Page 49 of Hold Me Fast
At dinner that night, they were able to report on a successful day. “The solicitor is going to draw up a suit against Coombe for loss of earnings, using the sums in the passbook as a basis for the amount,” Tamsyn reported. “He will write a response to Coombe’s breach of contract claim, saying that I am not aware of any such contract, and asking for a copy.”
“Hopefully, that will settle things with that horrible man,” Evangeline said.
Tamsyn doubted that it would. Coombe was used to having his own way and would assume any court case was certain to go his way.
“What about the bank?” Bran asked. “Is the account still in existence?”
“It is,” Tamsyn confirmed. “The surprise is that it is in my name! I just had to prove I was who I said I was, and since they knew Jowan and he vouched for me, there was no problem. They are sending the passbook to Plymouth to have it updated, but as far as they know, no withdrawals have ever been made from the account.”
If that proved to be true, Tamsyn was surprisingly well off. She really did not want to dwell on how much money she might have in case it all proved to be a chimera.
“In any case, I have done what I can,” she said, “and lost a day in doing so. Now I am available again to help with the wedding. Evangeline, what are the plans for tomorrow?”
Chapter Nineteen
Bran made asplendid groom. Jowan could not help but wish it was him, and that the bride was Tamsyn, but he kept his feelings to himself and devoted himself to making certain his brother was dressed appropriately and at the church ahead of time. Bran, usually the more level-headed of the two of them, was so busy imagining everything that might prevent the wedding from going ahead that he kept losing track of what he was meant to be doing.
They had spent the night in the village inn since all three women insisted it would be bad luck for Bran to see the bride on the day of the wedding, and Bran had been conjuring possible disasters since Jowan woke in the early hours of the morning to find his brother pacing the floor.
“No, Evangeline is not going to have second thoughts,” Jowan said. He’d been saying that in one version or another most of the day. And that the weather had been fine for a week so the vicar who was coming to officiate at the wedding would not be prevented from fording any of the three waterways—more brooks than rivers—between the rectory and St Tetha. In the unlikely event that one or more of the bridges that had stood for a century or more chose today to fail.
Apparently, Bran was going to be marginally insane until he had his ring on Evangeline’s finger, for a runaway bride and flooded rivers were only the least unlikely of the disasters he had conjured.
Still, it would not be long now. From his post at the door between the vestry and the nave, Jowan was able to report that the church was filled almost to bursting with their friends and their neighbors, and more people were gathered outside—the estate’s tenants, miners from the family’s mines, and others, less closely connected to Bran and Jowan.
Patricia came down the aisle. The bride must be close behind. Patricia and Tamsyn were planning to stay with her until Lord Trentwood, who was going to give the bride away, arrived to escort Evangeline. Jowan nudged Bran and the pair of them left the vestry by the outside door to hurry to the lych gate leading into the churchyard.
They were in time for Bran to hand his bride down from the Trentwood carriage. The happy couple would walk up the aisle together, with Lord Trentwood proudly following them and the two official witnesses, Jowan and Tamsyn, walking behind him.
All of Bran’s worries must have evaporated. He helped Evangeline from the carriage with his heart in his eyes and a broad grin on his face, and she looked as besotted as he did.
The bride and groom were leading the way into the church. Jowan offered Tamsyn his elbow, and they set off after Lord Trentwood. “Isn’t Evangeline a picture?” Tamsyn whispered.
Jowan nodded, and it was true. Perhaps it was her happiness that took her from passably pretty to beautiful, or perhaps it was her gown or something the other ladies had done with her hair or her bonnet.
Despite Bran’s fears, nothing happened to spoil the ceremony or, indeed, the day. From the bride’s arrival at the church to waving the happy couple off from Inneford House after a delicious wedding breakfast, the day was perfect.
Once they were gone, the part of the day Jowan had dreaded most arrived. Tamsyn and Patricia had accepted an invitation from Lady Trentwood to stay until Evangeline and Bran returned or until their cottage was ready, whichever came first.
Jowan had argued that Patricia, as a widow of mature years, was chaperone enough for Tamsyn to stay, and Tamsyn might have been convinced, but Lady Trentwood overruled Jowan. “People will talk, Trethewey. People are already talking, but we shall at least stop their mouths over this matter. Also, I do not doubt that my support shall be of value in squelching the gossip. Miss Roskilly is accepted at the highest levels of London Society, or so I am informed. I am determined that those narrow-minded people in St Tetha who regard theatre people with such disdain shall be forced to think again when it comes to our Cornish Lark.”
So, the day ended with Jowan alone in Inneford House. Alone, that is, apart from the servants, who were having a celebration of their own in the servant’s hall and would not welcome their master putting a damper on their company by joining them. He sat in the library with a glass of brandy and did his best to brood, but scenes from the day kept interfering with his determination to be morose.
Bran and Evangeline when they first saw one another outside the church. Evangeline’s face as she said her vows. The pride on Bran’s face when the rector presented him and his wife to the congregation. The song Tamsyn sang so beautifully during the signing of the register, not skipping a beat when it was her turn to sign as witness. Evangeline’s swollen lips, disarranged bonnet, and bright color when the newlyweds’ carriage arrived at Inneford House.
So many special moments. Jowan wanted them for his own. His and Tamsyn’s. He had promised to give her time to know herself, but he had not promised not to court her, had he? Would that be a breach of the agreement? He wasn’t sure, but he intended to find out. Tonight, he would stop feeling sorry for himself and go to bed, and tomorrow, he would pick Tamsyn a posy of flowers and make a formal afternoon call when Lady Trentwood was accepting visitors.
*
Jowan was courtingTamsyn. He took her a posy of flowers the day after Bran’s wedding. That first posy was followed by dozens of others—every morning, rain or shine, picking the day’s flowers was his first task, and if his work commitments meant he was unable to pay a call to deliver them, he would send them with a groom and a note.
He begged leave to escort Tamsyn and Patricia to church on Sunday and it became a regular practice. He invited her to walk with him on the village green and to visit the inn’s private parlor for tea and cake, meeting Patricia there for propriety’s sake.
He bought her little gifts—a pair of gloves, a china dish for trinkets, a box of fudge in fancy wrappers. Tamsyn protested that he would set the gossips quacking, but he said they could quack away, for he had nothing that they could turn into anything but the truth—Sir Jowan Trethewey was courting the Roskilly girl. The one who had gone away to be a singer and had become famous.
And rich, at least by local standards. That had come as a shock. The bank in Plymouth had written asking her to present herself with evidence of her identity since someone else had recently claimed the account in her name.
Jowan went with her when she met the bank manager. “The Earl of Coombe claimed he was your guardian, Miss Roskilly,” the man told her. “He was able to show us a contract with your mother, but he was not able to produce any evidence that he was executor or trustee of the account, and it was evident from the date on the contract that it was no longer valid. Without any authority from you to release the money to him, we refused.”
