The Phantom Lover by Elizabeth Mansfield

horse. “Well, he seems very well cared for, by the look of him. What’s his name?”
    â€œHe’s called Caceres.”
    â€œCaceres,” Nell repeated lovingly. “That’s Spanish, isn’t it?”
    â€œYes’m. That’s where he was bred,” the boy said, stroking the horse’s nozzle proudly.
    Nell watched the horse for another moment. “He certainly is a beauty,” she said and turned to leave. With her hand on the stable door, she turned to look back at Jemmy, who was checking Caceres’ stall door. “But I can’t understand why you didn’t want me to see him.”
    Jemmy opened his mouth to protest, but Nell stopped him with a motion of her hand. “Don’t bother to deny it, boy. I’m not easily put off the mark by lies—or by ghost stories, either.” And she turned on her heel and walked out.
    Will Penloe returned before sunset, his wagon loaded with provisions and accompanied by the young woman he’d hired to be the a bigail. The girl was called Gwinnys, a name taken from that of a Cornish saint, she promptly explained. Gwinnys had a broad, heart-shaped face, full lips turned up in a perpetual smile and hair that hung about her face in unkempt tendrils, as if she’d washed it in the sea and had let it dry without bothering to comb it. She looked about the house with eager interest, keeping up a flow of excited comments about her delight in being permitted to work in the “great house.” Her thick West-country accent delighted the ladies, and by the time Amelia had helped her brush her hair and Nell had found a clean and proper dress for her to wear, they both agreed that they were pleased with her. The girl’s persistent cheerfulness, her enthusiastic eagerness to perform any task assigned to her (and many that were not) made her pleasant to have about. She brightened up the gloomy house considerably.
    Mrs. Penloe viewed Gwinnys’ arrival with mixed feelings. While her presence would undoubtedly relieve Mrs. Penloe’s load of work, it would, at the same time, make her life more complicated; she would have to take special care to keep Lord Thorne out of sight. His meals would have to be prepared and spirited up to him only at times when Gwinnys was not likely to pop into the kitchen. All the Penloes would have to put strict guard on their tongues when the girl was around. More and more, Mrs. Penloe wished her guests would go away.
    Nevertheless, it was an excellent dinner she put before the ladies that evening. The dining room, aired and dusted and gleaming, made Nell and Amelia glad they had worn proper dinner dress. They looked around in pleased surprise at the warm glow of the polished table, the epergne in the center filled with fruit and bright candles, and the cheerful fire in the hearth. The mutton, the smoked pilchards (a fish whose omnipresence any visitor to Cornwall soon learns to accept) and the Likky Pie were all deliciously prepared. Gwinnys helped Mrs. Penloe serve, her smile adding to the pleasant atmosphere. For the first time since their arrival, Lady Amelia showed signs of becoming her cheerful self. And after Nell suggested that Gwinnys be given Amelia’s dressing room in which to sleep, she became almost reconciled to remaining. The suggestion was greeted with equal eagerness by Amelia and Gwinnys. Gwinnys had never had such a beautiful room before, she exclaimed, and Amelia, with Gwinnys so close by, could face the night with a feeling of security. At long last, Nell began to feel that their stay in Cornwall might turn out to be not so very bad after all.
    When they retired for the night, Amelia made Nell promise to call out loudly if anything untoward should occur. “I’m a very light sleeper,” she assured the girl. “The moment I hear you, I shall instantly rouse Gwinnys and we both shall come flying to your aid.”
    Remembering the shaken old woman who had