A Cornish Girl

by Gloria Cook

  ‘I’ll be fine. Thank you anyway, Jowan.’ She was about to go, then hesitated. Could she trust him? He ran the business here very well indeed. Sol had said he’d trust Jowan with his life. Jowan might be the one who could help her. ‘I, well …’ Taking a deep breath she told him about her need to secretly sell some valuables. ‘Would you know of anyone? Someone discreet?’

  ‘A job with no questions asked and a fair price given, you mean? Leave it to me, Sarah.’ Jowan smiled at her again. He knew his reputation for being a charmer, but he wasn’t out to charm Sarah. He really liked her. ‘Give me three or four days then let me know when you’re ready to offload the goods. I’ll oversee everything for you.’

  ‘Thank you, Jowan.’ Sarah couldn’t resist a smile coming on. ‘I’ve packed up most of the things. This person you know can look over the goods and take them away as soon as he pleases. It’s better he looks over everything away from Tabbie’s place.’

  ‘We’ll call on you soon.’ Jowan was thoughtful. ‘You’ll have to take a day off work. Sarah, take my advice and leave as soon as you can. Go somewhere and start again. I’ll be happy to take you anywhere you choose. You and Amy are sure to keep in touch. I’d like to stay your friend too. I promise no one in my family will ever know where you go, if that’s what you want.’

  Sarah sipped from her cup to give herself time to think. She had just put her trust in Jowan. Would it hurt to keep on trusting him? Amy wasn’t here and she had no idea when she’d be back. She had lost Tabbie for good. Tara had made a kind offer but their different stations meant a friendship was impossible. She would be with her family soon but it would be good to keep one local reliable friend. ‘Thank you again, Jowan.’ She returned another of his stunning smiles.

  Darkness was drawing in when Dinah met Abner Jago at the entrance to Tabbie’s Lane. He’d left his wagon elsewhere and was on foot. ‘You found it all right, then,’ she whispered, her insides bubbling with the excitement of planning a crime that could change her life forever. ‘It’s down there. Ground’s good but you’ll have to watch out for gorse and brambles hitting your face.’

  Jago glanced all around, his neck protruding forward as if he was in the habit of skulking about and looking to see if anyone was in the vicinity. ‘Is she at home?’

  ‘Got back more’n two hours ago. Well, you know where it is for sure now. How much will I be getting out of it? My debt will be cleared, won’t it?’ Dinah was shifting on her feet, eager to get home. Jeb would be wondering where she was. He’d chide her for not being there to help Miriam with the supper. Dinah hated having to be sickly sweet in apology, to have to spout ‘the Good Lord this’ and ‘the Good Lord that’ after she’d lied about going off alone to meditate about Him.

  ‘Depends what I find there. You’ll get what you deserve, maid, never fear. Go on, lead the way.’

  ‘What? I have to get home. It’ll soon be dark. You’ll easily find your way to the shack in the daylight when you come back.’

  ‘I s’pose so.’ Jago used his gruff voice. ‘Just take me along a little way, so I can get the feel of the ground.’

  ‘Just quickly, then.’ Dinah set off down the short lane. At its end she entered the neck of overgrown track. ‘See what I mean? You have to watch your head. ’Tis only a few twists and turns then there’s a small clearing with the shack. I’ve spied it out. Can we go back now?’

  ‘In a minute.’

  ‘What else do you need to know?’ she sighed.

  ‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’

  ‘Then why can’t we go?’

  ‘’Tis nice and private here. Thought we’d have a little kiss or two first.’

  ‘What?’ She’d never been asked for a kiss before. She wondered if Abner Jago was married. She wasn’t likely to ever bag herself a husband but she could overlook this man’s unsavoury attributes for he’d make a good provider. ‘Do you have a wife?’

  ‘What’s that got to do with anything? I got a woman and five children. Come on, I’m eager to get on with it.’ The next instant she was in Jago’s clutches and his face was coming down on hers.

  ‘Get off me!’ she struggled, swearing as foul as a drunkard, knocking off his billycock hat. ‘I’m not kissing an ugly swine like you if you’re married.’

  Jago grabbed her by the roots of her hair and yanked her head backwards, twisting her neck to the side, making her scream in pain. ‘We’ll leave out the kissing, then. You’re as ugly as a frog anyway and no one’d want to kiss you unless it was pitch dark.’

  He pushed her down to the ground and flung himself on top of her, putting a hand over her mouth. He yanked up her skirt and petticoats. ‘I always keep my promises, maid. You’re about to get exactly what you deserve.’

  Eight

  Next Sunday, Tara had a welcome excuse to miss church when Rosa Grace developed a cold, with a high temperature. She was in no mood to be in a cold place listening to an uninspiring sermon. She thought the shouts and hand-clapping and foot-stamping of the Bible Christians inappropriate at any time and utterly disrespectful on the Sabbath, but she rather envied their joyful zeal. At least they had something to lift themselves spiritually and mentally out of the miseries of their hard and meagre living. While travelling slowly through the village in an open carriage back in the summer she had heard one of their street preachers in full stride: ‘What does it matter that I live in a little cottage with not much in the way of furniture and decoration, and sometimes find it hard to put food on the table? One day I shall live in my Father’s mansion and feast at his banqueting table!’ Well, she lived in a mansion packed with fine things and comforts, things she had taken for granted all her married life, but she had never known personal happiness. But she had Rosa Grace, and her charitable works as a distraction.

  She was arranging a Christmas bazaar, of scented gifts and lacework, to raise funds for the parish needy to have meat on their Christmas tables, a few provisions in their larders, perhaps a new blanket or some woollen cloth to make clothes. She already had a collection of mufflers and gloves and hose to distribute, made by a team of ladies, and some middle-class wives and daughters of tradesmen, who had little to do each day. She held meetings at different times, of course, for the women from each station in life. Rosa Grace and this work gave her some satisfaction, a lot actually, she decided. There was no point in self-pity. If love wasn’t meant to enter her life, if she couldn’t get away from Poltraze, if Sarah never came to her to form a friendship, then she had to accept it, just as the poor of Meryen had to accept their lot. At least Amy would come back one day. Please let it be soon.

  Joshua had attended matins and had returned home in a very good mood, as he’d been for the last few days. He sat down, all smiles, at the head of the dining table and tucked into the four-course luncheon, clearing his plate of game soup, chomping on the ham and the beef, taking a second helping of suet pudding, while liberally quaffing down various wines. ‘Tell cook everything was delicious and perfectly presented, Fawcett.’ Once someone who had taken to only toying with his food, he did not leave a morsel.

  ‘I congratulate you on the choice of menu and the sauces, Tara,’ he drawled with charm, when they were finishing off with coffee alone in the winter parlour.

  ‘Thank you, Joshua.’ Tara was pleased to receive a compliment. Joshua was a different man to the one who had attacked her over her desire to leave and end their sham of a marriage. Very much his old self again, he had led a jolly conversation with her over the meal table. He was immaculately groomed, and there was no garden dirt under his nails even though the clearing of the grounds and the restoration of the hothouses had begun; instead they were painstakingly manicured. He seemed to care more about his appearance than anything else nowadays, perhaps, she supposed, to compensate for his earlier disregard of it. He changed his clothes several times a day, wholeheartedly approving of the new valet. The atmosphere in the house had taken a turn for the better, and she secretly agreed with what she assumed would be Mi
chael’s sentiment, that the old timbers had eased into sighs of relief. It was good that now her affair with Michael had ended he no longer availed himself of meals with them, requesting trays to be brought to the library. Joshua was obviously finding the new arrangement more acceptable. Because Michael crept in and out to his old books, one could almost forget he existed. ‘Are things going to plan in the grounds?’

  ‘Yes, I think so. I’m leaving it all to Laketon,’ he replied enthusiastically, although his keenness did not lie with the cartloads of young plants and shrubs, saplings and delicate specimens that Laketon had brought back from Falmouth, with insufferable pride. Laketon was spending long hours supervising the team of gardeners, and stressing to Joshua that he would watch over the hothouses himself to protect the precious cargo, which at all costs must be kept at the same temperature. Laketon could crow all he liked. Joshua had found a new interest. Hobbs had given fresh breath in his body. He felt sure that Hobbs felt the same way. From the first, Hobbs had kept a tentative but steady eye contact with him, normally insolence in a servant, and when Joshua had not reprimanded him, he had gone on to give him many meaningful looks, taking his time when dressing him and helping him to disrobe. It was dangerous to be even thinking of embarking on an affair but the risk of Laketon finding out was small. He didn’t make so free wandering into the house now and he had never disturbed him when he’d been with his valet, so he could spend lots of time with Hobbs. Laketon was pleased he was looking his old self again, especially as Joshua had told him it was all for him. Right now Laketon was totally absorbed with the gardens; it pleased him that Joshua took no more than a gentleman’s usual interest in them. It hurt to have to virtually ignore his great love of botany, but it pleased him that this way made Laketon more like a servant. Some day, somehow, he’d get rid of the evil swine responsible for sadistically wrecking his beautiful gardens.

  ‘Why leave it all to him?’ Tara had wondered about this. She’d wondered about Joshua’s change of mood. Was it because he was spending less time with Kivell?

  ‘It’s better this way.’

  ‘Yes, I understand.’

  ‘Thank you.’ He passed his cup to her for more coffee. ‘Tara, I’m sorry I was so short with you before. I hope you have been finding things a little more agreeable lately, and that you won’t find it so hard to stay here. I’ve been thinking. There is no reason for us not to live separately for part of each year, many couples do. Now you have ended your association with my brother it will leave you free to take another lover. Look for someone who’ll adore you, Tara. Someone you can dance with and have fun with, not some dreary bookworm. After Christmas you could stay at the house in Truro. The widowed Lady Worth will make a respectable companion to attend the Assembly Rooms with and see you about society, and as she hasn’t her full wits about her she wouldn’t hold you back. You can take your little girl and her nanny with you. You’ll be able to shop in the best shops. It’s not good for either of you to be shut away here all the time. Forgive me for being so thoughtless and selfish. In fact I’ll escort you there myself and stay a night or two.’ Laketon could not object to him making a show of keeping up the pretence of his marriage. Hobbs would come with him, of course. He’d have him more to himself. And if there did turn out to be something between them, as he hoped, he would buy some secret gifts for his new young love in Truro.

  ‘The last thing I want to do is to take a lover,’ Tara said. How could that possibly lead her to happiness? She would still be tied to Joshua. ‘But it would be nice for Rosa Grace and me to have a change of surroundings. Goodness knows the grounds are in a bleak state with all the removal of dead trees and foliage.’ The rest of the winter spent away from here and some socializing was wonderfully appealing.

  ‘That’s settled, then. I do hope Rosa Grace will be well again soon. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go up and change.’

  Joshua did not have to ring for his valet. Aaron Hobbs was waiting for him in his dressing room. He gave a little bow. Joshua loved the way he did it, a smooth flowing movement, as graceful as a swan. ‘I have your outdoor attire ready for you, sir.’

  ‘Thank you, Hobbs. I need something to wear for the afternoon. I shan’t be going out.’

  ‘Very good, sir.’ Hobbs quietly set about pulling a pair of soft trousers and a smoking jacket out of the vast wardrobes.

  Joshua watched him avidly. ‘Your first week in my service has proved to be a success.’

  ‘Thank you very much indeed, sir.’ Hobbs’s mild eyes were fixed to his. He was quite beautiful; his skin pale and soft as if he need never put an offending razor to it. ‘I shall always be ready to please you, sir, in any way that I can. Any way at all.’

  It was a blatant invitation to turn their master-servant relationship into something deeper, Joshua was sure of that. It brought heat to his loins. In Hobbs he could have a lover he would truly be superior to. It was too marvellous. He couldn’t help himself. He lifted a hand and laid the palm gently against Hobbs’s face. ‘Aaron …’

  ‘My dear Mr Nankervis.’ Aaron turned his head and kissed the palm, placing his hand over Joshua’s, closing his eyes to revel in the touch, the moment.

  With a sigh of desire, Joshua stepped up and took the youth into his arms. ‘We won’t be disturbed, we have all afternoon. Aaron, my darling …’

  Sarah had stowed away the silver items, among them candlesticks and a coffee pot with the Nankervis crest, into a captain’s chest; the latter was shipwreck booty. Now she was filling a decorated tea crate with ornaments, china, glass and pewter. She would keep all the lovely fabrics and take them to her family’s home. The more she thought about it the more confident she was that they would take her in. It would be such a happy reunion. It was arranged that as soon as she was paid for Tabbie’s treasures Jowan would take her on the carpenter’s cart to Redruth to call on her aunt, brother and sister.

  There was a light knock on the door. She wasn’t expecting anyone to call. Perhaps it was Jowan, come with information about the sale of the stuff before going on to the dinner to meet his half-brother at Burnt Oak. She looked out of the window and leapt back in shock to see the very man who had insulted her looking back in.

  ‘Miss Hichens,’ he called out. ‘Please may I have a word with you?’

  ‘I don’t want to speak to you. Go away!’ The nerve of the man! Finding out where she lived and actually coming here. She didn’t like this at all, what interest did he have in her? She slammed the shutters and dashed to the door and drew the bar across it.

  ‘I mean you no harm,’ Kit called again. ‘I’ve come to apologize for my lack of chivalry towards you the other day. It was unforgivable of me.’

  ‘You’re right there. I’m not interested in your apology or any explanation and I never want to see you again. Go away now or I’ll take a gun to you.’ Sarah glanced at the pistol Tabbie had kept in a small box.

  ‘I’ll respect your wishes, Miss Hichens. I really am sorry to have offended you so sorely. I wish you a very good day.’

  Sarah heard his steps retreating over the stony ground. She peeped out of the window to make sure he really was going. His deportment was slightly stooped. She kept watch for some time.

  Kit slunk back into the little lane and mounted his pony. He had made a mistake in upsetting Sarah Kivell. Information revealed that the Kivells regarded her highly and felt they had a lifetime responsibility to her. He had let his temper get the better of him. He mustn’t allow that to happen again. He should have come back the following day and offered his apologies. His hope now was that she wouldn’t speak to a Kivell and reveal what had happened. He rallied and pulled himself upright in the saddle. Apparently, the lovely creature was a dedicated recluse. She would never have a reason to go to Burnt Oak. He should be able to do what he intended quite comfortably.

  It had been a long week keeping his head down before returning to Burnt Oak today. He wasn’t a patient man, and stewing every minute over his childhood he had resor
ted to drink and laudanum to help him sleep, keeping at bay the nightmares he’d had all his life, the terrible dreams of crying out for a mother, for someone, anyone to love him but there was never anyone there.

  As a boy he had been shaken awake and slapped across the face. ‘Shut up, whelp,’ his lazy young nursemaid had shrieked, ‘or I’ll beat the hide off you. Your real mother don’t want you. She hates you. You haven’t got a father, you was born a bastard. You haven’t got a family. You’ve got no one. That’s why wealthy old Miss Minion is bringing you up as a charity case, and she’s been sworn to keep you here in total seclusion. It’s no use crying, the old lady’s deaf and batty. You’re nothing, boy. You’ll be nothing. No one will ever want you.’

  He had never known what it was like to have a playmate. Observing children in later years he realized he didn’t know how to play, to join in with fun. After receiving his lessons from a severe tutor until the age of twelve, he’d been thankful to get away from Miss Minion’s stuffy dark house, which had smelled of mothballs, to go to a boarding school in the Bristol countryside. There he’d felt some freedom at last and had been surprised to realize he was strong-willed, and unlike many boys from an uncaring background he did not prove to be an easy target for the bullies. He had been able to stand his ground, fiercely if need be. Intelligent in the classroom and a good performer on the sports field, he had been popular, up to a point. Something had held him back from making friends and he had spent many hours in aching loneliness. Going home on his first holiday the need for revenge had been bred and he had devised a plan to get rid of the tormenting nursemaid. Putting fishing line across the servants’ stairs he had enjoyed watching her take a plunge that had maimed her, rendering her unfit for any future employment. He had hoped she’d end up in the gutter.