by Gloria Cook
She wouldn’t stop. He took her round the waist and hauled her off her feet. ‘Let me go, John!’ She pushed against him. She was weeping, unable to look him in the face.
She couldn’t match John’s might. She was gathered in against his body, and then she needed his strength and allowed him to cradle her. He was soothing her and stroking her hair. ‘It’s all right, Sarah. Tell me what’s wrong.’
She couldn’t stop crying and she couldn’t speak. She pulled her arms out from against John’s chest and hung on to him for comfort.
‘I won’t let anything hurt you, Sarah,’ he said softly.
It reminded her of Jowan’s promise. He had said the very same thing. Why were people so good to her? She didn’t deserve it. She stopped snivelling and pulled away, putting her back to John. She was standing in the middle of a wintry field, hating herself. ‘It’s not that,’ she said in a watery voice, brushing away the wetness on her face. ‘I’m such a terrible person.’
He came round to face her. ‘Sarah, how do you make that out? Think of all you’ve just done for the village. And you’ve been a great support to Mrs Nankervis since the squire went missing. She cheered up a lot, you know, when you came to live in the house. All the servants said so.’
‘But I’m so selfish! Families in Meryen have lost their loved ones, others have badly hurt men to nurse and will lose their income for ages or for good, and there was me riding a fine pony and going wild and laughing my head off.’ She brought her hands up to her fiery face and squeezed hard.
John pulled her hands away and kept them in his own. ‘Don’t do that, Sarah. Don’t hurt yourself. Please don’t be such a hard taskmaster on yourself. It’s not a wicked thing to find a little enjoyment for a while. You’re a good and wonderful woman. Many people admire you. I certainly do and I consider myself a good judge of character. You’ve forgotten the emergency fund is helping those who’re suffering and you played a big part in that.’
All she could do was gaze at him. He meant what he’d said. There was nothing superficial or cunning about John Moyle, he was an admirable man.
He released her hands and touched the tangle of her hair. Then he smiled, such a caring smile, a handsome smile. ‘Do you want to go back?’
‘No, we were going to the Greeps to see how Jeb’s broken leg is healing. I don’t want to let him down. I …’
‘Yes?’
Again she couldn’t speak. Instead she stepped up to him. He encircled her in his arms and she leaned into him. After all these years of spurning the idea of a man’s physical comfort she was happy to receive it from John.
Some time later she met up with him as he waited for her at the back of the Greep home. ‘Jeb’s still in a lot of pain but he’s stoical about it, as I’d expected. He’s so grateful to be alive. He says he had this strong feeling something was about to happen and he shouted a warning to others to get back or more would’ve died. Miriam’s worried about young David Kent. He’s still too shocked to go back to work. He hasn’t said a word since seeing his father’s body. He went out some time ago and she hasn’t seen hide nor hair of him since. I’ll walk through the village and see if I can find him. I want to call at Chy-Henver anyway.’ All the time she spoke she met John’s eyes, noting the more than friendly interest he had for her, and she was pleased to see it. For so long she had thought it would be a stupid, dreadful thing to be attracted to a man again, yet it wasn’t so with John.
Tiny stabs of caution crawled about in her stomach. It would be the height of foolishness to get involved with him, and that stage was no more than a breath away. There was only the thinnest of lines to cross before either of them would reach out for the other and they would join in an eager passionate kiss. The raw desire and need of it hung in the air between them.
It was John who looked away, as if remembering his place. ‘Shall I look about here in case the boy hasn’t gone far?’
‘Yes, John, I won’t be gone long.’ Just a quick hello to Jowan, Rachel and Thad then she would hurry back to John and enjoy the ride back to the big house with him alone.
John cast his eye over the back garden and smallholding for the missing boy. David Kent was receiving a small weekly sum from the emergency fund for the loss of his father. He had something to tide him over until he recovered, a hard thing to do when all alone in the world. Everything seemed in order and the animals and hens were going about their usual routine. Others in the village had rallied round the families of the mine casualties in practical ways. Life was hard for the poor of Meryen but at least there was the comfort of belonging to a close-knit community.
There was a movement near the shed. Just in sight around its far corner was a small boy – David Kent. John walked quietly his way. David saw him and jerked his tousled dusty-brown head away. John waited, and as David didn’t run off he guessed he didn’t really want to be left alone.
Fiddling casually with his tobacco pouch, leaning his back against the cold stone, he crossed his feet. ‘I’m sorry about your father, David.’
The boy made no response. Ghastly pale and undersized, he kept his head down.
‘I never knew mine, or my mother for that matter. I know exactly how you’re feeling. I know what it’s like to have no one and for your home to be no longer your home.’ A miner and his family from Twelveheads had moved into the Kent cottage.
David shuffled his feet, an irritable sign, yet John could tell he wanted to hear more.
‘Mrs Greep is doing a good job looking after you, I can see that. You’re all scrubbed up. The Greeps are good people, aren’t they?’
David nodded mournfully.
‘Don’t worry. I’m sure they or someone else will give you a permanent home.’
David shrugged then held out his small trembling paws in a pleading manner.
‘People are good round here,’ John persisted. ‘No one will let you go homeless. You won’t end up in the workhouse.’
There was a jolt in the boy’s spare frame and his sharp features filled up with panic. ‘B-but—’
‘But what, David?’ John put a firm hand on his scrawny shoulder. Terror had forced out the boy’s voice but it was a good thing to get him talking.
Between terrific sobs, David squealed, ‘I heard someone say that Mrs Greep’s got enough to do with Mr Greep being laid up and the two young ’uns to care for. That it’s too much for her to have me to worry about as well.’
John sighed in anger. There were always those who even in tragic situations used poisonous tongues; in this case they were probably jealous of the boy receiving money from the estate. ‘Listen to me, David. My name’s John Moyle and I am the head groom up at the big house. I swear to you that you’ll not end up in the workhouse or without a proper roof over your head, even if I have to see to it myself. I always stand by my word. Now stop your crying, you’re a man now, you don’t want Mrs Greep to see your face all red and puffy. Here, do you want to shake on my promise?’
With rapid swipes at his eyes and runny nose, David pulled himself up straight and gave his hand. ‘Have you got a family?’
‘No, there’s only me. I’ve got a room in the stable block.’
After a moment, David said, ‘Things can get better, can’t they? Miss Sarah used to work at the mine, now she’s living fine and she’s like a lady.’
‘Not like a lady, David, she is a lady,’ John corrected him. ‘Don’t matter where your birth was, it’s the heart inside you that makes you good and noble.’ He glanced out into the road. How much longer would it be before Sarah came back?
Nineteen
‘I still can’t believe how different David was after you’d talked to him, John,’ Sarah chattered as they journeyed back at a comfortable trot. ‘Whatever you said totally reassured him. He says he doesn’t want to go back to the mine, not after his father was killed there. Where else could he go, do you think? I’d ask Jowan Kivell to take him on as an apprentice but the Kivells only like to give work to their own kin. I kno
w, I’ll ask Kit Woodburne. He’ll need a full staff soon for his new house. David could be taken on as a stable boy or gardener’s boy. That would be the perfect solution.’
John simply gazed across at her and smiled.
She smiled back. ‘What’s so amusing?’
‘Nothing, I like seeing you in fighting spirit. Your eyes gleam like sunlight on a stream.’
‘They do? I didn’t take you as one for romantic talk, John Moyle!’ She lifted her eyelashes. She was flirting with him, she had never done this kind of thing before and it made her feel her youth and realize what she had stupidly missed out on.
‘Oh, I know a phrase or two.’ He leaned his head to the side, his eyes glinting and rooted to hers.
On a thought Sarah pulled up her mount. ‘Will you be going with us when Mrs Nankervis and I go to stay in Truro? She says she’ll wait another week and if the squire doesn’t turn up by then we’ll leave Poltraze for an indefinite period.’
John eased his pony round so he was facing her and close. ‘If I’m not ordered to go to Truro I could easily wangle it. Is that what you want, Sarah? Would you miss me if I wasn’t there?’
What was she doing? She had as good as declared to John she didn’t want to be without him. A cold panic like a waterfall turned on inside her. How could she be so stupid? She wasn’t tied nowadays, she was her own person, and yet here she was encouraging a man to form something deep with her. She trusted John but she knew little about him. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Anything you like. I’m not married and I have no woman in my life at the moment, if that’s what you’re wondering.’
That at least was a relief. ‘Do you want a wife and family one day?’
‘If it happens, fine, if not it’s also fine,’ he shrugged, not wanting to sound too eager. He certainly wouldn’t mind having a wife. In fact he wanted Sarah very much, and knowing how independent she was he would take her on her terms. Her question meant she was interested in him. He had to be wise about how fast he could progress with her.
His easygoing manner left her disappointed. She had asked Tara’s maid Elvira Dunn a little about the servants simply to edge round to John, and she had learned he was something of a loner and a free agent. She had made a foolish mistake to have voiced her thoughts about him in regard to the move to Truro. He was backing off. She urged her pony forward. ‘I must get back. I’ve been out for far too long.’
John went with her. ‘What do you want to do with your life, Sarah? Stay as you are? Do you hope to marry again and have a family?’
‘I can’t have children! It’s why my husband beat me and turned me out, and later intended to kill me,’ she blurted out fiercely. The pain of never being able to conceive and give life to a baby of her own hit her ferociously. She had thought she’d never really mind about it but now she felt the burning loss of being barren, and the humiliation. ‘So, no, I’m not hoping to marry again. Who would have me? I’m not worthy.’
‘I’m sorry I’ve upset you,’ John said, having to increase his pony’s speed to keep up with her. ‘Wait, Sarah, let’s talk about this. Listen to me, just because you can’t carry children in your body doesn’t mean you can’t bring up a family. There’s many an orphan in this harsh world desperate for love and a good home. Please, Sarah, stop your pony or I’ll do it for you.’ In the end he pulled the reins out of her hands and again that day brought both mounts to a halt.
Sarah stared down at the ground, her head twisted away, too hurt and ashamed to face him.
‘I said just now that it’s fine if I never have a family, but I would like to have a woman in my life. You asked who would want you, Sarah. I do. I want you, Sarah, exactly how you are, here in Meryen or elsewhere. You’re in better circumstances than me. The real question is do you want me?’
She looked him full in the face and saw he was absolutely sincere. Then she looked into her own heart and saw that his words meant everything to her. She didn’t know how all this would work out but she wasn’t afraid to give it a try. She threw out her arms to him and he leaned over and pulled her onto his pony. Their lips searched for the other’s and joined in a kiss of ardent concentrated passion. In the past she had offered herself as sacrifice, receiving back only abuse. Now she knew what it was like to be held and cherished by a man who would give her what she wanted and deserved. John had pledged himself in a loving commitment.
‘I’d have thought Sarah would have been back by now.’ Tara went anxiously to the drawing-room window. There was no sign of her friend and the groom trotting up the carriageway. ‘We’ve both had correspondence from a mutual friend today, all the way from America. Sarah’s letter was addressed to care of Tabbie Sawle but the post boy had the forethought to deliver it here.’
‘She’s really taken to riding,’ Kit said, joining her. If all went well in the next hour or so he would soon be in a position to advance their relationship. Michael Nankervis would have business with Laketon Kivell in the next couple of days and it would take a lot of nerve for him to go through with it. Dismissing Kivell, Kit was sure, would prove unsuccessful. His vindictive distant cousin would not rest until he’d achieved revenge for the rejection and that mustn’t be allowed to happen. One of his half-brother’s ships was about to be moored at Falmouth. Kivell would be put on that ship, Kit would see to it himself. Then the brute who had terrorized Poltraze for so many years would end up in a watery grave. He deserved it, he was a dangerous sadist, and Kit had no compunction about ridding the world of his evil presence.
At irregular moments Kivell had asked to be received to enquire if there was news of the squire. It was thought best to allow him a short interview each time. His mood was always unreadable. But the polite coldness about the man was chilling. Always he was told that there were no clues to the mystery.
Kivell would shake his head. ‘It’s all so very strange. I don’t understand it,’ was his stock answer, then, ‘I shall keep watch for him.’
And you are being watched, Kivell, Kit thought to himself. It was awful that Tara should suffer the outrage of the loathsome wretch’s presence, and that Kivell couldn’t simply be thrown out on the spot.
Michael added himself to their company. Kit sighed out his impatience. He was never able to get Tara alone for long. ‘Is there something going on out there?’ Michael barked. The tension of the last few days was unnerving him. Today it was even worse. He exchanged a secret glance with Kit. Today was the day.
‘I’m waiting for Sarah to arrive home. She’s been out rather a long time,’ Tara explained.
‘She enjoys going about her saintly acts,’ Michael said drily. ‘And you too, Tara. I hope you’ve not promised too much to those villagers, they’ll get greedy. I’m glad to say I can trust my wife not to be a spendthrift.’
Tara snapped a maddened look at him. ‘I keep to a fair budget. I’m pleased you find Adeline eminently suitable for you.’
Kit gazed down at Tara. She did not belong here. She should not have to put up with buffoons and villains. She should know laughter and excitement and adventure and the attentions of an adoring lover. It struck him that he had never known these things and he longed to share them with Tara.
She noticed his empathy and wanted to reach for his hand. She couldn’t have got through these last days if not for Kit. God forgive her, part of her hoped Joshua would not come back, that he was even dead. She wanted to be free, to taste what else life could offer. She would never see her old friend Amy again. One day Sarah might want to leave her and start something new; she seemed to be edging towards being independent again. Tara was frightened. She needed something permanent and utterly worthwhile. She needed someone who was dedicated to her. But how could that happen? How could she be rid of all her troubles? It had been bad enough not being a proper wife, but if Joshua never turned up she would be forced to live the rest of her life in limbo, under the shadow of this damned place.
‘What are we doing here, Edmund?’ the young kitchen maid
demanded from Hankins, the footman. ‘Why have you brought me to the boathouse? You’ll get us into trouble if we’re caught making free in the grounds like this. Mr Kivell will kill us. Hey, you’re not going to try something on me, are you? I’m not that sort of girl.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it, Sally,’ Hankins replied, dabbing at the nervous sweat on his brow. ‘I just wanted us to be somewhere quiet, that’s all.’
‘Really?’ Sally’s shiny round face glowed in anticipation. She had been making eyes at Edmund Hankins for some time and just lately, he, an austere, reserved individual, who wasn’t too bad-looking, had taken time to pass a few words with her. It was her afternoon off and she had been delighted when he’d asked her to take a walk with him. If he wasn’t up to no good, was he about to ask her to be his girl, or even his wife? Edmund was well thought of by Mr Fawcett, he had prospects. It hadn’t dawned on Sally that he was taking no interest in her but was looking all about.
Suddenly he grabbed her hand and led her to the side of the pool. He was shaking like the last leaf on a winter tree. Sally’s heart threw a hopeful leap. This was going to be so romantic. A kitchen maid was the lowliest of servants and much put upon by the rest of the staff. How she would enjoy telling the others about Edmund’s romantic proposal, they would have to show her a little respect then. She dreamed of Edmund being a butler one day and she the cook in a more pleasing big house than this one.
It didn’t take Hankins long to see what he’d been told to expect. Even so, the gruesome spectacle of the corpse that had been kept somewhere secretly in pond water turned his guts. It was bloated and putrid and tangled in weeds. It took a mighty act of will to prevent spilling up the contents of his stomach.
Misreading his discomfort Sally took a deep breath and piped up. ‘Edmund, does this mean what I think it means?’ He was squeezing her hand so tightly, too tightly. ‘Ow, you’re hurting me.’