Page 63 of The Cornish Inheritance

Old Pascoe squinted up at her. “Yes, Miss?”

“Have they found Mr. Nathaniel?”

Yves shouldered his way in beside her. “Is he dead?”

What a question. How typical of a small boy.

Old Pascoe shook his head. “Not found him yet, Miss, but they sent me back to fetch a flat cart from the farm in case when they finds him, he can’t walk nor get back on a horse.”

Or if he were dead. But at least Pascoe sounded optimistic. Caroline withdrew her head and pulled Yves away from the window as he was leaning too far out. She didn’t want him accomplishing what his aunt wanted all by himself.

“Leave the window open,” Sir Hugh said. “We can hear better what’s going on, and it’s nice to get a bit of fresh air. I don’t get much of that because Rodgers thinks I’ll catch a chill.”

They returned to his bed.

Hetty, who hadn’t moved and was now chewing her nails, patted her grandfather’s hand. “Go on. Tell me what happened to Papa. I’ve never dared to ask Mama.”

The distraction would be good for her.

Sir Hugh covered her hand with his wrinkled, age-spotted one. “Nat and Kenver, your papa, went down the mine in the cage. Wheal True’s a deeper mine than Wheal Jenny and the main shaft runs straight, not like the ziggy-zaggy the miners have to do to get down Jenny’s ladder shaft.”

Yves scrambled back onto the end of the bed. “Maybe I should go and get Dash from the kitchens.”

Caroline shook her head. “He’s fine down there with Mrs. Teague.”

“He could be a search dog and follow Cousin Nat’s trail. He’s really good at sniffing out rabbits.”

“No, he couldn’t,” Hetty said. “And shut up. I want to hear this story.”

Despite herself, Caroline did too.

Sir Hugh sighed. “There was a roof fall when they were down the mine. The miners shore up the roofs with wood, you see, and there’s a lot of broken rock down there, lying about loose, that has to be held back out of the way. The miners have to follow the line the ore takes, and that’s never straight. They dig out stopes, which are like steps, and pile the rock up behind them as they go. A mine’s not a safe place at the best of times.” His eyes took on a faraway expression, as if he was remembering what it had been like down Wheal True, and what had happened to his younger son.

“Were they buried under the rocks?” Yves, typically tactless, asked.

Sir Hugh nodded. “Most of the miners in that adit were. By chance and good luck, Nat wasn’t. But his father was. And the fall let water into the mine from an abandoned working. They were at such a depth it was below high tide mark. The roof fall coincided with high water and it all came rushing in. The few miners who survived got Nat to the cage just in time, and the winding engine took them up to the surface.” He sighed. “Nat wanted to go back down to get his father straightaway, but we couldn’t, because of the water. We could only work down there when the tide was out. It took a week to clear the roof fall and fetch out the bodies.”

Hetty’s expression had not improved. This was not a cheery tale for a day when they were awaiting news of Nat.

“And my father?” Yves, ever the ghoul, asked.

“Your father went out one day in his little sailboat, for some fishing, and never came back. Simple as that. We never found his body, nor the boat.”

“What was the weather like on the day it happened?” Caroline asked.

“A fine day with a stiff breeze blowing. Good for sailing. Stayed fine all day. I remember it like it was yesterday. Your guess would be as good as mine as to what caused his little boat to sink, for sink it must have.”

“I don’t remember him much,” Yves said. “I think I was very little when that happened.”

“But I was right, wasn’t I?” Hetty put in. “Accidents happen to Treloar men. You’ll have to watch out, Yves, because after Nat, it’ll be you.”

Sir Hugh’s eyes met Caroline’s over their heads. “Wouldn’t you children like to play a game?” he asked, sounding hopeful.

Yves bounced off the bed again. “Oh yes. Draughts. Shall we go and fetch it from the library?” He looked a question at Caroline, hopping from one foot to the other in impatience.

Should she let them go? “As long as you promise to come straight back here. I shall be timing you.”

“Come on, Hetty,” Yves said. “I’m going to beat you at this.”