Free The Miser's Sister by Carola Dunn Page B

intended to ascend from the summit of Brown Willy, which was both closer to home and higher.
    “Also,” he added, “there is less chance of being swept out to sea, as happened to Zambeccari in Bologna in ‘03. If there is any mishap we shall come to earth on the moor, an ideal place to land, as it has no trees to entangle the balloon.”
    “It sounds monstrous dangerous,” said Letty with a shudder.
    “Who will make the journey with you?” asked Ruth.
    “Oliver insisted on coming as the price of his investment. He does not believe in the future of balloons as transportation, but he viewed Mr Sadler’s ascent in London last year and is anxious to try it for himself.”
    Ruth was silent. It sounded like a very hazardous undertaking.
    * * * *
    By the evening of their third day in Port Isaac, Letty was feeling decidedly offended that Godfrey had apparently not set up a search for them. Ruth was beginning to worry that Oliver had not yet arrived.
    All sorts of possibilities flitted through her head. The letter might not have reached him. Perhaps he was not at home when it arrived. Had her uncle refused to give them a home? Could it be, horrid thought, that Oliver no longer wished to come to her aid? Worst of all, perhaps he had set out and had met with some dreadful accident.
    She did not confide her fears to Letty, trying as usual to protect her sister from distress. However, she mentioned some of her thoughts to Auntie, in the course of apologising for their prolonged stay. She had already grown very fond of the old lady, but besides being tiny, the household was not oversupplied with money, and she could not help but feel that they were imposing on their kind hosts.
    Auntie brushed aside her apologies and her worries.
    “The mail is always delivered on time,” she declared, firmly if over-optimistically. “Remember, child, that it is a good two hundred miles from London to Launceston, and thirty more to Port Isaac. I daresay your sweetheart will spend tonight in Launceston and be here on the morrow.”
    Ruth blushed and disclaimed.
    However, at least part of this speech was proven correct, for the next day at noon there was a hammering at the door, which generally betokened the arrival of the boy from the Scrimshaw Inn, and in stepped Oliver.
    Even as he bowed over Auntie’s hand and kissed the cheek she proffered, his eyes sought Ruth’s face. She was standing with her back to the window, and he was unable to make out her expression.
    “My lady ... I hope ... I am sorry ... ” he began, with an unwonted lack of assurance.
    “No ladies here,” scolded Auntie, interrupting. “Permit me to present you to my nieces, Miss Louisa Bailey and Miss Jane Bailey. Oh dear, now should it be the other way about?”
    “I am Louisa,” corrected Letty as the others laughed. Jane was far too common a name for her. She pushed forward past Ruth. “How do you do, Mr Pardoe. How delightful to see you again. When shall we go to London?”
    Oliver was unable to greet Ruth properly, but conversation flowed easily. He assured Letty that they should start the very next morning, and told them that he had left his chaise in Launceston and ridden over so as to arrive early.
    “I shall stay tonight at the Scrimshaw Inn,” he explained, “and hire a vehicle there tomorrow. Lady ... Miss Bailey, might I have a word with you?”
    Auntie would not permit them to retire to a bedchamber, and Letty balked at being exiled above stairs, so they strolled together down to the harbour. In spite of his words, Oliver was silent at first, and Ruth wondered what it was he wanted to say.
    He spread his coat on a low stone wall in the sun, and they sat down.
    “Lady Ruth,” he opened, “I am sorry to have to tell you that your uncle and aunt are gone to Paris until February. Do not be uneasy, I have an alternative to propose. Pray read this.”
    The letter, signed by both his mother and his sister, expressed an earnest wish that Lady Ruth and her