Page 17 of The Smuggler & the Society Bride

Eva’s sister—a prostitute! Honoria had seen Barques of Frailty on parade in Hyde Park in their fancy equipages, attended by a crowd of wild young bucks. Or flaunting their fine gowns and diamonds in opera boxes, while she giggled behind her fan with her faster friends over rumours of which rotund lord had which jewel-bedecked charmer in keeping.

Occasionally, outside the theatre, she’d glimpsed the slender figures of girls silhouetted by lamplight in the alleys near Covent Garden, before she took her seat in the carriage and the footman closed the door. They’d seemed like shadow figures, denizens of a dark and sinister world far removed from her own.

But for Laurie, sister to little Eva, daughter of that worn fisherman’s widow, to be a doxy? Someone she knew, had spoken to, who had seemed entirely ordinary?

Her mother would probably faint, the priest at Stanegate shake his head in sorrow, but Honoria could understand why a woman of great beauty and few choices might decide to take a rich lover and make the best life she could in the circumstances. But to service coaldust-grimy miners in a backwater Cornish town? The thought appalled.

What could have made Laurie choose such a path? Had she, like Honoria, been ruined by some rogue? Compromised by a lover who abandoned her to face the consequences of her indiscretion alone?

If she’d lost her virtue—and with it, her chance to make a decent marriage—those consequences would be bleak indeed. With her father dead, little work available and no other resources, how else could a girl help her family survive?

If Mr Hawksworth only knew, it was not her place to judge Laurie. After a month of fretting and bemoaning her fate, for the first time she realized, despite all that had happened, how very fortunate she was. Because save for an accident of birth, it might have been her, rather than Miss Steavens, struggling with a drunken miner outside some stone hut.

Honoria uttered an immediate—and somewhat guilty—prayer of thanks that she had been spared such a fate. Her heart twisting with grief for the reality with which Laurie’s family struggled, she vowed to do everything in her power to assist them.

Chapter Nine

Honoria hadn’t expected to return to town before Sunday, but two days later, she received a note from Father Gryffd asking if Miss Foxe could meet him at the vicarage the following day to consult about the school. Since a package awaited Aunt Foxe at the post and the restlessness that often drove Honoria was bedeviling her, she jumped at the chance to do a favour for her aunt and advance the scheme that might be of some practical use to Eva and her family.

With a package to collect, this time she took a gig. The vicar must have been keeping watch, for as soon as she pulled up, a servant came forward to take the horse and Father Gryffd trotted down the front steps to meet her.

After an exchange of greetings, he said, ‘I’ve had an idea of where we might set up the school. Before proceeding any further, I wanted you to see it and tell me what you think. If you will follow me?’

He led her down a pathway into the garden and past some fragrant roses that immediately recalled to her the stroll she’d had here with Captain Hawksworth just a few days ago.

How did a free-trader pass his time, she wondered. At sea, testing his boat? Idling about the inn quaffing ale, waiting for foolish maidens to rescue?

‘Just around here,’ the vicar interrupted her thoughts, pointing past a hedge to a small stone building with a row of south-facing windows.

‘The previous vicar, a great devotee of gardening, had this planting house constructed. It houses tools on the far side, but on this side with all the windows, he set up benches on which to start seed and propagate plants. The structure had fallen into disuse, but I recalled it when pondering where we might set up school and had the servants sweep and clean. It’s large enough to accommodate a dozen children. Do you think it will do?’

Honoria surveyed the light, open space with approval. ‘I think it charming! I might have received fewer raps on my knuckles if I’d had that lovely view of the woods to gaze upon while I studied French and geography.’

The vicar beamed. ‘I’ll see to fitting it out at once. Now, would you step inside the parlour? I’ll have Mrs Wells bring us some tea.’

‘I should like that. Then you can explain to me more about how you’d like me to assist at the school.’

They were walking back across the churchyard when Laurie Steavens approached and gave them a quick curtsy. ‘Excuse me, Father, Miss Foxe. Robbie Lowe come by the Gull, saying he’d seen Miss Foxe’s gig here. I thought you might be talking about the school, so I hurried down to tell you Ma would love to have Evie come, if you’re sure she won’t inconvenience nobody.’

‘I’ll not let anyone harm an innocent child, Miss Laurie,’ Father Gryffd said gently. ‘Tell your mother we thank her for sparing Eva to us for a few hours. I’ll send you word at the Gull when school is ready to begin.’

Laurie nodded. ‘Thank you again, Father.’

Honoria watched the conversation, not sure what to say or do. Staring at Laurie now, despite knowing of her other occupation, the girl still had a fresh-scrubbed, country maid look that made it hard for Honoria to credit she actually traded her body for coin.

Disbelief, pity and revulsion warring with an awful fascination, she surfaced from her reverie to discover Laurie watching her, silently enduring Honoria’s fascinated scrutiny.

The flush on her cheeks and the slightly defensive angle of her chin said Laurie must have figured someone had informed Miss Foxe she worked as more than a simple chambermaid at the Gull.

Honoria flushed, too, embarrassed to be caught staring and not wanting the girl to think she looked on her with disapproval, despite the occupation she’d been forced to. ‘I’m so glad Eva will be able to attend. But we don’t know the language of signs she developed with your mother. Can you give us some hints on how we might communicate with her?’

Laurie’s brows lifted, as if surprised Honoria had deigned to speak to her. Finally she replied, ‘Just tell her what you want her to do. She hears as fine as anyone. And her gestures are easy to figure out.’ She smiled slightly. ‘For a lady as understanding as you, Miss Foxe, I don’t think you’ll have no trouble.’

I understand more than you could ever know, Honoria thought. ‘When she learns to read and write, she’ll be able to let people around her know exactly what she thinks and feels, even if she never speaks a word.’ Recalling the girl’s obvious delight in flowers and the way she had looked back just at the moment Honoria was speaking to Father Gryffd about her, she added, ‘She seems to sense and appreciate her world very well already. Maybe she’ll be a poetess, able to describe the wonders of the Cornish sea and cliffs so people from far away can see them as she does.’

Laurie’s lips trembled. ‘I think she might be. She’s so clever and good! Much better than me.’

‘We’re about to have tea, Miss Laurie. Would you care to join us?’

Even knowing Father Gryffd was a shepherd of the lost, Honoria was a bit startled that the vicar would bid a girl guilty of so notorious a sin to take tea in his parlour.

Her surprise was nothing to the shock widening Laurie Steavens’s eyes. The girl inhaled sharply and gaped at him, as if she couldn’t credit what she’d just heard. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes before she dashed them away.

‘That’s powerful kind of you, Father,’ she said huskily, ‘but I couldn’t possibly. Only imagine what your parishioners would think if they found out!’

‘I should hope they would applaud my offering hospitality to a neighbour,’ Father Gryffd replied.

‘Thank you, Father. But it wouldn’t be fitting. I must get back to the Gull, anyways. Afore I go, Miss Foxe, Ma asked me give you these. To thank you for your kindness to Eva—and to me.’

From her apron pocket she extracted a pair of knitted gloves and held them out tentatively, as if half-expecting Honoria to refuse them.

Honoria didn’t need the vicar’s urgent look to know she must accept them at once. ‘It’s not at all necessary, but how very kind of your mother.’

Holding them in her hands, Honoria immediately noticed the warmth of the thick wool. A closer glance revealed they were knit in a wonderfully intricate pattern of braids and knots. ‘They are lovely! Your mother is very skilled.’

Laurie smiled. ‘Pa always said Ma knits the handsomest gloves and sweaters in Cornwall! That’s good wool, full of lanolin; they’ll keep your hands warm even if the gloves get wet.’

‘Please tell your mother how grateful I am, and how excited we are Eva will be able to come to school.’

‘Just send word to me at the Gull when she needs to be here,’ Laurie said. ‘Glad you like the gloves, Miss Foxe. Good day to you both.’ With another curtsy, she turned and walked back toward the inn.

Thoughtfully Honoria watched her walk away. Turning to the vicar, she realized he was watching Laurie with even keener interest—and an almost wistful expression.

Was the vicar, as she was, wondering how this lost sheep might be brought back to respectability? Or did he have a more personal interest in the lovely Cornish lass?

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