Family In The Making (Matchmakeing Babies 2) Read online

  Her eyes widened so far he could see white around the brilliant green. “Without her sister! They usually stay close to each other.”

  “Is the other one missing?” He was careful not to use Lulu’s name.

  “No, she is asleep upstairs.” Maris walked toward the stairs with him, keeping her steps slow to match his as he tried not to jostle Molly. “How did she slip in without anyone noticing?”

  Trying not to laugh, because that might wake the little girl, he told her. He did not mention Gwendolyn’s message. Only that he had been writing a letter.

  “I am sorry she interrupted you.” Maris held out her arms.

  A single step would carry him into her embrace, but she was reaching out for Molly rather than him. How he envied the little girl as Maris took her from him and cuddled her close!

  She looked at him in surprise when he followed her up the stairs. Asking him to remain in the day nursery, she disappeared up the stairs to the night nursery, where the other children would be asleep, unaware of Molly’s adventure.

  Arthur sat on the window bench, which was the only seat large enough for him. He listened to Maris’s light footsteps overhead and the creaks and groans of the old house settling for the night. Outside, the shapes of the inner curve of the cove were silhouetted against the sea.

  Solutions to his puzzles were out there. One of these days, he would find them. He had to believe that. He could not give up his search for the truth about Cranny’s death. Now he had taken on the herculean task of finding answers about the children, the ones here and the one missing from Warrick’s village. Tomorrow night’s meeting might help if he and Maris could uncover a secret that someone had kept hidden.

  As if he had spoken her name aloud, Maris walked into the day nursery. She wore her unflattering gray dress, and her glorious hair was in its severe bun. He would rather see her in a soft dressing gown, her feet bare and her hair curling around her.

  She must not have guessed his thoughts because she smiled and said, “You didn’t need to wait, Arthur.”

  “I know, but I also know you are curious about the search for Warrick’s missing child.”

  “Very.”

  He stood and motioned for her to take his place. He could not sit beside her, breathing in the scent of jasmine. He would be able to think of nothing but bringing her into his arms and sampling her lips. He almost laughed. That was all he could think of whether he was in the same room with her or halfway across the moor.

  “Neither of the footmen I asked Baricoat to send to the village and the nearby farms discovered any news about the missing child. I did not expect they would sniff out anything, because having another child appear in Porthlowen would set every tongue wagging.”

  “Unless someone is hiding the child, and no one knows of it.”

  “You have a macabre imagination.”

  Maris smiled. “I read widely when I was young, and I honed my imagination then.”

  “Do you have any ideas where to look?” He wondered why he had not asked her before.

  “Has anyone talked to the youngsters in Porthlowen? Adults seldom think twice before talking when children might overhear. They believe toddlers will not understand or be interested, but one thing I have learned is they are interested in everything. Even if they don’t comprehend what they have heard, they often can repeat it back.”

  Arthur leaned his shoulder against the wall and smiled at her. “Another brilliant idea, Maris. We should talk with them as well as the adults after the meeting at the church tomorrow night.” He did not add that the suggestion might work as well for obtaining information about Cranny’s death. Small children would not have been abroad at the hour when duels were held, but older ones might be. If they were not supposed to be out, they would not admit to what they had witnessed unless asked directly.

  “I hope it helps.”

  “It has already, reinvigorating my conviction the truth will eventually be known.”

  Her voice took on a playful tone as she flicked her fingers toward him. “Then go forth, my lord knight, and seek the wrongdoers and rescue the meek babes who look to you for deliverance from those who have stolen them from their rightful homes.” Maris laughed, and the sound twirled in him like the sweetest music he had ever heard.

  “Your wish is my command.” He picked up her hand and bowed over it. “I, dubbed Arthur the bear, do so pledge to do everything in my power to make your wish come true.”

  He bent over her hand again, but this time raised it to his lips. As he brushed it with a light kiss, her eyes widened in surprise before softening in an invitation he ached to accept.

  He must not, not when he had just finished a desperate note to the woman he was going to marry. Dropping Maris’s hand, he wished her a good night’s sleep. He was unsure if she replied as he left the nursery. The pounding of his heart urged him to pull her into his arms. It was too loud in his ears to hear anything else. He must not listen to his heart, but he had no idea how to silence it.

  * * *

  Maris watched the door at the back of the church. The meeting was ready to begin. Past ready, for she had seen the parson check his pocket watch more than once. The church was filled with restless people. The pews were crowded, and more parishioners stood along the walls. A half-dozen children sat on the steps leading up to the altar rail. They were giggling, but stopped when a woman leaned forward to remind them to mind their manners in the church. By Maris’s count, almost everyone from the village and the nearby farms had come to the meeting. That spoke of how important the topic of a bell for the church tower was.

  But where was Arthur? He was the one who had asked for this assembly, and he had failed to arrive, even though the meeting was supposed to start at least a half hour ago.

  A rustle of whispers from the rear of the church alerted her to Arthur’s arrival. He strode in, his greatcoat flapping behind him. Mud stained his boots and breeches, and it was clear he had ridden hard and fast. She wondered if he had been chasing information on his friend or on the children. He might have been busy with estate business.

  He was so handsome, her heart shuddered through a pair of beats before racing. As he took off his hat and his dark hair fell forward into his pale eyes, she thought of how she had filled with joy when he pressed his mouth to her hand. She wanted to comb her quivering fingers through his hair. Instead, she clasped her hands in her lap and looked down at them. She must be careful, or she could find herself in as tenuous a situation as at Bellemore Court. Arthur was not beastly like Lord Litchfield, but entangling her life with his could be as disastrous when in a fortnight he could be announcing his betrothal to Lady Gwendolyn Cranford.

  “Lord Trelawney!”

  At the imperious voice, Maris looked at where Arthur had paused in the aisle. To his left, Mrs. Thorburn was regarding him with her usual frown. Charity Thorburn was, in Maris’s opinion, inaccurately named, for she could find something to complain about in any situation. She had few friends in Porthlowen because of her sour comments.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Thorburn.” He bowed his head toward her.

  The woman’s frown deepened, adding lines to her thin face. “Is this meeting truly about the church bell, or is that an excuse to put those six boat urchins in front of everyone again?”

  Maris drew in a sharp breath. Did anyone else share Mrs. Thorburn’s suspicions?

  Arthur kept his smile in place. “As you can see, none of the children from the boat are in attendance tonight.”

  “They do not have to be here for them to be the topic of the meeting.”

  “The topic I am here to discuss is a bell for the church.”

  She made a harrumphing sound as she sat beside Peggy Smith, the young woman who worked at the store in the village. The girl looked dismayed, but wisely said nothing.

  Arthur continued along the aisle. When he glanced toward Maris, he looked away swiftly. Was he regretting he had kissed her hand last night?

  Another quest
ion for which she had no answer.

  As soon as Arthur sat beside Elisabeth in the front pew, his brother welcomed everybody and thanked them for coming. He led them in a prayer to keep their hearts and their ears open; he asked for the first comment.

  To Maris, it seemed as if the congregation was in agreement about raising the money for the bell. Someone asked if the bell would be ready to hang before the war was over. Its main purpose beyond announcing services and marriages and funerals would be to alert the village to French pirates. When Parson Trelawney reminded them not all pirates were French, heads nodded.

  Maris listened closely to all that was being said. Arthur got up to answer a question. From the way he scanned the crowd, she knew he wanted to demand that the person who knew the truth about the children stand and admit it. She could not imagine a single reason why anyone in Porthlowen would conceal the truth.

  Arthur also told the gathered people about the missing child. Maris saw a few shocked faces, and some parents held their own children closer, but the majority of the villagers had already heard the news. He thanked them, but she knew he was disappointed nobody had any information to share.

  “Do you have anything else for us, my lord?” asked Mrs. Thorburn in her usual sour tone. “If not, may I suggest this meeting be adjourned? Many of us need to rise early on the morrow.”

  “One last thing.” Arthur stepped aside to allow Raymond to invite the parishioners to join him in a prayer for those in need, especially the little girl whose family longed to have her home with them.

  As Maris raised her head when the prayer ended, with a blessing and gratitude to all who had attended, she noticed Mrs. Thorburn was the first out the door.

  Maris rose and smiled when she heard Arthur tell his brother he had handled the meeting with the flair of a politician in Whitehall. Seeing how many of the people were leaving, she decided it would be best to talk with them outside. She hurried up the aisle, but stopped before she ran into the Winwood twins.

  “This meeting was an inspired idea, Lord Trelawney,” Miss Hyacinth said, and Maris realized Arthur was right behind her.

  “We are stronger when we come together to discuss a subject,” added her sister.

  “Actually,” Arthur said, “the idea for this meeting was Miss Oliver’s.”

  “Your idea, Miss Oliver?” asked Miss Hyacinth. She exchanged a glance with her twin. “My, my!”

  “I told you, sister, there was more to Miss Oliver than what we see at first glance,” Miss Ivy hurried to say.

  “Having a chance to air our opinions to our parson and to you, my lord, is a true pleasure. And may I say it would appear you have a true treasure in Miss Oliver?”

  Miss Ivy refused to be outdone, even when heat seared Maris’s face at the effusive compliments. “I daresay you are a diamond of the first water, both inside and out.”

  “True, sister.” Miss Hyacinth gave both her twin and Arthur a brilliant smile. “You, Miss Oliver, have a gentle heart. We have seen how protective you are of those dear children.”

  “A gentle heart, but a lioness’s heart, as well.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Exactly,” Miss Hyacinth said again.

  Before Miss Ivy could repeat the word, Arthur said, “Thank you, ladies, for coming tonight. Forgive us for hurrying away.”

  He placed his hand gently on Maris’s elbow and steered her toward the door. Behind them, the elderly twins continued the conversation as if she and Arthur had not moved. Maris wondered if Lulu and Molly would become like the Winwood twins as they grew older. Lulu prattled, and Molly spoke far less. However, Molly had dared to leave the night nursery on her own and go to Arthur’s room after dark.

  People milled about the churchyard in the light of the quarter moon. Most were chatting. Maris wanted to stay beside Arthur and ask him what had kept him from arriving on time, but when he urged her to talk to as many villagers as she could before they left for home, she joined a conversation with the blacksmith and his neighbor’s family.

  She found it easier than she expected to move from one discussion to the next and introduce the subject of the children, both the one lost and the ones found. The village youngsters and those from the tenant farms were delighted when she asked their opinions. Some were amusing; others were serious. None provided her with any new information.

  When Lady Caroline walked toward her, talking with Mr. Hockbridge, Maris said with a smile, “Mr. Hockbridge, everyone in town must be doing well if you had time to sit through the whole meeting.”

  “With most of the residents of Porthlowen in the church, it was the obvious place for me to be.”

  Lady Caroline laughed lightly. “Forewarned is forearmed.”

  “A clever way of putting it, my lady.” He bowed his head to her. “Well said.”

  “I cannot take credit for the words, Mr. Hockbridge. My father uses them often. He said he read them in an old book.” As a tall form stepped out of the shadows, she turned. “Father has many adages he likes to use, doesn’t he, Arthur?”

  “Most often when he is trying to teach us a lesson.” His voice was lighthearted, but Maris sensed tension beneath it. Did the others?

  She realized Mr. Hockbridge did because the doctor asked, “How does your leg fare, Lord Trelawney? Is it giving you problems?”

  “It seems fine except when I do something stupid. Then it does not hesitate to remind me of my foolishness.”

  “It sounds as if it is healing as it should.” The doctor laughed before saying, “Be cautious for another month. After that, those painful reminders should fade away.” He tipped his hat toward them. “Good evening, my lord. My lady. Miss Oliver.”

  Arthur waited until Mr. Hockbridge reached the lych-gate, then asked, “Was he able to tell you anything, Carrie?”

  “Nothing. He was disturbed by the news from Lord Warrick and agreed to ask about our misplaced children while making calls.” Lady Caroline sighed. “Even though when he is tending the sick and hurt may not be the best time to be asking questions.”

  “If he can uncover something new,” Maris said, “it may be the clue we need to lead us to the truth.”

  Lady Caroline smiled. “You have spent too much time with Arthur. You sound just like him. Always on the trail of the truth.”

  Grateful the darkness hid her face, which must be scarlet, Maris listened when Arthur admitted he had learned nothing more than his sister or she had. He added that he needed to let the parson know of their fruitless evening, so he would see his sister when he returned to Cothaire. When Lady Caroline offered Maris a ride in her carriage, Arthur said he would escort her to the house.

  “I suspect Maris wants to see Toby,” he said.

  “At this hour?” his sister asked, startled. “Won’t he be asleep?”

  “Actually, I intended to speak with Elisabeth about him coming to play with the others later in the week,” Maris said.

  Lady Caroline glanced from her brother to Maris. “Very well.” She went to where her carriage waited and soon drove toward Cothaire.

  “Can your conversation with Elisabeth wait, Maris?” Arthur asked.

  “Yes.” She was curious where he had been, and she could arrange at any time for the children to play together.

  “Mine with Raymond can wait, as well.” He offered his arm. “Shall we walk while we talk?”

  She nodded, knowing he wanted to be far from any eager ears. Putting her hand on his, she was surprised when he led her toward the church. He said nothing as he picked up a lantern someone had left on the steps. They walked through the lych-gate, and he held the lantern so it lit the way ahead. Moonlight spread a white path over the sea to the distant horizon.

  He paused by a single tree twisted by the gales it had weathered. Hanging the lantern on a broken branch, he said, “This should be far enough. No one else will be out here now.”

  Looking at the wooden fence edging an area as big as the orchard at Cothair
e, she asked, “Is that used to keep animals from the cliffs?”

  “Only human ones. After a tragedy nearly one hundred years ago, a fence was raised so nobody could tumble over during our fall festival.”

  “I didn’t know there was a fall festival in Porthlowen.”

  “In about ten days.”

  She was startled. Why had nobody mentioned it to her? They must know she was unfamiliar with the cove’s traditions. Bits of conversations popped out of her memory, and she realized the other servants were discussing the festival, but had called it by another name. “Is it connected to the blessing of the boats?”

  “Yes. Like many manors, we have customs that reach back into the Middle Ages, including the blessing of the fishing fleet each year. No one remembers why or how those customs came into being, but everyone enjoys the feasting and games and silliness. It is our biggest celebration each year, in addition to New Year’s Eve, when Cothaire holds an open house. Everyone in Porthlowen and beyond comes for the games and races and plays.”

  “Like on Twelfth Night?”

  “Yes.”

  She smiled. “Both the New Year’s Eve party and the festival sound like great fun.”

  “Most of the festival is.”

  “Most?” She laughed. “What is not fun at a festival?”

  He grimaced. “Certain absurd duties the Earl of Launceston or his representative must undertake.”

  “And you have that role this year?”

  “Yes.”

  Maris laughed at the annoyance in his voice as she scanned the area, imagining how excited the children would be to attend a festival. “It cannot be horrible.”

  “Wait and see. Then you will understand.”

  “I cannot wait.”

  He leaned against the tree, and she gazed up through its branches to the stars. She did not want to look at his pose, which brought to mind how he had stood in the nursery last night before he kissed her hand.

  Her skin tingled anew. She had not guessed her teasing would lead him to take such an outrageous—and wonderful—action. From memory, she could hear Belinda giggling while sharing every detail of having her hand kissed for the first time. Belinda’s words had failed to describe the explosion of sensation from the simple touch.