He studied her profile. She was as beautiful from this angle as she was face on and he resolved to have portraits painted of her one day from all angles. Oliver became serious as he thought about the reason why she had turned her face away from him – the mention of Clem Trenchard. Did she still yearn for him? What went on inside that lovely young head of hers? Would he be able to probe that deeply? Perhaps not, but then it didn’t really matter… did it?
As the sun continued its journey upwards through the sky, the shadows in the room deepened. Kerensa watched the last chink of sunlight disappear from the corner of the window.
‘Nathan says the tawny owl can be released tonight,’ she said conversationally. ‘Apparently it wasn’t too badly hurt after all.’
He wasn’t listening to her. And he had forgotten all about the harrowing funeral as he remembered how soft her body was against his, how tightly she closed her eyes and clung to his neck when they came together. He watched her mouth moving as she spoke and with a fierce urgency wanted to kiss it, to smother her words, to feel the soft sensation of her warm lips. He quenched his immediate desire, deciding to wait until later and increase the pleasure to be taken at his leisure.
‘Oliver?’
‘Mmm?’
A puzzled frown had appeared above her eyes at his silence.
‘I… I was saying, it’s a good thing the tawny owl is well again.’
‘Yes, it is,’ he agreed with her.
Kerensa was confused. She thought she recognised the look in his dark eyes, but in her naivety she wasn’t sure.
He changed the subject suddenly. ‘So what were you doing holding one of Samuel Drannock’s brats the other day?’
‘Oh, you mean little Jack. He was fretting so I offered to take him from his mother for a while. She had Charles to see to.’
‘I noticed she will be in childbed again quite soon. The Drannocks will be as good at breeding as the Kings.’
Kerensa recalled Mrs Tregonning’s similar remark. ‘How many children have they got, I wonder?’
‘Five or six at least,’ Oliver said, picking up a wedge of the pork and ale pie and breaking it slowly in two. ‘Like children… babies, do you, Kerensa?’
‘Oh, yes, very much so.’
‘Good.’ Without taking his eyes from her face, Oliver bit into one half of the wedge of pie and chewed it slowly, leaving Kerensa in no doubt what he had in mind.
* * *
Morley and Florrie Trenchard were more than relieved when Clem took to walking Alice Ford back to the Manor from the regular Bible classes held at Jeb Bray’s cottage. They had been deeply worried about the effect on their elder son when Kerensa Trelynne married Sir Oliver. They knew how shaken Clem had been when the girl whom they had come to love themselves had actually gone through with the marriage.
Morley had remonstrated many times with Clem over his moroseness and lackadaisical attitude to his work on the farm. Spending time with the cheery Alice meant he no longer hung restlessly about the farmyard or vanished with Charity his dog for long secretive hours. Perhaps now his parents’ prayers were answered and Clem would be bringing a bride home to Trecath-en Farm after all.
Alice was excited that it was her Clem sought to sit next to in the miner’s cottage, and unlike Matthias Renfree, was unaware he paid attention to nothing or no one while there. She delighted in his company at other times and didn’t seem to notice when he was quiet and sullen.
Clem spoke little unless it was to ask questions about Kerensa. Other matters held small interest for him.
‘Does Kerensa mind not going to the Bible meetings any more?’ Clem asked. He and Alice were strolling side by side in the evening sunshine, following the path running in twists and turns beside a narrow tinkling river on Trecath-en pasture land.
‘No, I don’t think so,’ Alice replied, pulling off the heads of long grasses as they moved along, ‘she gets on so well with the Reverend Ivey anyway. He’s such a sweet old soul, isn’t he? Besides, whichever way you look at it, we worship the same God, don’t we.’
‘Does she see much of the Reverend, then?’
‘Usually once a week.’
‘At the Parsonage or the Manor?’
‘Depends.’ Alice went on gaily answering his questions. She was always more pleased when Clem was talking instead of having to draw him out of one of his prolonged silences. ‘It’s been at the Manor since young Davey Trembath’s funeral, she’s been rather upset by that.’
‘Is she all right?’ he asked quickly.
‘Oh, yes. I think she’s just waiting for things to settle down a bit, then she’ll be out and about again.’
‘She looked so pale when I saw her last.’
‘Well, it may be she’s pregnant, Clem.’
‘What!’ he exclaimed at the thoughtless remark, his arms held in mid-air in the act of throwing a stick for Charity. ‘Is she?’ he demanded, with an anguished look at Alice.
‘No, I don’t think so. Forget I mentioned it, it was silly to say such a thing,’ Alice said meekly. Then wisely changing the subject she asked, ‘How’s your family keeping, Clem?’
‘They’re well enough,’ he said moodily, finally throwing the stick for the impatient dog.
‘And Kenver? I’ve never met your brother, he sounds very nice.’
‘He is, but what makes you say that?’ Clem said, ignoring her hint to be invited to his home.
‘Kerensa told me about him,’ she replied, ‘she sounds very fond of him by the way she spoke of him.’
Clem sighed heavily as he searched about for another stick to throw.
‘That’s another tragedy that happened when Kerensa married that man,’ he said angrily. ‘Kenver adored her. She’d spend hours sitting on his bed talking to him. I believe he misses her as much as I do.’ He hurled a stick away with great force. ‘Kerensa shouldn’t have had to change anything if she didn’t want to!’
‘A good wife follows her husband, though, Clem,’ Alice said pointedly to his face, then turned away to watch Charity come bounding back. She added in a small voice, ‘I know I would.’
For the first time Clem looked critically at Alice Ford. She had none of Kerensa’s grace and beauty, nor the ethereal quality to be found in Rosina Pearce, nor even the clear skin of the King sisters. But her hair was full of shining bouncing curls and if a man troubled himself to give her a second look he could find other becoming things about her. Her eyes were hazel brown, a shade lighter than her hair, her mouth pink and inviting, and her young body moulded into generous curves. Alice was sweet and honest, and with a start Clem realised he actually did enjoy being with her.
Alice was the closest person to Kerensa now and she readily chatted about her and the new life they shared in the Manor, and although it usually annoyed him to have to sift through all she said to get the information he wanted in the first place, there had been the odd moment when her cheerfulness had made him smile. Meeting her gave him a reason to carry on, it gave him something positive to cling to in his miserable existence. He knew he should be grateful to her for this small measure of comfort; he received none from anybody else. His mother and grandmother said it was ‘time he pulled himself together’, his father was at the end of his patience with him. Matthias Renfree didn’t know what to say to him any more. The rest of the parish had lost interest in him and speculated only on how the Pengarron marriage was working out and how soon an heir would be born. Only Alice Ford tried to understand how he felt, how he suffered, and was willing to befriend him in the way he desired at the moment.
Clem threw Charity’s stick again and on impulse held out his hand to Alice. Shyly she held out hers in return and Clem took a step towards her to claim it. Her hand was warm and alive and its touch brought back feeling to his body, sensations he’d not felt for many weeks.
They walked on, hand in hand, to the shade of a clump of elm trees.
‘It’ll be getting dark soon,’ Alice said, ‘we should be making our way back
.’
But Clem didn’t want to go back yet, back to the cosy farmhouse where the rest of his family were contentedly getting on with their own lives. It was in too stark a contrast to his belief that life was not worth living. This was one of the few times he didn’t want to be alone, and Alice was the best company he had had for many weeks.
‘Not yet, let’s sit down here for a while,’ he said persuasively.
‘The ground’ll be getting damp,’ she said doubtfully.
Clem took off his jacket and laid it out on the ground.
‘Just for a little while… please, Alice,’ he appealed.
With a bright smile, she said, ‘All right, Clem.’
She made herself comfortable and he sat down beside her.
‘I don’t want to go back yet,’ he said quietly, looking up at the bunches of leaf-like fruits on the branches overhead. ‘Not for ages.’
He put his arm around her shoulders and Alice gingerly leaned against him. Neither felt the need to speak. Alice watched the sky quickly darken, with a warm feeling in the pit of her stomach now that Clem was taking an interest in her at last. For him it felt good to hold someone, someone warm and soft, vital and alive. He took Alice’s hand and held it against his cheek and she snuggled in closer to him. A choir of tinkling water, chirping birds, and a breeze rustling through the trees, lulled them into a sense of peacefulness.
Alice turned inside Clem’s arm to see if he’d fallen asleep. He met her eyes and rubbed the hand he was holding against her cheek then brought it back to his.
‘We’ll have to go soon, Clem.’
‘When are you expected back?’
‘I have no duties tonight. They are away at Sir Martin’s, but Ruth and Esther will wonder where I am if I’m not back soon.’
‘Five more minutes won’t make much difference,’ he said, placing his hand under her chin, very gently. He looked at her for a moment then kissed her with the lightest of pressure. The response from her lips was immediate and he pulled her into the circle of his arms. Alice moved against his body as she slid her arms, one behind his back, the other around his neck. Her movements brought his body to life with a shudder, every nerve quickening in exquisite pain.
Clem had thought this could not happen to him, not now. He wanted to kiss and hold Alice, he wanted her warmth, her nearness, he wanted her to bring life itself to his body, he wanted to drain her of her spirit and make him whole again. He had no power to stop the overwhelming force of his great need as he held her so tightly in his arms.
Alice panicked and tried to break free, but he soothed her with softly spoken words as he eased her down beneath him, misleading her with kisses of exaggerated lightness. His fingers found the laces of her stays and he pulled roughly at them.
‘Don’t, Clem,’ she gasped between his kisses, ‘let me get up.’
He didn’t seem to hear her. His breathing came in short bursts, his mouth forcing hers open, passion overcoming his more sensitive feelings.
Alice struggled violently. ‘No, Clem! No!’ she cried out in fear. ‘Not like this… please!’
Removing his hand from her bare flesh, he gave a cry of deep anguish.
‘I’m sorry, Alice,’ he moaned, ‘forgive me. It’s just that… I want you so much. Do you understand?’
‘Oh, Clem,’ she said softly, love and pity chasing away her fears. She reached up and brushed the strands of damp fair hair away from his forehead. ‘I do understand what you’ve been going through. But I can’t be Kerensa. She’s lost to you forever. Just give me the chance and I will make you happy. Just let me try, Clem. Please let me try.’
He knew she would be willing now. It was almost dark. He could pretend in the dark. Pretend her hair was auburn red and curled under on her shoulders. Pretend her body was smaller, daintier, softer. Pretend she was finally his…
Alice raised her head to meet his next kiss, blissfully unaware, that Clem was making love to Kerensa Pengarron.
Chapter 9
Before leaving for an overnight stay on the occasion of Sir Martin’s next supper party, Oliver showed Kerensa some of the Pengarron jewels. Earlier in the day he had selected the pieces he thought the most appropriate for her from the magnificent collection kept in the bank vault at Marazion. The collection had seen many additions with every passing decade until his mother’s death. With no lady in the Manor house to wear them after that, they had laid incarcerated in the bank vault for years.
Kerensa was amazed by the jewels. Never before had she seen so many precious stones, many in large and elaborate settings. She had no wish to possess any of them but had always appreciated things of beauty and couldn’t help but feel excited knowing that the sparkling gems, the gold and silver, laid out carefully in their wrappings on her bed, were for her exclusive use. She tried on various items of the jewellery, separately and in various groups. Then, when she was sure no one was about, except for a delicate five-stoned crystal necklace which she set aside, she tried them all on together. They felt heavy and she walked extra-cautiously and stood self-consciously in front of a full-length mirror to see the effect of all the finery at her throat, lying over the stomacher of her gown, reaching halfway up her arms, crowding every thumb and finger and even her head. She was overawed by the sparkle of the deep reds, blues and greens as the precious stones were caught in the candlelight as she turned sideways to view herself from all angles.
Becoming afraid she might lose one of these valuable baubles she laid them back on the bed, and spent so much time just looking that although he had no care if he kept people waiting, Oliver put his head round the bedroom door and chided her for making them late to leave for the night’s entertainment. Kerensa did not care about his chastisement and didn’t care if she was making them late. She had no fears about the forthcoming event. She hadn’t asked to become Sir Oliver Pengarron’s wife and felt no obligation to impress, or to fit in with, the people she was about to meet tonight. And as it seemed that Oliver had dropped the more unsavoury acquaintances he had previously associated with since the wedding day, perhaps some of them wouldn’t be too dreadful. Anyway, if they didn’t like her, it was Oliver’s problem, not hers.
Kerensa had in fact decided to wear the crystal necklace tonight as a perfect complement to her gown of deep apricot and the discreet matching feather set in her gleaming upswept hair. Putting the other jewels back in their small chest and securing it in a locked cubby hole Oliver had shown her in her dressing room, she found she was unable to clasp the crystal necklace and ran downstairs to Oliver who was waiting by the main door for her. Cloaked and hatted already, he drummed his fingers on his arm as he looked at his pocket watch.
‘Do you want Barney Taylor to take root on the carriage seat?’ he said sternly.
‘I can’t manage the clasp,’ she explained, unperturbed by his ill humour as she held out the necklace to him. ‘Will you do it for me, please, Oliver?’
‘Where is Alice?’ he asked impatiently, breathing down her neck while he fastened the necklace.
Kerensa turned back to face him. ‘I told her she could go to the Bible classes.’ And with that she picked up her cloak and gloves.
‘You did what! We are staying overnight at Martin’s house. Alice was supposed to come with us.’
‘I don’t need her,’ Kerensa insisted, ‘and she looks forward to the classes,’ she went on firmly, tying the ribbons on her cloak into a neat bow.
Oliver bit back a further angry remark. With her hair swirled on top of her head apart from two tiny ringlets nestling behind her ears, Kerensa looked so young, so full of sparkling youth and vitality.
‘You are beautiful,’ he said huskily, pulling on one of the ringlets. ‘My mother favoured that crystal neckline too.’ He held out his arm to her. ‘Are you nervous?’ he asked.
‘No,’ Kerensa replied as she took his arm. ‘It doesn’t matter to me whether Sir Martin’s friends like me or not. I have no desire to mix with the gentry and if they find me commo
n all the better, I’m not ashamed of my class and upbringing.’
‘Really, my dear? I think, Kerensa, this should prove to be a most interesting evening.’ Oliver’s eyes held a twinkle of anticipation as he opened the door.
* * *
There were about ten people in the large plushly decorated drawing room when they entered, Oliver displaying Kerensa on his arm to the occupants. Fat Sir Martin hastened across the room to greet them.
‘Ah, there you are Oliver. Late as usual, dratted boy. And Kerensa my little one, I may call you Kerensa, eh? I say, you do look ravishing tonight, it’s a small wonder to me Oliver hasn’t eaten you up yet!’ The excited elderly gentleman planted a wet slurping kiss on the back of Kerensa’s hand.
‘Thank you for the compliment, Sir Martin,’ she smiled at him as one would an amusing child, ‘and of course you may call me Kerensa.’ Oliver looked bemused at her confident reply but Kerensa was not surprised at herself. She was not going to allow anyone to intimidate her tonight.
‘Good, good, and you must call me Martin. All my friends do, and I’m sure we will be friends eh, Kerensa?’ he finished off with a loud bellow of laughter.
Some of Sir Martin’s other guests had gathered round and he introduced them to Kerensa while slipping a sweaty podgy hand around her waist. Kerensa did not move out of Sir Martin’s range, if Oliver found his arm around her permissible she would not object.
Oliver smiled down indulgently. He knew his late friend’s father for a harmless old man of bawdy humour, incapable of actually participating in the subject he talked of more than any other.
The guests included Thomas Cole and his haughty looking wife Sarah, John and Alfred Sarrison, who were members of the mine consortium with Sir Martin, both grinned like puppets to reveal porcelain false teeth, and Ralph Harrt, a middle aged magistrate with a severe squint and the Master of the local Hunt. All greeted Kerensa courteously but with undisguised curiosity, but Ralph Harrt was very cool towards Oliver. Kerensa assumed the reason was Oliver’s freetrading activities, since they were common knowledge, but others in the room could have told her it was because of Oliver’s refusal to join the Hunt. On more than one occasion, he had been reported to have rescued a fox from its pursuers. Any fox that raided a Pengarron chicken house was tracked down and cleanly shot, rather than cruelly torn to pieces.
Pengarron Land Page 18