A Cornish Girl

by Gloria Cook

  ‘I’m here to see Mrs Nankervis. She’s expecting me. Miss Sarah Hichens.’ She wasn’t shy to announce her business but she was both annoyed and amused as her strong Cornish accent cleared the deferential expression off the butler’s narrow face. His eyes seemed to vanish under his heavy brows, so great was his disapproval of her. No doubt he was thinking she should have gone round to the tradesmen’s entrance.

  ‘Oh yes … Madam is waiting for you in the morning room, miss. If you would care to follow me …’

  Sarah did not bother to reply. The butler had been told his mistress was expecting a visitor and he obviously assumed she would be a lady of high birth. She wouldn’t allow this stiff-backed individual to intimidate her and she was pleased that at first she had passed for a lady. Her dainty shoes tapped through the vestibule and she was at the beginning of the hall which seemed to be as wide as the entire village and to stretch without an end. She slowed to a snail’s pace – there was so much to take in she couldn’t possibly hurry. Such space there was, with carved cabinets, and tables and stands swathed with cloths and runners and all displaying ornaments and figurines of which she had never seen the like before, some brightly painted, even with gold paint. Why did the gentry want such big vases? Some had great curving handles. Did the squire grow flowers large enough for these vases? It did not occur to her that some of them were purely ornamental.

  There were mirrors and chairs and even a sofa. Jowan would be fascinated to see the fine turning and carving on them. The fireplace and mantelpiece alone would swamp an ordinary house and it went right up to the ceiling, and that seemed at least twenty feet above the hearth. There was half a tree trunk burning in the hearth! The whole of Meryen could be warmed by it. The beautiful crystal objects hanging down from the ceiling must be chandeliers; such magnificence. The ceiling itself was a work of art, with mouldings and suchlike. Doors showed that many rooms led off from the hall, plus two corridors; she was easily going to get lost here. There was painting after painting and huge cloth banners and a good deal of weaponry crowding the walls. She glanced up the stairs. They were wide enough for a horde to run up and down side by side, and they went on and up to a gallery.

  ‘Ahem …’

  She came to as if from a dream. It seemed as if she had been on a long journey. The butler had opened a door and was waiting for her to follow him through it.

  ‘Miss Sarah Hichens, ma’am,’ he intoned as if a bee had stung his tongue.

  ‘Sarah! How wonderful that you’re actually here.’ Tara rose from a Chesterfield sofa and rushed to greet her. ‘We’ll have tea, Fawcett, and ask cook to send up something tasty.’ She laughed after he’d left with his superior nose held aloft. ‘Don’t take any notice of Fawcett. He disapproves of everyone. Take off your outdoor things, Sarah, and sit beside the fire. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll take you up to your room shortly and show you over as much of the house as you like. I’ll take you along to the nursery and introduce you to Rosa Grace. I’m sure you’ll both get along very well.’

  In awe of what she had just seen and now by the opulence of this room, Sarah took a few seconds to carry out Tara’s invitation. This house was like something out of heaven; what must the Queen’s palace be like? Some of the furniture was well worn and repairs were needed to the panelling; Sarah had no idea that it was a shameful state not to have all things perfect. She lowered herself into an armchair that was plump and so comfortable she was sure she could sleep in it with ease. She set her eyes on Tara but could hardly contain her curiosity to look over the rest of this wonderland. ‘I’m looking forward to meeting your little girl. I’ve only seen her once or twice when you’ve taken her to church. What will she think of me? I’m not the usual sort of company you keep, Tara.’

  ‘Rosa Grace is quite excited to think I’m having a friend come to stay.’ Tara was studying Sarah’s every expression. Was she as happy to be here as she herself was to have had her arrive? She’d been afraid Sarah would change her mind and not come at all. It was a big step for her to give up her independence, to live in an environment that was totally strange and where most quarters would not be at all friendly. Her fears had been unnecessary. She could see Sarah was enjoying all she found in her new home. ‘You look very well, I’m glad to say.’

  ‘So do you,’ Sarah replied. She had thought often that Tara seemed to have something on her mind, something bringing her down, but she didn’t feel close enough to her, or that it was right, in view of their different stations, that she should mention it.

  ‘It’s the relief of having you here. I can hardly begin to tell you how lonely I’ve been, Sarah. If not for Rosa Grace there have been some days when there seemed little point in getting out of bed. Now all that will change. I promise you that you won’t get bored. There are so many things we can enjoy doing together.’

  ‘Is the squire at home?’ This was Sarah’s one concern which she had voiced to Tara before Kit’s encouragement on Christmas Day that she should take the position. Mr Nankervis couldn’t possibly approve of Tara taking on such lowly company.

  ‘He won’t say much about you being here, if that’s what you’re worried about, Sarah. He took to his bed with a very bad chill over Christmas and has still not recovered. He sent word that I should not disturb him. Actually he’s rarely in the house at all.’ Tara would not allow Joshua to dictate to her who she had as a friend. He had no grounds for complaint with the terrible company he continued to keep. Joshua had been carried to his suite after spending two nights at Paradise Cottage. She had not been allowed at his bedside, but Laketon Kivell was there every evening and it was an insult to her that he even had the audacity to stay the night. ‘Sarah, we live separate lives. His interest lies elsewhere.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Sarah glanced down, not knowing what to say. So it was true what Tempest had hinted about the squire. Sarah hadn’t wanted to believe it – she’d had no idea such a thing went on. She had thought Tempest indelicate, but saw now she had kindly passed on useful information. Joshua Nankervis was having an affair with the obnoxious Laketon Kivell. She hoped she and Tara would get away to Truro before she encountered either of them.

  ‘I thought that while we’re alone we would dine together but if Joshua does happen to want to come to the table I’ll order a tray to be taken up to your room,’ Tara said. ‘I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, Sarah. Do tell me at once if anything, even the slightest thing, troubles you. It will be a little strange for you at first, but I’m sure we’ll get along very well. We could write to Amy together. She’ll be delighted with our news. It’s a new start for both of us.’

  A week passed in which the two women packed for the stay at Truro, or rather the maidservants packed for them. Sarah found it strange to have everything done for her as if she was a real lady. Tara’s personal maid had astonished her on the first evening, when, after seeing to her mistress’s change of clothes and hair, she had come to Sarah to do the same. It seemed ridiculous to her to change so many times a day and she thought she would never get used to being waited on. Elvira Dunn spoke only when necessary and moved with an economy of energy. She was perhaps in her thirties; she was tall, slim and wore spectacles. Her mousey hair was combed in a severe centre parting with a topknot stuck through with tortoiseshell pins. Her clothes never varied from untrimmed dark grey. Her touch was light, and Sarah found her a shadowy presence and was always glad when she’d finished her task and was gone.

  ‘Thank you, Miss Dunn,’ she had said after the first occasion she had been corseted and eased into a lovely dinner gown, of silvery-coloured satin, a gift from Tara, and coiffured and adorned with her own jewellery: a single string of pearls, a Christmas present from Tempest. She knew a moment of sorrow; she had been robbed of the pendant Tabbie had given her, her precious possession.

  ‘It’s just Dunn, miss,’ the woman had replied mildly before slipping out of the room, as quiet as a whisper.

  ‘You look beautiful, Sarah!’ Tara had excl
aimed a moment later when she’d appeared to take her down to the dining room. Tara had noticed the servants sneaking reluctant admiring glances at Sarah. Even Fawcett had raised his usually gloomy brows in surprise that one of Sarah’s breeding presented such a refined figure. If Sarah ever went to a ball or soirée she would be surrounded in seconds by eager young men. Her beauty would ensure her voice and humble origins would, in the main, be overlooked. Her early womanhood had been wasted on Titus Kivell, just as Tara’s had been wasted on Joshua Nankervis. Life had been unfair to both of them. That would now change. Tara would use the last breath in her body to make it so.

  The evening before the leave-taking, Tara went along to Joshua’s suite, determined to see him. He had been indisposed a long time. Hobbs had informed her that Laketon Kivell had insisted the doctor need not be sent for. This struck Tara now as odd. If Joshua did not need the services of a doctor then why had he stayed so long abed? Fawcett had reported that all his meals were eaten, so he couldn’t be very ill. Was he hiding away? Damn Laketon Kivell. He must have beaten Joshua so badly he was ashamed to show the results. This had to stop.

  She usually knocked on Joshua’s bedroom door and Hobbs would answer and inform her that the master was either sleeping or desired to be left to rest. She wouldn’t be turned away today. She went straight into the room ready to face Hobbs and even Laketon Kivell if he was there. Thankfully they were not. Joshua was lying flat on his back in bed, the covers tucked up under his chin. A single candle on the bedside cabinet provided a feeble light in the room.

  ‘Joshua, are you awake?’ she whispered. Her hands gripped together, she felt like an intruder on Laketon Kivell’s territory. People who crossed him often came to grief. She could be putting herself in danger. She must be careful what she did here. ‘I’m leaving for Truro tomorrow. I’ve come to say goodbye.’

  ‘Agh, no, no,’ Joshua muttered, twisting to one side and pushing the covers away.

  Tara crept round the side of the bed. Joshua was sweating and twitching. He was running a high fever and his greying hair was plastered in rat’s tails to his forehead. He needed the doctor and had needed him days ago. Peering closer she saw the mottled fading of bruises on his face, neck, arms and chest. She brought a hand to her mouth. The depth of Laketon Kivell’s cruelty was becoming ever more chilling. He obviously had Hobbs in his evil grip. From the evidence of the youth’s arrogance when she had spoken to him he was in collusion with Kivell. Joshua had been happy with his young valet and had said Hobbs was devoted to his service, but Kivell had seen to it that it had altered. She should have guessed the reason, for Joshua’s sudden newfound happiness was the extent of the valet’s services. Joshua had fallen in love. It accounted for his good moods, his kindness to Rosa Grace. Laketon Kivell was no fool. He had realized this and had vindictively chosen Christmas Day to punish Joshua. He had been brutal to Joshua then and since.

  Joshua groaned and thrashed about. Tara gasped to see how thin he was, his ribs protruding under his flesh. The door from the dressing room opened and her heart leapt in fright. Laketon Kivell, followed by Hobbs in unseemly closeness, lost the gleam in his devil’s eyes and fixed a stare on her as hard as granite. ‘Mrs Nankervis …?’

  The insolent swine! He was the one who had no right to be here, not her. She knew she had to be clever. She had the safety of Rosa Grace, Sarah, herself and Joshua to think of. ‘Mr Kivell. Good evening to you. I’d just come in to say goodbye to Joshua. I found him like this. I’m afraid it seems he has taken a turn for the worse, poor fellow. I’m worried he’s contracted pneumonia. I think we should send for the doctor, don’t you?’

  A woman’s soft voice entered Joshua’s nightmare. He tried to cling to it as to some hope but he failed to halt the terrible moments he was reliving. Immediately after he’d been brought and laid out here, feeble and with aches and pains plaguing every scrap of his body, he’d made out Laketon’s mocking tones. ‘We’re going to look after you, Joshua, Aaron and I.’

  ‘Aaron …’ He had called for his love, barely able to hold his eyes open.

  ‘I’m here right beside you, Joshua darling.’ A kiss had been planted on his cheek. He had smiled. Everything would be all right now. Aaron would treat and soothe his wounds and take care of him.

  ‘Open your eyes wide, Joshua,’ Laketon had demanded.

  He did so. Aaron’s face was close to his and he was smiling at him. Then he was wrenched away. Oh God! Laketon knew about their love affair. Now he understood why Laketon had been so vicious to him on Christmas Day. He had punished him and now he was going to punish Aaron. ‘No! Please don’t hurt him, Laketon, I beg you.’

  ‘Oh, there, there,’ Laketon mocked. ‘I’ve got no intention of hurting the one you love, Joshua. Watch and I’ll show you what I will do.’

  Turning the boy to him, Laketon caressed his face with the backs of his fingers then fluttered them about his body. Joshua stared, not wanting to believe what he was seeing. Laketon bent his great dark head and brought his open mouth down on Aaron’s. He was going to rape him! ‘No! No!’ Joshua cried. He tried to get up from the bed, he had to save Aaron. He would die to protect him.

  He fell back in horror. What was going on? Aaron was reaching up and putting his arms round Laketon’s neck and bringing his fine body in intimately close. He was kissing Laketon enthusiastically. They were laughing and their coats were coming off. They were kissing again and again and doing more and more. He didn’t want to watch but he couldn’t help himself. This was the ultimate punishment from Laketon, to seduce away from him the one he loved so deeply. Worse still Aaron was enjoying it and instigating things. Joshua cried and screamed and it would have alerted someone in the house but his voice was too weak. If only he had killed himself that day then he wouldn’t be going through this now. The instant he was able to, he would kill himself. Laketon, the utter bastard, would not be able to keep a grip on this place then. He’d be thrown out of Poltraze.

  Staring at Tara, Laketon saw that if he didn’t act quickly his cushy life here would soon be over. Joshua was very ill. ‘You are right, ma’am. The squire is most uncomfortable. The doctor should be sent for straight away.’ He turned on Aaron and gave him a wink that Tara didn’t see. ‘Hobbs, you are a fool! You have been unforgivably lax in your duties. Could you not see your master’s condition has deteriorated? We will have to pray he will fully recover. He may well consider whether you deserve to be kept on in his service.’

  Tara did not listen to Hobbs’s grovelling apologies. She rang for Fawcett to order the doctor be fetched with all haste. When Fawcett had withdrawn, the room was in silence except for Joshua’s heavy breathing and mutterings. ‘Hobbs, sponge your master down with tepid water and fetch him a clean nightshirt,’ she ordered. ‘Light the lanterns but do not place them where they will hurt his eyes. I’ll bring in some potpourri, the room smells most unwholesome.’

  She went down to the winter parlour where Sarah was, stitching needlepoint before dinner was announced.

  ‘Is something wrong? You look worried,’ Sarah said.

  ‘I hope not,’ she replied, furious with Laketon Kivell for causing this latest anxiety. ‘I’ve sent for a doctor to attend Joshua. His chill has turned into a raging fever. If he’s very ill our trip to Truro will have to be postponed.’

  ‘I went too far.’ Laketon marched into Aaron’s small bedroom, on the other connecting side of Joshua’s dressing room. He spat, something he abhorred in others but something he did when furious with himself. The spittle hit the square woodframed mirror on the wall. If Joshua died – and the doctor was going to ask questions about the distressed state of his body – then he would be promptly ejected off the property by the miserable bookworm Michael. He wouldn’t be destitute – he had been leaching money off Joshua for years and stashing it away; he owned a lot of top-class jewellery and other valuables so he’d be able to set himself up nicely elsewhere and he’d have no trouble finding another wealthy lover – but he liked it
here. He wanted to stay here for years and see the gardens re-established under his guidance. The grounds of Poltraze were his. If Joshua died he’d somehow make sure they became his, the estate wouldn’t get rid of him easily.

  His reflection in the mirror was glacial and he turned that coldest of cold stares on to Aaron. The swaggering little bastard, he wasn’t a bit concerned by the recent event. He had no heart, he was nothing but a profiteer and he certainly couldn’t be relied upon to be loyal. Any other servant would be in fear of his position over the poor quality of his duties but he was taking it for granted that Laketon would sort it all out. He didn’t care about Joshua’s heartache and suffering. It didn’t occur to him that his master was the one man Laketon had ever loved. The fact that Laketon abused Joshua was immaterial. ‘Are you sure you’ve attended to your master properly this time?’

  ‘Yes, he’s as tidy as one of your flowerbeds and smells as fresh as a daisy. Mrs Nankervis was satisfied with the result when she went to sit with him.’ Aaron smiled in self-satisfaction, unaware of the simmering rage in the man who loomed over him.