Page 123 of A Castaway in Cornwall
So together they lingered over tea, coffee, and genial conversation for another hour. Mr. Gillan insisted Alexander give up his room at the inn and stay with him instead, saying, “Any friend of Mrs. Hilgrove is a friend of mine, and we men need to stick together. I’ve bought myself a fine little house not far from here. Not that I’m on dry land often enough to truly get my money’s worth, but I hope, someday, to settle down and have a real home.”
His gaze strayed to Susan at the words, then returned to Alex once more. “I would be honored to have you as my guest.”
“Thank you, sir. I accept,” Alexander said. “Though I shan’t be here much longer.”
Laura watched him as he said it, but he didn’t look her way.
The next day, Laura again rested in the protected garden, her shawl tucked around herself, a blanket on her lap. It was warmer in Jersey than in England, and she enjoyed the mildlate-autumn sunshine and sea breezes. She was feeling almost like her old self, with a clear mind, though she still tired more easily than before.
Aunt Susan and Mrs. Tobin were busy in the kitchen, and Alexander was with Mr. Gillan, finalizing arrangements for their departure.
Portly Dr. Braun came out to see her again, carrying a bottle of his prized fever elixir. “How are you this morning, Miss Callaway?”
“I am well, Dr. Braun, thank you.”
“Have you had your dose of medicine yet today?”
“Um ... not yet. I don’t think I need it any longer. I—”
“It’s important to continue the regimen for a full fortnight. Here, allow me.” He poured a generous dose into her cup of tea. “I shall leave the bottle with Mrs. Tobin and remind her to be more punctual in administering it.”
She managed a wan smile and dutifully picked up the teacup as the man returned to the house. As soon as the door closed behind him, however, she set the cup back down, planning to dump it out at an opportune moment.
Laura had just drifted off to sleep when the now-familiar creak of the garden gate woke her from her doze.
She opened her eyes, expecting to see Mr. Gillan or Alexander, but her anticipatory smile fell away.
François LaRoche.
“Well, well. Miss Callaway. We meet again.” He gave her a sly smile, and alarm bells sounded in her brain.
“Monsieur LaRoche.” Laura swallowed and sat up straighter. “What are you doing here?”
He sauntered nearer, Laura’s heart rate accelerating with each step.
“I have been to Jersey on several occasions in the past, though not in some time. I am here to renew old acquaintances.”
“Captain Carnell is not here,” she said, both relieved and grieved that Alexander was absent.
“Not now, perhaps, but as you are here, I know he cannot be far away, any more than a bee can resist the fair flower.”
His words might have been flattering from anyone else, but coming from him, it sounded suggestive and insulting. Should she call for help, and end up endangering her aunt and Mrs. Tobin in the process? She told herself to remain calm. To think.
Last she’d seen LaRoche, he was being held by the militia. She licked dry lips and said, “May I ask how you came to be here?”
“The usual way. By ship. Your friend Tom Parsons was happy to oblige. Always eager for an excuse to trade on the Channel Islands. I would have arrived sooner, but it took time to extricate myself from thestupideauthorities.”
“They let you go?”
He smirked. “Parsons is a persuasive man.”
Without invitation, he sat down beside her. She noticed him eye the tea tray on the table.
“May I offer you some refreshment,monsieur? You must be hungry and thirsty after your journey.”
“Pretending to be polite, are we?” He shrugged. “Eh bien.Don’t mind if I do.”
He wolfed down a biscuit, and she slid the untouched cup closer to him. “Help yourself.”
