Family In The Making (Matchmakeing Babies 2) (13 page)

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 question 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 Cothaire, 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.

“Why are you looking in every direction?” Arthur asked. “What do you expect to see in the darkness?”

“The children.”

“But they are in the nursery at Cothaire.”

“I know, but it seems odd not to be constantly watching that they are not wandering off or getting into mischief. I don’t know what to do with myself.”

He opened his mouth to reply, then closed it. When he answered, she wondered what he had planned to say originally, but his words pushed other thoughts from her head.

“Maris, you could help me sort out what I learned tonight.”

“I would be happy to try.”

“Thank you.”

She waited for him to add more, but he became so silent she could hear the hushed waves against the sand in the cove. Knowing she might be courting trouble, she took his hand between hers. He glanced at their fingers pressed together, then raised his eyes to meet hers. His gaze burned through the dim light from the lantern as his other hand touched her cheek as lightly as the faint breeze coming off the sea.

“Tell me,” she whispered. “A burden shared is a burden you no longer have to carry alone.”

“You sound like Father.”

“Tell me, Arthur,” she said, refusing to let him change the subject.

He did not look away. “I was late to the meeting because I had another. With someone I thought might be able to help me learn the truth of what happened to Cranny. I did not learn anything new other than Cranny, a man I have long considered a good friend, may not be the man I believed him to be.” He pushed himself away from the tree, but did not slide his hand out of hers. His fingers tightened around her palm. “The duel he fought the night he died was not his first. It may have been closer to his tenth. In every case, he was challenged because he wronged someone else.”

“I am sorry. I know how painful it is when someone you admire has feet of clay. I have learned their faults are not mine.” She smiled sadly. “I have enough weaknesses of my own. I don’t need to assume theirs, too.”

When his arms came up to draw her close to him, she leaned her face against his chest and drew in his wonderful scent, a mixture of wool and linen and his horse and the night air. She should not be in his arms; that place belonged to another woman. Even so, she lingered for one precious minute, then another, listening to his heart’s steady beat and his deep breaths as he fought the hurt in him.