‘Ah well,’ Bess said, ‘it was hard not to dote on un a bit after we lost Sam, and he were allus more of a clayer’s son than any of t’others.’
‘I know,’ Morwen said softly.
They turned their heads simultaneously as the amicable quiet of the day was broken by sounds outside.
‘What is it?’ Morwen said curiously.
‘I don’t rightly know,’ Bess said, frowning. ‘But I’ve had a fearful knot in my stomach ever since I heard that bell tolling earlier.’
‘I’m sure it’s nothing to do with us, unless it’s somebody come to reassure us there’s been no awful happening at one of the pits,’ Morwen went on, more to cover her mother’s sudden hand twisting than anything else.
She hadn’t missed the tolling of Penwithick bell on her way here, and her own stomach had felt tied up in knots for a while. She’d been so keen to get here, to put things right between her mother and herself, that she hadn’t even questioned the feeling as a portent of disaster.
The door of the drawing room suddenly burst open, and Mrs Horn rushed in, holding her apron to her streaming eyes. The women half-rose to their feet, automatically reaching for each other’s hand. But before the housekeeper could get out her gasping words, they had seen Ran behind her. And behind him stood the Pit Captain from Clay One, and some of the clayers, reverently carrying something between them. Something that looked very like a long stretcher of the kind that was kept at the works in case of injury, or worse…
Bess gave a great cry and rushed forward. Ran tried to restrain Mrs Horn, but she wouldn’t be stopped. She clung to Bess, as distraught as if Hal had been one of her own.
‘Oh Mrs Tremayne, your poor man is dead, but you’d do best to let Mr Wainwright tell you what happened, and you and Miss Morwen should wait in here until they find a proper place to put the poor body,’ Mrs Horn sobbed, beside herself with grief, and saying everything in the wrong order.
‘Is it Hal?’ Bess screamed. ‘Have you brought my Hal home to me?’
Ran brushed Mrs Horn aside and held on tight to his mother-in-law’s shoulders, cursing the men for bringing in Hal’s body like this, and not waiting until he’d been able to tell her more gently. But he’d reckoned without the flustering of the housekeeper. He spoke gently, close to Bess’s ear.
‘He’s gone, Mother, and the only comfort I can offer you is that I’m sure he never suffered. He was even smiling when we found him, so I don’t believe there could have been any pain at all.’
Bess pushed past him, leaning over the stretcher where Hal lay, weeping and keening in a way none of them had ever heard the stoical Bess Tremayne do before. And the men could only stand dumbly, their heads bowed at this violent explosion of grief.
While her mother mentally collapsed, Morwen stood quite still. It was as if she were encased in ice, as if the sight and sound of one woman’s grief was enough to expend at one time. But just as suddenly the ice cracked, and she leapt forward with an anguished cry, her arms around her mother, and weeping with her.
‘Will you direct the men where to take your husband, Ma’am?’ Ran said in a quiet voice, when the worst of the sobbing had subsided. The clayers were hard put to it to hold on to the poles of the stretcher, with Hal’s considerable weight on it, and the two women leaning heavily over it now. But it wasn’t decent to hurry them, and he distanced himself from any familiarity at this time by his formal words.
Bess raised her head, her eyes swollen with pain.
‘Where else would ’ee take un, except to his own bed?’ she said thickly. ‘’Tis where he allus slept, and where ’e’ll sleep now.’
‘Mrs Tremayne, I’m sot sure that’s wise,’ George Dodds said urgently. Bess’s eyes flashed at him.
‘Who are you to tell me what’s wise and what ain’t, George Dodds?’ she snapped. ‘I mind the day my Hal took you on, when you were no more than a snivelling little kiddley-boy with a runny nose and boils on your bum, so don’t you go ordering my Hal’s whereabouts in his own house.’
‘Mammie, Mr Dodds is only thinking that there’ll be a layin’out to do,’ Morwen said gently, hating the very words, but knowing they had to be said, and that Bess looked incapable of thinking of such things. ‘It might be best for Daddy to rest in one of the guest rooms for the time bein’—’
‘I know what’s to be done,’ Bess snapped again, as if she couldn’t abide these nonsensical instructions of which she was quite well aware. ‘But he’ll sleep in his own bed until the buryin’, and I’ll take the couch beside un. We’ll not be parted until we have to be.’
Morwen straightened, and nodded helplessly to Ran.
‘Take Mr Tremayne to his own room,’ Ran ordered. ‘Mrs Tremayne will show you the way.’
He spoke quietly to Morwen. ‘We’ll deal with what has to be done in due course, when she’s calmer. For now, it’s best that she has her way.’
The small cortège obeyed instructions, led by Bess and Mrs Horn, and while it was being organized, Morwen was at last able to cling to her husband. Ran folded her in his arms, and held her close while she sobbed out her own pent-up grief.
‘Oh Ran, she’ll miss him so much, and so will I. He was always our rock, and I can’t believe he’s gone.’
Ran’s voice was gentle. ‘He’ll never be truly gone while there’s you and Matt and Freddie and Jack. And certainly not while there’s Walter to carry on.’
It was no more than a crumb of comfort to hear Ran’s words, but Morwen knew they were kindly meant. And she knew too, that it was to his credit that he forbore to mention the other grandchildren at that moment. Walter was the one nearest to Hal’s heart, and they all knew it. Ben Killigrew had sneered at Walter for wanting to work at the clayworks and start from the bottom, thinking that his stepson should aspire to better things. And Hal had been the one to support Walter. Hal had always been Walter’s champion.
‘I’ll be all right now,’ she whispered after a few moments. ‘But I can’t help thinking how eerie it is how quickly a day can change from happiness to tragedy. One minute Mammie and I were gossiping together, and then—’ she shuddered. ‘I should go to Mammie, Ran, and I know there are things we must do. People to inform.’
She brushed a hand across her heated forehead as a million things seemed to jostle for importance in her mind, and he held her tighter.
‘We all have certain tasks to perform to give your father a good sendoff,’ he said, and she gave a thin smile.
‘He’d have liked the way you said that, dar. He liked the honest, simple approach to things. And he’ll want a simple sendoff too. Nothing fancy. Maybe a long walk to Penwithick Church, starting out from the clayworks, and passing our old cottage would please him. The clayers can join in the procession and show their respects. Daddy would like that, if Mammie thinks it fitting.’
‘I’m sure she will,’ Ran said steadily, thankful enough that Morwen was already thinking ahead to the practicalities that had to be faced. And if finer folk than themselves raised their eyebrows at a man of Hal Tremayne’s stature being buried in such a way, so be it. It was his funeral, not theirs.
Chapter Fifteen
Morwen didn’t want to leave her mother alone in the days leading up to the funeral, so she moved into Killigrew House that same evening, leaving Luke and Emma in the capable hands of Mrs Enders and the live-in tutor Ran had recently engaged for them. There was no question of the whole family leaving New World, and the children needed the security of having one parent still on hand.
And Ran had much to think about concerning the clayworks and the promises he’d made. Life had to go on, despite everything. At present the clayworkers were paid two shillings and sixpence a day for seven and a half hours work. By putting their wages up to three shillings a day, he knew he could be risking trouble with the Unions, but Killigrew Clay was still a privately-owned company, and he considered it worth the risk – providing the payments could be met.
He also knew damn well that since Ha
rriet Pendragon had been ready to offer the same amount, she’d already have sounded out the Unions on that score. And he hadn’t been entirely reckless in stating that there were new avenues to follow regarding outlets for the clay.
Clay from the Killigrew pits had been transported to the Midlands potteries for some years now, and there were family connections between one of their old-established outlets and a newly-formed medicinal manufacturing firm. Ran had had approaches from them, showing interest in obtaining large supplies of the raw material for medicinal purposes, and he was exchanging letters with the owners keenly.
It was well known that the china clay properties had proved beneficial in many instances. Not least in the way that the clayers themselves habitually scooped up some of the untreated stuff, swearing that it cured all stomach ailments from dyspepsia to cramps. Though since the Lord only knew what other impurities there were in their self-treatments, it was a wonder they didn’t kill themselves in the process sometimes, Ran thought, with a grin.
He was still smiling, and taking a moment’s relief from the mass of paperwork in his study, when Mrs Enders tapped more sharply than usual on the door. When he invited her in, he could see at once that she was annoyed.
‘It’s that other clay person, Sir,’ she said sharply. ‘She’s come calling on you, and refuses to go away until she’s seen ’ee, no matter how often I tell ’er this is a house o’ mourning, and any respectable body knows that casual visitors aren’t welcome at this time. And as for the sight of ’er – well, words fail me!’
They obviously didn’t, and Ran’s eyes narrowed as she paused to draw breath. He knew very well there could only be one female clay person to bring this spark of defensive anger to his housekeeper’s face.
‘Slow down a minute, Mrs Enders, and tell me who it is. I presume there was a visiting card?’
She handed him the card without speaking, her lips tightly pursed, and Ran saw the expected name on it.
‘You won’t want to let her in, will you, Sir? And ’specially not in here, in your private business quarters,’ she said scathingly.
Ran kept his face straight at her quaint turn of phrase. God dammit, the woman knew very well that this was his study. There was no need to dress it up with fancy words… but she was right, all the same. There was no way he wanted Harriet Pendragon anywhere near his private domain. Morwen joined him here when it was necessary to discuss business affairs, but basically this was a man’s room, and he wanted no temptress of a woman inside it.
‘Show Mrs Pendragon into the drawing room,’ he said shortly, irked that he’d inadvertently thought of her that way. ‘I’ll see her briefly, since she’s come all this way.’
Mrs Enders sniffed. ‘It just shows the kind of person she is, having no more respect for the dead than to come bothering folk afore the dear man’s properly cold.’
‘Just leave it, Mrs Enders,’ Ran soothed her. ‘This isn’t Hal Tremayne’s own house, so we can at least be charitable about that. And if I ring the drawing room bell, you can bring us some tea. But not unless I do so,’ he added quickly, seeing her indignation rise again.
He didn’t see why he should practically apologize for offering tea to a visitor in his own house, but they both knew that this was no ordinary visitor. Mrs Enders read the newspapers and heard the gossip, and she would be well aware that the Pendragon woman still had her sights set squarely on Killigrew Clay.
Ran knew that Hal Tremayne’s death would only prove to be a slight hitch to her proceedings. But he’d hardly expected her to come calling before the man was even buried. He agreed with Mrs Enders totally on that score.
He got a shock when he entered the drawing room. Instead of her usual garish attire, Harriet was dressed in shimmering black, and it complemented her colouring so spectacularly that for a moment he was stunned. She gave a half-smile as if registering his thoughts exactly, and then she stepped forward, her hand outstretched.
Without thinking, Ran took the elegantly gloved fingers in his, and felt their warmth inside the soft silk fabric. Just as quickly, he pulled his hand away, and managed to resist wiping his hand down his jacket, as repulsed as if he had just held a slimy object in it.
He was furious at his own reaction, but he mistrusted this woman completely, and he wanted nothing to do with her. Before she could speak, he spoke coldly.
‘This is an unhappy time for my family, Ma’am, as I’m sure you’re very well aware, and since there is nothing that you and I have to say to one another, I’ll ask you to be quick in explaining your reason for being here. I can give you five minutes only.’.
He was being ungracious, and he knew it. But now that he had recovered from the first shock of seeing her, he was outraged by her appearance. If it was a pretence at mourning, it was cruel and mocking, and he was only thankful that Morwen wasn’t here to see it. If it was unintentional, then he could only wonder at the woman’s bad taste and lack of sensitivity.
‘I came to offer my condolences,’ she said sweetly. ‘I know what a shock your father-in-law’s death must have been, and I’m prepared to suspend all our negotiations for the time being, Mr Wainwright.’
The gall of the woman took his breath away.
‘We do not have any negotiations, Madam,’ he snapped. ‘Please understand that Killigrew Clay is not for sale, and never will be as long as I draw breath.’
‘I daresay Hal Tremayne said much the same,’ Harriet said coolly, ‘but the worry of it all killed him in the end, and it would be a pity to see a strong and virile man go the same way as these old ones. I saw it happen to my late husband, and I would hate to see it happen to you.’
He didn’t miss the way her pale eyes flicked over him now, as keenly and insolently as a rake assessed a streetwoman. Ran had never met a woman like this before, but he’d be damned if he’d let himself be unnerved by this blatantly obvious approach.
‘I think you forget yourself, Madam,’ he snapped. ‘I would also suggest it was yourself who killed off your late husband, not the worry of the business—’
Harriet threw back her head and laughed, not in the least put out by his insult. Her eyes sparkled with the thrill of the chase, and her cheeks were flushed with a heat that had nothing to do with embarrassment.
‘You do me credit, Mr Wainwright, and I take that as a compliment,’ she said, as provocative as ever.
‘It wasn’t meant to be any such thing, and you know it. Your five minutes are now up, and please don’t come back here again. We have nothing more to say to one another.’
Before he guessed what she was about, she came to stand close beside him in a cloud of perfume. The scent of her seemed to envelop him for a moment. He hadn’t asked her to sit down, but such lack of gentility didn’t seem to bother her. She was nothing but a she-devil, Ran thought furiously.
‘Oh, but we have, Sir,’ she said sensually. ‘I have many more things I want to say to you, but they can wait, since this is obviously not the time. But make no mistake about it. Our time will come, and we will definitely meet again.’
‘I begin to think you have a hearing problem,’ Ran snapped. ‘Killigrew Clay is not for sale. I cannot make it any clearer than that.’
She turned away from him with a rustle of skirts. She moved towards the door, a seductive smile on her lips. She caressed the handle for a moment with those silk-clad fingers, and her voice oozed sexuality.
‘Nor you can, my dear Mr Wainwright, but perhaps it’s not Killigrew Clay that I want the most.’
Ran stared at the door for a good few minutes after she had gone, still enveloped in heady perfume. She couldn’t have made it plainer that she wanted him. She was as blatant as a whore, but far more dangerous. For this was no streetwoman, this was a highly intelligent, highly desirable, rich bitch…
His feet suddenly moved as if they were on springs. He marched towards the door that Harriet Pendragon had so quietly closed behind her, and wrenched it open. He left it open, hoping the air would dispel the
smell of her, and went roaring along the passageway, uncaring who heard him.
‘Mrs Enders, if that woman ever comes near this house again, you are not to let her in, is that clear?’
The housekeeper came out of another room, startled by this display of anger.
‘I never wanted to let her in in the first place, Mr Wainwright,’ she said indignantly.
He was still bellowing, as if he needed the twanging sound of his own voice to clear the air. ‘I know, and I’m sorry I told you different. But in future, she is not to be admitted here. I do not want my wife to be bothered by her, and neither of us will be at home to Mrs Pendragon in future. Is that quite clear?’
‘It surely is, Sir,’ Mrs Enders said with alacrity.
Ran went striding back to his study, slamming the door behind him, and wondering just why the devil he was so out of sorts, when he sure as hell meant every word he said. And he was glad that he’d never offered her any tea. The last thing he wanted was to remember that he’d ever shared a kind of tête-à-tête with the Pendragon woman.
* * *
A week after Hal Tremayne’s death, in a sad drizzle of warm rain, a cortège of carriages left Killigrew House to wind its way up the hills towards the clayworks on the high moors. From there, only one black-ribboned, horse-drawn carriage would continue towards Penwithick Church with its burden, while the walkers followed behind. Hal Tremayne would travel in style on his last journey. By then, his family had all made their personal goodbyes, and his wife, looking smaller than ever in her black mourning, had shed all her tears in private.
‘I still can’t believe I’m here, like this, when a week ago Daddy was alive and well,’ Morwen mumbled, in an attack of nervous panic as she walked with her husband behind her mother and her three tall brothers.
Thank God Matt had been here, Morwen thought fervently, knowing how doubly cruel it would have been for Bess had he been far away in California at this time.
Family Shadows Page 20