Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
By the time they reached Fowey, the afternoon was waning.
“We are here at last,” Kitty said, clapping her hands, eyes regaining some of her natural spark.
She pushed her face close to the glass as the coach descended toward the harbor, the wheels jolting over rough-laid stones.
The smell of brine and tar drifted on the air.
Gulls wheeled overhead, their cries carrying over the creak of harness leather and the clatter of iron-rimmed wheels.
They rolled past a line of granite-fronted buildings built close to the quay, their upper windows flung open.
Narrow lanes branched off between them, steep, shadowed passages no wider than a man’s outstretched arms.
Feeling both anxious and optimistic, Minerva drank in every detail.
In the distance, a square tower stretched its crenelated top to the clouds, and a second, smaller tower stood off to one side.
Beyond the village, houses clung to the side of a lush green hill, white and bright beneath the low, gray sky.
“Do you think one of them is Cliff Cottage?” Kitty asked. The coach rocked to a stop, forestalling Minerva’s reply.
They waited as the driver unloaded their trunks and set them on the quay stones. Minerva looked first one way then the other along the street. Mr. Granger was to have arranged for a cart to take them to the house, but she saw no one approaching.
“I am so glad to be standing on my own two feet,” Kitty said, then lifted her arms and did a twirl. “I think I should not like to sit for at least a week.” She leaned close to Minerva and whispered, “If there weren’t so many eyes on us, I’d rub my poor, bruised bum.”
Minerva bit her lip to hold back a laugh. She wouldn’t mind rubbing her own aches away, but she wasn’t about to say so.
“Everyone is watching us,” Kitty whispered.
At first glance, Minerva would have argued that no one was watching them. But on closer examination it was clear that despite the purposeful shows of disinterest, the people of the village did watch them from beneath lowered lashes or sidelong glances.
“I suspect they watch all new arrivals. I’m sure we’re a curiosity to them,” she said with forced lightness, suspecting it was not curiosity alone, but appraisal, as though she had stepped onto a stage.
Two women sat in the front window of a shop across the way. Minerva could not see their hands from this vantage point, but she could see their arms moving, perhaps knitting or crocheting or tatting lace.
Nearby, next to a line of barrels set before a store of brick and stone and thatch, a girl sat on the ground, her hair in neat braids, a toddler on her lap.
Three boys who appeared close in age leaned against the wall by her side, laughing at something she’d said.
They wore dark pants that ended mid-calf, dark coats, and caps. Two of the boys wore no shoes.
Kitty followed her gaze and sighed. “Not so different from London, then.”
Minerva took a coin from her reticule and walked over to the children. This close, she saw the similarity in their features. “Are you all brothers and sisters?” she asked.
The girl with the toddler on her lap looked up and said, “Who wants to know?”
“I do,” Minerva said.
The girl pursed her lips then answered politely enough. “They’re my brothers.” She jutted her chin at the three boys. “Harry’s seven. Will and Sam are five. I’m nine. And Min here is two. She’s my sister.”
“Min? That’s my name, too. Minerva. Minerva Ashworth.”
The girl laughed. “Her name isn’t so fancy as that. She’s Mary but we call her Min, cuz she isn’t any bigger than a minute.”
Minerva held out the coin. “May I give you this?”
The girl looked at the money. “What for? Da won’t like if I take charity. He says we work for an honest wage or we go without.”
“For…” Minerva hesitated, at a loss. All around her she saw people and activity. What she did not see was a cart meant to carry her to Cliff Cottage. And there was her answer.
“Do you know Thomas Gloyn?” she asked.
“I do.” The girl squinted up at her. “What do you want with him?”
“He is to take me to Cliff Cottage. I’ll give you this coin to keep watch for him and point me out when he arrives.”
“Well, you were standing where the coach dropped you and there’s no one else about. If you go back where you started, he’ll probably find you on his own”—the girl reached up and scooped the coin from Minerva’s hand—“but if you want to pay me to do a fool’s task, I won’t argue.”
“Thank you,” Minerva said and began to walk back the way she’d come, her mind working on a reason she could give for buying the shoeless boys some boots. Perhaps she could hire them to do some sort of task that required them to be shod…
“Do you think you’ll see him here?” Kitty asked when Minerva stood beside her once more.
“Well, I hope we’ll see him soon. I’d like to reach the cottage before nightfall.”
Kitty sent her a quizzical look. “Who are you talking about, Min?”
“The cart driver Mr. Granger hired.” Minerva studied Kitty’s impish grin. “Who are you talking about?”
But she knew even before Kitty said, “Mr. Penrose. He lives nearby, does he not? That’s what Mr. Granger said.”
Minerva looked away, refusing to answer, refusing to show by word or action that she had entertained thoughts of Mr. Penrose more than once since that day outside Mr. Granger’s office.
That she had dreamed of him, a most disturbing dream, in which he had pulled her close and pressed his lips to hers, and she had felt—
No, she would not think of that.
They stood for a time longer, Thomas Gloyn conspicuously absent. Minerva peered up the street. She thought that if Mr. Gloyn and his cart did not materialize soon, she would secure rooms for herself and Kitty, a bath, a meal, and they would find a way to venture forth in the morning.
She was about to suggest that to Kitty when she saw a man standing on the far side of the street. His hair was dark brown, his jaw angular, the cut of his black coat impeccable. He turned his head and Minerva felt his stare, just as she had that day outside Mr. Granger’s office.
She looked away, but from the corner of her eye saw that he had not moved, and his gaze was fixed on her, assessing. Beside her, Kitty lifted a hand in greeting.
“Kitty!” Minerva whispered.
Mr. Penrose lifted his hat and made a bow. Deciding it would be churlish not to acknowledge him, Minerva inclined her head ever so slightly in return. The smallest concession. Perhaps a large mistake.
“There is Mr. Penrose,” Kitty whispered with a soft laugh. “And he is looking at you, Min.”
Minerva shot her a quelling look. Kitty disregarded it with a cheeky grin. Then her grin faded. “He’s not looking anymore. He’s walking away.”
Minerva made no reply, determined to ignore the flicker of disappointment. And beneath it, the flicker of relief.
“Oh, Min. I do like Cornwall,” Kitty whispered on a breathy exhale a moment later, eyes wide as she looked past Minerva’s shoulder.
Minerva turned and followed Kitty’s gaze.
A blond man strode toward them, a woman on his arm.
They carried themselves with the confidence possessed only by a certain class.
The man was tall and lean, with a square jaw and straight nose.
The woman was uncommonly tall, her shoulders at a level with the man’s.
They were both quite beautiful and given the similarity of their coloring and features, Minerva suspected they might be siblings.
“Forgive my intrusion,” said the man as he drew abreast of them.
He smiled, revealing dimples in either cheek.
His eyes were pale crystalline blue. “I am Tregian. Jago Tregian. This is my sister, Tamsyn. We could not help but notice that you appear stranded and we thought to inquire as to your destination and perhaps offer assistance.”
Tamsyn smiled, revealing matching dimples to her brother. “We heard that dear Mrs. Todd’s cousin was coming. When I noticed you standing here with your trunks, I thought you might be she.”
“I am Minerva Ashworth, Mrs. Todd’s cousin. And this is my friend and companion Miss Kitty Dorsey.” Kitty offered a smile and an unintelligible murmur.
“Please accept our condolences,” Miss Tregian said, lashes sweeping down over her pale blue eyes.
Minerva felt awkward accepting condolences for the loss of a woman she had not known, but she offered a polite, “Thank you. Did you know my cousin well?”
“We knew her well enough to avoid a scolding and to wheedle a lemon drop from the tin she always kept,” Mr. Tregian said with a laugh.
“We ran wild as children,” Miss Tregian said. “I’m afraid that flowers were at risk of trampling and shrubs prone to broken branches when we were about.”
“And Mrs. Todd, being a close neighbor, found her gardens at frequent risk,” added Mr. Tregian.
Miss Tregian’s expression grew solemn. “She was fond of children. I always thought it sad that she had none of her own.” Her eyes widened. “I beg your pardon. That was indelicate.”
“Not at all,” said Minerva, pleased to have a tiny glimpse into the woman her cousin had been.
“Are you going to your cousin’s home—” Miss Tregian broke off, flushing. “Once more, I must beg your pardon. The house is yours now.”
“No pardon required,” Minerva said. “Miss Dorsey and I were expecting a driver and cart, but Mr. Gloyn has yet to arrive.”
“Mr. Gloyn?” said Mr. Tregian, frowning in confusion. His expression cleared. “You mean Thom?”
“He’ll be here soon enough,” said Miss Tregian. “We saw him loading his cart with supplies.” Then her gaze slid past both Minerva and Kitty and her expression shuttered. Tension strained her features, her entire demeanor becoming distant and severe.
Mr. Tregian followed his sister’s gaze. His expression hardened, his lips compressing in a thin line.
“Mr. Tregian. Miss Tregian,” came a masculine voice and Minerva turned to see Mr. Penrose. By her side, Kitty made an odd little noise that had Minerva wanting to hush her.
“Penrose,” came Mr. Tregian’s curt reply.