Page 25 of A Brush With Love at Brookview Hall (Noble Hearts)

Twenty-One

JULIA

D ry leaves crunched under Julia’s feet.

Above her, the last rays of the sun glimmered through the branches, some already bare, others holding fast to their autumn foliage, punctuated by evergreen trunks and boughs.

There had been little rest today, for the turmoil of her spirit was made palpable by the restlessness of her feet.

She had gone back to the house after leaving Cornelius, but tranquillity eluded her.

She pecked at the biscuits she found in the kitchens and glossed over the words in her book.

She attempted to write another letter to Dorothea, which would remain unsent like all the others, and gave up all hope of creating new lessons for the children. It was hopeless.

By the time the great clock on the landing struck four, Julia had surrendered to her agitation.

She donned her thick grey cloak as proof against the chill October air, laced up her stout boots, and set off once more into the woods.

If she wandered long and far enough, she hoped, sleep would eventually come through sheer exhaustion.

She could not return to the cliffs, for Cornelius might still be there, gilding his masterpieces with the golden sunlight of his paints. Nor could she pass by his studio. She could not see him, should not even think about him. She had spurned him and sent him off, never to return.

The path through the woods afforded her a glimpse of his cottage through the fringe of trees and her eyes found it despite her determination otherwise. She stopped and leaned against a sturdy oak tree, her thoughts following their own trail.

Was Cornelius there? Was he, even now, packing his supplies and crating up his canvases? Had he been to the house to take his leave of Mr Derriscott? Or was he as determined to ignore her injunctions to depart as he was to refuse to answer her questions? Obstinate, pig-headed man!

Through the leaves, the cottage seemed abandoned.

No light glowed from the windows. No wisp of smoke rose from the brick chimney to disappear into the gathering dusk.

Was he there at all? It would take some time to arrange a full remove to London.

Perhaps he had gone off to the village, or Porthawen, or even Polperro, to stay there until he could arrange for his belongings to be shipped back to town.

Or… Or perhaps he was with his co-smugglers in some forbidden lair, counting out gold coins or whatever it was contrabanders did when the moon was new.

The thought of him quickened her pulse; the idea of his departure dragged at her shoulders.

Sending him away had been the right and proper thing to do.

Of course it had. Then why, oh why, did it hurt so very much?

She leaned against a thick tree and let her eyes wash dejectedly over the empty cottage.

Why could she not stop thinking of him? No matter how much she commanded her heart, it would not listen.

Instead, the sight of the cottage, empty and quiet, filled her with a profound sadness that settled like lead in the pit of her belly.

For ten minutes she stood, lost in regret.

Misery pierced her, pinning her to the tree.

This studio, once a place of art and creation, of thrilling conversation and vibrant disagreement, now stood empty.

It had lost more than its inhabitant. It had become nothing but a shell, a set of walls without a soul.

Damp tears slipped silently down Julia’s cheeks.

She had to send him off; there was no alternative.

But oh, she was unprepared for how much it hurt.

Oh, Cornelius! Why could he not have been as honest as he was lovely?

No, this was madness. She could not stand here, mooning after an empty cottage. She had to move, to walk off her agitation. She set off once more into the woods.

Was her destination accidental, or was it designed by some unconscious need to return, to see the place where she had been so frightened during the tempest?

Regardless of the impulse, her path took her back towards that storage shed where she had taken refuge, where she had seen the flashing lights from the sea.

Where she had heard the smugglers whispering their plans.

Perhaps seeing the place in clear daylight would ease her mind.

It seemed as fine a destination as any other.

And then she was nearly there. The little building stood as it always had, tucked into the ash and birch trees at the very edge of the woods, overlooking the cliffs that fell to the rocky shore.

Unexpected caution now slowed her steps. Were these vile men still about? Had they returned during the day? Julia pulled her cloak about her and slipped the deep hood over her head, hoping to blend into the forest. But the small structure seemed silent.

Creeping around the front, she was strangely comforted to see the heavy tree branch still protruding from the broken window.

They had not returned, it seemed, else they would have removed it and seen to making repairs.

Ought she to enter, to see what lay waiting inside? Again, caution stopped her progress.

A wave of exhaustion swept over her. Would that this had happened when she was in her room in the house, with a soft bed to lie upon, but the fates are not always considerate.

There was, Julia now noticed, a small structure tucked against the side of the shed, little more than supports and a shelter to keep some wood dry.

The earth around it was mossy and soft, and with her cloak, she might sit in relative comfort and rest for a moment.

She picked her way there, careful not to disturb the leaves on the ground, and settled herself against a stack of logs. She pulled her cloak tight around her and let her eyes drift closed. Just for a moment…

It was nearly full dark when her eyes fluttered open once more.

She must have slept for an hour, at least. Julia’s hand crept to the small fob watch she kept in her pocket, but it was too dark to see the tiny hands.

Blinking again into the gathering darkness, she waited for her mind to struggle its way out of sleep and become fully awake.

She must be returning to the house soon, before night fell completely.

Under the moonless sky, her path back would be treacherous.

Wait… what was that? A slither of sound tickled her ears.

It must be nothing, merely an owl gliding through the branches, or a fox hunting for its dinner.

The rustle grew louder, closer. Julia tucked herself into her cloak.

She would be in no danger from these creatures of nature, but neither did she wish to attract their attention.

Curled up as she was, and swathed in the heavy grey wool, she remained perfectly still.

There it was again, the shuffle and crunch.

That was no owl, nor would a fox or badger make that sort of sound.

It was—it must be—a person. A shiver of worry trickled up her spine.

Trees and darkness did not scare her, nor did the creatures that came out at night, but people…

oh, that was where the real danger lay. She held her breath and waited.

Yes, there it was. A person, a man by his height and the breadth of his shoulders, stole out of the woods. He wore a large and shapeless outercoat and a low, wide-brimmed hat, very much like?—

Cornelius.

It seemed he had not departed, after all. But where was he going, creeping through the woods in the darkness?

There could only be one reason: To meet his ill-fortuned comrades, his crew of smugglers, to conduct whatever vile business had kept him here.

She could imagine the scene, a beach fire hidden from any excise vessels by a large outcropping of rock, around which a band of drunken men, greasy and pockmarked, with bad breath and filthy fingernails, toasted each other with contraband brandy, before unloading it all from their ships and sailing off, taking Cornelius with them.

She could hardly believe it of him, despite all she had discovered. He had evaded her questions, begged her to believe him, mislead and misguided her. Enough. Tonight, she could finally discover the truth of the matter.

Without considering her actions, Julia uncurled herself from her shelter behind the shed and prepared to follow him.

He moved slowly, edging his way through the darkness.

Night was falling fast and the sea beyond the cliffs was nothing but a black void, barely visible below the starry sky above.

One step at a time, Julia watched the shadow that was Cornelius slink towards that line at the very edge of the land, until he vanished entirely from view.

Her breath caught. Had he fallen? No, surely not, for she had heard no cry, no sickening thud of a body landing below.

Where had he gone?

Step by step, hunching as low as she could manage lest she be seen, Julia followed his path.

It would do no good to be too fast and step right off the precipice herself.

The final few feet she achieved on her hands and knees, creeping forward by inches, groping ahead for safety.

It was quite dark now, the stars in the nearly-moonless sky offering no useful light.

She could see scarcely a thing. And then her fingers encountered nothing; the ground vanished before her. She stopped, frozen in place.

The pounding of her heart drowned out the rush of the waves below, and Julia slid onto her stomach, pushing forward until her eyes were over the steep drop. Blackness upon blackness, broken by the occasional spangle of starlight reflected off the eternal waves, and…