Page 69 of The Cornish Widow

“Wherever have you been?” Lydia asked. “We were so worried. Bertha walked up to Rosudgeon to speak to Mrs. Trevelyan, but she had no idea where you could be. I stayed here, in case you came back, but you didn’t. Then we went to the alehouse on the other side of the cove, and they behaved most oddly.” She glanced at Bertha. “Bertha wanted me to wait outside, but I refused. I have no idea why men like ale houses so much—this one was so dark and smoky and altogether quite smelly. It didn’t have many customers, and, frankly, I could see why, Mama. The woman in charge told us you’d probably gone out on the captain’s ship. Why she thought that, I have no idea, but it does turn out she was right so she must have had some knowledge. She told us not to tell anyone else until the ship was back safely. She said it in an almost threatening fashion. I was quite scared.”

Bertha grunted and sat down with her own tea. “Miss Lydia’s right. It were more of a threat than advice. We decided to wait, as they said. If you weren’t back today, we were going to walk along the cliff path over to Roskilly and ask the people there for help, seein’ as how you know them and said as they was nice.”

Thank goodness they hadn’t. “I’ve only been gone two days.”

Bertha refilled Harriet’s dish of tea. It had been well-brewed and was strong and aromatic. “Nearer three, more like. We didn’t want to believe as you’d both fallen over the cliffs into the sea, like that old man in that dreadful cottage along the cliffs suggested. He looked as though he’d have liked it if you had. Kept saying you’d be like the old man who used to live here. I forget his name.” She sniffed. “He said if you was in the sea, then waiting’d do no harm.”

“I’m glad you did wait, and I’m very sorry we worried you so. Theo and I had a very interesting sail in The Fly. Theo has decided to become a sailor, even though he was quite sick at first.”

Theo, who’d been tucking into a large hunk of bread and honey, looked up. “No. I’m going to be a smug—”

“A sailor.” Harriet shot him a frown. “And don’t speak while you’re chewing. We don’t all want to share it with you.”

Theo took another bite of his bread and shut up. Thank goodness.

“I’ve the kettle on the range,” Bertha said, “for if you’d like a wash. I has to say that you looks like you could do with one.” She flicked a finger over Harriet’s hair. “And a hairbrush.”

A scarce quarter of an hour later, Harriet was in her bedroom wearing only her undergarments and, with difficulty, brushing out the tangles in her hair. Who knew wind and salty spray could have such an effect on a lady’s coiffure. What with having had no brush near her hair for the last twenty-four hours at least, nature had wrought devastation on her already somewhat unruly curls, not to mention her skin, which was not as pale as it once had been.

The door opened and Lydia slipped inside, an air of determination about her. “Would you like some help?”

Harriet handed her daughter the brush. “Only if you’re feeling gentle. If you are, then perhaps you might brush out the back of my hair for me. It’s terribly tangled.”

Lydia took the brush and started on her mother’s hair, humming gently as she worked, the effect being to lull Harriet into an almost somnambulant state.

“Mama?” Lydia interrupted their companionable silence. “Where did you sleep on the boat?”

Harriet bestirred herself. All that fresh air and tension and fear had made her far too sleepy. “On a pile of sails on deck, then later on in a hammock in the cabin.”

Lydia shivered. “That sounds most uncomfortable.”

“On the contrary, the hammock was one of the most comfortable beds I’ve ever slept in, and even the sails were more so than you would expect.”

“And Captain Jack? What was he like?” The question sounded guarded, as though Lydia were probing for something she suspected might be there. Had she seen them holding hands?

“Very polite and courteous.”

Lydia brushed on for a bit, teasing out the tangles with her fingers. “Mama? Might I ask you an impertinent question?”

She must have seen, or she wouldn’t be probing like this. Heat climbed Harriet’s throat to her cheeks. “So long as it’s not too impertinent.”

“Do you like Captain Jack?”

Now that was a question she’d been avoiding posing to herself because she didn’t want to answer it. Did she? And what sort of liking did Lydia want to know about? “He is very gentlemanly,” seemed the best answer for the moment.

“That is true. But I suspect he isn’t quite what he seems. When I was at the farm getting milk from Mrs. Voas, I overheard some of her workmen talking, in the yard.”

“You did?”

“Yes. They were talking about the brandy that was coming over from somewhere called Roscoff. Mama, I fear we were right from the start, and the captain’s ship is being used for smuggling.” She paused. “And I think the captain himself might be a smuggler as well.”

Not at all a revelation, but how to react? “Have you mentioned this to anyone?”

“Who is there to mention it to? I don’t see anyone here. Not like in Bath.” For a moment, Lydia was back to being petulant.

“You’re not to say anything to anyone.”

Lydia stopped brushing. “Did you know?” She paused. “Mama! Did he take you smuggling?” She came round to face Harriet. “Did Theo go smuggling too?”