Page 39 of Hold Me Fast
He gave way immediately when she pressed back against that arm.
“You’re awake,” he commented. “We’re nearly there, Tammie. No sign of any trouble.”
The mine manager said the same when they woke him, apologizing for the imposition. It was Thomas Penrose, whom she remembered from the years she had lived at Inneford House, though he was several years older than her and Jowan. Back then, he had been assistant to his father, the previous manager of this mine.
He recognized her, too. “Tamsyn Roskilly,” he commented. “You’ve brought her home, Sir Jowan.”
“I have, Thomas. But I had to extract her from the hands of an evil man who was trying to keep her against her will. We encountered his men on the way here and had to foil a kidnap attempt. That’s why we haven’t gone straight to Inneford—in case they are here ahead of us.”
“No strangers in the village that I have heard about,” Penrose said, “but why don’t you stay here for the night, and we’ll check out the area in the morning? You’ll be safe here, Miss Roskilly. There isn’t a man, woman, or child who isn’t proud of our own Cornish Lark, even if you did call yourself some outlandish thing while you were away.”
“Not my doing,” Tammie assured him. “The Earl of Coombe decided that Cornwall was as good as a foreign country to most of England and would not listen to what I wanted.”
“I remember him,” Penrose commented. “Obnoxious Englishman. Looked down his nose at all of us. Laughed at Sir Carlyon behind his back, and the rest of us to our faces. Is it him you’re running from?”
“It is,” she confirmed.
“Let him come, I say,” said Penrose. “Come on inside. Sir Jowan, you know the way to the drawing room. Fix your party something to drink against the cold, and I’ll sort out beds for you all, and stabling for the horses.”
“Perhaps the ladies would prefer a cup of something hot,” said a woman’s voice. A young woman of about Tammie’s age was on the stairs, dressed, but in a way that hinted the gown had been thrown on over her night rail, with the back left unlaced and a shawl worn to cover the gaps.
“My dear,” said Penrose. “We have guests for the night. Sir Jowan Trethewey you know, and Mr. Bran Hughes. Miss Roskilly and Mrs. Parkerdale, my wife. Virginia, Miss Roskilly is the Cornish Lark. You will have heard the folks around here speak of her. Mrs. Parkerdale is her companion. If you can manage a bedroom for the ladies, I’ll see to the carriage and then organize somewhere for the gentlemen to sleep.”
“I’ll see about your tea first,” Mrs. Penrose said. It wasn’t long, though, before all was sorted, and Tammie and Evangeline were tucking themselves into a large, low bed in what was clearly a child’s bedroom. Tammie fell asleep wondering who they had displaced.
Chapter Fifteen
Jowan and Branwent out with Penrose at first light, leaving Tamsyn and Evangeline with Mrs. Penrose and her children. The coachman and guard stayed behind to act as guards, and Penrose also warned his servants to keep watch.
They stopped by Wheal Trethewey first. The miners and smelterers were just gathering for work, so Jowan spoke to them before they went underground, telling them about Miss Roskilly’s desire to come home to Cornwall, Coombe’s efforts to stop her from leaving or even seeing Jowan, the rescue, and the attack at the inn.
He was heartened by the shouts of approval for his actions, and the grumbles against foreigners.
“She’s one of ours, men, and she has come home. I mean for her to be safe here in St Tetha. Are there strangers hereabouts? They might have been sent by Coombe.”
“There’s that mine fellow,” shouted one of the men.
“Aye, Thatcher,” said another. “He be tromping about telling us you don’t have the money for the new mine. Is that true, Sir Jowan?”
Thatcher! So, this was where that villain went. “It’s a damn lie,” Jowan told the questioner. “Bran and I went to see him in London and found he was trying to steal from us. Getting people to put money into the mine just so he and his partner could run off with it. He and his partner were arrested, but they let him out of prison while he was waiting for his trial, and he ran away. Bran and I found our own investors and we can start whenever we like.”
“If you know where he is staying, tell me,” Bran added. “I have a few words to say to him before I hand him over to the magistrate.”
A couple of the men chuckled. “He’s staying with the magistrate, Mr. Hughes, so that’ll be right easy.” The local earl, Lord Trentwood, was also the magistrate. The job was normally a sinecure, but today the man might have a bit of work to do.
“He’s the only one,” one of the others commented. “The only stranger, that is. That I know of.” He looked around at the other miners, eliciting a buzz of agreement.
“You’ll let me know if that changes?” Jowan asked.
“Aye. That we will, sir,” the miners agreed, and several commented they would be happy to do whatever they could for Miss Roskilly.
The word was the same in the village. The only stranger was Thatcher, who had been there for several days, doing his best to stir trouble. “We played dumb,” one of the shopkeepers told him. “Didn’t know what he was at, but we weren’t going to believe a foreigner over you, Sir Jowan. You’ve dealt fairly with us since the day you took over from your Pa.”
“Bran, you call by Inneford and see there’s no sign of Coombe or his men, and I’ll visit the earl,” Jowan suggested.
“Perhaps I should send for the earl to meet me at the inn,” Penrose suggested. “If this Thatcher fellow gets wind of you being here, he will take off again.”
That was a good plan, so Bran headed for Inneford House, and Penrose and Jowan walked back to the inn, which had been one of their first stopping points.
