Family In The Making (Matchmakeing Babies 2) Page 18

  * * *

  In the pew set aside for the Cothaire’s upper servants, Maris sat between Bertie and Gil. Letting the two boys sit together was an invitation for them to misbehave. Across the aisle from them, Lulu and Molly, whom Lady Susanna called ‘Moll,’ were perched on the pew beside the lady and Captain Nesbitt. They were the image of a perfect, happy family.

  Would that ever be more than an illusion?

  Even though she tried to halt herself from looking at Arthur, Maris’s gaze settled on his profile. He was disappointed that she had refused the family’s gift. She could gauge his feelings with a skill that astonished her, but she guessed anyone who saw how his fingers tapped his knee would discern his disquiet. He seemed focused on his brother, who was climbing the steps to the pulpit; yet Arthur acted as unsettled in his pew as the little boys beside her.

  Too late, she realized it had been a mistake to turn down his generous offer. Talking with Irene this morning while getting the boys ready for church, she had discovered it was not uncommon for the Trelawneys to open their cupboards to the household staff. She was surprised. That never happened at Bellemore Court. Belinda had shown off her newest gowns, but never offered anyone, even Maris, her discarded ones. Maris had been shocked to discover that they were cut up and used for cleaning rags.

  When she had asked Belinda about it, her friend repeated what Lord Bellemore had said about not allowing the servants to take on airs above their birth. Maris had never imagined the earl might be talking about her...not until he chose to believe a nobleman’s lies rather than the truth. His dismissal of her as beneath his contempt had hurt her as deeply.

  But she could not tell Arthur any of this. If she did, her tapestry of lies would fall apart. She had worked hard to hide the truth after she had fled from Bellemore Court. Very hard, and she was proud of what she had accomplished.

  Pride.

  It had caused her parents’ downfall when they tried to maintain a life beyond their means. Now she was letting pride keep her from being honest with Arthur. She could not bear the thought of him reacting as Belinda’s father had. Not when she loved him so much.

  Far too much, she realized, because Arthur would be leaving for the hunt two days after the Porthlowen festival. He would ask Lady Gwendolyn to be his bride. By Christmas, if the rumors were true, he intended to bring her to Cothaire as his wife.

  “Our lesson today is from Hebrews 13.” The parson’s voice drew her eyes to the pulpit as he opened his Bible. When he spoke, even though he was not even looking at her, it seemed as if the words were meant specifically for her. I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee. So that we may boldly say, The Lord is my helper, and I will not fear what man shall do unto me. Remember them which have the rule over you, who have spoken unto you the word of God: whose faith follow, considering the end of their conversation. Jesus Christ the same yesterday, and today, and for ever.

  He continued, but she repeated the verses in her mind. Not fear what any man did to her? The words seemed simple. All she needed to do was turn to God and her fear would be taken from her. She longed to believe that was how it worked, but it had not when Lord Litchfield had put his face close to hers while he kept her from escaping. His breath, tainted with wine, had filled every breath she took as she cried out for help. None had come.

  Should she ask for God’s help to face what was ahead? Would He hear her? His promise was clear. I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee. So that we may boldly say, The Lord is my helper, and I will not fear what man shall do unto me.

  But she did fear. Not about having her reputation ruined beyond redemption, as she had when she had fled from Bellemore Court. She feared she could not live in Cothaire along with Arthur and Lady Gwendolyn, but she had no idea where she might go. To another house where they needed a nurse? Lady Caroline would likely give her a good recommendation, but that would mean leaving the children and never seeing them again.

  Could Maris live without knowing if they were ever reunited with their families?

  She felt utterly and irrevocably lost.

  * * *

  Arthur strolled among the colorful festival booths, each one decorated with braided strands of wheat in unique designs. He had no idea why the braids were hooked to the stalls. It was the way they had always been adorned, and nobody wanted to break the tradition.

  The weather was perfect. A breath of breeze wafted over the headland, and the sun shone almost as warmly as on a late summer afternoon. The field was crowded with excited families and flirting couples. Children raced between the booths, their faces covered with sugar and other treats.

  He greeted people he passed and assured them that his father would be arriving later. If he had ever had any doubts how respected and loved his father was in Porthlowen, they would have been swept away by the many questions about the earl’s health.

  Shouts came from the direction of a pole that had been raised overnight and lathered with lard. Arthur walked to where he could watch young men attempting to climb it and win the guinea in the box nailed to the top. He had won the contest when he was sixteen after he convinced a trio of friends in the village to work with him. He had one get down on all fours, and the next one clamber onto his back on his own hands and knees. Once the third one was in place, Arthur was able to climb atop them and pluck the guinea from the box. He wondered what ideas the young men would come up with this year to retrieve the coin.

  When he saw a familiar gray bonnet, he walked faster. Maris might wear dreary colors, but she could not hide her beauty. Not from him, and not from several young men loitering near her. Was she unaware of them? She did not look once in their direction as she squatted to hear what Bertie and Gil were saying.

  “Are you having fun?” Arthur asked when he stood beside her and the boys.

  “Climb, climb, climb!” Bertie repeated over and over, until Maris put her finger to her lips and urged him to be quiet so she could answer Arthur.

  How he envied that finger! Close to her sweet lips, which had been near his...in his dreams. He thought of her words about making sure Gwendolyn was not embarrassed even before she came to Cothaire, and he knew Maris was right. He did not love Gwendolyn, but she was his dear friend, and he would do nothing to hurt her.

  “We are having a lovely time,” Maris said with a smile. “The others will be joining us later, but Lady Caroline wished for the baby to have a nap before they left Cothaire.”

  “Climb, climb, climb!” shouted Bertie again.

  Gil joined in as one of the lads who worked on a fishing boat made a running start to jump as high as he could on the pole. When he slid to the ground with a thump, the onlookers jeered and yelled for the next youth to try.

  “Does anyone ever make it to the top?” Maris asked.

  “Eventually, but first the young fools have fun showing off.” Arthur chuckled. “After they have slid down a few times, they will work together, as they decide to do every year.”

  “Why don’t they work together right from the beginning?” she asked.

  He laughed again. “And miss the chance to be the first in the history of the festival to make it to the top on his own? A lifetime of boasting rights are worth ruined clothes and rattled bones.”

  They watched a little longer, then began to wander from booth to booth. They had not gone far before someone called Arthur’s name.

  Warrick rushed up to them, his spectacles bouncing on his nose. “Ah, Trelawney, just the man I was looking for.” Without giving Arthur a chance to answer, he continued, “I wanted to let you know the little girl reported missing has been found.”

  “Where?” Arthur asked as he saw a smile blossom on Maris’s face. “How is she?”

  “Alive and well. As to where she was found, I cannot ascertain.” The baron grimaced. “To say these Cornish miners are closemouthed is an understatement. I have been assured in the most patronizing way that I need not worry about the matter further.”

  “What are they hiding?”
Maris asked.

  Lord Warrick arched his brows. “Exactly my thought, Miss Oliver. I had hoped you, Trelawney, with your far vaster knowledge of these people, could offer me some insight.”

  “In this case,” Arthur replied, “I have none. I have asked everywhere about missing children. People act sympathetic, but claim they have no information. Even though they might believe you, as a new arrival to Cornwall, would swallow such a clanker, they should know I would not. No tidbit of gossip gets overlooked here. A missing child—or six—should be a nine days’ wonder. That is what bothers me.”

  “We should be thankful the mystery of one missing child has been solved,” Maris said quietly, “even if not to our satisfaction. One little girl is home and safe with her family.”

  “Trust you to get to the crux of the issue,” Arthur said, before looking at Warrick. “Still, the lack of answers is dashingly bothersome.”

  “Agreed. I...” He stared past Arthur’s shoulder.

  Arthur turned and saw Carrie strolling toward them. She pulled the baby wagon. In it, Joy was chewing on a toy.

  “Such serious faces during the fair.” Carrie stopped beside them, drawing the wagon close to her. “I hope there is not more bad news.”

  “Quite the opposite, my lady,” Warrick said as he bowed his head toward her. “I bring good tidings. The missing child has been found safe.”

  “Wonderful!” Her smile wobbled, and Maris guessed it took the lady every bit of her strength to steady it. “Has anything been found out about the children from the harbor?”

  “I am sorry, my lady, but it seems the two incidents are not related.” He glanced at the wagon. “Is that one of the children from the boat?”

  He bent closer to Joy. Sun glinted off his lenses, and the baby reached for them, excited. He stood to keep her from pulling them off his face.

  “She knows what she wants,” Carrie said.

  “I see.” The baron’s gaze swept over them before he said, “I am glad I was able to share the good news before I take my leave.”

  “You are not staying for the blessing of the boats?”

  He shook his head. “Though I would like to, I will have to wait until next year. I actually came to Porthlowen today to talk to your blacksmith about making some replacement parts for a beam engine.”

  “The one that was not working before?” asked Arthur, hearing the sudden undertone of tension on Warrick’s voice.

  “No, that one seems to be working. Thank God. However, one of the others has a broken cylinder, and I need to get it repaired so the mine can reopen.”

  “I don’t recall your late uncle having such trouble with beam engines.”

  “Apparently neither does anyone else, but when I arrived, they were in poor repair, and I have done my best to keep them working since then. A thankless job, I must say, when a week’s work can be destroyed in seconds.” He tipped his hat to Carrie and then to Maris. “Good day, ladies.”

  “Thank you for bringing us welcome news,” Arthur said.

  “Let’s hope I don’t have to bring you any more bad news.” He sighed, then walked away.

  “He was grim, wasn’t he?” Carrie shook her head. “It seems as if he goes from disaster to disaster. Poor man.”

  Arthur offered one arm to her and the other to Maris. “Enough of Warrick’s gloom. Today is our festival. Shall we enjoy it?”

  He was glad when both women laughed, though his happiness tempered when only Carrie took his arm. Maris held the boys’ hands and followed the baby wagon as they went in search of the fun the day could offer.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Maris was having a wonderful time, and the children grew more excited with every booth they passed. Arthur bought Bertie and Gil some cakes, which soon had the boys’ faces covered from top to bottom in frosting. Cool cups of cider quenched their thirst as they met the Nesbitts and the twins, who were eager to see some animals perform. Lady Caroline excused herself to take the baby to a shady spot, but the rest of them hurried to keep up with the youngsters.

  They found a man was playing wooden pipes while a black-and-white terrier twirled about on its hind legs. When a monkey wearing a jeweled collar like the dog’s climbed onto the terrier’s back, the children applauded. They cheered when the dog finished its dance, and the monkey climbed onto the man’s shoulder. Arthur dropped coins into the hat the monkey held out.

  As they turned to go and see what other entertainment they could find, Gil said, “Want a monkey.”

  “We will see the monkey dance again,” Maris said, taking his hand.

  He jerked away and stamped his foot. “Want a monkey!”

  Astonished because the youngest boy was usually the calmest, least demanding one, Maris knelt in front of him. She folded Gil’s tiny fingers between her palms.

  “So do I,” she said.

  “You do?”

  “Of course. A monkey is fun, isn’t it?”

  “Yes! Want a monkey!”

  She sighed. “But that is the only monkey here, and if we took it home with us, none of the other children would have a chance to see it dance with the dog. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

  On the little boy’s face, she read the thoughts rushing through his head, much as the monkey had scurried from person to person while collecting farthings and pennies. It was a risky question because Gil might well answer he did not care about the other children.

  “No, but want a monkey.” Gil’s voice was sad instead of petulant.

  “What if we make a stuffed monkey for you?” she asked. “Then you can make him dance. Or maybe we will make two. One for you and one for me.”

  The little boy grinned. “Yes. Want a monkey for Gil. Want a monkey for Maris. Make now?”

  “Let’s enjoy the fun here. We’ll make monkeys later.”

  Gil ran to where children were watching a puppet show.

  “That was brave of you,” Arthur said.

  “I had to take the chance so he would stop fussing. I have seen Gil cares much about the other children, especially little Joy. I was sure he would choose correctly.”

  “And if he did not?”

  She laughed. “I figured I would cross that bridge when I came to it, and fortunately, it looks as if I will not have to.”

  As the time grew closer for the ceremony that had given rise to the festival, people began to gather by the cliff overlooking the harbor. Arthur led the way through the crowd to where his brother was waiting.

  “What happens now?” Maris asked, as she tried to wipe stickiness from the boys’ faces with a cloth she had dampened in one of the buckets of water scattered around the grounds.

  “The fishermen must pay the Earl of Launceston or his representative one pure white oyster shell for the rights to fish from Porthlowen. The shell cannot have any colors in it other than white. It is their quit rent.”

  “Quit rent?” She looked up at him. “I should know what that means, but I don’t.”

  “A quit rent is something ‘paid’ in lieu of money or service to one’s feudal lord.”

  “Why a pure white oyster shell?”

  “I have no idea.” He chuckled, and she drew the sound into her memory so she could recall it later and savor it. “I cannot imagine why any earl would want a heap of whitewashed shells, but someone thought it was an inspired idea. So the payment for each boat is one white oyster shell.”

  “What do you do with them?”

  “Usually they are handed out the next day at dawn to the village children. They vie to see who can throw a shell the farthest. The one who does wins a prize.”

  “Is that done so the same shells cannot be used again the following year?”

  He shrugged. “I never thought about the reason, but you may be right. The fishermen say the opened shells must provide good feeding for fish, so it makes for a better haul on their next time out to sea. Everything has become connected through the centuries. To omit a single step would make the whole fall apart.”<
br />
  “You like this!” She laughed and pointed a finger at him. “No matter how much you pretend otherwise, you like being part of the tradition.”

  “Guilty as charged.” He winked at her before he moved forward to stand in front of the crews of fishermen who called Porthlowen their home harbor.

  Nothing was announced, but nobody spoke while, as solemn as criminals walking to the gallows, the crew of the first boat stepped forward. One fisherman held out a white oyster shell, and Arthur nodded in acknowledgment. The man set it on the ground, then stepped back to allow the next crew to repeat the process. At last, after about ten minutes, the final crew’s representative set their white shell atop the others. The man abruptly grinned, and cheers erupted along the strand.

  Maris applauded along with everyone else, while the children bounced up and down with excitement. They had no idea of the significance of the tradition, but they could not fail to sense the excitement.

  His part done, Arthur picked up the shells so they would not be crushed beneath the crowd’s feet. He then moved aside so his brother could offer the blessing that was as much a centerpiece of the festival as the quit rent ceremony. After Parson Trelawney called out for everyone to bow their heads so he might bless the boats pulled up on the sand, he began the prayer.

  “Heavenly Father, we ask You to look down this day upon the boats in Porthlowen Harbor and on the men who take them to sea day after day. We ask You to keep these men safe upon Your vast sea and to guide them to the harbor. Let them feel Your comforting presence when the waves are at their worst. We ask this in the name of Your son, Jesus Christ.”

  A chorus of “Amen” was followed by more cheers as the crews climbed over the fence and raced down the hill. Arthur must have seen Maris’s bafflement, because he explained tradition held that whichever boat was the first to reach the sea beyond the cliffs would have the largest and most profitable catch during the next year.

  As the crowd surged forward to watch, Maris held tightly to the boys’ hands so they did not get separated. She smiled when Arthur swung Bertie up to sit on the fence, then did the same to Gil. Soon the twins were beside them. As she kept her arm around Gil, while Arthur made sure Bertie did not fall, they yelled and hooted for the crews. The noise became deafening, resonating off the hills edging the cove as the boats were pushed out into the water. Shouts announced when the first boat made its way out of the cove, and the crews turned toward shore so they could join the rest of the day’s festivities.