A Cornish Maid Page 5

  The grass was damp beneath her feet, the blackbirds and thrushes trilling their goodnight song. Not an evening for worrying. Tonight she would think only that with his help they would lead a more comfortable life. She waved and they rushed over with their buckets rattling with the mussels they’d collected.

  “I’ll take them buckets through to Molly, miss,” Josie said and she puffed up red-faced from the climb. “I’ll get them all to bed.”

  “Off you go, children. I’m afraid Mrs. Smith is unwell so you have to forego your story tonight.” She kissed them fondly and they skipped away with Josie.

  Where was her dinner companion? Surely it couldn’t take so long to find a jug of cider.

  The silvery light of the full moon transformed the garden to a place of enchantment, but she didn’t wish to experience it alone. Deciding to return, she turned and collided with his solid bulk as he was coming out. For a moment they rocked from side to side. His arms gripped her waist as he fought to keep them both from falling.

  The heat from his hands was spreading. A delicious warmth slowly engulfed her. What was happening? Was it she who was now going down with a summer fever?

  Chapter Five

  He regained his balance but seemed reluctant to release her. Demelza pressed against his chest. His shirt was gaping open and her fingertips brushed his naked flesh. With a squeak of shock, she recoiled and this time he let her go.

  “If you’re quite ready, Demelza, I’ve been growing roots inside waiting for you.”

  His gentle teasing restored her composure as nothing else could have. Forgetting she was unable to walk properly, she put down her injured foot and yelped. “Botheration, I do so hate being incapacitated in this way.”

  To her consternation he swept her up into his arms. “Idiot child, you should not be out here.”

  Indignant at being called a child, she struggled to be released. “Kindly put me down at once, Dr. Fairfield. I would rather hop than be carried about like a parcel.”

  Ignoring her feeble protest he set off at a brisk march toward the cliff edge. “It’s far too hot to go inside. I thought we could sit and watch the sea from the cliff top.”

  Somewhat mollified by his suggestion, she stopped wriggling. “I should like that, but would prefer to go down to the beach. Obviously I cannot do that tonight.”

  “Is it safe to walk on the beach at high tide? Is there sand showing?”

  “About six yards; just sufficient to land a boat and lead a pony.”

  He gripped her arm. “Are you saying that smugglers use your beach at night?”

  “Of course they do, but only when the revenue officers are patrolling their normal haunts. They always leave me a gift of some sort. Where do you think the brandy came from?” His fingers were tense on her wrist. Why should something as natural as smuggling bother him?

  “A girl alone should not have dealings with such men. You are placing yourself and the little ones in extreme danger.”

  She snatched her arm back. “You know nothing of the matter. Stopping them is likely to be more dangerous. And anyway, most of them are fishermen from the village and have known me since I was in leading strings. I expect there are bands elsewhere with murderous intent, but not here.”

  “So if they’re apprehended they give up without a fight? No officers are ever injured?”

  “Good heavens, no. Around here things work differently; when there’s to be a patrol a warning is sent and that’s when they use this cove. This means the two groups never come face to face, but you would be surprised how much is washed ashore from passing ships for the revenue men to find.”

  His rich, dark chuckle sent shivers down her spine. “A perfect arrangement; let’s hope the authorities don’t get to hear about it and send someone who puts his duty before his purse to take charge of the patrols.”

  “Look, can you see the lighter gap just ahead? That’s the path.”

  Gently he set her down, but kept his arm around her waist to steady her. “What a spectacular setting! Have your family lived here for many generations? Presumably the village is named after you and not the other way round.”

  “You’re correct. A hundred years ago we were wealthy; my ancestors owned the village and the fishing fleet. Things are different now. My grandfather was obliged to sell the cottages to another gentleman in order to pay off his gambling debts. We have sunk further and further into penury over the past years.”

  “Then I shall make it my business to put things right before I leave. No, I shall not be dissuaded. Allow me to spend my unwanted fortune as I please. Let something good come from my family tragedy.”

  His voice was so bleak, she shivered. He picked her up again. “You’re becoming chilled. We must return to the house immediately.” He laughed quietly. “No, please don’t argue. I’m a medical man and know of what I speak.”

  She relaxed into his embrace, resting her head on his shoulder and enjoying the unusual sensation of someone taking care of her for a change. At the door, he ducked his head and carried her straight into the drawing room. “There. Let me look at your foot. I imagine the dressing will be dirty and need changing before you retire.”

  His hands sliding across her ankle made her lightheaded. Further contact would not do; she must remain aloof from him. There was no future in this relationship; as soon as he recovered from his grief he would be gone.

  And anyway a gentleman such as he would never consider marrying a girl like her. She shoved him away with her undamaged foot and he tumbled backwards onto his backside. His look of astonishment made her laugh out loud.

  “I beg your pardon, but I do not require you to act as my abigail. I am quite capable of changing my own dressing if need be.” Before he could stop her, she hopped nimbly to the door and out into the entrance hall. She viewed the stairs with disfavour then realised she could ascend quite easily if she did so backwards.

  At any moment, she expected him to erupt from the chamber and snatch her into the air, but she was able to complete her undignified journey without his help. She reached the sanctuary of her own apartment without interference and was surprised, but delighted, to find Betty waiting.

  Lucas jumped up from the floor and sank into the dilapidated armchair. Not only her beauty, but her lively wit and courage set his pulses racing. There was something about this girl that was drawing him in. How many young ladies in her position would have managed to keep the family together these past few years? The sound of her bumping up the stairs made him smile. He must let her go alone; just being near her was a temptation he found increasingly difficult to resist.

  He swore out loud. He had no option but to return and try to rebuild his home whilst she was irrevocably linked to Tregorran House. When he left for Plymouth, if he had any sense, he would not come back.

  If he did he could only see heartache ahead for both of them.

  Demelza tossed restlessly, unable to settle. From whichever way she viewed the situation she could see no happy solution. From disliking her house guest intensely, her feelings had changed until now she was in a fair way to falling in love with him. This emotion was new to her.

  When it came to gentlemen she was quite ignorant. Mama had discouraged young men from calling and after her death Demelza had been too busy taking care of the family to think about affairs of the heart.

  If she viewed the situation dispassionately, what had happened was inevitable. When a handsome man moves into the home of an unattached lady of impressionable years what could one expect?

  Good heavens!

  She sat up, wide awake, as something quite extraordinary occurred to her. Martha was a woman of the world, had moved in polite society and knew how things worked. She must have been well aware that this would happen and by her presence was positively encouraging it.

  Demelza collapsed on the pillows, scarcely able to draw breath as excitement and anticipation rippled through her. Fate had sent her to the beach and thrown her in his path. She smiled in
the darkness; it would be more true to say that he had been pitched into her path. If Martha thought a simple Cornish maid was a suitable partner for a man of such as Dr. Fairfield then who was she to cavil?

  Can I call him by his given name in the privacy of my thoughts?

  Daringly, she resumed her musing. Lucas seemed as affected by her presence as she was by his. Perhaps the good Lord had sent him to Tregorran especially for her.

  On that happy thought, she fell asleep. Her dreams were filled with images of a tall fair-haired gentleman with periwinkle-blue eyes and she was disappointed to be roused next morning by Betty pulling back the curtains.

  “Mornin’, miss. Mrs. Smith says I’m to stay and help you dress. Is there anything special you wants me to get out for you?”

  “Anything that is not too worn or faded. I don’t think there’s a large selection. Whatever time is it? Have I overslept?”

  “The doctor says you was to be left to sleep and that you was to stay up here today. I don’t reckon it’s more than eight o’clock. The little ones are washed and dressed and eating breakfast in the kitchen. Mrs. Smith says lessons will start promptly at eight-thirty every morning.”

  Demelza felt a surge of anger. First he ran roughshod over her position in the household and this was bad enough. At least he was a paying guest which did give him some rights she supposed. But now Martha had altered the time of the children’s lessons without consulting her first. Was she of no account? Invisible? No longer mistress of Tregorran House but relegated to the position of a delicate female?

  Her silly fantasies vanished and common sense reasserted itself. “Kindly assist me to my closet. I do not care what I put on as long as it is clean and serviceable. Somewhere on one of the shelves you’ll find some pattens I use in the winter. I believe that they will be ideal and allow me to go downstairs without difficulty.” She pursed her mouth and dared the girl to contradict.

  “Right away, Miss Tregorran. You’ll not be wanting your breakfast on a tray, then?”

  “Certainly not. When you have finished your duties here make sure that you pay particular attention to Dr. Fairfield’s apartment. You would all do well to remember that without his rent I could not afford to employ you. When he leaves, I’ll have to review the situation carefully.”

  Twenty minutes later, she had negotiated the stairs and was on her way to the kitchen. She wished to set matters straight there before seeking out the man she had, for a fleeting moment, imagined might be her future husband. A handsome face was not sufficient to make a happy marriage. A dictatorial gentleman would not make an amiable partner, however noble his motives. She was far too used to doing things her own way. Tregorran House was her domain, her brothers’ birthright and no one, not even Lucas Fairfield, was going to take it away from her.

  Molly threw up her floury hands when Demelza hobbled into the kitchen. “Well, my lovely, I never did expect to see you down today. You’ll not find the children here. They was that eager to begin their lessons they dashed off right quickly.”

  “I wish to speak to Dr. Fairfield. Have you any notion where he is?”

  “I reckon he’s outside somewhere.”

  Disappointed, Demelza pulled out a chair and sat, poker straight, waiting for her own meal. The repast was served in silence, her disapproval making her normally garrulous cook work without words for a change. Demelza pushed her food around her plate.

  “Molly, I would like you to come to the small parlour with your suggestions for today’s menu. We need to discuss how best to use Josie and Betty and where to find a kitchen maid to assist in here.”

  “I know just the girl. Her Pa died last year and her Ma’s married again and she don’t get on with him. Mary’s her name. She’s not much older than Serena, but will be glad to have a safe place to live.”

  “Good. We shall discuss this later on. I think, Molly, in future you must refer to my siblings more formally. Mrs. Smith and Dr. Fairfield will expect this.”

  The atmosphere in the kitchen changed. Neither Molly nor Jethro were used to remaining within the bounds of propriety. How long would they be able to act as members of staff and not members of her family?

  “Very well, Miss Tregorran. I’ll let my Jethro know he’s to mind his manners in future.”

  The clatter on the roof had intensified; Demelza decided she would go out onto the grass in front of the house and see what was going on. Molly banged the dough on the table with unnecessary force.

  “I’ll be serving all your meals in the dining room in future, Miss Tregorran. No need for you to come into my kitchen no more. I’ll be along to see you in an hour.”

  Molly was muttering to herself as Demelza hobbled out. Formality was not something either Jethro or Molly were familiar with.

  She wished she’d not taken out her displeasure on her staff; it wasn’t their fault she was cross with her guest.

  Demelza made her way through the house. Travelling at a snail’s pace allowed her time to take in the improvements already made. The floors gleamed and the stairs and banisters shone enough to see one’s face in. Before long, her home would be pristine and sparkling. What a shame there wasn’t the wherewithal to replace the ancient furniture and threadbare hangings.

  The sun was not at its zenith but already the air was hot.

  Heaven knows what it must be like on the roof.

  She moved slowly across the weed-filled turning circle and stopped when she was several yards away. She still couldn’t see who was making the din so she backed slowly until the workman was revealed. Her shock was so great her heel caught in the hem of her dress. The next thing she knew, she was on the ground. Even from there she could see Lucas in nothing but breeches and boots busily hammering fresh timber across one of the gaping holes in the roof. He was magnificent, his bare shoulders gleaming in the sunlight, his muscles rippling, his long, lean thighs braced to hold him steady. In all her life she’d never seen anything so beautiful. He was like a statue she’d seen in a travel book her father had brought back from Italy.

  Slowly she pushed herself up on her elbows, her breath ragged and unable to pull her gaze away. A rattle at the schoolroom window drew her attention. Three grinning faces were hanging out. Martha’s face appeared beside them and her strident voice echoed across the lawn.

  “My dear girl, how unfortunate. Did you catch your foot? Do you need me to come down and help you up?”

  To her consternation, Lucas heard the shout and looked over. He straightened and moved like a cat to the edge of the roof. One might have thought he was fully clothed, not half-naked like an urchin on the beach. “Sweetheart, are you injured? You shouldn’t be downstairs. I gave instructions that you should remain inside and rest your injury.”

  His words prompted her to scramble up, her cheeks flaming not just with embarrassment but also indignation. She glared up at him. “I trod on my hem. I’m perfectly well, thank you both for asking. However, as you are both listening I shall speak plainly.”

  His grin all but deterred her. “Shout plainly, I think you mean, my dear. Do go ahead, I have nothing better to do than hang onto the roof thirty feet above the ground and listen to your words of wisdom.”

  “You are the most infuriating gentleman I’ve ever met. It would serve you right if you fell off and broke your neck.” Good heavens, what devil made me say something so ridiculous? “Oh, botheration, get on with your work and stop issuing orders as if you were the master of this house.”

  Her words caused him to lose his grip and he slithered down the slates until his boots jammed in the gutter. Her nails dug into her palms. He could have fallen and it would have been her fault.

  What is the matter with me?

  She was renowned for her good humour and tolerance and within the space of two days she was behaving like a veritable shrew.

  “I’m so sorry, Lucas, I did not mean to startle you. I have the headache and must go inside out of the sun.” Ignoring the shocked faces at the schoolroom window
, she half-ran, half-hopped into the house. Her heart was hammering. Had a stone somehow lodged in her throat? He could have been killed. The enormity of what had almost happened overwhelmed her and her eyes brimmed.

  Like an old lady she made her way to the pretty, yellow sitting room her mother had once used and collapsed into an armchair to wait for her composure to return.

  Sweetheart? Why was he larding his conversation with such endearments? She’d heard him address Serena in this way. Did this mean he viewed her like a child as well? Then, as if she had fallen flat on her face in the sea, sanity returned. She understood his motives.

  He was a soldier. His job had been to protect and help those in need. She and her family were his project. He didn’t view her as a prospective bride but another child in need of his care and guidance.

  Well, she would soon put him right on that score. Tonight she would demonstrate she was no child but a woman grown, able to take care of herself and her family without his interference.

  Chapter Six

  Demelza waited in vain for either Martha or Lucas to arrive and escort her downstairs for dinner. The children were invisible all day. She was decidedly put out even though she knew the situation was entirely her own doing. The pretty blue glass necklace and earbobs that matched her gown completed her ensemble. She was ready but no one came.

  Even ringing the bell produced no response. Surely the servants were not ignoring her as well? At five o’clock, Betty arrived with a tray. “I reckon you’ve been a wondering what’s going on, miss. The doctor has took himself to the village and madam had nursery tea with the children.”

  The tray was placed on Demelza’s lap and she viewed her meal with displeasure. Meat pasty, potatoes and beans would normally have pleased her, but tonight she was too cross to appreciate the appetising aroma. She was tempted to tell the girl to take it away, but that would be impolite and childish. “Thank you, but could you put it on the table by the window? I shall go there to eat.”