Page 40 of A Castaway in Cornwall
“Nothing to speak of. Thankfully, there was sufficient balance in my school account to pay for that additional year of education in Truro. Our housekeeper brought a few of my belongings, mementos, and letters, but she sold the rest to pay the bills and closed up the house, planning to retire.”
“And your father’s medical practice?”
“He had a young partner who succeeded to it.”
“Did your aunt on Jersey lose her husband as well?”
Laura nodded. “Uncle Matthew wrote to my uncle, Major Hilgrove, via the garrison, but the letter was returned markedDeceased. Evidently, both my aunt and uncle died.”
“I see.”
Yet Laura’s thoughts were not on finances or arrangements but on her parents.Oh, Mamma! Papa! Whydid you have to go? Why did you leave me all alone?
They had very willingly left Laura, their only remaining child, to go to her sister in far off Jersey. Laura had certainly felt cast aside then. She supposed she always would.
That conversation with her parents had broken her heart.They’d called her into the sitting room with a strange formality and shut the door behind her. Her mother, red-haired and bespectacled, had sat on the sofa, gripping a letter, while her father had stood, looking restless and ill at ease.
Her mother began, “Laura, we have something to tell you.” Then she turned to her husband and prompted, “My dear...?”
Dr. Callaway cleared his throat. “Your mother and I are traveling to Jersey, one of the Channel Islands. Remember I pointed it out on the map?”
“Yes, Papa, I remember.” Since baby Charles had died, her father shifted more of his energies to Laura, educating her and sharing details of his day and his practice as never before.
Laura immediately assumed her parents would take her along. She was only twelve, after all. “I look forward to seeing it with you.”
With an apologetic glance, her father said gently, “I am afraid that is not the plan. This is not a holiday. You, my dear, are to go to school. You will like that. Such an intelligent girl and eager learner as you are.”
“I don’t want to go to school. I want to go with you.”
Her mother’s grip on the letter tightened. “Laura, it is for your own good. Don’t make a fuss. You are a young lady now, and it is time to act like one. I did not cry and throw a tantrum when my parents sent me to school.”
Laura felt wrongly accused. A tantrum? She wasn’t happy but had not even raised her voice—yet. She defended, “But your parents visited you on Sundays. I remember Grandmamma telling me. And you went home for Christmas. Your family was just up the road in Basingstoke, a mere thirty miles away, not hundreds of miles across the ocean.”
Mother glared through her small spectacles. “Jersey is only across the English Channel. Don’t exaggerate.”
“Why can I not go with you? I am sure travel would be highly educational. And when we get back, if you still want to send me away to school, I shan’t complain then. I promise.”
Her father sent Mamma a plaintive look. “My dear, if she does not want to go...”
Sara Callaway shook her head. “Don’t forget why we are going. There are risks. And I will need to focus on my sister, not worry about Laura’s health and safety.”
Laura frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“I have received a letter from your aunt Susan,” Mamma explained. “She is ill and needs our help.”
“I will gladly help,” Laura insisted, turning to her father. “You’ve always said I was a good helper to you, Papa. Is that not so?”
“Of course you are, my dear. But—”
“Don’t give in to her,” her mother snapped. “Somehow she always manages to wrap you around her little finger. Now, let us not quarrel about this, especially in front of Laura.” Her mother gestured toward the door. “Laura, please go to your room while your father and I discuss this further.”
Laura rose and stalked out. As she trudged up the stairs she heard her mother say, “I know you will miss her, but...”
The door shut, muffling their voices and leaving Laura to guess at the rest of the sentence. “I know you will miss her, but I won’t?” Or “I don’t want her underfoot? I want to focus on my sister.” Yes, her sister was more important to her than her daughter.
In the end, her parents had remained firm in their resolve to send Laura to school and travel to Jersey without her. A few days later, they drove to the girls’ seminary in a post chaise, her baggage stowed in the boot, and theirs as well. They would be traveling on to meet their ship after dropping her off. Laura satstiffly throughout the journey, staring out the window, avoiding their gazes and answering only in the briefest syllables when necessary. When she glimpsed the sadness in her dear papa’s eyes, she was tempted to relent, but then the chaise turned into the drive of the school.
The grey stone edifice looked ancient and formidable, and a shaft of fear joined the bitterness in Laura’s heart. The building looked almost ... gothic ... like an abandoned abbey or haunted manor in one of the paperback novels from the circulating library. Her pulse beat like a death knell. This was a nightmare. If the door were answered by a hunchbacked giant or wart-nosed witch, she would not be surprised.
