Morwennan House

by Morwennan House (retail) (epub)

  He took my hand; as the warmth spread through my veins from where his fingers touched I thought that I would be able to dispute with him which things in life brought the greatest pleasure!

  ‘You ride?’ I asked to cover the flush of happiness I was feeling.

  ‘Well of course! My brother and I were brought up on our own grandfather’s farm. We rode all the time. I remember straddling a cart horse that was bringing in the harvest when I was scarcely big enough for my legs to reach across the breadth of his back,’ Tom said, smiling.

  ‘Oh!’ I said. For one thing, Tom had once told me he had no family. For another, he had said he came from Falmouth, which I associated more with the sea than with farming. Again I realised just how little I knew about Tom.

  ‘You didn’t follow the family tradition and farm yourself, then?’ I probed gently.

  ‘Hardly family tradition,’ Tom said. ‘My father was a sailor.’ He paused, and his face grew hard suddenly, his eyes narrowed, tight lines appearing round his mouth. ‘My brother did put to use the horsemanship we learned, though,’ he went on, his tone matching the expression on his face. ‘He became a riding officer.’

  ‘Oh!’ This revelation surprised me still more. Riding officers were employed by the authorities to patrol the coasts and watch out for evidence of smuggling – the very trade from which I felt sure Tom made his living. No wonder Tom was not best pleased at his brother’s profession. ‘Is this his district?’

  ‘He has no district. He is dead,’ Tom said shortly.

  ‘Oh – I’m sorry…’ I murmured foolishly.

  ‘Unless they are corrupt, riding officers tend not to live long and healthy lives,’ Tom went on in the same cold hard tone.

  I stared at him, shocked. I had heard, of course, of the unfortunate ‘accidents’ that often befell riding officers. The laming of their horses was the least of it, a fatal fall over a convenient cliff the worst. Smugglers hated riding officers – unless, of course, they were in their pay – and from what Tom had said his brother had not been one of those.

  The different paths they had followed must have set brother against brother. The one had died. And judging by the way he had related the tale, Tom, the smuggler, was not in the least sorry.

  Suddenly I no longer wanted my hand in his. I tore it away. Tom glanced at me.

  ‘Is something wrong, Charity?’

  ‘Nothing!’ I forced lightness into my voice. I did not want to even think about the unpleasant thoughts that were occurring to me, much less put them into words. ‘Look – there are some mummers performing! Let’s go and watch!’

  And though we did, and although I laughed as they danced, handkerchiefs waving, bells jingling on their hats and at their ankles, I felt that the heavy storm clouds that still darkened the sky had somehow got inside me and lay darkly about my heart.

  * * *

  An hour later, as we neared the ale house, the strangest thing happened. Francis and Charlotte were already there waiting, and Francis was talking to a man whose back was towards us but whose whole stance and appearance reminded me of Jem. It couldn’t be, of course – what would Jem be doing here in Morwennan village, and talking to Francis at that? But he was sufficiently like him to give me quite a start.

  By the time we fought our way through the crowds to where Francis was waiting, the man had gone.

  I could tell from Charlotte’s downcast face that she had no new pony to take home with her.

  ‘There was nothing suitable,’ Francis explained. ‘No pony I could trust with an inexperienced child. And the prices that were being asked were outrageous for such poor specimens.’

  ‘I did so want one though, Papa,’ Charlotte said miserably.

  ‘I know you did, sweeting, and you shall have one. I’m sorry you have been disappointed – I should not have told you what I intended until I’d seen what was on offer today. But I will begin making enquiries amongst the local farmers without delay to find the very pony for you. Now, does that make up a little for your disappointment?’

  Francis spoke to her tenderly; once again I marvelled at the opposing sides of his character.

  Charlotte brightened at once.

  ‘Oh yes, Papa! And you aren’t going to talk business with any strange men again today, are you? It’s so tedious when you talk business!’

  ‘No, not today,’ he promised her, smiling.

  So – the man who had reminded me of Jem was another of their number, I thought, and hated the way my mind was continually being drawn back to this free trade by which both Francis and Tom made their livings, and the unpalatable fact that where the law was broken other, worse, crimes followed as night follows day.

  If Tom associated with smugglers, he associated with murderers too, I thought. And there was no escaping the feeling of unease which pervaded me.

  Twelve

  In the early afternoon the rain that had been threatening all day began. A light misting in the air soon became a steady drizzle and there was little doubt that it had set in for the day. There was nothing for it but to return to the carriage and set out for home, but I could not be sorry about that, for all my pleasure in the day had gone with those cold words of Tom’s for his brother who had died whilst attempting to put a stop to the illicit free trade.

  I had thought we might leave Tom in the village or drop him off where he lived – wherever that might be. But instead he rode back with us to Morwennan House. Perhaps he and Francis had more illicit business to discuss, I thought darkly.

  As the carriage descended the gully road the rain fell from the trees upon it with heavy plops. A small gig I had not seen before was drawn up at the point by the coach houses where the gully became steep and narrow.

  ‘It seems we have visitors,’ Francis said, frowning. ‘I was not expecting anyone to call today.’

  I fastened my cloak at the neck and pulled the hood up to cover my hair. Tom handed me down from the carriage and I shrank from his touch. It was then that I saw someone coming towards us up the rise from the house.

  I stared, disbelieving. It couldn’t be, surely! First to think I had seen Jem in the village, and now… Oh, I must be imagining things again…!

  But at the same time I knew that this time, at least, I was not.

  My heart gave a great leap of pleasure, and forgetting all propriety I ran eagerly down the gully towards the advancing figure.

  It was my beloved Joshua!

  Never, in all my life, I think, had I been so pleased to see anyone. Joshua had always been my friend and protector as well as my hero; today, upset and vulnerable, I felt desperately in need of friendship and protection. I threw myself into his arms, hugging him, and he hugged me back warmly.

  ‘Charity!’

  ‘Joshua! What are you doing here?’

  ‘Well, come to see you, of course! But I thought I had missed you. I was about to leave again.’

  ‘Thank goodness we got home when we did! Oh, Joshua, it’s so good to see you!’

  It was; though it was also a little strange, for he was, of course, clad in the attire of a curate. But it suited him – the black coat and hat favoured his fairness and above the dog collar his face was as angelic as ever.

  The others had reached us now and were looking at Joshua curiously, puzzled, no doubt, by the enthusiasm with which we had greeted one another. Francis looked stern, Tom a little put out, I thought. Well, it would do him no harm.

  ‘This is Joshua Palfrey,’ I said to Francis. ‘His parents raised me. We were brought up as brother and sister.’

  Francis nodded. ‘A man of the cloth, I see.’

  Joshua smiled, that open cherubic smile that might have come straight from a painting of the heavenly throng.

  ‘Trying to be, sir. Though there are times when I wonder if I was mistaken to believe I was called to follow my father into the ministry.’

  ‘This is my employer, Francis Trevelyan,’ I said to Joshua. ‘This is Charlotte, my charge. And Thomas Stanton. A
friend of the family.’

  ‘We had better go inside,’ Francis said. ‘We are getting wet standing here. Though you, Mr Palfrey, look as if you have had a soaking already.’

  ‘I am a little damp, yes,’ Joshua agreed.

  That was an understatement if ever I heard one! Rain water had collected in the brim of Joshua’s hat and was dripping down his neck, his cloak looked dark and heavy and sodden.

  ‘You’re wet through!’ I said. ‘Have you been waiting here long?’

  ‘Only a little while. A drop of God’s good rain won’t do me any harm,’ Joshua said.

  ‘Is there no one in?’ Francis asked, opening the door. ‘Did no one answer your knock?’

  ‘No – but perhaps I did not knock loudly enough,’ Joshua replied, trying as always to attribute to himself any blame that might be construed. ‘I confess I was concerned at disturbing the household when you do not know me from Adam. But I was passing through the neighbourhood and I took the opportunity to call by and catch up with Charity. Since I have taken holy orders and moved to my new parish I have missed my family. And Charity most of all.’

  He turned his smile on me; I warmed beneath it. Oh, it was so good to see a friendly face – especially Joshua’s!

  ‘I am sure the two of you must have a great deal to catch up on,’ Francis said. ‘Why don’t you take your brother into the parlour, Charity? I’ll have Mrs Durbin bring you a dish of tea – if she can be found. Where the devil is everyone?’

  As if on cue Mrs Durbin appeared from the door in the hallway. She looked a little flustered.

  ‘My – are you all home already? I didn’t expect you until dinner time.’

  She patted her hair; I wondered if she had been taking a nap. It would explain why she had not heard Joshua knocking. But surely she would have taken a nap in her own quarters?

  ‘Where is Selena?’ Francis demanded.

  ‘Gone out. I don’t know where. She didn’t say.’ Mrs Durbin still looked flustered.

  ‘Take our visitor’s hat and cloak if you will, and see about that tea,’ Francis ordered, a trifle impatiently.

  I took Joshua into the parlour.

  ‘So how are you, Charity?’ he asked, taking my hands in his the moment we were alone. ‘Are you happy here? Are they treating you well?’

  I hesitated. I so longed to tell Joshua everything – but where to begin?

  ‘Oh, Joshua, there’s so much…’

  ‘And is Mr Thomas Stanton part of it?’ he asked shrewdly.

  I coloured. ‘What makes you think that?’

  ‘The way he was looking at you – especially when you were greeting me.’ He smiled. ‘I think if I had not been wearing priest’s garb he might have given me a bloody nose.’

  ‘Oh!’ Even given the doubts I had been entertaining about Tom today, Joshua’s words still pleased me.

  ‘I am fond of him,’ I admitted. With my face as pink as the roses in the garden it was useless to pretend otherwise! ‘But, Joshua, I have much more important things to tell you. I think I might be on the verge of learning who I really am…’

  I told him of my likeness to Julia, and as much of the story as I knew. He listened as patiently as he might listen to a parishioner’s confession but his face was clouded and serious.

  ‘Are you sure it’s wise, Charity, to hold out such hope?’ he asked when I paused for breath. ‘Francis may be right; sometimes there are things we are better off not knowing. And you could be on the wrong track, anyway.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’ I demanded.

  ‘I once heard Mama and Papa talking,’ he said carefully. ‘I didn’t understand much of what they said – I was only a child at the time – but there was something about you being rescued from a terrible fate. That you had almost died “at the hands of those evil people”. I’ll never forget those words. “At the hands of those evil people.”’ He paused. ‘That does not sound as though you were abandoned by some poor woman who simply did not have the means to look after you, does it? You must, I think, have been ill-treated at the very least, and perhaps removed from the care of your family.’

  I bit my lip. This was an unwelcome revelation indeed. I so wanted to believe that I was Julia’s daughter and the reason she had given me up was because her lover had left her alone with no means to support herself, let alone me. But if there was some darker side to the story it would explain why Mama Mary and Dr John had always been so reluctant to talk about the circumstances in which I had come into their care.

  ‘Oh, Joshua, I don’t understand any of it!’ I confessed. ‘But whatever the truth, however unwelcome, I have to know. I have spent my whole life wondering, and now…’

  ‘Yes,’ he said slowly. ‘Yes, I can see that. I would feel the same in your position, I expect.’

  ‘When I can, I am going to try to make contact with Julia’s family,’ I said. ‘I seem to have run up against a dead end here. Francis and Selena know no more about what happened in the years Julia was missing than I do – or that’s what they say, at least. But maybe she turned to her parents. That’s possible, is it not?’

  ‘And they live in Launceston now, you say?’ he asked thoughtfully. ‘It’s a long way, Charity. And how do we know they are not the “evil people” Papa referred to?’

  ‘We don’t,’ I agreed. ‘Though, as you say, it’s a long way off. It’s hardly likely your mama and papa would have taken me from such a distance away. Surely I would have been cared for much closer to where I was rescued from. But if I don’t speak to them, or at least try to find out something about them, we’ll never know, will we?’ I hesitated. ‘Would you help me, Joshua? Could you not question your mama and papa when next you see them?’

  ‘I could, I suppose,’ he agreed doubtfully.

  ‘And the Staceys – Julia’s parents… You never go as far afield as Launceston, do you…?’

  ‘I have my own transport, it’s true,’ Joshua said, ‘and a certain amount of time to myself. But I’ve been away from my parish now for the best part of a week. I have been visiting Jem in Falmouth.’

  ‘Oh!’ I exclaimed. ‘Have you really? It’s most odd, because I thought I saw him today in Morwennan – and then I came home and you were here…’

  ‘I think it’s unlikely he was in Morwennan,’ Joshua said with a smile. ‘I left him at his own home around eleven, and he told me he had a busy day ahead of him.’

  ‘Oh – I know it couldn’t have been him,’ I said. ‘It was just… odd. And then to come home and see you waiting at the door… How is Jem, anyway? Is he well?’

  ‘Yes – and prospering too from what I could see. But then he would, would he not? Jem was always the clever one.’ He grinned ruefully. ‘But as I was saying, it will be a few weeks before I am allowed free time again. In the meantime I will certainly see if I can learn anything about these Staceys. If they lived in this part of the world at one time they may still have connections here. And when I can I’ll try to get to Launceston and speak to them myself,’ he promised. ‘They may be more prepared to talk to me than to you. This does have certain advantages.’ He tapped his dog collar. ‘But I only hope I am not doing you a disservice in this. What we learn may not be what you would like to hear.’

  ‘Whatever you discover, I’ll accept it,’ I said earnestly. ‘But I have to know. Good or bad, I have to know.’

  We talked some more over the tea that Mrs Durbin brought in, of the family, of the old days, of Joshua’s new life. Then he rose regretfully.

  ‘I am going to have to take my leave of you, Charity, if I am to get back before nightfall. I should prefer not to be driving on unfamiliar roads after dark.’

  Unexpectedly tears welled in my eyes. Joshua couldn’t stay for ever, of course, and it made sense for him to make the journey in daylight. But oh – I didn’t want him to go!

  ‘Charity?’ He looked at me anxiously. ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘No… no…’ I tried to assure him, swallowing hard, but the
tears made my voice choky and unconvincing.

  ‘There’s something else you haven’t told me, isn’t there?’ he said perceptively. ‘I’ve sensed it all the time we’ve been talking. What is it, Charity?’

  I hesitated, wondering if I should tell him about Tom and Francis and the smuggling. It would be such a relief to share it. But it would also be a mistake. If I burdened Joshua with what I knew he would, in all likelihood, feel he had no option but to go to the authorities. Joshua had always had principles; now he was a man of the cloth those principles were likely to be even more finely honed. And though I too felt strongly that Francis’s operation was very wrong and should be stopped, the last thing I wanted was for a magistrate to turn up now, seize any contraband that might still be on the premises, and arrest Francis. If that happened then almost certainly I would be sent away and I would lose contact with Charlotte, along with any chance of learning more from the Trevelyans.

  With an enormous effort I swallowed my tears and rubbed my eyes with my fingertips.

  ‘I’m just being foolish,’ I said. ‘It was so good to see you, and now you’re leaving again. Don’t take any notice of me.’

  Joshua’s eyes searched my face. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Of course.’ I forced a smile. ‘Go on, Joshua, it’s high time you were going. I don’t want to be responsible for you running off the road in the dark, or colliding with some stray animal.’

  ‘Very well, Charity. But promise me…’ His voice tailed off. ‘Look – if you are worried about anything or in need of help or advice, Jem is not so far away. Promise me you’ll go to him should the need arise.’

  ‘I promise.’

  Jem and I had never been close as Joshua and I were but, for all that, he was as near to being family as was possible without the link of blood. If the need arose, I felt sure he would not fail me. But nevertheless, as I watched Joshua walk up the rise to the coach house, I thought I had never felt more alone in my entire life.

  * * *

  The wet weather that day marked, it seemed, the end of summer. Rain fell almost ceaselessly for the best part of a week and with it the colour began to fade from the sodden leaves. The first ones came tumbling down, as yet no more than a sparse scattering, but a clear warning of the deluge to come, when, I imagined, the ground would be covered by a thick brown carpet and drifts would build up in the banks and hedgerows.