Chapter Eighteen

J owan couldn't believe that Coombe had just given up, even after they discovered the inn he had been using and were told that he had paid his bill and left.

Jowan and Bran hired a cadre of off-duty sailors to escort them and the ladies whenever they went out, and perhaps that was enough to deter the villain. However, they saw no more of him in their remaining days in Plymouth.

When they left, it was with a cart to carry their purchases and Patricia Mayhew's possessions, for she had accepted the position of Tamsyn's companion.

They were back in St Tetha on a Friday, and on Sunday, they were all present in church for the second reading of banns for Bran and Evangeline. They lingered in the church yard after the service to accept congratulations and to introduce Patricia to their neighbors. Word of her arrival had, of course, already spread, and the forthcoming wedding had to vie for first place in conversations with what was being done to the cottages to prepare one for the newlyweds and the other for Tamsyn and Patricia.

Not that either would be ready in time for the wedding. The reroofing would start this week, as would some of the other major repairs and alterations, but neither place would be habitable for at least two months. Jowan was glad of it.

"I am in no hurry to see you go," he told his friends.

"We are not going far," Bran pointed out, which was true, but a separate house a few minutes' walk away was not the same as being under the same roof.

On the other hand, Jowan had to admit that living with Tamsyn, given the way he felt about her, was playing havoc with his emotions and his sleep. His brother had been right to warn him that the Tamsyn of today was very different, in many ways, to the Tamsyn of seven years ago. But this had only given Jowan the opportunity to fall in love with her all over again.

Her strength of character and of purpose, her courage, and her determination, all attracted him as much as the quiet sense of humor, the curiosity about the world at large, and the kindness that remained of the girl he once knew.

As for attraction, he had been almost ashamed of how drawn he was to her when she was little more than skin and bone. Now that her curves were returning, along with color in her complexion and a sparkle in her eye, he was uncomfortably aware of her whenever she was near—a discomfort that was only alleviated during dreams in which she was finally his.

He had promised to respect the time she needed to come to terms with the woman she now was, but it was a daily, and sometimes an hourly, challenge not to show her how much he wanted her. Even with Evangeline and Patricia living in the house with them, he was afraid that temptation would overcome him. The last thing Jowan wanted to do was to emulate Coombe by putting pressure on her. He had seen how much she hated and despised the fiend, even as she feared him. But every time he saw Bran tug Evangeline into a sheltered corner for a kiss and a cuddle, his frustration with his own situation threatened to overwhelm him.

It was just as well that the wedding was fast approaching, and that the newlyweds had agreed to his proposal to take their wedding trip to London, where Bran would attempt to track down the investments for which they now had documentation.

Four days before the wedding, a letter from Coombe's solicitor gave the couple another task in London.

*

The letter was delivered just before breakfast. Addressed to Miss Tamsyn Roskilly, it was waiting for her when she came to the table. She opened it and gasped.

"What is it, Tamsyn?" Patricia asked.

"A letter from a solicitor. The Earl of Coombe is suing me for breach of contract." Her eyes continued to move to and fro across the paper. "He claims that I was under contract to sing where and when he instructed me and that I have lost him…" she turned to the next page and peered at the writing. "An absurd amount of money by running away." She turned to Jowan, indignation and alarm battling for dominance. "This cannot be legal."

"No," Jowan agreed. "Of course, it is not."

Bran stretched out his hand. "May I see?"

Tamsyn handed him the letter.

"Do you remember signing any such agreement?" Evangeline asked, but Tamsyn shook her head.

"Not ever. My mother might have done so. Or Sir Carlyon."

"Those would not count now," Bran said, his voice distant as he perused the pages. "You are now an adult, and any contract signed by your legal guardian on your behalf would have ceased to have effect when you turned twenty-one." He looked up. "You should look, though, to see if you can find something in your mother's belongings."

Tamsyn had been told the Inneford servants had packed Mrs. Roskilly's belongings into trunks when they cleaned up the cottage after she died. The trunks were currently in the Inneford attics.

"I'll do that," Tamsyn agreed. "He can't make me pay all of that, can he? I do not have anything except what my mother left me and the money from the sale of the jewelry."

Bran was cautious. "It depends on whether he can produce an actual contract that was signed by you after you came of legal age."

"But if you do not remember signing one…" Patricia said.

Evangeline shook her head and Tamsyn admitted, "I do not remember a great deal that happened in the past five years."

"What would be the benefits to Tamsyn of such a contract?" Jowan asked. "And where are they? If his contract with Tamsyn's mother gave Mrs. Roskilly a lump sum or a share of Tamsyn's earnings, what has happened to them? And the same with any more recent contract. How much did a performance earn you, Tamsyn? Roughly?"

Tamsyn frowned, bewildered by the question. "I have never been told," she said, amazed she had never considered the matter. "I have never seen any accounting… Guy…" No. Not Guy. He did not deserve that level of intimacy from her even if he never knew that she had taken to calling him by his title. "Coombe, I should say, told me my performances helped to pay for the costs of my keep. But that cannot be the entire truth, can it? Other star performers live off their earnings without the need for a patron. I have no idea what Guy charged for my performances, but I have been hired out to entertain audiences no fewer than four or five times a week for the past seven years, often more when I am also engaged for a theatre season. I should have savings, should I not?"

Her friends all nodded, and Jowan commented, "I wonder if Wakefield might have a way to investigate how much Coombe has stolen from you."

"You should counter-sue him for stealing your earnings," Patricia suggested.

Jowan's expression of fury slowly changed to a broad smile. "What an excellent response to his suit against you," he said.

"I'm not a lawyer," Bran said, "but I would warrant that his failure to give you any earnings due under a contract, if there is such a contract, is a full defense to any claim that you are in breach for leaving."

"You need a solicitor," Jowan declared. "Do you want to make an appointment with the man we've been using in Launceston? He will at least be able to advise us on what steps you should take next."

"This," Bran waved the letter, "was filed in a London courtroom. Our man will probably refer you to someone in London. You should go and see him today, Tamsyn."

"The wedding is in a few days, and we have a great deal to do," Tamsyn objected.

But Evangeline declared that sorting out Coombe was more important than folding table napkins, which was part of Tamsyn's list for the day. "In fact, Patricia and I will come upstairs with you now, if you like, and help you go through your mother's things. Then you can take it to show the solicitor. Jowan, send a groom to Launceston to make an appointment for this afternoon."

*

It took them less time than expected. Whoever had been in charge of the packing had written an inventory and placed it at the top of each chest, so once Bran had pried out the nails, they soon found the one with "Asst'd Papers" marked on it.

They carefully unpacked the chest to remove the top three layers and then divided the papers that filled the rest of the chest into three piles, each taking a pile to search through.

The listings on the inventories included linens, china, and other things that would be useful once Tamsyn moved into the cottage. She also noted several items that brought back childhood memories. "Blue and White Cow Mug." She had loved that mug when she was a little girl. "Silver T-Pot." It had been her mother's pride and joy, and Tamsyn had felt so proud when she was first trusted with polishing it.

She made a mental note to ask for the chests to be moved to the cottage when the repairs were completed. No doubt everything would need to be cleaned, and some items would need to be mended, but she and Patricia had been given a fine start to their housekeeping.

Not that she wanted to leave Inneford House and Jowan, but it was necessary. She had seen how he looked at her when he did not think anyone was watching. His desire for her was great, but not, she was certain, as great as hers for him.

One night, when everyone was asleep, her longing for him would become too strong. She was certain Jowan would welcome her to his bed, just as she was equally sure he would regret it afterward, and blame himself for treating her with disrespect.

As if a person with her history deserved respect! And yet, Jowan had never made her feel he despised her for her dissipation and debauchery. Bran had, at first, though he had since become a friend. So had Evangeline, who had, after all, seen her at her worst. But never Jowan. She would have loved him for that alone.

"Here they are," said Patricia. She handed Tamsyn a sheaf of papers tied with string.

The outside label said, "Tamsyn's contracts."

It was easy enough to untie the string. The plural was appropriate. The package contained three contracts—the original, signed when Tamsyn was sixteen, a second when she was eighteen, and a third shortly after her twentieth birthday.

"This says that Coombe would keep fifty percent of my earnings for my keep, clothing, music lessons, and his services as my manager, and the other fifty percent would be sent to my mother," she said to her friends. "So, what happened to that money?"

Evangeline waved her hand to the rest of the papers. "Perhaps there is something else in these."

Tamsyn nodded. "I had better take everything down with me and go through them all, in case there is something else that helps."

"We'll just repack the chest," Patricia said and began picking up the wrapped items they had removed. With all three of them working, they soon had the floor cleared again. They each carried a stack of papers downstairs to the library. Tamsyn set herself up on the big library table, and the other two left her to it.

By the time Jowan came to call her to lunch and to tell her that they had an appointment in Launceston at three that afternoon, she had found a pass book for a Plymouth savings bank with quarterly payments that must be the earnings mentioned in the contracts and a staggering balance.

She also had two letters from Coombe's solicitors concerning the contracts they had already found, and half a dozen letters from Coombe to her mother reporting on Tamsyn's success and advising against making any contact with Tamsyn.

Those were all she had found concerning Coombe, but she wanted more time to consider other parts of her mother's life, as disclosed in the papers she had kept. For example, a handful of letters from her father to her mother, all dating to the early years of their marriage.

"My father was a sailor in the navy," Tamsyn told Jowan. "I never knew. Mother would not speak of him." The last letter had been written when Tamsyn was three and sent from somewhere called Bangalore. Tied in with the same bundle was a letter from Samuel Roskilly's captain, sending his condolences on Roskilly's untimely death of yellow fever.

Over lunch, she told Jowan and Bran about the contracts and the passbook.

"That bank has an agency in Launceston," Bran told her.

"Bring the passbook, Tamsyn. We'll have to show your mother's death certificate and evidence you are her sole heir, but I know where those papers are. They might have to send to Plymouth to find out what has become of the account, but we can at least set matters rolling."

At dinner that night, they were able to report on a successful day. "The solicitor is going to draw up a suit against Coombe for loss of earnings, using the sums in the passbook as a basis for the amount," Tamsyn reported. "He will write a response to Coombe's breach of contract claim, saying that I am not aware of any such contract, and asking for a copy."

"Hopefully, that will settle things with that horrible man," Evangeline said.

Tamsyn doubted that it would. Coombe was used to having his own way and would assume any court case was certain to go his way.

"What about the bank?" Bran asked. "Is the account still in existence?"

"It is," Tamsyn confirmed. "The surprise is that it is in my name! I just had to prove I was who I said I was, and since they knew Jowan and he vouched for me, there was no problem. They are sending the passbook to Plymouth to have it updated, but as far as they know, no withdrawals have ever been made from the account."

If that proved to be true, Tamsyn was surprisingly well off. She really did not want to dwell on how much money she might have in case it all proved to be a chimera.

"In any case, I have done what I can," she said, "and lost a day in doing so. Now I am available again to help with the wedding. Evangeline, what are the plans for tomorrow?"