A Cornish Girl

by Gloria Cook

  He checked himself quickly; he was not one to display his weaknesses.

  ‘You have a lot to tell me, haven’t you, Kit?’

  He cleared his throat. ‘More than you could ever know.’

  ‘Well, I am your grandmother and you can come to me at any time.’

  He had revealed a lot about himself and it sat uneasily. ‘I am a very private man.’

  ‘I’ve gathered that.’ She smiled. ‘Shall we go in and have some spiced tea? Your Aunt Eula has made ginger biscuits, the ones you like so much. It will warm us through.’

  He nodded, raw emotion rising and preventing him from speaking. He left soon afterwards, eager to get away on his own to think things through. Then as on his second visit to Poltraze he found himself not wanting to be alone and rode to Chy-Henver. It was a bonus to find Tara Nankervis there.

  ‘If you are about to leave, Mrs Nankervis, may I escort you part of the way?’

  ‘Very well, Mr Howarth,’ Tara said. It would be churlish to refuse as they would start off in the same direction. She would at least find his company interesting.

  Hugh Kivell ran into Morn O’ May. ‘Mama Tempest, a gentleman’s arrived and he says his name is Mr Charles Howarth, from Bristol.’

  Tempest called for Eula and they went outside to meet this new stranger, an impostor. Someone from Bristol must have known about Charles’s quest to find his father and had travelled down to exploit the family. Genesis had not allowed him to dismount from his hired mount.

  ‘Whoever you are and whatever you’ve come for, young man, I can tell you that you’re out of luck.’ Tempest seethed in anger, ready like a tigress to protect its young. ‘My grandson, Mr Charles Howarth, has been in Cornwall for some weeks. Leave this place immediately or the men and the dogs will run you off.’ He was so unlike Charles. Compact, neat and slim, hair that was fair with a hint of light brown, as well-bred as royalty, self-confident, and owning a ramrod-straight posture.

  ‘Madam, I can assure you that I am who I say I am, Charles Howarth, of the Howarth Shipping Line. The man masquerading locally under my name, who greatly resembles the Kivell menfolk, is undoubtedly your grandson, and he is also my half-brother. We have the same mother. His real identity is Christopher Woodburne but he goes by the name of Kit. I have only known of him in recent months. I knew of his intention to come here, and as sadly I think him to be a little unstable, I begged him to allow me time to see to some important business matters and then to allow me to accompany him. He agreed. I immediately discovered he had deceived me and now at last I’ve been able to follow him down. I need to see him. Is he here?’

  Fidgeting with her hands, Tempest looked from Genesis to Eula. She did not need a sixth sense to know this man was telling the truth. She had been sure from the start that Charles, or rather Kit Woodburne, was hiding a good deal. His true identity, the most important omission, was just one thing. ‘You had better come inside and tell us the full story, Mr Howarth.’

  Eleven

  ‘You had no right to come here!’ Kit snarled in Tempest’s sitting room. God in heaven, he could put his hands round his half-brother’s throat and squeeze the life out of him.

  ‘You had no right to pretend you are me,’ Charles Howarth replied coldly, ‘and to have told lies about my mother. How dare you! In the light of what really happened it’s an insult to her.’ He was on his feet, hands behind his back in front of the fireplace, in command. Also there were Tempest, Eula, Jack and Genesis.

  Kit felt he was the subject of an inquisition. Damn them all. They could think what they liked. They would not get the better of him. ‘It’s an insult what she did to me. She cut me off as if I’d had no right to be alive!’

  ‘Kit, it grieves me to say this, but your father had no right to perpetrate the offence that saw you conceived.’

  Kit flinched. So did Tempest; she hoped Titus was burning in hellfire for raping Prudence Howarth.

  ‘So I’ve no right to be alive, is that it? God knows I’ve wished often enough that I’d never been born,’ Kit bawled, glaring round the room, settling his blazing eyes on Tempest.

  ‘Kit, I want you to know I’m still happy to accept you as my grandson. Nothing could change that. Did you lie because the truth was too painful? It’s easy to tell you have suffered. Mr Howarth has told us about your childhood. That you resent me in particular,’ Tempest said, hating to see him like an animal both on the defensive and about to attack.

  He saw the understanding in her eyes and for a moment had to look away. He wanted to rail against her but it was impossible with her reaching out to him with genuine concern. ‘You were cruel to Titus.’ His voice was only mildly accusing and he felt he was shrinking in size. ‘He didn’t ask to be born. If you had shown him a mother’s love he wouldn’t have turned out to be so bad. That poor girl at Chy-Henver is still going through hell as a consequence of what he did to her. You and Titus have ruined lives. Don’t you feel some responsibility for it all?’

  ‘Yes I do, Kit, every day since Titus’s birth. I rejected him at first. I didn’t want to see or hold my son.’ Tempest tried to keep her head up but she was soon looking down and tears were sprinkling her lashes. ‘I was just sixteen years old, and Garth punished me for not loving him by making me give birth tied to the bed by my hands and feet. He was drunk throughout my labour and threatened he’d cut me up with his hunting knife if I didn’t produce a healthy son. I nearly died, but two days later he came to me and forced on me a husband’s right. I hated him, and although I tried so hard to, I couldn’t love his son. But I was never cruel to Titus. I gave him time and indulged him. It was only when he turned out to be cunning and nasty like his father that I started to ignore him. Having to live on my wits to survive I discovered other senses and began to dream of the future and make accurate predictions. That terrible day I killed Garth still haunts me, but I had to do it, he was about to abuse Eula in the worst way imaginable. It was only fear of me that kept Titus from doing a great many more evil things.’ She was weeping now, but shook her head to prevent Eula from comforting her. ‘Kit, I’m not proud of the things I’ve done. I don’t know what eternity has in store for me. I’m very sorry about what happened to your mother and how it’s made you suffer too. I’m also sorry for Mr Howarth and his father. It grieves my heart every day to know I gave birth to a monster.

  ‘Please, Kit, I beg you, whatever you had in mind when you came here, don’t go on allowing it to make you a victim. I don’t care about your deception, and nor will the rest of the family, even Jowan, when they hear the full story. If you want to, you can be part of us. At least don’t do anything until you take time to consider all that I’ve said.’

  Kit said nothing. From all her words it seemed he had no just reason to have sought retribution. His head thundered, his brain was thumping inside his skull as if it was about to split open. The people in the room went in and out of focus and he thought he would be sick. The air was not getting into his lungs and he was sure he was about to faint.

  ‘I have to get out of here. Don’t try to stop me.’ Forming his hands into a battering ram in case someone stood in front of him he rushed out of the room, then out through a side door into the garden. He took a long breath of cold air, shivering and shuddering but in a fever at the same time. He couldn’t bear to take his leave in front of a crowd of staring Kivells and began to thread his way through the garden towards a door in the outer wall. Tempest had shown him where the large ornamental key was kept. He would go out in the fields beyond. After that, he didn’t know … with any luck he’d get lost and never be found, to die somewhere lonely where this rotten world could never bother him with the business of trying to live in it again.

  ‘Kit! Wait! Wait for me.’ Charles was running after him.

  ‘Go away!’ he hurled over his shoulder. ‘I don’t want you or anyone else near me.’

  ‘But I want you.’ Charles caught up with him easily for Kit’s steps were blundering and shaky. He grabbed
Kit’s arm and clung on. ‘You don’t have to do this. You have people in this world who care for you. You have kinfolk. You don’t have to be alone, to feel unwanted. You haven’t given any of us a chance to get to know you, to perhaps love you. It’s what you want more than anything, isn’t it?’

  ‘You don’t mind the people here knowing we share the same blood but you took pains to let me know you don’t want that in Bristol. You care too much what society thinks.’ He would not be anyone’s sordid secret. He was either this man’s brother or he was not.

  ‘Position in the world is a consideration, I don’t deny that, but the reason I asked you to keep your identity a secret was for my parents’ sake. I didn’t want gossip circulating about my mother, to run the risk of evil-minded people sullying her name. It wouldn’t have been fair on my father either, do you see? My decision was to protect them. You never gave me the chance to fully explain. Kit, you keep running away to avoid more rejection. I understand that. Please, stop for a minute and just think, like your grandmother implored you to do. Do you think I’d have come down all this way to Meryen if I didn’t care about you? Why do you think I’ve just followed you out here?’

  Kit put his hand to his head. He was trembling, incapable of speech.

  ‘I know where you’re staying. I paid well to discover your tracks. I’m going to take you there. I shall stay and not leave you until we’ve had a long talk, and this time, Kit, you will listen to the facts and not shut everything out and torment your soul.’

  Twelve

  Sarah and Kit gazed down at Titus’s grave. It was at the back of the burial plot, lying at a right angle to the other graves, at a distance that showed it was set apart. The headstone was smaller than the others, and bore only his name, age and date of death, 1838.

  ‘What do you feel?’ Kit asked.

  ‘Nothing at all,’ Sarah said, in a shrug of a voice. ‘After everything that’s happened, all his influence on me has been wiped out. I don’t feel love, hate or even resentment towards him. And there’s no point in regrets. Titus has no power over me any more, thank God. The danger my friend Tabbie saw heading for me was from Dinah Greep, not Titus. And you, Kit? Have you come to terms with everything?’

  ‘It’s getting easier, I think. I was beginning to warm towards Grandmama before my brother Charles turned up, and then he put me right, eventually. It was good of him to stay with me for a few days, until he’d hammered home the facts as to how I should really see them, that I would have gained nothing by hurting my grandmother, and that the aching void I’ve always had would have been made worse. He pointed out that I could have that void filled by becoming a member of the Kivell family; deep down it was what I’d wanted after coming here a couple of times. Charles surprised me by telling me I should feel proud of myself, that although Titus may have followed his father’s ways, I did not. I don’t know about feeling proud. I did need Charles to take me to task for being so selfish. That’s what getting my sort of revenge is about. Grandmama has been so understanding. I want to make things up to her. She says her vision was so frightening because I really had meant danger to her at the beginning. Well, that’s all over and can be left where it deserves to be, in the past. I’m so pleased that you feel ready to move on with your life too, Sarah.’

  She wrapped her arms about herself. ‘It’s a good feeling.’

  ‘Well, we’ve no need to linger here or to ever come back. Shall we go in? I’m looking forward to my first family Christmas Day.’

  The air was crisp and a simple sun was low in a powder-blue, pink-tinged sky. Sarah thought, we’re two little figures under the heavens for a tiny space of time in history. Kivells walked this land before us and new generations will walk here long after we’re gone. The observation did not make her feel unimportant but rather more determined to keep her resolve. She had recovered from the attack and now wanted to grasp life, make some happiness for herself, while she was young enough and able to do it.

  ‘Are you going back to Bristol in the new year, Mr Woodburne?’

  ‘Call me Kit, we’re friends now. I’ve instructed my lawyer to sell my house there. I’m planning to have a property built at Gwennap. It’s a very good area and it means I will remain close to Burnt Oak. You’ll be very welcome to visit and stay at any time. What do you intend to do, Sarah? I was sorry to hear that Mrs Nankervis’s appeal to your family did not bring about the desired response. Do you have any plans for the future?’

  Sarah did not answer. It still hurt that although Tara’s visit to Redruth had been met with politeness there had been an emphatic refusal to see her. ‘They said they are happy in their new life and don’t wish to be connected again to the Kivell name,’ Tara had reported in an apologetic and sad voice. ‘They prefer to be left alone, they said, and were sorry about your distress but they didn’t think you could be happy living with them. They wish you well for the future.’

  Sitting up in bed at Chy-Henver, she’d answered, ‘I expect they think I’ll bring them trouble. God knows I’ve brought enough on myself. I understand.’ She saw Aunt Molly, Arthur and Tamsyn’s point of view but it had crushed her to be shunned, to have that hope taken away.

  Her spirit had picked up when Jowan had returned home later the same day with a purse full of money for her. ‘It didn’t take me long to locate Abner Jago. He took me to the old barn where he keeps his stock. Most of it was either stolen or bought for an unfair price, I’m sure. He was, shall I say, a little scared of me and blubbed that he hadn’t sold many of your things. I made him pay up double what he’d got and then I took your things on to my friend. There’s nearly ninety pounds in there.’ He’d nodded at the silk purse, a gift from himself. ‘You’re a woman of some means now, Sarah. I remembered what you said about Tabbie’s drapes meaning a lot to you. I’ve brought them back with me. Rachel will clean them for you.’

  ‘Wherever I go when I leave here I’ll have something of Tabbie’s to take with me.’ She’d wept with the relief and poignancy of the event. She could support herself for some time to come. ‘Thank you, Jowan. I’ll never forget all that you’ve done for me.’

  She owed Jowan her lifelong gratitude and Tara too. Having friends to support her during the worst time of her life had helped her see things in the right perspective. Her inwardness was a natural occurrence for protection but by not mixing with others she had denied herself loyal friends, and denied them the help they might need. It was over now and she would put her selfishness aside and make a new beginning. She had that in common with Kit.

  ‘Mrs Nankervis has asked me to become her companion,’ she told Kit. ‘It’s a kind offer.’

  ‘How did you reply?’

  ‘I said I’d think about it. I’m not sure about living up at the big house. She pointed out I’d be free to come and go as I wish, but neither the gentry nor the servants would approve of me.’

  ‘Don’t let that bother you. There’s little entertaining at Poltraze. Mrs Nankervis is very short of good company. She only has her daughter. She must be very lonely,’ Kit said. Tara had shunned his company since she’d heard of his deception. He had called at Poltraze two days ago and had been told the mistress was not at home. While riding away he had spotted Tara at the drawing-room window. Of course, he couldn’t expect to be received. The tale of his false identity had caused a good deal of gossip. He couldn’t blame Tara for thinking him unsuitable to receive. It was a pity. He had a genuine liking for her. He held her in high esteem. There were not many ladies who would care about the welfare of a lowly mine girl. ‘She would appreciate having someone to play cards or sew with, and fill in the lonely hours. It’s sad to see such a fine lady weighed down by so much sorrow.’

  ‘I agree. It’s kind of you to think of Tara in that way, Kit.’ She had formed a respectful friendship with Kit, understanding his subterfuge and earlier bitterness in the light of her own experiences. She had talked Jowan round to her point of view and he now accepted Kit as his brother, although he was stil
l reserved with him. ‘I hadn’t thought about Tara’s situation. It must be awful living in that gloomy old house. Everyone knows she and the squire don’t have a proper marriage. Perhaps I will accept her offer. I don’t have to stay there forever.’

  ‘It could be a worthwhile opportunity for you. My advice is that you take the position. It’s got to be better than finding a little place in a new neighbourhood where everyone will want to know your business. Stay on in Meryen, Sarah. People care about you here. That’s worth more than all the treasure in the world. I can hear music. The present-giving and merry-making is about to begin. Let’s go in and enjoy ourselves.’

  Tara broke the custom and had Rosa Grace brought down from the nursery for Christmas dinner or she would have eaten alone. Joshua had not slept in the house the night before, which was unusual these days, and he had not put in an appearance so far. In previous years Michael had brought Cecily and Jemima to join in the festivities for the whole day, but today, after popping in after breakfast and exchanging presents, he had announced the girls were to go to their maternal grandparents in Truro for a few weeks.

  ‘I take it you won’t be accompanying them,’ Tara had said, stiff in disappointment.

  ‘Actually, I shall stay with them for Christmas dinner and then go on to an address close by.’ He was rocking on his toes and smiling broadly, showing lots of teeth. ‘You might as well know, Tara, and I hope you will be pleased for me, I have been paying court to a Miss Adeline Phillipps, of Lemon Street. I am very taken with her and she has confessed she shares my feelings.’