Morwennan House
Page 30
‘I know,’ I said. ‘I found it – in Selena’s room. But it was destroyed, I suppose, in the fire.’
‘A brass bell?’ Tom smiled. ‘Oh no. Not destroyed. It’s a little out of shape, perhaps, but it is still unmistakeably a bell. And inscribed with the name Guinevere.’
I stared at him. ‘How do you know?’
‘Because I found it in the ruins,’ Tom said. ‘I no longer need it for evidence, of course, but I thought… I thought perhaps you would like to have it.’
‘Me!’ I said, surprised, ‘Oh, I don’t want it! Not after Selena…’
‘It was the bell from your father’s ship,’ Tom pointed out. ‘It is perhaps the only thing of his you will ever have.’
It was true. How thoughtful Tom was!
‘Yes, I see,’ I said. ‘Thank you, Tom.’
And hoped that maybe in time I would be able to look at it and not feel the fear I had felt that afternoon when I had first set eyes on it behind the screen in Selena’s room, not feel that she had somehow contaminated it with her evil, poring over it.
I must try to put all that had occurred behind me. For Julia’s sake, I must make sure that my life was not wasted as hers had been.
And with Tom beside me I felt sure it would not be.
* * *
I am an old woman now, and looking back I can truly say my life has been a happy one.
Tom and I were wed, and he took both Julia and me home to Falmouth, where he bought a house for us in Flushing, not so far from the one where Julia and John had been so happy during their short time together. Gradually Julia regained her health and strength and I saw glimpses of the gay and lively girl she had once been.
Charlotte remained with her grandfather, her aunt and uncle and cousins, which is perhaps as it should be, since stability was what she most needed in her young life, and when Francis finished his prison sentence he was able to spend time with her. But she visited us frequently and always looked forward to seeing us. She grew up to be a charming and spirited young lady, and eventually she married well and had a family of her own.
Samuel Trevelyan offered the faithful Durbins a cottage on his estate; they accepted, and lived there in contented retirement to the end of their days; Joshua married a sweet wife, and is the much-loved rector of a prosperous parish on the north coast.
It is a long while now since I went to Morwennan; the last I heard, the house had been rebuilt. However luxurious the new owners have made it, I should not like to live there, for I believe the evil must have been absorbed into the very ground, and certainly the trees still cast a dark shadow over the whole valley.
And the bell of the Guinevere holds pride of place in our drawing room. Tom was right – eventually I came to treasure it as the one thing left to me of my father’s.
And more than that, it is a symbol that good can come from evil, a reminder of how in the end a seemingly cruel Fate brought happiness and contentment into all our lives.
I am an old woman now. I have seen many changes in my lifetime. But, as long as I live, I will never forget. Morwennan will live with me for ever.
Next in The Cornish Sagas:
The Penrose Treasure
When a childhood mystery resurfaces, a bitter rivalry threatens to destroy the Penrose family…
Find out more
First published in Great Britain in 2002 by Severn House Publishers
This edition published in the United Kingdom in 2019 by
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Copyright © Janet Tanner, 2002
The moral right of Janet Tanner to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781788636285
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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