At last, it seemed, the tortured couple were about to achieve some sort of normal family life.
* * *
It was not to last. Selena – bitterly jealous, usurped once again – was to make sure of that. She stalked the house like an angry tigress waiting for her opportunity to take revenge on the woman she had always considered her rival.
It came on a foggy November night some three weeks before the date Julia had calculated her baby was due.
All day a cold drizzle had fallen; by four in the afternoon it was almost dark already and the mist that had threatened all day began to close in.
Julia had been in her room resting. She crossed to the window to pull the drapes and was alarmed to see a motley crew of rough-looking men gathered in the garden beside the gate that led to the cliff path. They looked, she thought, like a band of ruffians with their unkempt hair and shaggy beards, their whole demeanour oddly threatening and somehow made the more sinister as the glow of their lantern lights spread around them like fiery halos in the swirling mist and darkness. One was a huge gorilla of a man, another a hunchback, certainly none of them had she ever seen at Morwennan before.
Julia’s heart began to pound. They were up to no good, she felt sure. Leaving the drapes half-drawn she ran downstairs in search of Francis.
The front door was ajar; she heard voices and ran to pull it fully open. Francis was there, and a man who looked every bit as unsavoury as the ones she had seen in the garden. She stopped in her tracks, startled and afraid.
‘Francis…’
He turned to her impatiently. ‘What is it?’
‘There are men in the garden…’ Her eyes were on Francis’s visitor; burly and unshaven, he was regarding her with belligerent suspicion. Her voice faltered. This man was, she felt sure, one of them.
‘It’s all right,’ Francis said shortly. ‘Go inside.’
‘But…’
‘Go inside, I tell you!’ She had never heard his tone so sharp, so authoritative, and she had no choice but to obey.
Selena was in the parlour, a piece of the eternal embroidery in her lap. She looked up as Julia entered, her eyes cold as steel.
‘What’s going on?’ Julia burst out. ‘There are men in the garden – awful-looking men – and one of them is at the door talking to Francis. He means no good, I’m sure of it. What are we to do?’
Selena raised an eyebrow, but her needle still flashed in and out of the linen she was working on.
‘We do nothing, Julia.’
‘But… we could all be murdered!’ Julia gasped. ‘You haven’t seen them, Selena! They are evil! Why, the one at the door could have a pistol trained on Francis at this very moment – or a knife in his ribs. He spoke to me so sharply, telling me to come indoors. Something is very wrong, I know it is!’
‘Calm yourself, for the love of God,’ Selena said coldly. ‘We are in no danger, I assure you.’
‘But…’ Julia broke off. How could Selena be so sure? We are in no danger. Why had she laid emphasis on the ‘we’? ‘I don’t understand,’ she faltered.
‘No, you do not.’ Selena smiled, the unpleasant smile that pulled the corners of her mouth downward. ‘Francis was anxious to protect you. But I think it is time you knew the truth.’
Julia stared at her, a feeling of dread creeping through her.
‘Truth? What truth? What are you talking about, Selena?’
Selena laid her embroidery on the small table at her side with great care. Her eyes never left Julia’s and Julia realised she was actually enjoying this, relishing what was to come.
‘You know, of course, how Francis makes the money that buys you all this.’ With a sweep of her hand she indicated the comfortably furnished room with all its treasures, the drinks table laden with crystal decanters full of fine spirits, and finally Julia’s own silk gown and hand-made slippers. ‘You know he is a smuggler on the grand scale, overseeing the entire operation from the negotiations with the free trade captains to the dispersal of the contraband inland by a series of storage and distribution points. He is even part owner of a two-hundred-ton lugger, the Yellow Rose.’ She paused.
‘Yes, of course I know that,’ Julia said impatiently. ‘I’ve never liked it, but…’
‘But you are prepared to accept the benefits it brings,’ Selena said smoothly.
‘I suppose so – yes. But…’
‘And if I were to tell you that some of Francis’s profits come from other sources? Sources that cost him nothing? How would you feel about your fine silks and laces then?’
‘Selena, you are talking in riddles!’ Julia said sharply, but there was a small uncertain quaver in her voice. ‘How can it cost him nothing when the captain and the ship’s crew have to be paid?’
The corners of Selena’s mouth turned down still further as her smile broadened. ‘Dead men ask no wages, Julia.’
‘Dead men?’ Julia was a small frozen statue now as she began to realise the full horror of what Selena was saying. ‘Selena… you don’t mean… you can’t mean…’
‘Wrecking. But of course, my dear,’ Selena replied calmly. ‘If a ship is driven on to the rocks no money has to change hands. The whole cargo can be salvaged free and gratis. Why, everything of value on board falls into the hands of those waiting on the shore. It can be a most profitable exercise – and I am afraid to say that many of the men who do such things take great pleasure in it, too. They are a drunken, lawless lot on the whole – a breed apart from those who assist Francis with his regular free trade. Gypsies, sailors, poachers – the one thing they have in common is greed and a bloodlust. Not the most savoury of characters – as you observed tonight.’
‘The men in the garden,’ Julia whispered. Her lips felt stiff. ‘They are… wreckers.’
Selena nodded. ‘I am afraid so, yes. It looks like being a perfect night for such activity and they are anxious to make it a busy and profitable one. But they need someone to lead them – someone with a cooler head than they, and the means to help them dispose of their spoils.’
‘Francis.’
Selena merely smiled again.
‘But how could he?’ Julia cried. ‘It’s murder – cold blooded murder! How could he be involved with something so terrible? Especially after what happened to me! He knows it was wreckers that caused the death of John and my little girl! He knows I almost lost my life too!’
‘Oh yes, he knows that very well,’ Selena said silkily. ‘Very well indeed.’
‘Then how could he…’ Julia broke off. There was something in Selena’s tone that told her there was a great deal more that she had not said… yet. The first awful suspicion began to dawn on her, too horrible to assimilate all at once. ‘Selena – you are not saying… No! No, I won’t believe it!’
‘How do you think you came to be saved, Julia?’ Selena asked. ‘It was a bad night, that one. They did not know that part of the coast well enough and they reckoned without the shallows. The crew were reaching land. They could not allow that. They had to die, all of them. And you would have died too if you had not been recognised. But you were recognised and the order was given to let you live. Francis brought you home unconscious – you know nothing of who it was that carried you out of the water to dry land. We could not be sure, of course, that you had been unconscious from the outset. That is why you found me at your bedside, my dear, when you became lucid. We needed to know how much you remembered.’
Julia was white now, as white as she had been that night when she had been lifted, half-drowned, out of the icy sea. The enormity of what Selena was telling her was overwhelming, her mind still rebelled against it. And yet… and yet… without doubt it had the ring of truth, and it explained so much.
She had on occasion wondered that the cold-hearted Selena who hated her so had sat willingly beside her sickbed. For a time she had almost been prepared to revise her opinion of her sister-in-law on the strength of it. Now, in a flash, she understood why the duty of care had not been assigned t
o a nurse, who might learn something Selena and Francis wanted kept secret.
She had wondered too, many times, how it was that she had survived whilst John and little Nancy had perished. Now she understood that also. Francis had been there on the shore that terrible night. It was Francis who had carried her from the waves and brought her home.
And by the same token it was Francis who had caused the deaths of her lover and her child.
Julia began to scream.
Dimly she was aware of Selena rising, gripping her flailing arms, shouting at her to be quiet, slapping her sharply across the cheek. Dimly she was aware of Francis, alerted by the commotion, entering the room.
‘Murderer!’ she screamed, beating at him with her hands. ‘Murderer!’
Francis, stronger than Selena, restrained her, holding her fast until the first hysteria passed.
‘Julia, my dear, whatever…?’
She glared at him, her eyes full of passion and a hatred such as he had never seen in them before.
‘She knows,’ Selena said bluntly.
‘Yes, I know!’ Julia cried. ‘It was you who killed John and my little Nancy. You, Francis! You!’
‘Julia, no…!’
‘You won’t get away with it!’ she sobbed. ‘I’ll see to it that you don’t. I’ll go to the authorities. I’ll tell them everything. You’ll hang for this, Francis Trevelyan!’
‘On your word?’ Selena interceded smugly. ‘Oh, I think not.’
Julia ignored her.
‘And if you don’t hang, Francis, at least I’ll make sure you never have your child,’ she threw at him. ‘I’ll take him away where you’ll never see him. And if you prevent me, then I’ll kill him. I’ll kill your child, God help me, as you killed mine.’
Francis too was now deathly pale. ‘You would not…’
‘Oh, I would.’ Her hands went to her stomach, covering the precious mound. ‘I would do anything, Francis, rather than have him grow up with you for a father!’
‘Julia…’
Her eyes were wild. ‘I’d tear him from my belly now if I could…’ She broke off, gasping, as the first pain, sharp and searing, gripped her. Her knees buckled; Francis gripped her by the elbows, supporting her.
‘Dear God, Selena, look what you’ve done now! It’s coming! The baby is coming before its time.’
Selena said nothing. But Julia saw a smug satisfied smile twist the older woman’s mouth before the pain, the hysteria, the whole terrible enormity of what she had learned overcame her, the room swam, and she collapsed in a dead faint in Francis’s arms.
* * *
As she went through labour she heard them talking.
‘I am very afraid, Mrs Durbin, that Julia is not going to survive.’ Selena’s voice, cold and hard.
‘Of course she will! She’s doing well, the lamb. It won’t be long…’
‘She is not going to survive.’ Selena again.
What could she mean? Did she intend to kill her, Julia wondered helplessly. Then she heard Selena say: ‘That is what you will tell the outside world, Mrs Durbin.’
‘But why… why?’
‘The pregnancy has driven her mad, I fear. Not only is she making all manner of wild accusations against Mr Francis, she is also threatening to harm the child. We can’t have that. They are to be separated at birth. A wet nurse must be found in the village and Julia will be confined to her room. We cannot allow her to be alone with the child for a moment.’
‘But Miss Selena…’
‘It’s best all round. Mr Francis is in agreement. If you value your position here you will do as you are told. And if you care for Julia, too. Do you understand?’
‘Oh, Miss Selena, I don’t know! I never heard of such a thing…’
‘Well, hear it now. Julia is going to die in childbirth. Francis and I will raise the baby. And you will help us – or find yourself new employers – not easy for the two of you together at your ages and without references…’
Julia tried to protest and could not. The pains were too strong, the birth too imminent.
Half an hour later the child was born – a little girl who seemed none the worse for arriving in the world more than two weeks before her time, and into such a troubled atmosphere. The moment the cord was cut Selena took her from Mrs Durbin, wrapped her in a length of linen and went with her to the door.
‘What was it you and Francis decided to call the baby if it was a girl?’ she asked coldly.
‘Charlotte,’ Julia muttered weakly.
‘Charlotte. Well, Julia, take a good look at her, for you won’t be seeing her again – unless we are unable to find a wet nurse and you have to feed her yourself for a while. But if you do, be assured I shall be there all the time to ensure you do not harm her.’
‘I wouldn’t – you know that!’ Julia whispered. ‘What I said, I said in the heat of the moment! I could never harm my child!’
Selena ignored her as if she had not spoken.
‘I am afraid, Julia, that you are very sick. We must treat you accordingly.’
Then, the baby in her arms, she marched from the room.
* * *
Francis was a powerful man.
Few people knew that the coffin bearing Julia’s name was empty but for a few rocks when it was carried to the family tomb in the churchyard a week later, and those who did were either too loyal or too frightened to breathe a word.
Francis walked behind the cortège, and those villagers who stood, cap in hand, to watch it pass by attributed his ravaged appearance to grief. Not one guessed it had been brought about by his agony at what had to be done.
Selena walked beside him, head held high, and her black veil hid the smile of triumph she could not keep from her lips.
She had won. Julia had gone for ever. Though in fact she was incarcerated in her room, to the outside world – and to Selena – she was as dead as if her remains were indeed within the coffin.
As the parson intoned the words of committal and the damp earth thudded on to the heavy oak lid Selena continued to smile.
She had won, just as she had known she would in the end. Once again Francis was under her control. Once again she was mistress of Morwennan House.
It was all she had ever wanted.
Twenty-Three
When Julia had finished telling me her story I knew I had no choice. I knew now just how deep was the evil by which I was surrounded. And I knew that I had to act. I could not wait any longer for Tom and Joshua. Joshua, bless his heart, was a dreamer, not a man of action. For all his good intentions it might be weeks – months – before he pursued some course of action on my behalf – if ever he did so at all. And Tom… Tom had been gone for more than a week. Had he been betrayed? Had someone in the gang learned that he was not what he purported to be, but a spy who would prove their undoing? If so, then there was every chance that he would meet the same fate as his brother and end up at the bottom of a mineshaft or thrown from the cliffs into the raging sea below.
The thought was a terrible one; it made me want to cry out with pain and grief and fear for all of us, but I told myself I must not think of that now. I must assume the worst and make plans of my own to rescue Julia and get Charlotte away from the corruption and evil of Morwennan.
I thought and thought and in the end I decided I would go to the one person within reach whom I could trust.
I would go to Jeremiah.
* * *
I laid my plans with care. I set about persuading Francis to agree to Charlotte and myself visiting her grandparents again.
This scheme, as I saw it, had two advantages.
Firstly it would get Charlotte away from Morwennan. I imagined that Jem would go straight to the authorities – in his position he had far more contacts than I could ever hope to have – and I did not want Charlotte in the house when it was raided by the military.
Secondly, I could reach Jem much more readily from Penallack. It was that much nearer to Jem than Morwennan, and th
ere was a good chance I could walk it in a few hours if I set myself a brisk pace.
‘I think it would be good for Charlotte to visit her cousins,’ I said, and to my enormous relief, Francis agreed.
The trip was planned for a few days hence. I found myself still hoping Tom might return before it was time for us to leave, but he did not. I managed to see Julia and explain I had to go away again for a little while and charged Mrs Durbin to take especially good care of her whilst I was away. Then, with a feeling of purposefulness and expectation, I packed my things and Charlotte’s and we set off in the gig.
As we breasted the hill, leaving the threatening shadow of the trees behind, I found myself wondering if I would ever set foot in Morwennan House again. Perhaps the military would rescue Julia when they arrested Francis and the next time I saw her would be in quite different circumstances.
As before, the Trevelyans made me exceedingly welcome and I could not help but feel guilty when I thought of how I meant to trick and use them. But desperate situations call for desperate measures.
We spent a pleasant evening playing loo for counters, but when it was time for bed I mentioned that I was feeling very tired and unwell. That was all part of my plan. I did not want to arouse suspicion next day by affecting some sudden illness.
‘I do hope I am not getting one of my sick headaches,’ I said with an apologetic little laugh. ‘I thought I had grown out of them and I certainly hoped so, for when they come upon me they lay me low all day.’
‘At least if that happens you will know that Charlotte is being taken care of,’ Anne Trevelyan said, playing right into my hands and making me feel more guilty than ever. ‘You can stay in your room and rest, my dear.’
I smiled with an effort. ‘I hope it won’t come to that.’
Morwennan House Page 26