Page 35 of The Cornish Widow

Harriet shook her head. “I could never do that. She’s been my rock these recent months and before that as well.” Very true, although Bertha still didn’t know the extent of what had gone on between her master and mistress. No, that secret still lay clasped tight within Harriet’s heart.

Fitz’s eyes narrowed. “Ah, yes. In your loss.” He was looking at her as though he wanted to extract every ounce of her story from her and would know if she told him an untruth. “I’m sorry this has happened to you. It must be very difficult with two children to bring up.”

“I am managing tolerably well, thank you. Jack’s mother, Mrs. Trevelyan, very kindly has taken me under her wing.”

His eyes sharpened. “You have been inside Rosudgeon House?”

Harriet hesitated, the feeling that he was only here to mine her for information increasing. “I have. I walked up there to thank her for her kindness.” She sucked in her lips. “Have you not been there, Captain?”

“Fitz. Please call me Fitz.”

Why was it calling Jack by his Christian name felt natural, but calling the captain by his did not? Puzzling.

He shook his head. “Never. She occasionally might organize a dinner or a soirée, but I’ve never been lucky enough to receive an invitation in the three years I’ve been stationed down here in St Ives. Although I’ve dropped enough hints.” A sly look crept over him and his eyes narrowed still further. “Perhaps, if you were to be invited, as you are now friends with Mrs. Trevelyan, I might escort you there?”

The sensation that she was fencing with him grew, and so did the rate of her heartbeat. “If I am lucky enough to receive an invitation, then I shall most certainly think of you.” Oh no she wouldn’t. Far too dangerous. She managed to force a smile to cover the lie, the feeling of being naked under his gaze returning.

He encompassed the room with a quick glance. “How cozy you have made this cottage, and how fortuitous for you that you have it. I believe I’ve encountered your Aunt’s man of business down here in Penzance. Boase, a partner in the bank I use. A man with ambitions to be mayor. A bit of a dry stick of a fellow, but honest as the day is long. That’s what you want in a man who manages your business interests.”

Harriet bit her lip, cold sweat standing out down her back at the memory of her meeting with Mrs. Bolitho. “I had the pleasure of meeting my aunt by marriage while I was in Penzance yesterday. I called to offer her my heartfelt thanks for the provision of this cottage.”

“Ah, so you’ve met the old woman.” He set down his empty teacup and glanced up at the front window and the blue sky without. “You have my commiserations. But never mind that. She’s not here now. And we’re lucky it’s such a glorious day. Might I tempt you to a walk along the cliffs?”

From the sounds emanating from the kitchen, Lydia and Theo had finished their lessons and were helping Bertha. For some reason, she didn’t want Fitz anywhere near Lydia. The fear that her youth would not render her out of bounds to him had arisen. Perhaps she was maligning him, but best not to find out. “A little fresh air would be most welcome.” No, it wouldn’t, but she could see no other way to get him to leave. “I’ll just fetch my bonnet and shawl.”

Outside, the sun was still shining as Fitz picked up his hat and gloves from the bench and drew Harriet’s hand through his arm. He glanced in the direction of the kiddley. “Shall we head east?”

No. Not a good idea as she was sure he wanted to spy on it. The instinct to protect her neighbors, no matter what they were up to, rose in Harriet’s breast. Jack was undoubtedly a customer, and knew more than he should have done about the smuggling. “I haven’t explored the path to the west as yet,” she said, giving him a firm little pull. “Perhaps you could satisfy my curiosity by walking that way? I should very much like to see the headland views. My children tell me they are spectacular.”

A small frown marred Fitz’s all-too handsome face, but he acquiesced. He could have done nothing else and remained polite. “Very well. We shall explore territory unknown as yet to man nor beast. As though we were in the wilds of the Americas.”

She suppressed a smile. Despite the aura of danger surrounding him, there nevertheless remained a physical pull, a charm that some women, not her of course, might find difficult to resist. He probably had little trouble winning over the ladies he met. Not much chance of him charming her, though.

The narrow path west wound along close to the cliffs, which for the most part hid the tiny cove below the cottage. No sign of any ships approaching it today. Jack’s ship must be in Plymouth by now, unloading their cargo. Hopefully a legal one.

Ahead, Harriet’s attention was drawn by a decrepit, one-story, thatched cottage where it crouched against the heather-covered hillside. An old man sat outside it on a low stool, his skinny, gaitered legs outstretched before him, and a fishing net spread over his knees. Wielded by his gnarled old hands, a shuttle darted in and out of the net in a rapid weave.

He must have been deaf, as he didn’t look up until she and Fitz were almost upon him. Shaggy eyebrows jutted over a wizened, bearded face, and a toothless grimace that might have been a smile split his face. Not an edifying sight, but Harriet had seen worse amongst the beggars of Bath. She smiled back at him. “Good morning to you. A fine day to be sitting outside in the sun.”

The old man nodded a head whose shagginess matched his eyebrows, although the beard on his chin was wispy and thin, as though nature, having bestowed upon him such a fine, thick head of hair, had skimped elsewhere. “G’mornin’ to you, too, my luvver.”

The greeting, made with as broad a Cornish accent as Harriet had ever heard, might have offended a person less accustomed to Cornish vocabulary, but Harriet knew the term ‘my luvver’ was a much-used address amongst the working classes. Her own mother had used it from time to time, having learned it from her old nurse, and Bertha often said it to the children.

The old man’s faded blue eyes slid past Harriet and came to rest on Fitz, suddenly sharpening, as though in recognition. In a hurry, he bent his head over his net and resumed his job. “Gotta get on wi’ my work. No time to sit and pass the time o’ day, Missus.”

How odd. For a moment, it had seemed as though he was about to be friendly, until, that was, he’d laid eyes on Fitz. If Jack didn’t like Fitz, it seemed this old man didn’t either. But why? She could understand why Jack might see Fitz as someone to dislike, but why would some strange old man in the middle of nowhere look at him as though he were the devil incarnate? Did he, perhaps, know what Fitz represented? Did everyone locally know?

Fitz gave her arm a gentle pull. “Let’s move on. I don’t like the look of this character. A little disreputable for you to have for a neighbor. I hope your front door has a good lock.”

The old man grunted but didn’t raise his head at this insult, which he must have heard as Fitz hadn’t bothered to lower his voice. Perhaps not so deaf after all.

With only one quick backward glance to where the old man was now staring after them from beneath those shaggy brows, Harriet allowed herself to be escorted away from the hovel to where the path climbed onto the headland. Below the cliffs, surf thundered onto their rocky feet, and gulls wheeled in the breeze, calling harshly to each other. The wind snatched at Harriet’s hair, making her glad she had her bonnet.

“I believe there’s to be a ball at the assembly rooms in Truro very shortly,” Fitz said, his eyes scanning the coastline as though searching for something.

Should she consider it an insult that he wasn’t looking at her while he was talking to her? “Oh?” was all she could think of to say in reply, as she, too, scanned the horizon. Far out on the blue-green expanse, the red-brown sails of a few small fishing boats looked tiny. But no sign of any larger ships. An odd feeling of relief settled on her.

“I was wondering,” Fitz said, still not looking at her. “I was wondering if I might prevail upon you to attend? That is, unless you’d planned to go with Captain Trevelyan.”

Oh no. This needed nipping in the bud. “I fear, Fitz, that you have not fully understood my position here in Cornwall.” The sea breeze blew a strand of her hair across her face, and she had to tuck it behind her ear. “I am not at liberty to attend any social gatherings, either with you or with Captain Trevelyan, whom I do not know at all well, as not only am I still in mourning, but my… income… does not extend further than our day-to-day expenses.” It was oddly easier to admit this to him when he wasn’t looking at her. “So balls of any kind are out of the question.”

Indeed, they had been ever since she’d married Ben. As a girl of seventeen barely out of the schoolroom who’d only been to the one ball where she’d met him, she’d longed to attend some of the enticing social events in Bath, but he’d forbidden it. She was his, he’d said, and would not go disporting herself in public, especially not when he was away with his regiment. Which he had been most of the time. The one time she’d disobeyed him… well, she’d not done it again. The thought that she could disobey him now suddenly arose, but not temptingly enough to make her want to accept Fitz’s request.

He turned to look at her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel awkward. And I wrongly assumed that you and the brave Captain might already be friends as we came upon you riding together.”

So he did have some fellow feeling for others. She shook her head. “He merely offered to escort me to Penzance so I could see Mrs. Bolitho. His mother has been kind to me.” A small lie but an expedient one. “I don’t feel awkward. Apart from my lack of funds, as I said, I’m also still in mourning. I would not in all propriety be able to dance, so it would be a waste of time.”

He didn’t look at all bothered, so perhaps his question had been to find out her relationship to Jack. “Perhaps when you are out of mourning?”

She bowed her head. “Perhaps.” Only if she had her way that wouldn’t be for a very long time. If ever. With a little shiver, she drew her shawl closer about her shoulders. “This wind is chilly. Do you mind if we walk back now? It must be time for the children to have their luncheon.” As good a way as any to inform him that his visit was over.