A Captive Heart

by Patricia Scott

  Adam felt her discomfort as the rumbling coach brought them in close contact. He wished he could comfort her, tell her that he loved her and that no harm would come to her while he was there. And he wished that they were on their own without Martha and the eyes of his benefactor Lady Phoebe looking on them both with hopeful anticipation.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Twilight and darkness would soon be setting in and a cool clammy mist was wreathing and rising up from the sea when the coach stopped on the outskirts of Illogan, where Adam made his farewells to them.

  ‘I am most grateful to you for allowing me to journey this far. I trust that it has not taken you too far out of your way, my lady?’

  Tamsin stood up to say, ‘One moment if you please, Aunt Phoebe. Before we leave…’

  Her aunt nodded with a knowing smile. ‘You would like to make your farewells and wish him well, my dear. As I also wish you well, Master Carey.’

  She obviously read something more into this but Tamsin chose to ignore it.

  ‘Thank you. Yes... I would like to say goodbye to Adam. I might not see him again for quite some time, Aunt Phoebe.’

  ‘Of course, my dear.’ She gave her niece an affectionate dimpled smile. ‘A few minutes longer on the road will not matter a jot when we’re so close to Treganna and home.’

  Tamsin wondered if he would miss her, as she alighted with Adam’s help from the coach, the firm touch of his warm hand on hers was unnerving to say the least. Would he feel it trembling in his? She doubted they would ever see each other again. Danger for sure could dog his footsteps from now on. She thought he would not chance on her again at Treganna. She could hardly make him welcome there.

  He held onto her hand and smiled back at her. ‘Will you greet me any differently, Tamsin, when this war is over? And it will be soon. You have my word on it. The fighting and bloodshed cannot continue for much longer.’

  ‘All I ask is that you promise me that you will always treat my father kindly if you are in a position to do so, Master Carey. I am sore afraid for him in the future,’ she said quietly lest her aunt should hear. ‘I cannot bear to lose him without asking for his forgiveness for what I have done...’

  ‘And shall you forgive me for the wrong you believe I have done to your family, Tamsin?’

  Tamsin was not certain what he meant by this. She could not let him know that she wanted to say more, much more, knowing that the others in the coach watched her. And she dare not risk Martha giving him away. She smothered a sob and said: ‘If by chance we should meet again, Adam Carey, you must know that we shall meet only as enemies in the future. My Aunt Phoebe has spoken much to you about her husband’s recent movements today. And I promise I will not let you remain unpunished if you should seek to betray my Uncle Bevil or any of my friends or family in the near future.’

  ‘And I promise I shall never forget what you did for me,’ he said gravely with a low courtly bow and before she could prevent him, he kissed her gently on her cheek. ‘Goodbye sweet Tamsin. And pray do not forget me… Let our parting be not be for ever for I shall never forget you, dear heart.’

  Shocked by his kiss and what he had said she murmured, ‘Goodbye, Adam.’ She touched her cheek swiftly with her hand, and felt the tears rise quickly to prick her eyes.

  As she was getting back into the carriage she saw his arm raised in farewell, and knew that his eyes were on her alone. But when she looked out of the window he had disappeared; the swirling sea mist and the darkness taken him from her. She felt such a feeling of desolation strike her heart that she cared little if her tearful eyes gave her feelings away to those around her.

  Tamsin felt empty inside believing that she had said goodbye forever to the two men who meant so much to her. She felt hot tears prick and fill up her eyes quickly as she closed them, resting her head back against the shaking coach to hide her sudden distress from her aunt. She knew that her father could be killed or captured at any time or any day now. He’d known this only too well when he’d bid farewell to her on the quayside that morning.

  And now this other man whose safety had filled and disturbed her thoughts so much during the past few days could suffer a similar fate too. She could still feel his warm lips sweetly brushing her cheek. She sighed. Alas her true feelings for him must remain secret in her heart. Always.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Everything could change so radically for Tamsin now. On Tresco it had been another life entirely. She had had her freedom on the island within reason. It had been some time since she had stayed at Treganna and she knew that Martha and Aunt Phoebe would insist that she dressed correctly and behaved with proper decorum as a young lady should from now on.

  Treganna was sheltered and hidden in the much wooded cover of Helford Passage. Tamsin rested her head in the coach and drew on her memories to day-dream; how would the beautiful old house look now with the cool pale silver moonlight bathing its roofs and chimneys; its gleaming mullioned leaded window panes hiding its secrets from prying eyes; its magnificent gardens with the green lawns that reached down to the thick green woods surrounding and protecting it.

  She remembered with pleasure those many happy hours and summer days spent in the small sailing boat on the river with her young cousin Jago, when as loyal ship mates they shared joys and adventures together on their pirate ship sailing in the Caribbean.

  A sudden rush of emotion caught in her throat and she swallowed on it. Just eighteen years old, Jago had been killed a year ago in a skirmish with the Roundheads. She looked over at Aunt Phoebe talking to Martha. How could her aunt possibly bear it? She had looked so proud when Jago’s childhood skirts were replaced by velvet breeches at the age of seven, and five year old Tamsin had watched the ceremony that day at the Manor house with envy, wishing that she too had been born a boy.

  She smiled and smothered a giggle when she thought of her father’s futile search for his missing clothes in his wardrobe. He would have found the letter by now that she had left in their place. She could visualize his surprise and no doubt his angry face when he read it. It had taken much laborious effort, ink and a scratching quill pen to put what she needed to say put into words.

  It told him how she had found Adam Carey, the son of his dearest and best friend, lying wounded in the Piper Hole cave. How she and Reuben had attended to his wound and cared for him, and the plan they had made to assist him to escape.

  She hoped that her father would accept her confession with good grace, and forgive her for helping the enemy amongst them.

  Would he warn the Royalists that Adam Carey was a Parliamentarian agent and at liberty still to spy on their movements? She sighed. She knew that her father would behave as any good soldier would if threatened by the enemy and act on it immediately.

  Adam would be in as much in danger now as he ever was. Even more so if he stayed in the south of Cornwall.

  She had no way of knowing if Adam would use what he had learnt from his short stay on Tresco about the Royalist strength there or how vulnerable the Scilly isle really was. Her conscience was troubling her and she scarcely listened to Martha and her aunt equably discussing the cost of silk materials for new silk gowns and the seamstress they would use to make them for Tamsin, as if they hadn’t a care in the world.

  More than ever Tamsin realised the constant encroaching danger that surrounded those loyal to the Royalist cause in Cornwall. Brave men would lose their houses and estates; everything they owned and had fought for in their lifetimes. Farmers and mine owners, fishermen alike. Everything they valued and held dear would be taken from them and given to Cromwell.

  How long would Treganna remain in the Trevenian hands? If the Cromwellians came to take it away from them it would be no time at all.

  Tamsin’s fears increased the closer the coach came to the Helford Passage, then at last the coach wheels trundled slowly up the long, darkening elm tree lined driveway and they saw at last the roofs and chimneys and lighted mullioned windows of Treganna. Tam
sin saw with joy it hadn’t changed at all visibly.

  The coach wheels clattered to a noisy halt outside the large stone porch enclosing the sturdy front oak door which opened up quickly to reveal the craggy welcoming features of Edward Whittle, who came forward readily to greet and assist them to alight.

  ‘Good day to you, my lady. Miss Tamsin, Martha. Reuben, good lad. Welcome one and all to Treganna.’

  Edward Whittle opened up the coach door with a wide flourish and helped her aunt Phoebe out. They had few male servants at Treganna now. Those that were left behind were either elderly or mere boys. Sir Bevil had taken most of the fit and able men with him to fight their cause. Edward Whittle had been wounded in the left arm by a musket ball and after much protestation was sent back by Sir Bevil to look after the womenfolk at Treganna.

  Reuben carried their baggage into the spacious great hall with a smiling face. He for one was relieved that they had arrived back safely.

  Tamsin followed her aunt and Martha slowly into the house which immediately sprung back to life with the servants welcoming them in vocal chorus in the hall. There were not so many familiar faces amongst the servants. The few left were: their elderly coachman, Barty Pugh and the footman, Matthew Trimble; Matthew’s wife Joan the cook; Tom Gurney the stable lad; Lady Phoebe’s personal maid, Ida; two young housemaids Lucy and Jenna; and the gardeners, grey bearded Will Margriam who looked three score years at least and Ned Penganner, a tall raw boned lad of fifteen years with a shock of red curls.

  Reuben would do his share of helping Tom with the horses in the stable and in the gardens with Will Margriam and Ned. Tamsin felt content and safe at last here. This was to be her home now for as much as the hostilities allowed. This was where she belonged, where her father truly belonged: Treganna, the Trevenian family home she had known and loved for as long as she could remember.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Tamsin took some light refreshment with her aunt in the parlour, while the evening meal was prepared and cooked for them and the beds were warmed.

  Tamsin was, she thought, well prepared for the questions that she knew would inevitably follow from her Aunt Phoebe’s introduction to Adam. Her aunt had been taken by him immediately. She lost no time in enquiring about him now he was no longer in their company.

  ‘I found Adam Carey such a pleasant young man. Have you known him long, Tamsin? He was only a boy when he visited us before. The Careys of course are our very dear friends,’ Aunt Phoebe said sipping her glass of wine with a look of wellbeing and satisfaction on her prettily plump features. ‘I daresay it would please your father well if an alliance could come from your friendship. Philip Carey was his friend from his school days.’

  Tamsin laughed and shook her head slowly. ‘I hardly know him, Aunt Phoebe. After all Adam was in my father’s company more than mine.’

  How easily the lies were spoken and believed by her Aunt. She’d had a good teacher in Adam.

  She could see though that Lady Phoebe remained unconvinced. Tamsin knew she must not allow her aunt to dwell further on this. It could only put Adam in danger if she were asked too many awkward questions about him. Despite the troubles, Aunt Phoebe was already planning to introduce her niece to the influential country and town folk who were her friends. It was the only entertainment left to her in these uncertain times. And discussing Tamsin’s wardrobe with Martha in the coach she had not been any too pleased to hear that it was so plain and sparse.

  ‘I have looked forward much to coming home, Aunt Phoebe. You must tell how me how I can busy myself here. I mean to make myself useful to you.’

  Aunt Phoebe put down her empty wine glass with a sigh of pleasure and continued with her homily. ‘It distresses me much to hear that your father has sorely neglected your needs, Tamsin. From what I have heard from Martha I gather that you have no fashionable wardrobe whatsoever of your own these days. We must see to it at once that this is put to right.’

  ‘Aunt Phoebe...’

  ‘I have always maintained that Richard should not have been left in sole charge of you. How can a man be expected to take care of his daughter adequately on his own? And to subject you, dear girl, to living on that island amongst his troopers like he did? With only Martha and no maidservant to assist you with your dress and only fishermen’s wives and goats for company?’ She shook her lace capped head. ‘It beggars all description.’

  Tamsin put down her glass in haste then stood up to face Aunt Phoebe, her arms firmly folded across her chest. ‘He is only the dearest and the best of fathers, Aunt Phoebe. No father could have done more than he did for me,’ she declared boldly, letting her quick tongue run away with her. ‘I had Martha to help me with advice always when needed, and there was really no occasion to wear fashionable clothes on Tresco. There were no balls or parties to attend on the island. We lived simply and quietly; Father had more to worry about than such fripperies.

  ‘We are at war, Aunt Phoebe! Perhaps it is easy to forget that here in this sociable place amongst your friends, far away from the battle fields.’

  Aunt Phoebe’s black lace fan came into play on hearing this and she used it now to great effect, as she became visibly distressed. Tamsin instantly felt sorry for her harsh words. How could she have been so cruel? Aunt Phoebe had lost her only son Jago and Uncle Bevil had been away from Treganna for many long months now. Of course she knew of the trials of war - she had herself suffered from them cruelly.

  She ran over to her aunt’s side instantly and knelt at her feet. ‘Do please forgive me, Aunt Phoebe, I shall value it most highly if you can give me some assistance with my wardrobe. My mother would have much approved of this if she were here today and Father will be well pleased I am sure to know that you will be taking such good care of me.’

  Aunt Phoebe bent forward and tapped Tamsin’s her head lightly with the lace fan. ‘Hush, child. I shall see to it at once that you shall have the very best gowns that we can afford for you.’ Her fan fluttered quickly as she continued,, ‘We cannot, shall not, allow our enemies to decide how we should live. And I vow that I shall not be browbeaten by those bible thumping traitors who plan to change and ruin our lives for ever. Those puritans who wish to close our theatres, stop us dancing, stop us celebrating Christmas and want to take away all our daily pleasures. I declare here and now that this cannot be allowed to happen, Tamsin. Not as long as I am living here at Treganna.’

  ‘You are right, Aunt Phoebe. And to please you I shall do whatever you say.’

  The evening meal to welcome her had obviously been planned well in advance. Served in the beautiful dining room it was simple and consisted of fresh river salmon and a delightful tanzy, roasted chicken, followed by a sweet dish of eggs and Cornish cream. Tamsin with her young and hearty appetite ate and enjoyed every delicious morsel put before her.

  It was late and sleep was fast catching up with Tamsin. She smothered a yawn but could not disguise her inner restlessness to Martha who led her up the stairs and through the long picture gallery with candles to light her way. Her bedchamber was the one that her parents had used when she was a child.

  It had been a long, tiring and eventful day, but a highly successful one for both her and Adam, Tamsin thought with a sigh of relief as she opened the door to her room.

  Adam had passed muster with an unsuspecting Aunt Phoebe and made his escape effortlessly. Where was he now? Where was he sleeping that night? This thoughts ran through Tamsin’s head as she undressed. In her long night gown and linen cap, she leant out of the open window to drink in the sweet scent from the night scented stock, the rambling roses and the flowering honeysuckle close by the window while Martha used the copper warming pan between the lavender smelling sheets on the four poster bed with its heavy brocade curtains that could enclose her and shut out any night terrors that might befall her.

  But Tamsin could not sleep - she could not shut her thoughts on Adam and knew she would never be free from him. He had taken her broken heart with him in his hand
s and only he could mend it. She wept into her pillow and wished he was there in her arms to make her his own for now and always, but that could never be...

  Adam had seemed self-assured when he left the coach, untroubled by what was to come. Was he on his way to Bristol perhaps? Maybe not; it was in the hands of the Royalists. Or had it changed hands? Or had he perhaps deliberately chosen to remain in Cornwall? To carry out his work? This was for her the most dangerous possibility.

  She climbed out of bed, gazed out of the widow and looked out across the shadowy gardens that stretched out towards Helford, catching a glimpse of the river as the silvery moonlight sparkled on the rippling water through the open gaps in the thick dark green woods.

  Her heart leapt and danced once again as she remembered her blissful childhood days here. Would she see the flash of the kingfishers’ brilliant feathers and the antics of the boisterous, tumbling sleek brown otters in play still on the riverbank?

  These pleasurable things she loved she had missed so much while living on Tresco. Could she hope for Adam to share them with her here too one day? This was an impossible wish that could never be granted. She shook her head and sniffed back her tears.

  She jumped as a light but firm touch came down on her shoulder bringing her back rapidly to reality. Martha was speaking quietly in her ear.

  ‘Forget him. He has gone Tamsin. You cannot hope to see him again my girl. Adam Carey is the enemy. Remember that before you shed any more tears for him. You may change his clothes but you cannot change the man that wears them.’

  ‘I know you speak the truth. But I cannot be doing with it. Not tonight.’ She sighed deeply and shook her night capped head and rose from the cushioned window seat. ‘If Fate has it in mind for us then I am sure that we shall meet again, Martha.’

  ‘You will have to trust that he brings no harm to your father, and Sir Bevil. Remember the lad has already betrayed his own family.’