15
WHEN CAROLINE WAS alone, Miss Mary Patricia giving lessons to Alice and Evelyn in the long-unused schoolroom at the top of Scrilady Hall, she sent Owen into Trevellas to find a small gun and two knives like the one Evelyn had.
“The women don’t need weapons, Caroline,” he said, utterly aghast. “Why, I’m here and you’re here. You wouldn’t let anyone hurt them.”
“It’s not that, Owen,” she said patiently. “They feel frightened. Look what men did to them. If a knife or a gun makes them feel safer, they should have them. By the by, that second knife is for me. If I’d had one the last time your father got me, perhaps you wouldn’t have had to go against your father. I also might have gulleted him, which is an excellent idea if you look at the problem in a certain light.”
“He still is my father, Caroline.”
She sighed. “I know, Owen, and I’m sorry for it. We’ll think of something.”
Owen’s eyes lit up. “Maybe they’ll shoot Bennett by mistake.”
“Buy three pistols, then. Goodness, what an utterly fragrant thought. Where is he anyway?”
“In Goonbell, probably in Mrs. Freely’s taproom drinking ale until it comes out his bloody ears.”
“Just as well. Goodness, there’s so much to be done. I know, Owen, you can go to the mines and find Mr. Peetree, the manager. Find out what’s going on and then we can discuss it later. Ask him what he thinks about the flooding in North’s tin mine, Wheal David. I do know that our mine, Wheal Kitty, is just fine. The two mines are very close. Ask him why this is happening at North’s mine and not in ours. Also there’s Wheal Daffel and Wheal Bealle. Do learn all you can about how they’re run, the production, the equipment.”
Owen turned pale. “But I don’t know anything about tin mines, Caroline. I don’t know what to say to him, truly, my father always did—”
“Owen, stop sniveling and acting like a nitwit. You saved both North and me. You proved yourself. Now, you will introduce yourself, explain that you’re my partner, and that since we’re new to the area and to tin mining, you need to learn about it. Find out if repairs are needed. As I said, ask what the production is. Ask what the wages are—oh goodness, Owen, just use your brain. You know what to do. Write down what he tells you. Oh, and be properly humble. We don’t want to set anyone’s back up.”
He left and she would swear she heard him speaking aloud, saying, “Mr. Peetree, would you mind very much telling me what the mines’ annual production is?”
She grinned, shook her head, hoping Owen wouldn’t be that diffident, and headed for the stables. She needed to go to Trevellas to the seamstress. Yes, she’d do that before seeing her estate manager, Mr. Dumbarton. There were five farms on Penrose land and it was time she discovered what was needed. She wanted to meet her tenants. Also, her pregnant ladies needed clothes, damn that miserable vicar. Miss Mary Patricia had told her that the vicar’s wife had sold the clothes Miss Eleanor had made for them. All they had was what they’d arrived wearing.
She rubbed Regina’s nose—now back in her own stable where she belonged, despite her obvious affection for North—gave her a carrot, and watched as Robin, the one and only stable lad, saddled her. She wondered what she would do to the vicar.
“Excellent,” she said, and let him toss her into the saddle. “Tell Mrs. Trebaw I’ll be home in a couple of hours, hopefully with the seamstress in tow.”
“Er, Miss Caroline.”
“Yes, what is it, Robby?”
“The little girls what have their bellies filled—”
“Yes?”
He was flushing violently. “Er, if there’s sumthin’ I can do to help ye, jest ask.”
“Thank you, I will. Just keep an eye on them when they’re outside. Particularly the very young girl, Alice. She’s very frightened. Be gentle, Robby.”
She rode away from Scrilady Hall, looking back once over her shoulder at the lovely peach brick facade shining so cleanly beneath the noonday sun. She particularly loved the five gables and the four chimney stacks that rose a good twenty feet above the roof. It was her home now. There weren’t, however, enough plants or trees around the house. That was another thing she had to do—speak to the gardener, whatever his name was. She grinned then. Perhaps she should hire a female gardener, perhaps she should make Scrilady Hall a household of women.
Oh goodness, she thought suddenly, there was Honeymead Manor and Mrs. Tailstrop. She would have to speak to North about having someone go there and take charge of things. He would know what had to be done. Odd, how she didn’t even hesitate. North was there, in the back of her mind, always there, when he wasn’t in the front of her mind, or standing in front of her or perhaps even kissing her or caressing her. “Oh goodness, Regina, I’m beginning to think that North Nightingale is always going to be there. And you, you lazy nag, you quite adore him, don’t you, all because he changed your name. Regina! Ha, if I had any sense I’d call you Petunia again.” North. Yes, he was always there. She thought about their dinner the previous evening. Only Owen was present, Bennett gone yet again to Goonbell to drink with his cronies. She would have given her new stockings to have Owen at least twenty miles away from Scrilady Hall.
But alas, he was there and would remain, but the evening had been full of fun and jesting and good food until they’d spoken of Mr. Ffalkes.
North had spooned a bite of almond blancmange into his mouth, savored the crisp flavor, then said, “Your father, Owen, is not a happy man. I spoke to him this afternoon. When he finished cursing me, cursing my antecedents, cursing Caroline and every friend she’s ever had, he calmed down. I put it to him, Owen. I asked him what I should do with him since he had this obsession with Caroline. He claimed there was no more obsession. He said at last he knew he couldn’t have her, or rather her money.”
“Please don’t speak as if I’m not here,” Caroline said. “Do you believe him, North?”
“I don’t believe him,” Owen said, leaning forward, a glass of port between his hands. “My father is craftier than a moneylender in Bear Alley in London, and I’ve heard that they’d steal the gold from their grandmothers’ teeth without her realizing it, and if they did realize it, they’d just conk them on the head and steal the teeth anyway. No, North, he hasn’t given up.”
“I tell you what, Owen. Why don’t you travel to London and speak to your father’s associates. Find out what his financial situation really is. In the meanwhile, I’ve already written instructions to my man in London to see to the transfer of Caroline’s inheritance from your father’s control, with Mr. Brogan’s assistance.”
When Owen finally took himself off, giving the two of them knowing looks and a silly grin, Caroline said to North, “He won’t give up, North, Owen’s right about that. He’s more stubborn than a stoat and more determined than a bishop in a roomful of infidels.” She stopped then and gazed up at him through her lashes. She swallowed. “ Perhaps I should marry. As you said, that would be the best way to ensure that he wouldn’t kidnap me again.”