Page 134 of A Castaway in Cornwall
Most sincerely,
Miss Laura Callaway
When he refolded the letter, Léonie said, “I hope it is not from the navy, offering you another commission.”
Funny that his sister-in-law should express the same concern Laura had. Duty had compelled Alexander to write to his superiors to inform them he was back in France. But his letter had been met with silence.
“No. A letter from a ... friend.”
“So the post is now getting through?”
“At least from Jersey.”
“Ah. The woman who rescued you and nursed you to health?”
He had already given them an abbreviated account of his escape, shipwreck, and journey from Cornwall. But he had left out certain details.
“Yes, though she had help from the nurse next door and a young doctor.” He chuckled awkwardly. “It was a group effort.”
“But she is the one who helped you get home.”
“Yes.”
Léonie watched him closely. “She remains on Jersey?”
He nodded. “Her aunt lives there. Her last living blood relative. They have been reunited after many years apart. She hasn’t anyone else.”
“Has she not?”
He looked at his sister-in-law, saw the arched brow, and said, “She is not remaining on my account, if that is what you are implying.”
“What is her name, this rescuer of yours?”
“Laura. Er, Miss Callaway.”
With a mischievous grin, Léonie asked, “And is Laura Er Miss Callaway pretty?”
He took a deep breath. “She is.”
“And young?”
“Perhaps too young. Only three and twenty.”
“I was even younger when I married Alan.” Léonie ran her fingers over the pillow fringe. “Had she no suitors before you came along?”
He considered. “There is one young man who admires her. He took us as far as he could in his ship until a revenue cutter forced him to set us ashore. He would do anything for her, I think.” He recalled coming upon the two of them in Mrs. Tobin’s parlour, hand in hand. Laura had said they were only friends, but Treeve, he guessed, wanted more.
“She did not return his admiration?” Léonie asked.
“Not then, no, though perhaps in time.”
“Why did you not bring her here?”
“Why would I? There is a war on. I am a French officer, and she is British. Besides, I was focused on Father and Alan. There were too many uncertainties.”
“And now?”
He looked at her, then away again. “There are still too many uncertainties.”
