Morwennan House

by Morwennan House (retail) (epub)

  ‘I suppose we had better be getting back. I must be there when Charlotte arrives.’

  ‘We’ll come again – if you’d like to that is,’ he promised.

  If I’d like to! I thought that never in my entire life had I been closer to paradise.

  ‘Oh, yes!’

  ‘Come on then,’ he said.

  Six

  As we came through the gate that led into the garden of Morwennan House I was dismayed to see Selena on the highest stretch of lawn, her eyes shaded with her hand as she peered around, and a little girl standing beside her.

  ‘Oh, I’m late!’ I groaned. ‘Charlotte has arrived and I was not here to greet her!’

  I hurried up the path ahead of Tom, all too aware that my hair was coming loose from its combs and the hem of my gown was wet from where it had dragged in the water.

  Even at this distance I could see that Charlotte’s hair, tumbling loose over her shoulders, was the same rich chestnut as my own. My heart thudded in my chest and my breath was coming fast, both from hurrying up the steep incline and from nervous anticipation.

  Suddenly the little girl came darting across the lawns towards us. I was startled – I had not expected to be greeted so enthusiastically. But Charlotte ran straight past me with scarcely a look in my direction.

  ‘Tom! Tom!’

  She hurled herself at him, her surprise and delight at seeing him obvious, and he swung her up into the air.

  ‘Charlotte! You’re home then!’

  ‘Yes! Oh Tom, I’ve been at Grandfather’s! I rode the pony! I rode Moonlight all by myself!’

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ he teased her. ‘Not all by yourself!’

  ‘I did! I did, I tell you! I even took a little jump! Grandfather put a bar out for me and we jumped it! And I didn’t even fall off once!’

  ‘My, what a horsewoman you are going to be!’ Tom said, and she flushed with pleasure.

  Selena, who had followed at a more sedate pace, reached us now. Her lips were pursed, her eyes sharp.

  ‘Charity. I was just wondering what had become of you,’ she said tautly.

  ‘Blame me,’ Tom said before I could begin to apologise. ‘I’m afraid I persuaded Charity to join me for a walk. We’ve been to Galidor. And it took longer than I expected.’

  Selena’s lips tightened still more.

  ‘Galidor! It’s hardly a suitable excursion for a lady, surely? Why are you here in any case? I wasn’t aware arrangements had been made.’

  ‘They had not,’ Tom said. ‘I called by to see Francis but Charity told me he was out and I took the opportunity to show her one of the most beautiful sights in this part of Cornwall. My apologies if you were concerned by her absence, Selena.’

  He smiled – that smile that would charm the birds from the trees – and Selena’s expression softened visibly.

  ‘Oh well, there’s no harm done I dare say.’ She turned to Charlotte, who was still hanging on Tom’s arm. ‘Charlotte – leave Tom alone, if you will, and come and meet Charity, who is to be your governess.’ Charlotte showed no inclination to let go of Tom’s arm. She merely glowered at me, her smile gone, her small face set. She was not, I realised, pleased to see me.

  ‘Charlotte!’ Selena said sharply. ‘Come and shake Charity’s hand, if you please!’

  ‘Go on, Charlotte,’ Tom urged her with a smile. ‘She won’t bite, you know.’ Reluctantly Charlotte approached me and held out her hand.

  ‘Hello, Charity. I’m Charlotte.’

  I took her hand, small, soft and plump, and forced a smile to my dry lips.

  ‘Hello, Charlotte. Tom is right. I don’t bite. And I do so hope we are going to be friends.’ She nodded solemnly but there was no answering smile. Her eyes – darker than my own I noticed – were guarded. I found myself searching her face for some feature I might recognise as a childish likeness to the ones I saw each morning in my mirror as I fixed my hair, but could see none. Charlotte’s face, even allowing for the fact that she was not far removed from babyhood, was much rounder than my own, her nose a broad button where mine tended to be sharp, her mouth a fat rosebud, her chin oval where mine was heart-shaped. But what had I been expecting? Though we might share a mother I was almost certain we must have different fathers and I fancied I could see something of Francis in her. His features too had in all likelihood been smooth and round – and handsome – before the years – and the drink – had turned them paunchy. I hoped with all my heart the same fate would not befall Charlotte. But for now she was a pretty child who would be prettier still when she smiled. And her hair – certainly her hair was the same colour as mine.

  ‘If it was Francis you came to see, then I am afraid he is unlikely to return before late afternoon,’ Selena said to Tom. There was a coolness in her tone. ‘I would think it would scarcely be worth your while to wait.’

  ‘Perhaps you’re right,’ Tom returned equably. ‘I’ll come back tomorrow or the next day.’

  ‘Shall I tell Francis you called?’ Selena asked in the same acerbic tone.

  ‘By all means.’

  ‘Can I pass on some message that might save you having to return?’

  ‘No. My business with him is not urgent. And I shall be glad of the excuse to return.’ He glanced at me, his eyes holding mine teasingly, and I felt the colour flooding into my cheeks again.

  Selena, I think, could hardly have failed to notice, but she ignored the innuendo anyway.

  ‘Then we will bid you good day,’ she said briskly. ‘It’s time for Charlotte’s midday meal and I think the sooner she and Charity get acquainted the better.’

  ‘You don’t have to go, Tom, do you?’ Charlotte pleaded.

  ‘I’m afraid I must, sweeting.’ He chucked her chin affectionately. ‘But I’ll see you soon…’ Over her head his eyes met mine again. ‘And Charity too, I hope. Perhaps we can go exploring again – if Selena will permit it. There are plenty of exquisite places to visit.’

  ‘Oh, can I come too?’ Charlotte was bouncing up and down with anticipation.

  He rumpled her hair. ‘We’ll see.’

  ‘I would prefer,’ Selena said icily, ‘that Charlotte should learn to behave like a young lady. Come along, miss. Say goodbye to Tom.’

  ‘Goodbye, Tom,’ she said reluctantly.

  ‘Farewell, Charlotte. Selena. And Charity…’

  ‘Tom,’ I said demurely. But my cheeks were still hot.

  He turned to go back across the lawns to the cliff-path gate, and Selena, Charlotte and I went towards the house.

  * * *

  I spent the afternoon trying to strike up some sort of rapport with Charlotte, but with limited success. By the time we took tea she seemed to have accepted me a little more but she was still very reserved and that, I thought, was hardly surprising. I was, after all, a stranger to her still. And perhaps not an entirely welcome addition to her life. I hoped with all my heart that before long I could break down the barriers and see some of the ease with which she had greeted Tom, but that, I thought, would take time. I could not expect instant acceptance. She had no idea that I might be her sister and nor should she have. Not yet. Not until I was sure. And even then only if it was in her best interests.

  ‘Charity,’ she said as she ate her tea – and I sat opposite her. ‘That’s a funny name. Why are you called Charity?’

  ‘Why are you called Charlotte?’ I countered.

  ‘Because my mama chose it,’ she replied promptly.

  My heartbeat quickened its pace.

  ‘Your mama?’ I repeated, gently questioning.

  ‘Yes. My mama. She’s dead though. She died when I was born.’ She said it matter-of-factly, taking another bite of cake. ‘Anyway, Charlotte is a proper name. Lots of people are called Charlotte. But not Charity.’

  ‘I can’t see that there’s a great deal of difference,’ I said, determined neither to apologise or explain. ‘They both begin with Char after all.’ She frowned. ‘Char lotte and Char ity. Perhaps we
should make spelling one of your first lessons, then you’d be able to see it.’

  ‘Oh, I can spell!’ she returned impatiently, then, after thinking for a moment. ‘Char lotte. Char ity. Perhaps you’re right.’

  ‘I’m sure I am,’ I said with a little smile. ‘Not all the time, as you will find out. But this time certainly.’

  ‘Mm.’ She took another bite of cake. ‘Charity,’ she said, and her tone was guarded, ‘how do you know Tom?’

  ‘I didn’t until today,’ I told her.

  ‘Then why did you go for a walk with him?’

  She was watching me narrowly and suddenly I understood her hostility towards me. Just a little girl she might be, but in her own childish way she was in love with Tom, just as I had once been in love with Joshua.

  Tom was handsome and fun and he made a great fuss of her. Perhaps she even harboured a secret hope, as in my turn I had done, that one day he would marry her. The fact that at least Joshua had been close to me in age whilst Tom was a grown man would have nothing to do with it. The first time she had set eyes on me I had been with her beloved Tom; no wonder she resented me.

  ‘He took me to see a beautiful cave where the sun shines through the water,’ I said. ‘Have you been there?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘The next time, I promise you shall come too,’ I said.

  ‘Really?’ Her face lit up. ‘But Aunt Selena said…’

  ‘I am sure we can get around your Aunt Selena,’ I said, and I winked at her.

  From that moment it seemed at least some of the reserve melted into thin air and I felt jubilant that I had found some common ground on which to build. And if it meant I had to sacrifice the pleasure of being alone with Tom, then so be it. The most important thing in the world to me at this moment was that I should begin to form some sort of bond with the little girl I felt sure was my sister.

  * * *

  I had no trouble falling asleep that night. I was so tired that not even thinking of all that had happened could keep me awake. My eyes were drooping over dinner; by the time I was undressed and my hair braided ready for bed I felt as heavy-limbed as I had once felt when, as a child, I had had a bad toothache and Mama Mary had dosed me with laudanum. As I made my way from dressing table to bed I was almost staggering with tiredness. I pulled aside the covers, collapsed gratefully on to the bed, and was asleep the moment I settled my head on the pillow without being aware of drifting through any of the usual stages of drowsiness.

  How long I slept, heavily, dreamlessly, I do not know. Then some unfamiliar repeated sound began to impose itself on me. I stirred, drowsed, stirred again, feeling a little bad-tempered at being dragged from the depths of my slumber.

  The sounds continued, heavy, dragging sounds that seemed to come from outside my bedroom window. At first I tried to ignore them and return to that pleasant limbo where I had recently been but they nagged at the corners of my mind, bringing me more and more awake.

  What was it I could hear? What could possibly be making those scraping sounds? And I thought I heard voices too. Intermittent, low and indistinct, but unmistakably men’s voices for all that. Puzzled and a little frightened, I dragged myself out of bed and over to the window. My limbs and my eyes still felt unnaturally heavy so that every movement was an effort.

  I pulled aside the curtains. The moon was less bright than it had been last night, with banks of cloud scudding across it, but as I leaned forward, pressing my face against the glass, there was enough light to show me that I had been right.

  There were men on the path beneath my window. Two were dragging something heavy – a large container from what I could make out. The grate of it on the stone path had been the sound that disturbed me. But there were other men too, moving more quickly because the bundles they carried were small and lighter; they stepped on to the lawn that bordered the path to overtake the two who manhandled the large container and disappeared out of my view around the corner of the house. One carried an armful of small packages, another a long roll wrapped in what looked to me like paper and straw. And still the two with the heavy container struggled with it along the path, stopping only to wipe the sweat from their faces.

  ‘Get a move on, for the love of God!’ The voice was low but authoritative. I could not see the speaker but I recognised the voice at once as belonging to Francis.

  One of the two men swore roughly – and loudly.

  ‘Do it yourself if you’re not satisfied.’

  ‘Keep quiet can’t you! Do you want to wake the whole district?’ Francis hissed. ‘Get on with it and silently, or you’ll not work for me again.’

  The man muttered a reply I could not catch and resumed his efforts. After a while he and his companion also rounded the corner of the house and were lost to my view, but the dragging sound continued for some while, growing fainter as they got further away. I could only assume they were going up the gully away from the house. Judging by the length of time that elapsed before the man who had carried the smaller packages and the one who had balanced the straw-wrapped roll reappeared empty-handed, they were not going very far, perhaps to the top of the rise where the carriage had deposited me on the day I arrived.

  Though my brain was thick as porridge, I was in no doubt as to what was going on. I had seen the cutter riding at anchor in the bay last night and thought of smugglers – with a feeling of sick certainty I knew I had been right. Whatever contraband had been brought ashore then was now being retrieved from its hiding place and sent on its way through the grounds of Morwennan House.

  Perhaps there was a cart waiting at the top of the rise – or even a whole string of carts. That was what it would take to transport away all the items that were being carried along the path beneath my window, for, as I stood there watching, the steady procession went on and on.

  There were perhaps ten or a dozen men in all, some distinctive enough for me to recognise when I saw them pass by for the second or third time, others more run of the mill so I could not be sure if they were the same ones I had seen before or not. But I was able to mark the progress of the ones who stood out and it seemed they took much longer from the time they returned empty-handed until I saw them come back, laden once more, than it had to deliver their burdens to their destination after passing beneath my window. If they were dropping the packages off at the top of the rise then it therefore followed they were going at least as far as the cliff path in the other direction and perhaps further, but of course that, too, was outside my line of vision.

  After a while the constant quiet industry on the path below began to have an almost mesmeric effect on me. Drowsiness was overtaking me again, my eyes so heavy that, resting my head against the window frame, I almost fell asleep where I stood. And still they came with their bundles and packages, a never-ending procession.

  My eyes were drooping, my legs felt as if they would support me no longer, my mouth was parched and I had the beginnings of a headache throbbing dully in one temple. Drawing the curtains against the scene outside I stumbled back to the bed and collapsed on to it.

  I could still hear the sounds from outside but they were muted now, as if coming from another world. I was already in the murky hinterland that borders unconsciousness; everything had become unreal and I could no longer grasp at my thoughts.

  But at least I knew that one question that had puzzled me had been answered.

  I had wondered what Francis’s business was, how he had made enough money to build Morwennan House and maintain it, and to afford the lifestyle he, Selena and Charlotte enjoyed. I was no longer in any doubt.

  Francis was a smuggler on a grand scale. He was, no doubt, the mastermind behind a huge, well-organised ring.

  And Morwennan House was its headquarters.

  * * *

  When I woke next morning my head felt thick and my mouth furred. What had occurred during the night felt like a dream to me, a highly coloured figment of my imagination. I got up, drew the curtains to the morning sunshi
ne, and looked out. The path was deserted now and there was no sound but the interminable cawing of the rooks. But the grass, trampled at the edge of the path and scored where the corner of the heavy crate had caught it, told its own story.

  So – Francis was the organiser of a smuggling operation. Yes, it was all quite feasible. No wonder he had chosen to build Morwennan House here! The bay, sheltered and secluded, was a perfect dropping-off point for contraband, the caves sealed off from prying eyes at high tide provided a first staging post, the cliff path and possibly tunnels I had not noticed provided access to the gardens and thence to the secluded gully road. Carts could be driven down it under cover of darkness and no one would see or ask questions when they were loaded and driven away again.

  Had the carts been waiting last night, or had the contraband been concealed in the myriad of buildings that comprised the stable blocks to wait for another night, perhaps at the dark of the moon? I had not heard wheels or hooves so perhaps that was how it was done.

  And what then? The consignment I had seen being moved was far more than could be disposed of locally, I felt sure. Given that almost every community along these coasts dabbled in the free trade to a greater or lesser degree, supply on this scale would certainly outstrip demand. Almost certainly the contraband was bound for markets much further afield and the success of the enterprise must depend on the efficient organisation of a transportation route out of Cornwall, into Devon, and maybe beyond. Was that why Francis had been absent most of yesterday? Had he been finalising arrangements for the next stage in the dispersal of the brandy, tobacco, silks and laces I had seen carried past my window?

  I pressed my fingers to my forehead where a dull ache still lingered. I did not like the thought that I was living in a household built on illegal gain. It was one thing for poor fisherfolk to bring in boatloads of merchandise under cover of darkness to avoid paying duty and earn themselves something extra to make their harsh lives a little more comfortable. But this… this, I felt sure, was in a different league altogether and must have been going on for many years or Francis would never have had the wherewithal to build Morwennan House in the first place.