Something Old by Rebecca Connolly

Author:Rebecca Connolly [Connolly, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Phase Publishing LLC
Published: 2021-03-23T22:00:00+00:00

Wheal Venton was an older, established mine in the area and one of the consistently profitable ones. Not one bursting extravagantly with either copper or tin, but steadily producing for her shareholders, which all agreed was a far more comfortable prospect. The miners themselves were healthy, which was fortunate, and the wages paid them were, by all accounts, considered fair and equal. This was a right sight better than what some of the other mines in the area were paying their workers, which could barely be considered starvation wages.

Thomas wouldn’t let that happen to Wheal Venton so long as he had shares in her. He was in the process of procuring more of them, taking a majority by doing so, and growing closer to taking full ownership of her. He likely would not rid the mine of all other shareholders, as it would be of use to have the input of others besides himself and the mine captain when it came to decisions regarding the place, but he certainly would not mind taking the responsibility chiefly upon himself.

He’d been engaging in business talks with the shareholders of this mine, as well as shareholders of others, in the days since they’d come to Cornwall, but he had yet to see the place for himself. He’d gone over numbers and figures and facts, examined maps and charts, spoken with experts in mining and businessmen who managed mines. He’d done absolutely everything in his power to become as educated as possible with regard to the mines he was investing so much in.

But he’d had enough of talking and education. He wanted to see the place and feel its energy. He wanted to meet the men risking their lives in her depths on a daily basis. He wanted to feel the weight of a pickaxe in his own hands, though he would likely never be permitted to work the mine even for a moment. He wanted to feel connected to the place, not just invested in it. Having Lily at his side while he did so would only make the thing more perfect.

When he’d woken that morning, he’d been entirely convinced that he’d dreamed their garden interlude the night before. His wife admitting she loved him, he confessing his love for her, embracing one another and exchanging kisses long overdue… The extraordinary emotion that had been shared between them after so many years of silence…

It did not seem real upon reflection in the light of day. Could not be.

Yet when Lily came down to breakfast, she had smiled shyly, her eyes bright, her cheeks holding just enough color to give him hope. Hope that the scene was real, not imagined. Hope that she remembered it. Hope that she held to it. Hope that she, too, wanted it.

He could have kissed her then, if for no other reason than to remind them both of its reality, but he did not. Instead, he’d only smiled with the genuine adoration he’d felt and not the polite mask he had worn for years.

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