Caught in a Cornish Scandal by Eleanor Webster (best books for 20 year olds TXT) 📕

‘Of course it is.’

They started down the steep path, walking with care, their footsteps sending occasional tinkling cascades of pebbles. It was not overly steep, tending to follow a switchback formation. They paused at a plateau where the trail levelled. The weather had cleared, for once, and the sea shimmered blue under clear skies.

‘I am doing this because these people need justice. If Jason is the wrecker, it might have been him on the beach. He could be alive and you are unnecessarily covering for him by saying you fought and he fell in the sea.’ Millie spoke in her calm, blunt way, arms crossed as she stared seawards.

‘You still think I was wrong last night.’

‘Yes.’ She started walking again. ‘I understand why you want to protect your sister, but, whether you believe me or not, I have faith in the truth.’

He remembered how his mother would say ‘the truth shall set you free’. It was from the Bible, but she also knew it in Greek.

‘My mother said she believed in the truth.’ The words came out with a bitter twist and he wished he could reel them back.

‘She did not live up to those words?’ Millie asked.

‘No.’ They walked for a while in silence. That was the thing he’d noticed about Millie, she did not rush to talk. She did not fear silence. ‘She chose not to tell me that she was dying.’

‘That must have been such a shock.’

‘I was eight. I should have known,’ he said.

‘We do not see things we do not want to see.’

‘I remember wondering how I could not have known. She was wasting away, turning into a ghost. And why did not she tell me if she believed in “truth” so much? Did I not have the right to know, to say goodbye?’

‘You had the right, but sometimes it is hard to do things, even when we believe in them,’ she said. ‘Knowledge doesn’t always help. My father kept having chest pains. I’d make stupid agreements with myself, like if I was polite or always ate my crusts, he’d get better—’ She stopped.

‘We cannot keep the people we love safe,’ he said.

‘I suppose your mother wanted to keep your childhood safe, to protect you.’

‘It did not help.’

‘She gave you a few extra months of joy.’

This much was true. Those days before her death had been joyful, halcyon times. But that had only made the pain worse.

‘Millie?’

‘Yes?’

He had to ask. ‘Who are you marrying?’

Chapter Eleven

She stiffened, the question taking her by surprise. For a few moments, she’d felt a tentative connection not marred by reality. It had felt like the cabin again. ‘A local gentleman, Mr Edmunds. But it is not official yet.’

‘Edmunds? I know a Mr Edmunds from Cornwall. Must be his father. How did you meet him?’

He’d been sitting in the church pew since she was a child, dragged to church. ‘It is a small town and there is only one Mr Edmunds from Fowey. Geoffrey Edmunds,’ she said.

‘But he is...’ The words petered away. ‘Why?’

‘He would like our land. And wants a mother for his five children.’ She continued to walk down the path.

‘But why would you marry him?’

‘Women do not have many choices,’ Millie said. ‘Lacking patience and sufficient education, I cannot see myself as a suitable governess or companion.’

‘Is it to save your sister from Harwood?’

‘In part, but this will also help me to ensure Mother has a home and secure some funds for Lil’s debut.’

‘But there must be someone else. I mean someone other than Edmunds that would be more suitable for you,’ he said.

Anger flashed through her; a sudden, unexpected, fiery emotion surprising her with its intensity. ‘So it is fine to sell myself, as long as it is to someone young and with all his teeth.’

Fuelled by the emotion, she walked down the path more rapidly.

‘Slow down, for goodness sake,’ he muttered, scrambling to keep up with her. ‘Edmunds is dull as ditch water. Good lord, I swear he counts his shillings for entertainment.’

‘Better than gambling them away.’

‘What if you had a come-out in London? I have a great-aunt. And you have done so much for me, I am certain I could finance—’

They had reached the base of the cliff. She pulled to an abrupt halt, turning to him, her face for once oddly expressionless. ‘Thank you, Mr Garrett. While I appreciate and welcome your offer to help my sister, I do not require such assistance. I am entirely happy with Mr Edmunds. My hope is that Mr Edmunds will propose. We have many things in common.’

‘Like what, for goodness sake?’

‘We dislike the city and we are opposed to gambling, drinking or other dangerous pursuits.’

‘But you cannot build a life based on what you both dislike. And Edmunds doesn’t just hate the city, he hates anything that has life or any frivolity. You will suffocate. I do not see why you are throwing my offer to help secure you a debut in my face.’

‘Because the anticipated arrangement is entirely satisfactory. Mr Edmunds is not mean. He will let Mother stay in the house and I can stay in Cornwall. Indeed, your offer of help is completely unnecessary.’

They walked in silence. Millie’s back was poker straight and stiff, her shoulders slightly raised as though he had angered her.

He glowered. She’d thrown back his offer as though it was a personal insult, but had shown no hesitation in involving herself in his life. She’d drugged Sir Anthony and likely expected Sam to feel grateful, but his own admirably sensible solution was somehow unforgivable.

This unfriendly silence continued until she stopped in front of a small structure at the outskirts of the village. A light was visible in one of the windows and a whisper of smoke escaped from the chimney, twisting into the clear evening sky.

‘Do they know we are coming?’ he asked.

‘Yes, I sent word with Flora.’

The door swung open as a woman stepped out. Her hair was without grey and