The Smuggler and the Society Bride (9 page)

Occasionally, outside the theatre, she'd glimpsed the slender figures of girls silhouetted by lamplight in the alleys near Covent Garden, before she took her seat in the carriage and the footman closed the door. They'd seemed like shadow figures, denizens of a dark and sinister world far removed from her own.

But for Laurie, sister to little Eva, daughter of that worn fisherman's widow, to be a doxy? Someone she knew, had spoken to, who had seemed entirely ordinary?

Her mother would probably faint, the priest at Stanegate
shake his head in sorrow, but Honoria could understand why a woman of great beauty and few choices might decide to take a rich lover and make the best life she could in the circumstances. But to service coaldust-grimy miners in a backwater Cornish town? The thought appalled.

What could have made Laurie choose such a path? Had she, like Honoria, been ruined by some rogue? Compromised by a lover who abandoned her to face the consequences of her indiscretion alone?

If she'd lost her virtue—and with it, her chance to make a decent marriage—those consequences would be bleak indeed. With her father dead, little work available and no other resources, how else could a girl help her family survive?

If Mr Hawksworth only knew, it was not her place to judge Laurie. After a month of fretting and bemoaning her fate, for the first time she realized, despite all that had happened, how very fortunate she was. Because save for an accident of birth, it might have been her, rather than Miss Steavens, struggling with a drunken miner outside some stone hut.

Honoria uttered an immediate—and somewhat guilty—prayer of thanks that she had been spared such a fate. Her heart twisting with grief for the reality with which Laurie's family struggled, she vowed to do everything in her power to assist them.

H
onoria hadn't expected to return to town before Sunday, but two days later, she received a note from Father Gryffd asking if Miss Foxe could meet him at the vicarage the following day to consult about the school. Since a package awaited Aunt Foxe at the post and the restlessness that often drove Honoria was bedeviling her, she jumped at the chance to do a favour for her aunt and advance the scheme that might be of some practical use to Eva and her family.

With a package to collect, this time she took a gig. The vicar must have been keeping watch, for as soon as she pulled up, a servant came forward to take the horse and Father Gryffd trotted down the front steps to meet her.

After an exchange of greetings, he said, ‘I've had an idea of where we might set up the school. Before proceeding any further, I wanted you to see it and tell me what you think. If you will follow me?'

He led her down a pathway into the garden and past some fragrant roses that immediately recalled to her the stroll she'd had here with Captain Hawksworth just a few days ago.

How did a free-trader pass his time, she wondered. At sea, testing his boat? Idling about the inn quaffing ale, waiting for foolish maidens to rescue?

‘Just around here,' the vicar interrupted her thoughts, pointing past a hedge to a small stone building with a row of south-facing windows.

‘The previous vicar, a great devotee of gardening, had this planting house constructed. It houses tools on the far side, but on this side with all the windows, he set up benches on which to start seed and propagate plants. The structure had fallen into disuse, but I recalled it when pondering where we might set up school and had the servants sweep and clean. It's large enough to accommodate a dozen children. Do you think it will do?'

Honoria surveyed the light, open space with approval. ‘I think it charming! I might have received fewer raps on my knuckles if I'd had that lovely view of the woods to gaze upon while I studied French and geography.'

The vicar beamed. ‘I'll see to fitting it out at once. Now, would you step inside the parlour? I'll have Mrs Wells bring us some tea.'

‘I should like that. Then you can explain to me more about how you'd like me to assist at the school.'

They were walking back across the churchyard when Laurie Steavens approached and gave them a quick curtsy. ‘Excuse me, Father, Miss Foxe. Robbie Lowe come by the Gull, saying he'd seen Miss Foxe's gig here. I thought you might be talking about the school, so I hurried down to tell you Ma would love to have Evie come, if you're sure she won't inconvenience nobody.'

‘I'll not let anyone harm an innocent child, Miss Laurie,' Father Gryffd said gently. ‘Tell your mother we thank her for sparing Eva to us for a few hours. I'll send you word at the Gull when school is ready to begin.'

Laurie nodded. ‘Thank you again, Father.'

Honoria watched the conversation, not sure what to say or do. Staring at Laurie now, despite knowing of her other occupation, the girl still had a fresh-scrubbed, country maid look that
made it hard for Honoria to credit she actually traded her body for coin.

Disbelief, pity and revulsion warring with an awful fascination, she surfaced from her reverie to discover Laurie watching her, silently enduring Honoria's fascinated scrutiny.

The flush on her cheeks and the slightly defensive angle of her chin said Laurie must have figured someone had informed Miss Foxe she worked as more than a simple chambermaid at the Gull.

Honoria flushed, too, embarrassed to be caught staring and not wanting the girl to think she looked on her with disapproval, despite the occupation she'd been forced to. ‘I'm so glad Eva will be able to attend. But we don't know the language of signs she developed with your mother. Can you give us some hints on how we might communicate with her?'

Laurie's brows lifted, as if surprised Honoria had deigned to speak to her. Finally she replied, ‘Just tell her what you want her to do. She hears as fine as anyone. And her gestures are easy to figure out.' She smiled slightly. ‘For a lady as understanding as you, Miss Foxe, I don't think you'll have no trouble.'

I understand more than you could ever know,
Honoria thought. ‘When she learns to read and write, she'll be able to let people around her know exactly what she thinks and feels, even if she never speaks a word.' Recalling the girl's obvious delight in flowers and the way she had looked back just at the moment Honoria was speaking to Father Gryffd about her, she added, ‘She seems to sense and appreciate her world very well already. Maybe she'll be a poetess, able to describe the wonders of the Cornish sea and cliffs so people from far away can see them as she does.'

Laurie's lips trembled. ‘I think she might be. She's so clever and good! Much better than me.'

‘We're about to have tea, Miss Laurie. Would you care to join us?'

Even knowing Father Gryffd was a shepherd of the lost, Honoria was a bit startled that the vicar would bid a girl guilty of so notorious a sin to take tea in his parlour.

Her surprise was nothing to the shock widening Laurie Steavens's eyes. The girl inhaled sharply and gaped at him, as if she couldn't credit what she'd just heard. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes before she dashed them away.

‘That's powerful kind of you, Father,' she said huskily, ‘but I couldn't possibly. Only imagine what your parishioners would think if they found out!'

‘I should hope they would applaud my offering hospitality to a neighbour,' Father Gryffd replied.

‘Thank you, Father. But it wouldn't be fitting. I must get back to the Gull, anyways. Afore I go, Miss Foxe, Ma asked me give you these. To thank you for your kindness to Eva—and to me.'

From her apron pocket she extracted a pair of knitted gloves and held them out tentatively, as if half-expecting Honoria to refuse them.

Honoria didn't need the vicar's urgent look to know she must accept them at once. ‘It's not at all necessary, but how very kind of your mother.'

Holding them in her hands, Honoria immediately noticed the warmth of the thick wool. A closer glance revealed they were knit in a wonderfully intricate pattern of braids and knots. ‘They are lovely! Your mother is very skilled.'

Laurie smiled. ‘Pa always said Ma knits the handsomest gloves and sweaters in Cornwall! That's good wool, full of lanolin; they'll keep your hands warm even if the gloves get wet.'

‘Please tell your mother how grateful I am, and how excited we are Eva will be able to come to school.'

‘Just send word to me at the Gull when she needs to be here,' Laurie said. ‘Glad you like the gloves, Miss Foxe. Good day to you both.' With another curtsy, she turned and walked back toward the inn.

Thoughtfully Honoria watched her walk away. Turning to the vicar, she realized he was watching Laurie with even keener interest—and an almost wistful expression.

Was the vicar, as she was, wondering how this lost sheep might be brought back to respectability? Or did he have a more personal interest in the lovely Cornish lass?

‘I should like that tea now,' she said, recalling him.

Abruptly turning to find her watching him, probably with a speculative look on her face, he flushed and gestured toward the vicarage. ‘I'll have Mrs Wells bring us tea at once.'

A few minutes later, when they were settled in the snug parlour, the housekeeper brought in a steaming pot along with some biscuits fresh from the oven. Honoria had just poured them each a cup when the housekeeper came back in.

‘Father Gryffd, Mr Hawksworth is here, begging if he might join you. Should I show him in?'

‘Of course. If you don't mind, Miss Foxe?'

Honoria felt a zing of excitement and a flush of warmth throughout her body. Hoping the sudden heat hadn't shown on her face, she said, with a calm belied by the sudden gallop of her pulse, ‘As you wish, Father.'

Then
he
was striding in, bringing with him a gust of cool outside air and a sense of energy and vigour that was nearly palpable, along with a touch of the wildness of the sea itself.

Goodness, Honoria thought, hauling back on the flights of fancy. She was becoming as cast-away poetical as Tamsyn.

‘Thank you for receiving me, Father. I must admit, when Mr Lowe mentioned he'd seen Miss Foxe's gig here, I stopped by hoping to catch her. After the distressing incident a few days ago, I wanted to make sure all was well.'

She coloured under the intensity of his gaze. It seemed to make her very skin prickle, almost as if she could feel it brush her skin, like a fingertip.

Though the thought was absurd, still it threw her so off-stride that she stumbled to find words like a maid as infatuated
as Tamsyn. Sternly ordering herself to gather her wits, she replied, ‘I'm fine, Captain Hawksworth. Thank you for your concern.'

‘Incident?' the vicar asked, his brow furrowed. ‘Did something untoward befall you after left the Gull? If so, I shall be most distressed for abandoning you!'

‘'Tis more what befell Laurie.' Quickly Honoria explained what had occurred on her previous visit to town.

The vicar shook his head, looking unhappy. ‘There's no end of mischief gotten up in those beer shops. I'm relieved, Captain, that you were at hand to prevent something even worse from befalling the ladies.'

Gabe nodded. ‘I, too, am glad I was near. Speaking of hands, that's a lovely pair of gloves you have, Miss Foxe. Locally made, I'm guessing.'

‘Yes, by Mrs Steavens. Father, I've just been thinking. It's all well to teach the girls letters and numbers, but unless they leave to work in some factory, learning is not going to help them benefit their families. What if they could learn to construct gloves as fine, thick and heavy as these, in such intricate patterns? Couldn't they be sold in the larger market towns, even in London?'

‘They are very fine,' the vicar said, looking thoughtful. ‘Certainly it would be a boon to their families if they were able to bring in any money at all. But the women hereabouts, especially the fishermen's wives, have long knitted sturdy gloves and sweaters for their menfolk. I don't know where there might be a market for such goods.'

‘I don't know anything about markets either,' Honoria said, ‘but I know superior workmanship when I see it.'

There was a knock, followed by Mrs Wells's entry. ‘Excuse me, Father, but could you come? There's someone needing your attention.'

The vicar rose at once. ‘Thank you, Mrs Wells. Begin preparing the usual packet.' To Honoria and the captain he said, ‘If you will excuse me a moment? ‘

They murmured assent and the vicar walked out. Honoria was more than a little nervous to be left alone with the captain, especially as his dynamic personality seemed to expand to fill the gap left by the departing vicar.

It made it deuced hard to concentrate, rendering a lady who, Honoria thought in disgust, had bandied words with glibbest gentlemen of the Ton suddenly too tongue-tied to produce a coherent sentence.

‘Probably a beggar,' Captain Hawksworth said, breaking the silence that had fallen with the vicar's exit. ‘It's widely known that anyone in difficulties will never be turned away. Father Gryffd is a man of God who truly lives up to his calling.'

Honoria thought of his kindness to Eva and Laurie. ‘He seems not to judge the failings of others—a trait not as common as one might wish in clergymen.'

Suddenly she wondered uncomfortably how Father Gryffd might react if he knew the story of the lady he'd invited to advise his girls. Her conscience pricked; this business of false names was becoming more complex. She owed it to the vicar to confess the truth of her situation before she associated herself with his school. She'd no more wish for her scandal to bring harm upon the local girls than she would be to inflict it on her sister.

‘You were talking about teaching girls knitting, then finding a market for their goods?' the captain asked, interrupting her solemn thoughts. ‘It sounds like an excellent idea. Do you have any contacts who might help you in London? If not, perhaps I could assist.'

Honoria raised her eyebrows. ‘I didn't know you had any dealings in legitimate goods.'

The captain grinned. ‘Most hereabouts believe we deal more honestly than those who sell goods under a customs stamp, since the price they pay us is more reflective of the true cost. You may be wary of my…experience, but I promise you, I do know how goods must be funded, produced, delivered to market and sold. How would you go about doing that?'

‘First, we would have to obtain superior wool, then ask Mrs Steavens to teach the girls how to knit articles worthy of sale. While they are perfecting their skills, we could approach shopkeepers to convince them to stock the items, then see about transporting them to the merchants.'

Hawksworth smiled. ‘I think you might make a good trader yourself, Miss Foxe. Though someone from your background might not believe it, that was a compliment.'

If her mother heard her discussing the steps necessary to go into trade, she'd faint dead away, Honoria thought with slight smile. In fact, according to the Carlows, having her soil her hands in trade would probably be more scandalous than losing her reputation.

Her smile faded. She really did not wish to bring still more notoriety on the family name. But she would like to help the girls. Maybe Aunt Foxe knew someone in London?

Even as she thought it, the captain said, ‘I have some London contacts. I could look into the matter, if you like, speaking to merchants about possibly handling the goods, inquiring about transport and the obtaining of wool.'

When Honoria hesitated, not sure she wished to launch upon an enterprise that would bring her in closer contact with him, Hawksworth grinned. ‘They are quite legitimate contacts, I assure you. Last time I inquired, mittens knit by Cornish schoolgirls were not on the list of contraband goods.'