Something Old by Rebecca Connolly (autobiographies to read txt) 📕

“Are you, indeed? Well, well,” he said, sounding delighted and intrigued. “Perhaps I will not shave tomorrow, then.”

“And leave your cravat off,” Lily suggested brightly, straightening and looking at him. “I’ll leave my hair down and pick wildflowers on the moors.”

Thomas’s smile was almost whimsical. “What a picture you would make. Dash, I’d pay a fortune to simply watch you.”

Lily’s cheeks heated. “Come with me. Can you spare an indulgence?”

“For you? Always.” He squeezed her hand as they reached the sand of the beach.

They stopped, looking out at the rolling sea as its waves crested, crashing hard against the shore. The water spread up the beach almost eagerly with each wave, then reluctantly receded when it reached its limit. There was plenty of sand before the water’s edge, but the cliffs, coves, and crags stole one’s breath when viewed from this vantage point and begged for a pause to admire them appropriately before the captivating water absorbed attention.

It was one of the most beautiful sights Lily had ever seen.

“How can one so suddenly feel so very small?” Thomas asked aloud, his voice filled with the same wonder and awe Lily felt.

“And be intimidated by it?” Lily murmured.

He nodded. “It feels rather masterful, doesn’t it? Hardly fearful, hardly depressing, and hardly something for which I think I should be ashamed.”

“It’s beautiful.”

He exhaled slowly beside her, saying nothing for a long moment. “I have no secrets from you now, Lily,” he confessed in a low voice almost impossible to hear over the crashing waves. “Not a one.”

She brushed her thumb against his in a gesture of appreciation and comfort, smiling at the admission. There were no words for the beauty in the statement and for what it would mean for them. Nothing hidden, nothing obstructing, nothing to keep them apart anymore. Nothing to prevent them from falling headlong into whatever joyous future was before them if they continued in this way.

How could she form coherent thoughts, let alone words?

So she said nothing, held her husband’s hand, and let the hope in her present reality roll in like the waves before her.

Chapter Fifteen

“It’s the worst kept secret in Cornwall. Free trading. Can’t be helped, much as the gaugers try. Even the landowners have a hand in it, given the profits involved. Goods smuggled from France without taxation? It’s far too easy an opportunity to pass up, and Cornwall is poor on its best days, so who can blame the impoverished for trying to improve their situation? The law is not so clear as it might be elsewhere. And you are not listening to a word I’m saying.”

Thomas blinked at the change in tone, looking over at his friend. “What?”

Basset chuckled as he sat back in his chair, giving him a rueful look. “You had asked about the issues with our shipping investments, and I was explaining free trading, which you heard none of. I don’t mind talking of other things, but you did call expressly for this purpose, did you not?”

“I suppose…” Thomas mused, trailing off without truly committing to his reply. In truth, he wasn’t sure why he called. What he was doing. Where he was.

He couldn’t manage to think of anything but Lily and the extraordinary days they had been spending together. They’d explored every inch of the grounds of Pendrizzick, expanding out to the distant borders and examining each of the tenant houses and farms. Most of the tenants were miners, but there were a few who worked the land on the estate as well. Each was cheerful and warm, greeting them with polite deference and lacking any hint of resentment or fear. The Tremellion family had taken excellent care of them all and continued to do so even in their absence. No tenant feared the prospect of new masters, as they felt sure the family would do right by them.

They visited Wheal Dandrea, the mine actually on the lands of the estate, and found it to be in just as fine a working condition as Wheal Venton. Thomas had already become familiar with its workings and its captain by name, being a chief shareholder, but there was something about seeing the place in person when one was staying on the estate that filled him with pride and energy. Unless he found a very great reason not to, he felt very certain that he would be writing to Mr. Tremellion and making an offer for the house, the estate, and the mine. Wheal Venton had more shareholders, and Wheal Dandrea was a family mine, so the responsibilities differed but were equally as thrilling. What’s more, Lily was perfection among the people at both, no doubt making each of them wish she were the responsible party rather than Thomas.

They’d walked the shore at Dandrea Beach often, each time drawing forth more revelations of personal feelings and thoughts, though none of them could be called secrets. He’d meant what he’d told Lily their first walk there; he had no secrets from her now. He now found it all too easy to bear his soul to her, and she confided in him far more than she’d ever done.

The experiences humbled him each and every time and painted a scene in his head of quiet evenings in the parlor enjoying each other’s company, sitting close together, a fire filling the room with romantic light and warmth. Her head on his shoulder, or his head in her lap, or their hands folded together. Comfort and proximity for their themes and intimacy in their thoughts, content with nothing more than being with the other and reveling in the happiness of it.

Someday, they would have that. Someday, they would get there. Someday soon, he hoped.

“Shall I keep conversing with myself? Or do you intend on participating?”

Thomas chuckled to himself, looking back at his friend, unaware that he had looked away. “Apologies.”

Basset waved a hand. “I can see your mind is more agreeably engaged, unless I am reading your smile wrong.