Caught in a Cornish Scandal by Eleanor Webster (top novels of all time .txt) 📗

will take Noah. She has already been here, saying that I am not a—a fit mother. She believes that I hurt Jason. She says that Noah should be home with her. I heard her telling that to Sir Anthony.’

Sam fell silent again, watching his sister’s jerky movements as she rocked the bassinet. At this rate the poor child would get seasick. Indeed, Frances was so greatly changed from the sister he remembered that he felt oddly at a loss.

He stood, walking to the window and staring at the drive as though the paving stones might provide some solution. Frances was unravelling. He could almost understand Mrs Ludlow’s concern for the child, but return to Manton Hall would be his sister’s undoing. She needed a safe place, with kind people whom she did not fear.

‘I have it,’ he said, speaking before he had fully formed a plan.

Frances looked up, brows raised.

‘Millicent Lansdowne. You will go to her.’ Even as he said the words, he had a feeling of deep relief, as though the weight of his burden had shifted. The image of Millie’s firm expression and competent movements flickered before him.

‘I—I cannot. I do not know them.’

‘I do,’ he said.

The rap on the door made the three Lansdowne women startle. They were sitting around the parlour fire, which was small and giving little heat. In fact, the chimney was smoking, likely because it had not been cleaned in donkey’s years.

Lil was attempting to do needlepoint to while away the long afternoon while their mother pretended to read. Millie stared into the fire. She would have read except she felt certain it would bring on a headache. Every square inch of her body hurt.

The atmosphere in the house had not been entirely comfortable since her return. Millie was worried, tired and disheartened. The promissory note loomed and she could still sense tension with her mother. Indeed, she even felt irritation with Flora and Lil. With Flora, it was her complete surety that marriage with Mr Edmunds was best, while Lil’s very beauty irritated. If she hadn’t had the blonde perfection, Lord Harwood would not even be interested in her. And underneath this thought, there was the knowledge that if she had more of Lillian’s beauty, manners and social ability, she might be the right sort of woman for a man like Sam Garrett. Not that she was interested in Mr Garrett, who obviously had sufficient worries of his own.

The brisk knock on the outside door caused Millie to straighten, lowering her feet from the stool on which they had been raised. She winced. Her feet still hurt.

‘Perhaps it is Mr Edmunds?’ her mother said with too much enthusiasm. ‘Perhaps he could not wait for tomorrow.’

‘Mr Edmunds does not strike me as the impetuous type,’ Millie said. ‘Indeed, I am certain he weighs the pros and cons before even choosing which shirt to wear.’

Lil giggled. Their mother made a tutting sound.

‘Mr Edmunds is a lovely man.’

‘His moustache makes such a description quite inaccurate,’ Millie said.

‘It isn’t Edmunds,’ Lil announced, having flung aside her needlepoint into an unhappy muddle of silks and dashed to the window.

‘Well, that is likely a good thing. Your sister is not looking her best, bruised and scratched as she is. Now come, Lillian, it is quite gauche to be staring from the window.’

‘It is a fancy curricle with two horses,’ Lil interjected.

Just then, Flora opened the door. ‘You have visitors. Mrs Ludlow and Mr Garrett,’ she said, her eyes round and, although usually unflappable, obviously impressed and somewhat disconcerted.

Millie stood and then sat again because she did not wish to seem overly enthusiastic. As well, her knees had peculiarly buckled. Besides, standing was more painful than sitting.

Sam entered, followed by a woman. For a second, Millie scarcely recognised him, he was so changed. She had looked through Lil’s magazines often enough to know that his clothes were of the latest fashion, the collar high and his coat of an impeccable cut.

Indeed, everything about him seemed larger within the small confines of the room, while his sophistication made the bare dinginess of their home all the more obvious. He was followed by a woman, also tall, but while his stature provided him with an air of authority, hers only gave the impression that she had outgrown the strength of her willowy body. Indeed, her shoulders were bowed and her physique so thin as to be unhealthy.

Millie’s mother rose to the occasion so that one would scarcely suspect that she’d been bedridden mere weeks previous. ‘Why, Mr Garrett, it is so lovely to see you again. I remember you when you visited us in London as Tom’s friend. Please, sit down.’

‘Mrs Ludlow, do make yourself comfortable,’ Millie added, instinctively wanting to include the woman who seemed somewhat separate from the scene—as though her thoughts were many miles away—and looked likely to keel over.

Mrs Ludlow took a seat, but made no effort to converse. Instead she sat with unnatural stiffness, her hands clasped tightly within her lap.

‘Millie, I did not realise you were acquainted with Mrs Ludlow and Mr Garrett,’ her mother said. ‘May I order tea?’

Sam sat beside his sister. ‘Thank you. Tea would be lovely.’

‘Flora, could you—’ Mrs Lansdowne said, but her words were interrupted by an infant’s cry.

‘Noah!’ Mrs Ludlow said, immediately bolting upright despite her brother’s restraining hand.

‘Your son is here? He does not have a nursemaid?’ Mrs Lansdowne asked.

‘Yes, but...’ The woman’s gaze darted about the room like a hunted creature.

‘Do not worry. Flora will make certain your maid has everything necessary for your baby’s comfort.’

Millie stood, stepping towards the other woman, softening her voice and speaking in measured tones. ‘I will go and tell the nursemaid to bring your son in here immediately. Doubtless, he is missing his mother.’

‘Thank you,’ Mrs Ludlow said, her voice soft and low.

‘I will go now to do that while Flora makes tea. Mr Garrett, might I have a moment of your time?’

Sam followed her out into the corridor and,