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“I have every confidence that your memory will return in its entirety within a matter of days, Miss Hollow. But for now, I think you will agree that it would be wise to remain in Tristwick where you can be closely watched over.”

She nodded, feigning contrition. She certainly couldn’t ask Mrs. Honeysett to help her get to Sennen now. By revealing where she needed to go, she’d also be revealing that her faulty memory had merely been a lie—a lie she was fairly certain the woman might have already caught onto.

“I know your family is quite busy with the pilchards, Mrs. Honeysett,” Dr. Kent said in a low voice, “so I will gladly offer the use of my home to allow Miss Hollow to recover. My Lucy would be more than happy to have a companion.”

But Mrs. Honeysett shook her head. “With a new babe on the way? I ’ardly think she’d appreciate your offer. ’Sides, ye’ve already done enough for we. We can care for the miss well enough.”

Dr. Kent nodded. “I suspect your recovery will be even swifter with the help of the Honeysetts, Miss Hollow.”

Morvoren returned a weakened smile.

Dr. Kent retrieved his bag and replaced the vase of flowers to the center of the table. “Until your memory does return, I will ask around St. Just to discover if anyone there might know more as to your identity. Perhaps someone might have seen you before or know where you came from.”

Morvoren’s heart dropped. Having a physician asking around St. Just for her, spreading her name for everyone to hear, making it easier for Uncle to find her? Could matters worsen further? “Oh, ye needn’t bother.”

Dr. Kent’s brow twitched, so she rushed to explain.

“I-I’d just hate to inconvenience ye further,” she lied.

Dr. Kent glanced sidelong at Mrs. Honeysett. Was he fully aware of her subterfuge?

To her relief, he nodded. “Very well. Why do we not wait a day or two to see if your memory returns. If it doesn’t by then, we will discuss matters again, yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very good. Now rest, Miss Hollow. Your body needs it.”

She nodded, pushing a yawn from her mouth and covering her eyes with her arm. “Thank ye, Dr. Kent.”

“I’ll see ye out,” Mrs. Honeysett said softly to the physician. “Poppy, will ye join me for a moment?” Her voice raised a fraction. “I’ll be in with a plate o’ food in just a moment, Morvoren.”

Morvoren hummed her acknowledgement of Mrs. Honeysett’s words, forcing her breathing to become steady until the door closed and footsteps retreated down the corridor.

In an instant, she threw the cover away from her legs. The chill in the room attacked her limbs, but she warded off the desire to wrap back up in the warm blanket. She couldn’t waste but a single moment.

Gingerly, she raised her foot from the bed, pushing through the pain that instantly seared through her limb. When she tried to stand, however, placing more pressure on her ankle, the world went black, and she crumbled back onto the bed, fighting the urge to scream out in pain.

Twice more she attempted to stand, beads of sweat forming on her brow despite her chill. And twice more, she fell back onto the bed. Tears of frustration billowed in her eyes, and she buried her face in her hands.

She couldn’t do it. St. Just was a mere two miles away, but she’d never be able to reach the town if she couldn’t even get out of that blasted bed.

With a heavy sigh and wet cheeks, she grimaced and winced again as she pulled her throbbing foot back under the covers.

This was not how things were supposed to be. She was supposed to have traveled straight to Sennen, to have met with the Prouts and been helped to find a place for her away from the fishing trade.

But now? Now Uncle would find her and force her into the life she so desperately wished to escape—a lonely, empty life married to a fisherman.

CHAPTER FIVE

Trevik closed the door behind Dr. Kent, then turned to face his mother as she disappeared into the kitchen. He followed after her, entering the small room adjoining the sitting room as she reached into the hutch and retrieved a plate.

“Fetch us the cheese from the cellar, Poppy,” she said as she pulled out the barley bread. “Poor dear must be starvin’.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Poppy scampered away as Trevik watched Mother ready a tray full of food for the girl. “So ye be fine with that woman stayin’ ’ere?”

“’Er name be Morvoren ’Ollow, son,” Mother said without a glance in his direction. “And yes, I be more ’an fine with it.”