‘It’s no disgrace to admit it, Cathy. We all have to learn how to be mothers, and you’re still new at it. Just try to be as calm as you can when you soothe him, and the feeling will get through to him, won’t it, precious boy?’
Tiny though he was, she could feel the strength in Theo’s stiffened little body as he wrestled with the colic. He looked up at her with a puzzled expression in his eyes, and she felt an extraordinary rush of love for him. Yet it wasn’t just for the baby himself, she thought. It was for all that he represented, for Sam, and Walter, and Hal. It was for the continuity that shone through Theo Tremayne’s blue eyes.
Morwen smoothed the baby’s furrowed forehead as she murmured softly to him, and after a few more rewarding belches, the angry little body relaxed against her, and she smelled the baby sweetness of him as his eyelids drooped.
‘You see?’ she said softly, trying not to let Cathy think she was cleverer than the child’s own mother. ‘It only needs a bit of practice, Cathy, and it helps to think happy thoughts at the same time.’
‘Oh, I think it’s more than that,’ Cathy said, grateful that this tranquil afternoon for Walter’s grandmother hadn’t been spoiled. ‘My mother used to tell me how you had the gift of healing hands, Mrs Wainwright, and from the nights I’ve sat up with Theo while he battled with the colic, I only wish I had them too. I’m sure that nobody but you could have calmed him so quickly.’
‘And I’m sure it’s due more to experience than any old gift,’ Morwen said lightly, wondering just why she seemed to be hearing so many indirect compliments from Jane Askhew today. She didn’t want them now, any more than she ever had, but nor could she deny the connection between them. Of all the girls in the world that Walter could have chosen to love, it had to be the daughter of her old rival.
She dismissed such thoughts quickly, knowing that she wouldn’t begrudge Walter one moment of the happiness he had found with this lovely young girl. Cathy was a joy, and their happiness was complete with their first-born. As she handed Theo over to her eager arms, Morwen felt a real pang for days like these that were gone. Days when her own first-born baby had looked up at her with that same far-seeing blue gaze, and she’d laughed into Ben Killigrew’s eyes and declared Justin to be the most beautiful baby on earth.
Her heart jolted. Justin. Not Walter. Despite her love for him, and the way her brother Sam’s children had been so lovingly assimilated into her family, Walter was not her flesh and blood, and she shouldn’t forget how Justin must be feeling now. They hadn’t spoken since the day of the will reading, and she hated to think he might still be smarting at what he considered an injustice. She had to see him.
‘I just wanted to see how you are, before I go and call on Justin, Mammie,’ she said now. ‘But I’m glad to see you smiling, and you already have the best tonic to raise your spirits.’
‘How is Justin?’ Bess said at once.
‘I’m sure he’s well,’ she said cautiously, knowing it wasn’t what Bess meant at all, but not wanting to be drawn into any awkward discussion. But she should have known her mother wouldn’t leave things there. She had always been direct in her manner, and had no patience with shilly-shallying. If something needed to be aired, then out in the open was the place to air it.
‘I hope he ain’t still feeling put out then, and if he is, you tell un to come and see me. The last thing your daddy would want is for his boys to be squabbling over his wishes.’
‘I’m sure they won’t, Mammie,’ Morwen said swiftly, seeing how Cathy’s head was bent over the baby now, and that her cheeks were flushed. She shot a warning glance at her mother, for Cathy would be sure to pass on all this conversation to Walter, and Bess could be as sharp as a butcher’s blade when she chose.
She moved across the room and took her mother’s cold hands in her own. They were always cold now, and she wondered if they had ever been warmed since the day Hal died.
‘Let them sort out their own troubles, Mammie,’ she whispered in her ear as she bent to kiss her. ‘’Tis not for us to be concerned about.’
But she avoided Bess’s candid blue eyes as she spoke, knowing it was exactly what she herself intended doing.
She turned to kiss Cathy and the baby, promising to come and see them in their own little house very soon. And mentally crossing her fingers, that Jane Askhew wouldn’t be there at the same time.
She banished the thought from her mind as best she could, willing the sudden rapid beat of her heart to slow down. She then thought of her new rival, Harriet Pendragon, for the clayworks, maybe, but never for Ran… but she remembered that avaricious look in the woman’s eyes, and knew that any woman who ever had to fight for her man would have a formidable adversary in Harriet Pendragon.
Morwen shivered, even though the day was very hot. The sun had climbed high in the sky by now and the summer was as beautiful as only a Cornish summer could be. The scent of blossom was carried on the breeze between St Austell and Truro, even among the houses and business properties of the towns. It was a day to make the heart sing, and to ease all troubles away.
Which was a fair contradiction of the way Morwen Wainwright was feeling as she reached Truro. She had left her own horse at her Mammie’s house and borrowed the little trap, feeling it was a more dignified way to be visiting her lawyer son, and once at the Chambers, she handed over the reins of the horse to a groom to be stabled and watered. She climbed the stairs to the offices of the late Daniel Gorran, and saw the surprise in the clerk’s eyes as she asked if it was convenient for her to see Mr Justin Tremayne.
She shouldn’t have come unannounced. She knew it at once. The clerk was a pompous little man, fastidious in his work, and clearly seeing this visit as an intrusion in the day’s business. He knew her identity, of course, but that didn’t make his guardianship of his master any the less keen.
‘If it’s convenient,’ she said pointedly again, when the man Briggs didn’t seem at all eager to move towards Justin’s inner sanctum. He went a slightly darker red than his normally florid colour.
‘Of course, Mrs Wainwright,’ he blustered. ‘If you would please take a seat, I’ll just enquire if Mr Justin can see you. He had a client earlier, but I believe we have the rest of the afternoon free.’
Morwen wondered fleetingly what had happened to the morning. She had missed a meal, and hadn’t noticed it. The meeting with Zillah had unsettled her far more than she should have allowed it to, and she had lingered at Killigrew House to play with the baby. It was mid-afternoon already, and the pangs of hunger were beginning to gnaw at her stomach. Or perhaps it was simply her disturbed state of mind that was doing that.
The door opened and Justin appeared, a cautious smile on his face as he welcomed her into his splendid office. He was so grand now, she thought, so much the man in charge, and deservedly so. He had the brains, and knew how to use them.
‘Is anything wrong, Mother? It’s not Grandma Bess, is it?’ he said at once, motioning her to a chair.
‘Nothing’s wrong with Grandma Bess,’ she reassured him, ‘though it’s strange that you should mention her, since I’ve just come from Killigrew House.’
‘Why should it be strange for a daughter to visit her recently-widowed mother?’ Justin said, always so correct in his pronouncement of relationships.
‘Cathy and the baby were there,’ Morwen said.
‘Oh? And am I supposed to find something significant in that statement?’
If she had been looking for some underlying bitterness in Justin’s manner, she didn’t need to look any further. His eyes flashed with sudden vigour. ‘Or was my brother’s wife there to assess the situation in case Grandma Bess followed her husband to the grave? Calculating the worth of the Killigrew silver, perhaps?’
Morwen’s mouth dropped open with shock as he went to a cabinet and poured two small glasses of port and handed one to her. She took a large swallow without thinking, and the red liquid trickled down her throat, making her cough.
‘I thi
nk that was totally uncalled-for, Justin,’ she said, when she had breath enough to speak.
‘Do you?’ he said, quite unrepentant. ‘Well, I don’t. All these years I’ve had to suffer the knowledge that you loved Walter better than me – oh, please don’t bother to deny it,’ he said, as she gasped in protest, ‘but I didn’t think Grandad Hal could have been so damned thoughtless as to make his own preference obvious for all the world to see.’
‘I won’t sit here and hear you criticizing your grandfather,’ Morwen said angrily. ‘What he did, he did for the good of Killigrew Clay, and I don’t need to tell you how he gave his heart and soul to it. You never wanted it, Justin, so don’t pretend that you did. It was always Walter who was desperate to work with the clay, from the time he was a small boy. He was like my daddy’s shadow in that respect.’
‘Really? I always thought I was the one to walk in the shadows, as far as this family is concerned.’
Morwen became exasperated. ‘You’re talking like a child, Justin. Just listen to yourself! You have everything you ever wanted, so why should you begrudge Walter the same?’
‘Because he’s not a Killigrew, and I am,’ Justin said deliberately.
She spoke slowly into the small silence between them. ‘And you’re never going to forgive him for that, are you?’
‘I can’t. You can’t change facts, Mother.’
Morwen stood up. ‘I obviously made a mistake in coming here today. I hoped to see some generosity of spirit in you, Justin, but there is none. I’m sure your attitude is hurting Walter, and that he’d give the world to have you shake his hand and wish him well.’
As her son gave an angry snort of derision, she felt her heart sink. The hurt in Justin’s mind was far more acute than she had believed, and his final taunt cut her deeply.
‘I’ll see the moon turn blue before that happens!’
‘Then you’re no son of mine,’ Morwen said, and turned and walked out of the office on shaking legs.
* * *
She simply couldn’t go home yet. She was so out of sorts, she hardly knew what to do with herself. She couldn’t call on Jack and Annie, because they were off to London again with their girls, and even if they’d been at home, she couldn’t have borne listening to Annie’s barbed tongue today. She could talk to Matt… she’d always been able to talk to Matt… but she was nowhere near Hocking Hall. She was in Truro now, and there was someone else here who would always be glad to see her and to welcome her with open arms. Albert.
She climbed into the little trap, and egged the horse onwards, wondering how such a lovely day could turn so sour. But all of it was forgotten as she arrived at the artist’s studio and pushed open the door. A set of Bohemian door chimes heralded her presence in the outer area, and the next minute Albert came hurrying through from the back room, wiping his hands on a piece of rag, and exuding a strong smell of oils and turpentine. His delight at seeing her was clear.
‘Mother! By all that’s wonderful. I was just thinking about you!’
She couldn’t speak for a moment. Such a warm and spontaneous welcome after the horrendous day she had just spent was almost too sweet to bear.
‘Oh, Albie! Albie!’
She felt the weak tears running down her cheeks, and couldn’t stop them. It was so feeble of her to cry, but as she held out her arms to him, he came towards her at once, with never an ounce of inhibition at being hugged and kissed, nor even any concern about marking her travelling dress. Not that she cared a hoot about that! It was just so good to be held in a pair of uncomplicated arms, and welcomed so readily.
‘Now then, come through to the back and take some tea, and then we’ll talk. But tell me one thing first. You don’t bring bad news, do you?’
‘No,’ Morwen said, shaking her head. ‘I just wanted to see you, Albie.’
‘That’s all right then, because there’s somebody here I want you to meet.’
She drew back at once. ‘Oh, but this isn’t a good time for meeting people. I’m so out of sorts, and if you’ve an important client—’
Albert laughed. ‘She’s not a client, though she’s a very important lady to me, Mother, and it’s time you met.’
Morwen looked at him in astonishment. He sounded so full of assurance, not wallowing in unhappiness now that Primmy had gone off with Cresswell and Louisa, when Morwen really thought it should be Albert who had the chance to see the great art galleries and museums of Europe. But obviously there was something more important keeping him here.
He took her hand and led her through to the cosy back room where he and Primmy used to entertain their odd friends. And as she appeared, a young lady rose to her feet and smiled shyly at the newcomer.
‘Mother, this is Miss Rose Slater.’ He spoke the name as lovingly as if he caressed it, and Morwen recognized all the signs, from the girl’s soft blush that matched her name, to the adoring way she looked at Albert.
‘How do you do, Miss Slater?’ Morwen said gravely, at which Albie burst out laughing, and said for goodness’ sake why didn’t she call her Rose, since he hoped she was going to become one of the family one of these fine days!
‘Don’t go rushing in so, Albie,’ Rose said, her awkwardness diverted for the moment. ‘I haven’t said yes yet!’
‘But you will,’ Albert grinned, and from her answering laugh, Morwen knew that she would.
‘So how did you two meet?’ she said a while later, when they were all replete from jam scones and afternoon tea, and her stomach felt more settled.
‘Rose’s father owns an artists’ supply store in town, and Rose helps out in the shop sometimes.’
‘I see. It must have been fate then, you being an artist and all.’
Albie laughed out loud. ‘And now you’re wondering how I come to be entertaining a young lady without a chaperone, aren’t you, Mother?’
‘It did occur to me,’ she said mildly, wondering if she was just being an old fuddy-duddy in thinking it.
Albert picked up his lady-love’s hand and pressed it to his lips. It was such an innocent, artless movement that Morwen felt moved by the gesture.
‘Her father trusts me, and Rose trusts me, and I know that you trust me too, Mother,’ he said simply. ‘So what does the rest of the world matter?’
Chapter Nineteen
Rose’s father came to collect her some while later, and Morwen found him to be a jolly, pleasant man, who obviously adored his daughter, and admired Albert tremendously. Her heart glowed at seeing how happy he was, and when it was just the two of them, she told him so.
‘I was afraid you’d be missing Primmy badly,’ she said, when they had retired upstairs to his sitting room overlooking the river. ‘The two of you were always so inseparable before Cresswell came to stay.’
She saw him hesitate, and knew there was something he wanted to say. Whatever it was, she was prepared to wait, although she realized with a little shock that the day was ending, and that long shadows were already darkening and rippling the surface of the river as the sun dropped lower in the reddening sky.
‘Mother, can I tell you something in strictest confidence?’ Albie finally said.
‘Of course you can. The Tremaynes have a reputation for being clamlike when it comes to keeping secrets. You know that, darling,’ she said lightly, though he looked so grave now that her heart began to flutter uneasily.
‘It’s a secret concerning Primmy and me,’ he said.
Morwen stared at him, unable to imagine what it could possibly be that was so deadly serious. Her heart beat faster.
Dear God, there wasn’t some fatal illness that one or other was suffering from that they had been keeping from her all this time, was it?
‘I’m sure it can’t be such a terrible secret, Albie,’ she spoke gently, mutely encouraging him to go on, when he couldn’t say any more. He wasn’t helping her peace of mind at all, she thought, and old Zillah’s predictions were very strong in her head as he slowly shook his head.
He got up suddenly and went to a desk at the side of the room. He unlocked a small drawer and drew out a small sheaf of papers. He didn’t unfold them at first, and when he came to sit down again, his hands were clenched around them, and his knuckles were white.
‘Primmy thinks I’ve burned these, but something made me hold onto them, Mammie,’ he said, unconsciously using his old childhood name for her. ‘I know Primmy and Cress are right for one another, and you’ve seen how happy Rose Slater makes me. We’ve nothing to fear from slanderous bits of paper, and I swear to you that we never did. But we couldn’t take the risk of such terrible rumours starting a family scandal, you see.’
He seemed to be rambling now, and Morwen couldn’t really make sense of any of it. She put her hand over his, where it held onto the papers so tightly.
‘Whatever it is, why don’t you show me, darling, if that’s what you want? Is this the secret that you want to share with me?’ She spoke quietly, and as many had discovered before, her touch had a strangely calming effect.
Gradually, Albie’s hands unfolded the incriminating pieces of paper with their evil messages. As Morwen looked down at them and took in all that they implied, her face blanched, and her heart went out to her two children at having to be faced with this filth. Especially Primmy, her lovely, ethereal Primmy…
‘Tell me you don’t believe any of it, Mammie.’
She heard Albert’s voice, deep and scratchy, as if the words were being dragged out of him, and she let the papers slide to the floor as she took him in her arms.
‘My sweet, darling, boy, of course I don’t! How could anybody who ever knew you, think it of either of you?’
She felt his body shudder against her, and knew what a burden it must have been for him all this time, guarding such a wicked secret. She didn’t believe it for a moment, and never would. But what of Cresswell… and Rose? If they ever discovered that these vicious lies had been said… As if in answer to her thoughts, Albie began speaking again, muffled in her shoulder.
Family Shadows Page 25