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

‘I just need to know he is safe. What if Mrs Ludlow did...did something...?’

‘Do not think of it,’ Millie said. ‘She was too busy with us. And, remember, her intent was never to hurt him. She wanted to be his guardian to access his trust fund. Besides, Marta and Flora are in charge and they would both put their lives on the line to keep a child safe.’

‘I know. I just need to see him.’

‘You will. As soon as we get home.’

Despite Frances’s nod of acknowledgement, Millie could see her abstraction and feel the circling of her worried thoughts. ‘You were very brave to help us,’ she said, hoping that conversation might distract the other woman.

‘Was I? When I jumped, I did not even think. Was that really brave or just a crazed impulse?’

‘Brave,’ Millie said. ‘But how did you know we were at the beach?’

It was odd, Millie thought, that she hadn’t thought to ask earlier. Of course, everything had been so bizarre that Frances’s sudden appearance was but another item in a long list of the miraculously bizarre.

‘I wanted to tell Sam about everything I knew about Jason being a wrecker. I wanted to convince him not to take any blame. At first, I was not brave enough, but then Flora let me take your gig.’

‘I’m glad I left it for you. Gracious, I forgot about Jeremiah. Our donkey. No doubt someone will bring him home. He has a somewhat unpleasant personality, so no one would want to keep him. Did you go first to Sir Anthony’s?’

‘Yes, the butler said they were going to London, but that Sir Anthony always stopped at the tavern.’

Millie reached forward, clasping the other woman’s cold hands. ‘And you went?’

‘The place was deserted. There was no maid or cook. The cows needed to be milked. And Sir Anthony’s carriage was still there. I knew something was wrong.’

‘But how did you know to come to the beach?’

Frances shrugged. ‘I thought that Sir Anthony had taken Sam down to the village. Then, at the fork, I heard voices and saw the bent branches.’

‘And you saved us all. Do not ever say you are not brave again,’ Millie said.

‘I hardly remember what I did.’ Frances paused, glancing downwards, her fingers pressing nervously against the cushioning. ‘And, Miss Lansdowne, thank you for stopping me from doing something terrible.’

‘I only helped. You made the choice.’

‘There is a fine line between sanity and madness.’

‘You stayed on the side of sanity.’

Chapter Fourteen

Millie woke up the next morning to a thumping headache greatly aggravated by her mother’s strident tones. ‘Good heavens! What have you done to yourself? You are black and blue and dreadfully scratched.’

Millie pulled herself upright. It seemed almost unbelievable that she was back in her bedchamber, staring up at the same cracked paint with the same yellow circle of damp centred over her bed. It was as though nothing had happened or changed. But then, of course, really nothing had changed for her.

The wreckers had been stopped. Frances would heal and, eventually, escape her marriage. Sam knew he was not responsible for Jason’s death. Indeed, Jason was not dead. Mrs Ludlow would head to prison or the madhouse.

Everything was neatly fixed and tidied, but ultimately unchanged in the Lansdowne household.

In fact, everything felt worse. The thought of marrying Mr Edmunds felt especially worse. Last night had shaken her. Seeing the pistol pointing at Sam...enduring the certainty that her own life was going to end before it had begun.

Now, she could not even pretend to herself that Sam did not evoke unwanted emotion. Indeed, meeting him had opened her eyes to feelings and emotions she had not known possible.

Yet this awakening had only made everything the more difficult.

Whatever bond they had was forged from danger and circumstance. He was just grateful to her. If he helped with Lord Harwood, she’d be grateful to him, too. However, their worlds did not overlap. He belonged in London, in fashionable London places and, when he did marry, he would have a witty, fashionable, beautiful wife, willing to embrace the aimless life of an English aristocrat.

And her aspirations had always been that of independence...

‘Good gracious, you still look half-asleep and it will soon be afternoon.’ Her mother pulled the curtains back with a noisy rattle so that sunlight invaded the chamber.

Millie groaned. ‘Must you be so loud?’

How was it possible that her mother had only weeks ago found the strength to get out of bed, at all?

‘Yes, I must be loud,’ Mrs Lansdowne said. ‘I am in considerable distress. Goodness knows where you were last night. Likely fishing, hunting rabbits or visiting your village friends. And you, just getting over a cold...’

‘Never had a cold,’ Millie muttered.

‘It was gone eleven when I went to bed and you were still out. I do not know how I got a wink of sleep. I strongly suspect that Flora gave me a sleeping draught. Now I come up here and you look as though you have been in a boxing match. And what will Mr Edmunds say? I am certain he will come today. Of course, I could postpone. I could say that you are still afflicted or perhaps that I or Lil have caught a chill and you must nurse us. A tempting option, except he might well decide that our family is sickly. Likely he doesn’t want to lose another wife, having just lost one.’

‘Indeed, people might consider him careless.’

‘Millicent Lansdowne, this is no laughing matter—’

Just then Flora knocked at the door, entering almost immediately, a piece of notepaper clasped in her hand and an expression of subdued excitement visible on her countenance.

‘A note from Mr Edmunds,’ she said.

Mrs Lansdowne took it, reading quickly. ‘He is going to visit us this afternoon, if convenient. Is the footman waiting for a response?’

Flora nodded and Millie groaned, flopping back against her pillow, then wincing with the pain of this movement.

‘We cannot postpone again,’ Mrs Lansdowne said. ‘But what will we say about