then had both the exteriors and the interiors whitewashed. New floors had been put in where needed, along with strengthening unsteady staircases. Now, every window he had replaced after his arrival at Warrick Hall was probably broken.

When he frowned, it felt as if a hot poker pressed to his skin. He ignored it. What could have gone wrong? Had he made another mistake that had led to the explosion? He pushed that thought away, not wanting to imagine someone else dying from his failure to pay attention to what was going on around him, as Virginia Greene had because he did not notice the road was icy.

A child shrieked.

Lady Caroline jumped down from her horse. She reached up to her brother for the bag of medical supplies he carried. He handed it to her. She called to a nearby lad to take her horse’s reins.

The boy, his eyes wide, scurried to obey.

“Can you keep my horse from wandering away?” she asked with a gentle smile. “I don’t want it to get injured.”

He nodded, then squared his narrow shoulders when she thanked him as if he were the answer to her dearest prayer. Pride and purpose battled on the lad’s face as he raised his chin, clearly ready to do his duty for her.

Jacob watched a miner step forward to take the heavy bag she carried. The man grinned broadly when she asked him to follow as she hurried to where the women had gathered around a crying child. Every request Jacob made to these stubborn Cornishmen and their women was met with reluctance and often outright defiance. A single smile from Lady Caroline, and they were as docile and eager as a litter of puppies.

“It is a gift she has always had,” Lord Trelawney said as he moved his horse closer to Jacob’s. “She cares so much about others they cannot help but care about her.”

“How did you know what I was thinking?”

“You are not the first to stare in disbelief.” He arched a brow. “I admit I envy her that ability, especially when a couple of tenant farmers are about to come to blows over a matter that could be handled by cooperation.”

“You should take her with you to ease the anger.”

Lord Trelawney smiled. “Trust me. There have been a few times when her help saved the day.” Glancing around, the viscount became serious again. “It does not look as if the explosion occurred here.”

He turned his horse past the engine house and away from the village. “I hope I am wrong, but I suspect the explosion came from this direction.”

“Why?”

“Come with me, and you will see.” He did not want to make any accusations until he had facts.

They did not have to ride more than a quarter of a mile. Across the open moor where even the gorse had lost its bright blossoms with the coming of winter, soot marked where a fire had flared. A few men stood at one side of the blackened earth, beating out low flames.

A tall, thickset man rushed toward them. As he looked at Jacob, he wore his usual sneer. He started to speak, then glanced at Lord Trelawney. Whatever he had intended to say ended in a sharp gulp.

“Yelland,” Jacob asked as he swung off his horse, Shadow, which shied nervously at the strong odors from the smoke, “what happened?” He knew, too well, from what he could see in front of him, but he wanted to hear the mine captain’s explanation.

Paul Yelland had held that prestigious title and the duties of overseeing the men and the mines since before Jacob’s arrival. Jacob let him continue, but was growing more disillusioned with the man’s character and abilities. Yelland preferred evading work. As well, he had made no secret of his lack of respect for the new baron, though Yelland was intimidated by Lord Trelawney.

“It went off,” Yelland said, staring at his feet.

“What went off?” asked Lord Trelawney as he dismounted.

“Gunpowder, my lord,” Yelland replied with an obsequiousness he never showed Jacob.

Lord Trelawney rounded on Jacob. “You are making gunpowder this close to your mines and village? Are you mad, Warrick?”

Jacob kept his voice even. “We are not making gunpowder here. I would never put the miners and their families in such danger.”

“Then what—?”

Knowing he was being rude but determined to deal with the matter himself, Jacob looked at Yelland as he said, “If you will excuse us, Trelawney...”

“Yes, certainly.” Curiosity burned in the younger man’s eyes, but he nodded. Patting his coat as if making sure something important was beneath it, he added, “I need to check the nearby farms and Porthlowen. I trust you will share what you discover with Carrie before she returns to Cothaire, so she may inform Father.”

“Yes, certainly,” he said, using the viscount’s own words. “I will see she arrives safely home.”

Trelawney startled him by laughing. “She has been riding along this moor and the seaside since she could walk.” He glanced toward Yelland and the other men who had gathered to listen. “However, I appreciate you escorting her to Cothaire.”

Wondering what the viscount had sensed from the miners, Jacob nodded as Trelawney mounted and rode across the moor in the direction of the ancient farm foundations. Nobody in the area could be unaware of the multitude of troubles with the mines. His attempts to update them had brought more problems. The beam engine required constant vigilance and failed time after time. Whenever it stopped, water had to be pumped out of the shafts before the miners could return to work. Was it simply the new beam engine had inherent faults, or was there a more sinister scheme behind its many problems?

Jacob shook that thought from his head along with his curiosity as to why Trelawney was riding in the opposite direction of his closest farms. He had enough to deal with right now. Being distracted was something he could not afford again, not after a young woman had lost her life because of his inattention.

“Tell me what happened, Yelland,” he said with the stern tone he imagined Trelawney would use. “Now and quickly.”

The mine captain stiffened but replied without his usual, self-important tone, “We decided to test the gunpowder to see how useful it would be when we next need to cut new shafts.”

“Without alerting anyone?”

“We figured we were far enough away.”

“You blew out windows at Cothaire.”

Faces paled on the men behind Yelland, but the mine captain stood with his chin jutted toward Jacob, as if asking for a punch to knock him off his feet.

One of the men, a miner named Andrews, whispered, “The old earl? Was he hurt?”

“As far as I know, no.” Jacob knew the miners esteemed the Earl of Launceston, who had provided for the miners and their families when his own uncle had failed to in the months leading up to Uncle Maban’s death. “The house was damaged, and the family and their servants were terrified.”

Yelland folded his arms over his chest. “A few broken windows seems to be the worst of it.”

Jacob was irritated by the man’s attitude. Remembering the horror on Lady Caroline’s face and the children’s fearful cries, he fought his rising temper.

“How much did you detonate?” he asked.

“All of it.”

Shock stole every word from Jacob. He was tempted to ask Yelland if he had lost his mind, but the answer was obvious. “Was anyone hurt here?”

“We took shelter in the old stone circle.” Yelland fired a glance at the men behind him. A warning, no doubt, not to complain of any injuries.

One man was cradling his left arm in his right hand. Another was trying to staunch a bloody nose. Several pressed a hand against their ears, and he suspected they rung from the explosion’s concussion. The fools who had assisted Yelland could have easily been killed, and he could see they knew it.

“Clean up this mess. Make sure the remaining fires are put out. Once you are done here, come to the village. There are a lot of windows to be boarded up as well as plenty of shattered nerves to be soothed.” He glanced around at the scorched moor. “And don’t forget to thank God you are alive. He has been merciful today.”

The men behind Yelland nodded, knowing what Jacob said was true. They hurried to follow his orders. After glaring at Jacob another moment, even the mine captain walked away.

Remounting, Jacob did not have to urge Shadow toward the village. The horse was eager to put the stench of fire and destruction behind him. The fine-boned Arab, a gift from Jacob’s brother to commemorate him becoming a baron, could challenge the ever-present wind from the sea. It had been too long since Jacob had found time to ride neck-or-nothing on Shadow, but he could not give the horse his head now. He must return to the village to examine the damage more closely.

He sighed as he drew in Shadow near the engine house. Before he had come to Cornwall, he had envisioned his life at Warrick Hall would be one of ease, where he could enjoy racing his powerful horse any time he wished. What a witless air-dreamer he had been!

Jacob scanned the crowd. In its center, Lady Caroline was tending a little boy’s hand while a long line of others waited for her attention. She spoke softly to the child, too softly for Jacob to hear her exact words as he dismounted again and lashed the reins to the building’s railing. Her tone was clear, however. She was offering comfort as well as trying to win a smile from the child. She succeeded before a woman took the little boy’s uninjured hand and drew him aside so another hurt child could take his place.

As he walked toward the crowd, no one paid him any attention. Every eye was focused on the earl’s daughter.

Even his. Lady Caroline’s round face was alight with caring. Strands of her ebony hair curled along her cheeks and accented her gentle smile. She wore a patched apron she must have borrowed from a miner’s wife, but it could not detract from her elegance. Somehow, she combined grace with a warmth that made the villagers feel comfortable around her.

As he did.