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She was off before Morvoren could even agree. With a smile, she went back to her duties, meandering across the beach with a careful step. She and Poppy had gone searching for seashells nearly every night since returning to Tristwick. Morvoren was becoming very adept at finding the ones Poppy needed.

She would miss this when she left for Bodmin.

She squeezed her eyes shut at the thoughts, refusing to allow them to enter again. She couldn’t stomach even the notion of living so far inland. But she was willing to do what it took to secure the future she wished for.

Neglecting her task for but a moment, Morvoren eyed the lazy waves lingering across Tregalwen Beach as the tide went out. A few managed to break forward with trickling crests, but mostly, the water simply slipped forward inch by inch before retreating, leaving behind broken, blue shells and popping, white bubbles.

The clouds had broken apart and scattered across the sky after the day’s rain, and now, a golden orange light settled across the sea and the shoreline. They weren’t alone on the beach, a few other families and couples taking advantage of the stunning evening outside of their homes.

Was she truly willing to give up such a paradise?

“Morvoren!”

She glanced up. Poppy was waving wildly back and forth. “I’ve found the master lode!” she cried out. Then she motioned to the sand with excitement.

Her mother stood beside her, shaking her head in amusement before reaching down to gather the shells Poppy had found.

Morvoren laughed to herself, moving to join the women at once. What surprised Morvoren more than anything since she’d arrived in Tristwick was how swiftly she’d bonded with Poppy. How she would miss that young woman. Sharing a room and working together had brought the two of them closer than Morvoren could have ever hoped for.

Would that she could bring Poppy with her to Bodmin. The two of them would have a right fun time exploring the city together, finding a shop to work in, living wildly from inn to inn. But she couldn’t tear Poppy away from her home. She belonged in Tristwick as greatly as Morvoren didn’t.

She reached the others as they picked up far more than ten shells—“Can’t ne’er ’ave too many shells, Mother”—Poppy’s reticule growing heavier and heavier.

While they rifled through the sand, a couple passed by whom Morvoren recognized from church.

“Mr. Causey, Mrs. Causey,” Mrs. Honeysett greeted, straightening as she brushed off the sand from her hands. “Lovely night out.”

“Indeed,” Mr. Causey said, tipping his top hat toward her. “I trust you are well?”

The three of them nodded in unison.

“Adding to your collection, Poppy?” Mrs. Causey said, a hand to her swelling belly. Mrs. Honeysett had said the woman would enter her confinement in November, but she looked close to bursting that evening.

“As always, ma’am,” Poppy said with a grin.

The Causeys then shifted their attention to Morvoren. “And how is the newest member of Tristwick’s community faring?” Mr. Causey asked. “We’ve heard you have taken to the cellars with ease.”

Morvoren nodded. “If so I can only give credit to the Honeysetts here, sir. They teach very well.”

“I’m sure.” Mr. Causey tipped his head to the side, still holding his wife’s hand that was laced through his arm. “You’ll be more than prepared to work through winter then, I trust?”

Morvoren hesitated, glancing to Poppy, then Mrs. Honeysett. Neither of them had told Poppy that Morvoren was planning to leave before winter set in, and now would certainly not be the right time to admit as much.

“I hope so,” Morvoren said simply.

“I’m surprised to see ye walkin’ about, Mrs. Causey,” Mrs. Honeysett said, swiftly changing the subject. “Ought ye not be restin’?”

Mrs. Causey blew out a breath, though her smile remained. “I fear I would surely die if I had to rest any longer than I already am being made to do. Just yesterday, we held a party at Leighton House with the Hawkinses and the Trevethans. Not a moment went by without the four of them insisting I sit upon cushions and eat until I was fit for bursting. Of course, my old friend Mr. Frederick Hawkins also has his hands full with his own wife.” She lowered her voice, leaning toward Mrs. Honeysett. “Who, I hear, is also in the motherly way. At any rate, I was exhausted by the end of the evening after the fuss that was made.”

“It does sound terrible to be waited on hand and foot, my dear,” Mr. Causey said with a twinkle in his eye.

Mrs. Causey patted her husband on the arm. “Oh, you are right. I really shouldn’t complain. You all are taking such good care of me. Especially you, my dear.” She turned to face Poppy and Morvoren. “When the two of you marry, you must find yourselves someone as dutiful as Mr. Causey here. You will want for nothing then.”

“Wise words, Mrs. Causey,” Mrs. Honeysett said.

Morvoren smiled, but not before catching Poppy’s weakened expression. She narrowed her eyes. Why did she look so forlorn?

“Well,” Mrs. Causey continued, “I do wish I could continue speaking with you, but I fear once I stop for long, I lose all desire to move at all. I’ll have to have Mr. Causey carry me the rest of the way home if I prolong our departure further.”