Her Longed-For Family

“Good. What about this bold black-and-white kitten?”

“He appears ready to chase the mice already, so Helhwur would be a good name. It means hunter.”

“And the tiger? What is the Cornish word for tiger?”

She laughed. “Tiger.”

“I think we can do something better than that.”

“Tegen would be a good name for her, because the word means pretty thing.”

He rubbed the kitten’s head. “Would you like that name, Tegen?” A tiny pink tongue brushed his wrist, and he chuckled. “I will take that as a yes.”

She watched as he continued talking to the kittens as if they could comprehend every word he spoke. His hands, calloused from his work at the mine, were gentle on the kittens. Exactly as they had been with the children. Lord Warrick would be a caring and loving father. A twinge of envy twisted her heart at the thought of him holding his own son and teasing him as he had Gil.

Envy was an ugly emotion, but she could not pretend she did not feel it. She was envious of Lord Warrick and his future wife and their children. How many nights had she silently cried herself to sleep, knowing she had failed—again!—to give John a child? He had tried to act as if being childless did not bother him, but she could not forget how often he spoke, in the months after they were first wed, of the family they would have together.

She had to leave before the tears burning her throat reached her eyes. Telling Lord Warrick she needed to hurry to Cothaire, she handed him the tiger kitten. She rushed through the stable, even though she knew she could never escape her greatest failure.

Chapter Four (#ulink_a3dbafa2-9af3-5c91-bdb1-3f185c74bd70)

On Sunday morning, Caroline looked up from adjusting Gil’s shirt and smiled as she heard hurried footsteps on the main staircase. Arthur’s wife, Maris, chased Bertie, another little boy rescued from the boat.

“Slower, Bertie!” Maris called, putting up her hand to resettle the bonnet perched on her golden hair. Caroline’s new sister-in-law was lovely, both inside and out, and Arthur had been unable to resist falling in love with her.

Catching the little boy as he tried to stop beside Gil and skidded past instead, Caroline chuckled. “You need a strong set of reins on this colt, Maris.”

“I agree.” She picked up Bertie and hugged him. “That might help me keep track of him.”

“Look for Arthur, and you will find Bertie.” The child spent every possible moment with her brother. “Oh! I almost forgot. Baricoat told me a letter arrived for Arthur this morning. I suggested he wait to deliver it until you two were ready for church. I know Arthur arrived home late last night. I thought he might want to sleep a bit later this morning.”

Maris looked up, her face taut. “How do you know he came in late?”

“Joy is teething.” She adjusted the sleeping baby in her arms. “I was up most of the night walking the floor with her, and I happened to be by the window when Arthur rode in. Is everything well?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

Caroline hesitated, not wanting to state the obvious about how Maris had tensed at the mention of Arthur being out late. The Trelawneys were accustomed to Arthur, in his role as their father’s eyes and ears, being out at all hours as he traveled from one tenant farm to another. Perhaps it was a sore point between the newlyweds, but that made no sense. Maris had been as aware as the rest of them of the long hours Arthur kept.

Rather than ask the question taunting her, Caroline said, “I wanted to remind you that any help you need from me, you have only to ask.”

“Thank you.” Maris’s smile returned, and the conversation turned to the children, who discussed who would sit on which seat in the family’s carriage.

Arthur came down the steps, looking refreshed. He greeted Caroline with a kiss on the cheek and teased the boys, so the children were giggling as they went out to the waiting carriage. Swinging the boys inside, he gave his new wife a loving smile before he handed her into the vehicle.

Nothing seemed amiss, but Caroline could not shake the feeling something was.

* * *

“May I?”

Caroline put down the prayer book she had been helping Gil hold and smiled at Lord Warrick’s flushed face. From the cold or his obvious rushing, or was he blushing as every eye in the sanctuary was aimed at him? His greatcoat had fallen open, and she noticed his waistcoat was covered with dust and grime. Had he come from the mines?

From the pew across the aisle, Charity Thorburn scowled in their direction. The woman seldom smiled, and she seemed happiest when she was finding fault with others. Caroline had learned to ignore her petty comments. Mrs. Thorburn had always been prickly, but since her husband’s death, her bad temper had taken a turn for the worse.

“When they are late, most people remain at the back of the church,” Caroline could not resist saying to Lord Warrick with a smile.

“I thought, by now, you would have known I don’t do things the proper way. Besides, there was not any room there.” He gestured toward the pew where she sat with the children and asked again, “May I?”

“Of course.” She edged aside, continuing to bounce Joy on her knee.

Letting the prayer book drop with a thump on to the wooden pew, Gil scrambled over her lap and sat between her and the baron. He began to tell Lord Warrick about everything that had happened that morning, his voice rising with his excitement.

Caroline put her finger to her lips and whispered, “Remember? As quiet as a church mouse, Gil. Parson Raymond is about to begin the service.”

The little boy nestled against her side, and she put her other arm around him. It was easier to cuddle him now that Joy was able to sit up on her own. She thanked God as she had every day since the children were brought ashore. There had been an emptiness in the Trelawney family since the deaths of her mother and her husband. Six small children helped fill that void.

Toby, the boy they guessed was the oldest, was perched on her sister-in-law Elisabeth’s lap. He had recently begun to call Elisabeth mama and announced he wanted to be a parson like his “papa.” The twin girls who sat on either side of her sister, Susanna, were about a year younger, and they were blossoming in the care of Susanna and her husband. The irrepressible Bertie was close to Toby’s age, and the only time Caroline ever saw him sit still was in church.

Lord, I know I should not ask for You to let the children remain with us because there must be families missing them. You have a plan for them as You do for each of us. I cannot help hoping that plan includes the children staying with us a while longer.

She murmured a silent, “Amen,” before turning her attention to the verse Raymond had chosen for the service.

He read from the eighteenth Psalm: “For who is God save the Lord? Or who is a rock save our God? It is God that girdeth me with strength, and maketh my way perfect.”

Bending her head to hide her smile, she knew her brother could not have chosen a more apt verse that morning. Her heart felt more at ease by the time they stood to sing a final hymn at the end of the service.

“Talk now?” asked Gil before her brother had time to step from the raised pulpit.

“Yes,” she said with a chuckle. “But talk while you put on your coat.”

Gil picked it up and frowned when it was upside down. He tried turning it, but now he had it inside out and upside down.

“Let me help you, young man.” Lord Warrick winked over Gil’s head at her.

“Thank you,” she said.

Neither Lord Warrick nor Gil heard her reply because they were chatting again. Gil was very anxious about whether it would snow soon or not. As the baron answered him, explaining about wind currents and storm clouds, the little boy listened in fascination. Somehow, Lord Warrick made the information simple enough for a child but did not sound as if he were talking condescendingly to Gil.

Putting Gil’s hat in place, the baron said, “Now it is Lady Caroline’s turn.” He lifted her coat from the pew and held it up for her to put her arms through the sleeves. As she did, he said more softly, “I do have a few manners.”

“More than a few.” She hoped he had not felt her quiver as his warm breath caressed her nape. “Thank you.” She edged away as far as she could in the narrow space between the pews.

“And thank you for letting me sit with you and the children.” He stepped into the aisle, which was emptying quickly as the parishioners went out the door. “I was late because I foolishly decided to go into the attic to see what might be available for making the house ready for my family.”

“What did you find?” she asked as she halted Joy from tearing a page from the prayer book and stuffing it in her mouth as she did with everything.

“A jumble extraordinaire. Crates and furniture and luggage and trash in no visible order. The truth is I have no idea where to begin. I moved dozens of boxes and trunks, but didn’t make a dent in what has been tossed any which way into the attic. I wonder how many generations have left their castoffs up there and forgot about them.”