Read Online The Miser's Sister by Carola Dunn - Free Book Online

both Ruth’s hands in his.
    “Ruth, let me take you away from this mausoleum.”
    She looked up at him with tears sparkling in her eyes.
    “I cannot go, they need me. You can see that they do. Do not press me, I beg of you. And then, there is Walter.”
    That made him pause, but he did not release her hands.
    “Promise me,” he said at last, very seriously, “that if your life here becomes unbearable, you will send for me. Your uncle would be happy to have you, I know, and I will come to escort you to him at a moment’s notice. And if you wish to leave before I can reach you, go to my friend Robert Polgarth in Port Isaac. I shall tell him to expect you.”
    She smiled quaveringly. “I promise.”
    Pulling her hands from his clasp, she busied herself opening the door.
    Mr Trevelyan’s coachman, having received scant hospitality in the kitchen, was grumbling to himself as he prepared to leave. Oliver’s hired horse was standing patiently with its reins thrown over a cracked stone balustrade. Oliver kissed Ruth’s hand, mounted quickly, and was off.
    Ruth watched him into the distance, but he did not turn. With a sigh, she reentered the house.
    * * * *
    It took Ruth ten days to make up for her week’s absence. She was too busy to have time to repine. To start, she had to send Will to find a new maid in Launceston, as no local girl would take the post. He returned with a slatternly trollop, the only creature he could come by who would accept the miserable wage Ruth had extorted from her brother.
    Will was so insolent that she felt he had only accepted her commission out of regard for his own comfort. He had never been any friendlier than the Tremaines, but now his sneering impertinence was so marked that she decided to mention it to Godfrey.
    “Do you want to go look for another manservant?” he asked sulkily.
    “Could you not speak to him?” she insisted. “He no longer obeys my orders. You were not used to excuse disobedience in a servant.”
    “He obeys me, curse you!” shouted Godfrey, and threw his inkwell at her, spattering her dress. As she retreated, frightened, he burst into raucous laughter.
    A Tuesday passed without Ruth making any effort to go to St Teath. It was raining heavily, the track would be impassable on foot, and she did not dare request the gig. By the following Tuesday, the mud had dried somewhat and she was desperate to leave the house and see a friendly face.
    Picking her way along the grassy verge wherever possible, she reached the church at last. Mr Vane greeted her stiffly.
    “I had heard you were returned from your jaunt to Plymouth,” he addressed her. “I confess I fail to understand how you could bring yourself to leave without informing your betrothed of your intentions.”
    Ruth hastened to tell him the true story. As he listened to the tale of her abduction, he could not restrain the expression of his sympathy. However, when she described the arrival of Mr Pardoe and that gentleman’s heroic part in her escape, his manner grew cold.
    “I’m sure this Pardoe is a worthy fellow,” he declared, “but it will not do to lend him qualities that cannot possibly be possessed by a Cit. It is most unfortunate that you should have spent two days alone with him.”
    “Mr Pardoe was all that is chivalrous and gentlemanlike,” cried Ruth, angry.
    “I am happy to believe you, my dear. It is certainly my Christian duty to forgive your involuntary lapse from the highest standards of propriety.”
    “How dare you, Walter!”
    “My dear, pray do not put yourself in a pelter. Naturally your nerves are overset. I will admit that this fellow’s actions have done us all a good turn by making it unnecessary to squander your fortune on a gang of thugs.”
    “How can you speak so? They nearly drowned me and had threatened to ... assault me first. And you talk of squandering?”
    “Dear Ruth, compose yourself, I beg. It is most unladylike to refer to such a subject. I daresay it comes