Morwennan House

by Morwennan House (retail) (epub)

  The first was – why had Julia thought me to be dead? No mother would think such a thing of her child without good reason and then, surely, she would want to hold the little lifeless body, see it laid to rest?

  I pondered for a long while without making much progress – except that ideas I did not care for at all suggested themselves to me. Then I found myself wondering why Selena had not come to my assistance when Francis had tried to kiss me. She must have known he had followed me upstairs, and what he was capable of. She must have heard my cries. Yet she had ignored them.

  There were more evils in this house than I had realised; for the first time I was truly afraid of what it was I would uncover if I persisted. But my fear did nothing to weaken my resolve.

  Julia had suffered at the hands of both Francis and Selena, I felt sure. As a consequence I had suffered too. If I did nothing, how long would it be before Charlotte too fell victim to their scheming? She was as yet a child, they protected her and were, I felt sure, honestly fond of her. But Selena was pure wickedness and Francis… where Francis loved, disaster followed, for the only love he was capable of was selfish and destructive. I could not abandon Charlotte to such a fate as would surely be her lot. Julia would not have wanted that and neither did I.

  From somewhere I would find the strength and the resourcefulness to finish what I had begun.

  That much I owed to my sister – and to my mother.

  * * *

  How I managed to sleep that night I do not know. But I must have done so, for I woke once to hear what sounded like an unearthly wailing.

  At first I thought it was the cry of a wild animal being tortured by a predator, but as I lay tense and shaking from my sudden awakening it came again and again, and it seemed to me that it came from inside the house, for it was all around me. It was, I thought, as if the house itself were wailing.

  When it stopped and there were only the usual heavy creaks, I thought of the recurrent dream I used to have and the feeling of being trapped. I had not thought of it lately, for reality had replaced fancy, but now I wondered if it had been prophetic in some way. I was trapped here now – trapped by my curiosity and my sense of duty towards Charlotte. Yet, for all that I was frightened and upset, the feeling of claustrophobia was not as strong as it had always been in the dream. Was that because there was yet more to come, I wondered, along with the discoveries I still had to make?

  The thought, in the stillness of the night, chilled me. I drew the covers tight around me and still I shivered.

  At last I slept again, but it was a restless, troubled sleep, disturbed by dreams that verged on nightmare. And always the questions were there, haunting me.

  What had happened to Julia? Why had she thought that I was dead? Who were the ‘evil people’ of whom Mama Mary and Dr John had spoken so long ago? And what would I do when I finally learned the truth?

  Fifteen

  Francis did his best to avoid me next day. He looked shamed and there were angry scratch marks on his face where my nails had gouged into the flesh. Selena, though, appeared smug and pleased with herself. I felt sure she knew what had occurred and in some perverse way was revelling in it.

  I longed to face her out and demand an explanation but shrank from making another scene. If Charlotte were to overhear, she was bound to be upset by it. I would ask Mrs Durbin, I decided. She knew the truth, I felt sure, and being a little removed from it she was less threatening than either Francis or Selena.

  When I had set Charlotte some lessons I went in search of her.

  I found her in the kitchen preparing vegetables. She looked a little flustered, pale for her, and her knife jerked agitatedly as she cut off chunks of potato peel. Perhaps she too had heard something of the commotion last night, I thought. If so, what had she made of it?

  I pushed the door almost closed behind me and crossed to stand beside her.

  ‘Mrs Durbin, I must talk to you.’

  She glanced up at me, her beady little eyes troubled.

  ‘You have been here a long time,’ I began. ‘You must have known Julia well.’

  She huffed a little, her eyes skittering away from mine again.

  ‘Why do you keep asking about Miss Julia?’

  ‘I think you know the answer to that very well, Mrs Durbin,’ I said levelly. ‘Everyone says how like her I am.’

  ‘Yes… well… What’s that to do with anything?’

  ‘Please, Mrs Durbin!’ I said urgently. ‘There are things I have to know and I think you can tell me. You liked Julia, didn’t you?’ Mrs Durbin’s mouth worked convulsively. Then she said: ‘Liked her? I loved her!’

  ‘So please – please talk to me!’ I begged. ‘She was my mother, wasn’t she? Francis and Selena think so, I know. I was born to her in the time she left Francis, but for some reason I was raised as a foundling. Francis said she thought her child was dead. Why did she think that, Mrs Durbin?’

  ‘Oh lawks, lawks!’ Mrs Durbin slammed down the potato knife and wiped her apron across her face. ‘Don’t ask me these questions, Charity. It’s not for me to say. And anyway, I don’t know everything…’ She paused. ‘One thing I do know, though. I’ve only stayed in this house for Julia’s sake. If it weren’t for her I’d have gone long ago and Durbin with me. And, if you’ve any sense, that’s what you’ll do. It’s an evil place. Oh, if it weren’t for Miss Julia…’

  ‘You mean you stay because she would want you to look after Charlotte?’ I asked.

  ‘Never mind what I mean,’ Mrs Durbin said darkly. ‘You’ll learn nothing from me. It’s for Mr Francis to tell you – if he chooses. Or else…’ She broke off, her mouth working still.

  ‘What?’ I pressed her.

  ‘Maybe there’s things you’ll learn by accident, given time. And when you do…’ She was becoming more and more agitated. ‘When you do he’ll have to tell you. Or she will. But it’s not for me. I haven’t kept silent all these years to break it now.’

  And try as I might I could get nothing more from her.

  * * *

  ‘Charity, do you think we could take some more roses to Mama’s grave?’ Charlotte asked. ‘There aren’t many left now. I’d like to do it before they all die.’

  I frowned. It was true, the recent bad weather had spoiled the rose bushes. They were looking sad and bedraggled, some of the leaves turning brown and what flowers there were faded. Soon there would be none worth the picking and I knew how much it meant to Charlotte to take flowers to Julia’s last resting place, for now it also meant a great deal to me too.

  But Selena had been so angry that we had been to the churchyard before and I did not want her upsetting Charlotte again with her cruel remarks about Julia ‘not being there’.

  ‘You know your aunt does not approve,’ I said reluctantly.

  ‘She won’t know if we don’t tell her.’ Charlotte gave me a sly look. ‘We can say we’ve been to the village.’

  ‘It’s not right to tell lies, Charlotte,’ I reprimanded her.

  ‘But it wouldn’t be a lie!’ Charlotte argued. ‘The churchyard is in the village, so we would have been there!’

  I had to smile. There was no denying the childish logic, though if I had not so thoroughly disliked Selena I might have pointed out that a distortion of the truth was equally dishonest. As it was, the prospect of deceiving the horrible woman was rather a satisfying one. I succumbed to the temptation. After all, why should I allow her to prevent us from visiting our mother’s grave?

  ‘Very well,’ I agreed. ‘But I will tell Selena myself that we are going to the village. Better my sin than yours, Charlotte.’

  To my surprise I found Selena in Francis’s study. They appeared to be going over the ledgers together, Selena’s finger running down a column of figures whilst Francis made notes with a quill pen. They were so engrossed they barely seemed to notice what I was saying.

  Charlotte and I cut the best of the roses and set out. It was an overcast day, the sun from behind a blanket of cl
oud looking more silver than golden. The grass in the churchyard was wet to our feet, the ground soft and yielding from the recent rain. We removed the husks of the roses we had laid before and replaced them with the fresh ones, then stood for a moment looking at the tomb. Once again it gave me a strange prickle down my spine to see Julia’s name etched into the stone, yet I was struck by a feeling of emptiness. Perhaps Selena’s words to Charlotte had affected me more deeply than I had realised, for truly I did not feel close to her at all. Today it felt to me as if Selena had been right. Julia was not there.

  I took Charlotte’s hand, anxious to feel close to her at least. Then, when she was ready, we turned back to the path.

  I saw him at once, standing by the lychgate, and my pulses began to hammer. Tom! At the same moment Charlotte saw him too, dropped my hand and ran towards him.

  ‘Tom! What are you doing here?’

  He swung her into the air. ‘I was passing and saw you. What are you doing here?’

  ‘Bringing roses for Mama. Aunt Selena doesn’t like me to, but Charity told her we were going to the village,’ she said, throwing the blame entirely on me.

  ‘You’re not above a little deceit then, Charity!’ Tom’s eyes held mine with a long, amused look. ‘I hope it’s not me that’s a bad influence on you!’

  I flushed. He certainly was a bad influence on me and he knew it.

  Tom had set Charlotte down. Now he pointed to a tangle of bramble bushes close by the lychgate.

  ‘There are blackberries there, Charlotte, plump and ripe for the picking. Why don’t you find some?’ He pulled a kerchief from his pocket, unfolded it and gave it to her. ‘Get some for me too. I’ve a fancy for blackberries for my tea.’

  She smiled at him, pert and adoring, then scampered off, only too delighted by the opportunity to be of service to her hero. The moment she was out of earshot he caught my arm and asked the question that was clearly burning on his lips.

  ‘Well? Have you found it?’

  Disappointment and resentment welled in me. All Tom seemed to think about these days was the ship’s bell.

  ‘There’s been no chance,’ I said shortly.

  ‘But you will search as soon as you can? It’s important, Charity.’

  ‘I’ve said I will, haven’t I?’ I retorted crossly and Tom’s fingers became more gentle on my arm, moving in a little stroking motion.

  ‘Charity – I don’t want you to think…’

  He was pulling me closer. I tried to resist the shivers of desire that were spiralling within me. Oh, in spite of everything, I wanted so much to be in his arms!

  ‘I don’t think anything,’ I said.

  His mouth was close to my ear. I could feel his breath warm on my neck.

  ‘Afterwards – when this is all over – I’ll take you away from this place.’

  The desire for him spiralled again more sharply. Again I tried to resist it.

  ‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Tom.’

  And: ‘I always keep my promises, Charity,’ he said.

  I let myself lean against him for a moment, my heart thudding, treacherous warmth spreading through my veins. Oh, if only… If only… Then Charlotte came running back, Tom’s kerchief laden with blackberries. Her fingers – and her mouth – were stained purple.

  ‘There you are, Tom – blackberries for your tea! And they’re so sweet and juicy! Why don’t you come home with us and share them with us?’

  Tom smiled at her.

  ‘Not today, sweeting. I have things to do. But you can have them if you like and return my kerchief when next I see you.’

  ‘Oh, but I picked them for you!’ she objected.

  ‘You’d like them though, wouldn’t you? Go on, take them, Charlotte. Your palate is less jaded than mine. You’ll enjoy them more.’ He glanced at me. ‘Share them with Charity.’

  We left him at the lychgate.

  ‘Tom is wonderful, isn’t he?’ Charlotte said dreamily as we headed back towards the cliff path. ‘He’s so kind and generous and such fun!’

  And he is also manipulative, I thought wryly. Manipulative and secretive and rather ruthless. But somehow it made no difference.

  Charlotte and I were both under Tom’s spell and not even knowing it made it less potent.

  * * *

  When we returned to Morwennan House there was a letter waiting for me. I was surprised – and puzzled. Who could be writing to me? But the moment I saw the handwriting on the envelope I recognised it as Joshua’s. I settled Charlotte down with a book and tore it open eagerly.

  Joshua had written,

  Dearest Charity,

  It was so good to see you again! I had not realised just how much I missed you! We must keep in touch more closely. It would make me so sad if we should drift apart.

  I write now, however, to tell you I have made some progress in the enquiries I promised to undertake on your behalf.

  Firstly, I pressed Papa for more details of how you came into the care of him and Mama. Perhaps because I am now grown – and a minister like him! – he opened up somewhat on the subject which he has always avoided, and I have to say I can now understand the reason for his reticence. I can scarcely believe the story he told me, and I have to say it is not something I feel able to set down in a letter. I will try to come and see you again soon, Charity, and tell you face to face what I have learned. However, one thing I will mention, as it may help you to confirm or otherwise whether you are indeed who you think you may be. You were found at Porthcreor.

  My eyes flicked up momentarily from the parchment. Porthcreor! It was on the coast, a hamlet perched on the cliffs, where the sea pounded the rocks beneath and rushed over a pebble beach into crannies and caves.

  I could not imagine why Mama Mary and Dr John should have been given care of me if I had been found in Porthcreor, for it was not in Dr John’s parish. But it was by the sea, so, in a way, that formed a link with Julia. She had run away with the captain of a ship, I had been told. Had he left her in Porthcreor, alone and with child? Was it perhaps his home port? But surely not! Porthcreor was a most inhospitable bay.

  And what of the circumstances in which I had been found – circumstances that my dear Joshua found too distressing to set out in a letter? I could not begin to imagine what they might be. I returned to the parchment.

  Joshua continued,

  As to the other matter, I have made some enquiries and it seems the Stacey family are still in the Launceston area. At present I do not have an address for them but I am pursuing their whereabouts with all diligence and will be in touch again when I have some news.

  Do not be downcast, Charity, and remember Jeremiah is close at hand if you need a friend.

  For the present, I remain

  Your loving brother,

  Joshua.

  Momentarily a great rush of warmth filled me – warmth that came from knowing that at least there was one person in my life who truly cared for me. Joshua had never let me down or abandoned me, never used me or hurt me. I wished with all my heart that he was here beside me now. I touched my fingers to his name on the letter, drawing comfort from it.

  But all too soon the other emotions came rushing in, and the questions. Always the questions. Frustration gnawed at me. Once again I was close, so close, to the truth. And once again an impregnable wall separated me from it.

  * * *

  My chance to do as Tom had asked and search the attic room for the bell that was so important to him came the next day.

  Selena informed me that she, Francis and Charlotte were to drive over to her father’s home to visit. I was surprised she did not suggest I should go with them, but Selena said it was high time I had another day to myself. Since I would be left all alone at Morwennan I failed to see how she thought this would benefit me, but then, consideration of my interests had never been high amongst Selena’s priorities.

  As I watched the carriage pull away up the steep rise I could not help feeling a little annoyed tha
t they had not told me sooner that I would be free today. Perhaps I could have made some arrangement to spend some time with Tom. For all my doubts about him, I could not seem to stop thinking about him and wanting to be in his company. As it was…

  If I searched the attic rooms now, without delay, I thought, I would at least have the perfect excuse to go into the village to seek him out and give him whatever news I might have. Then, perhaps, I would find out whether he was interested in me for myself, or whether he was simply using me to gain his own ends. If that was the case I would be terribly hurt, I knew, and deeply upset, but at least I would be no longer under any illusion.

  The great house echoed with emptiness and the cawing of the rooks. Durbin, of course, had gone with Francis and Selena to drive the carriage, and Mrs Durbin was occupied in the kitchen.

  I went to Francis’s study. For some reason I had almost convinced myself he would have taken the bunch of keys with him, though why he should have done so I could not imagine, unless it was that he did not trust me, and I knew that was my guilty conscience worrying at me. But the keys hung where they always hung, on a hook in the alcove behind the door.

  My breath was constricted in my chest as I took them down – already I felt like a thief, though it was not my intention to steal anything. I was merely to investigate a part of the house not usually open to me, and doubtless the search would prove as fruitless as the earlier ones had done. If by some chance I should find the bell, I would merely report to Tom. What he did about it would be up to him.

  I must confess to a certain curiosity of my own. Since the household was so small, I could not imagine why there was need for any locked doors, especially one that led only to storerooms. But I supposed that if one is engaged in an illicit business, one is likely to become secretive.

  I went into the hall. The sound of Mrs Durbin singing tunelessly, as she often did when she was engrossed in her cooking, reassured me, but even so my hands were shaking so much it took me several attempts to find the right key and fit it into the lock.