Page 74 of The Cornish Widow

Chapter Thirty-Two

Lydia and Theo appeared as if by magic as breakfast was being set on the table, Lydia with her hair neatly controlled in a long braid, Theo with his sticking straight up in the air as though no brush had been applied to it in days, which of course it hadn’t. Bertha, used to Theo’s early morning appearance, attacked him with a wet flannel, mainly to smooth his hair into some semblance of order rather than to wash his face. Theo struggled, but was no match for Bertha’s strength and determination.

He sat at the table, a rebellious gleam in his eye. “Might I walk along the cliff path to Roskilly today, to see Yves Treloar? I want to tell him I’ve been out in The Fly. He’ll be green with envy. And maybe he’ll let me ride Blossom.” He beamed at Lydia. “I’m getting good at riding now and I only fell off twice when we were cantering on the beach.”

Lydia pulled a cross face at her brother.

Harriet set down the piece of toast she’d been nibbling. She didn’t much like the idea of him falling off horses, but he’d assured her Blossom was very small so not far to fall, and the sand was always a soft landing. “Yes, Theo, you may go, so long as you don’t ride up onto the cliffs. But I think I can trust you to be sensible, can’t I?”

Theo nodded with vigor and took a large bite out of his own toast and honey. “Thank you, Mama.”

Lydia pushed aside her plate. “Can I go with you this time? Mama said Yves has a girl cousin. I’d like to meet her.”

Theo’s face crinkled in suspicion. “Not just to keep an eye on me and report back to Mama? And not to try and ride Blossom? You’re far too big for her.”

Lydia shook her head. “Not at all. I miss my friends in Bath, that’s all. And I certainly don’t want to ride a tiny pony like Blossom. I’d just like a walk, as the rain’s stopped. Is it far?”

“About a mile and a half,” Harriet said. “But don’t mind me and your lessons, will you?”

Bertha snorted with laughter. “When did they ever mind you?”

“Can I go, please, Mama?” Lydia turned an appealing gaze on her mother. “And I can make sure he obeys you and doesn’t go anywhere near the cliffs.”

“I don’t need minding,” Theo interjected. “I’m twelve, not two. Haven’t you noticed I’m not in petticoats anymore?”

Lydia ignored this outburst and took a sip of tea, eyeing her mother.

Harriet pretended unwilling acquiescence. “If you promise that this afternoon when you return you’ll catch up with your schoolwork.” As this was more than likely going to make sure they stayed for both luncheon and teatime at Roskilly, she doubted she’d see either of her children again until nearly their bedtime, but what did it matter? If they were happy, she was happy, and that was all she cared about right now.

“Thank you, Mama!” Theo and Lydia were up from the table in a trice, and after Lydia had run up and down stairs a few times for various things she’d forgotten, and Theo had stood tapping his foot with impatience by the kitchen door, they finally set off, almost, but not quite, an endearing picture of sibling cooperation.

Without their vibrant presence, the cottage felt suddenly quiet and bare. Bertha rose from the table. “Well, I’m away up to the farm to buy us some milk and eggs and to see if they’ve any more of that nice cheese young Theo likes so much. After I’ve washed up.”

Harriet rose, too. “No need. Leave that to me. Here’s some money.” She fished in her reticule. “Why not spend the day with your friend? I’m happy in my own company here and will just clear the dishes and then sit outside in the sun while it’s out and take the opportunity to read a book. You go on up to the farm and see Mrs. Voas. No doubt she’ll be wanting to know what gossip you’ve got this time.” She smiled. “Only be careful what you tell her about mine and Theo’s adventures.”

Bertha made a small pretense of wanting to do the dishes, but Harriet ushered her off to find her bonnet and shawl, took the kettle from the range and filled the sink. Immersing her hands in the hot water, she began to wash their plates and cups.

Having planted a departing kiss on Harriet’s cheek, Bertha also departed, armed with a cake she’d baked for her friend, and now the house was really silent. Once the dishes were done, Harriet dried and put them away, then went to the table to sit and drink a second cup of tea.

The silence pressed in around her, almost heavy in its depth, as though it were shouting in her ears, and the tempting autumn sun shone in through the kitchen window. If she did what she’d told Bertha she was going to do and found herself a book, she could take a chair out onto the front and sit and read for a while, undisturbed. A pleasure rarely afforded her, even in Bath.

Now, where would Lydia have stored her small library?

She climbed the stairs to their bedroom and commenced a search. She soon found the small pile of books Lydia loved to read over and over again, mainly because they were the only ones she possessed, and selected Maria Edgeworth’s Irish tale of Castle Rackrent. She’d read it before, of course, but so she had all of the books that had once been hers but had somehow migrated to being Lydia’s possessions. Having found her own shawl, in case of autumn chill remaining, and with the book tucked under her arm, she descended the stairs, collected one of the kitchen chairs, and approached the kitchen door.

Setting her hand on it, she pulled it open.

Jack was standing on the doorstep, his beaver hat in one hand. His other hand was raised as though about to knock, and his expression was as taken aback as no doubt Harriet’s was.

“Oh,” she managed. “What a surprise to see you here.”

“And you,” he said, then uncharacteristically blushed, no doubt realizing the ridiculousness of having said it was a surprise to see her in her own house.

They stood for a moment, staring at one another, before Harriet remembered her manners. “I was about to sit outside and read a book.” She gestured to the chair. “For once in my life I find myself quite alone and with time to do as I wish. The children are gone to visit young Yves at Roskilly, and Bertha has walked up to the Voas’s farm for supplies. I said she could stay and talk to her friend for the day if she wished. I sounded kind but in truth, I just wanted some time to myself. But perhaps you would prefer to come inside and I could make a fresh pot of tea?”

Jack had about him an air of awkwardness that was quite unlike him. He shifted from one foot to the other, his grip on his hat tightening until the knuckles whitened. “I don’t want to disturb you if you’d rather be alone…” He made to turn away in a half-hearted manner.

The disturbing thought that she didn’t want him to leave shot through her. “No. Don’t go. I should very much enjoy your company. I only meant I wanted time away from being a mother.” She held up the book. “I was going to take the opportunity to read, but this is a book I’ve read before, several times, so it can wait.”