‘If we lost her, I couldn’t bear it,’ he said in a low, tight voice. ‘She’s everything to me, just as you are, Morwen. You’re one and the same in my heart. I find it hard to display my emotions in words, but it doesn’t mean that I don’t have any.’
‘I know, dar,’ Morwen said softly. ‘But we won’t lose her. God wouldn’t be so cruel.’
She closed her eyes as she said it. But she had to believe it. If you lost faith and you lost hope, then you lost everything. She felt Ran’s hand reach for hers across the bedcovers, and now the link was truly complete, she thought, an unbreakable circle.
‘I love her so much, Morwen,’ Ran said. ‘And I love you too. Nothing ever changes that, and nothing ever will.’
‘I know. It’s one of the wonderful things about love. If it’s real, it’s eternal.’
And if you take that to mean that my love for Ben Killigrew is as constant as my love for you, then so be it. Love never changes, but there’s room in my heart for more than one love. It was so simple a fact of life, she wondered why everyone couldn’t see it.
Was she becoming light-headed?, she wondered. She had hardly moved from Emma’s side for hours, and she was stiff and aching. Ran must be the same, and neither of them would do Emma any good if they collapsed from exhaustion.
‘Ran, why don’t you go and sleep for an hour or so, and then come back?’ she said numbly.
‘Only if you promise to do the same later. We’ll take it in turns.’
‘We’ll see,’ she said, knowing that she had no intention of doing any such thing. Her healing hands were needed. Almost feverishly, she repeated the words to herself like a litany.
* * *
The next day, and the one after that, Mrs Enders brought various food trays to the bedroom at intervals, though Emma still refused to eat, and Morwen only picked at the fare. Both she and Ran were red-eyed from lack of sleep now, and Morwen knew that being banished from the bedroom on several occasions hadn’t helped Ran at all. She caught herself up with a little shock. She hadn’t banished him… but something occurred later that day that made her examine her own feelings still more.
Mrs Enders came bustling into the room, all of a fluster, her face red and indignant.
‘I told ’er you weren’t seein’ visitors, Mrs Wainwright, but she insisted and ’ouldn’t take no for an answer. ’Tain’t right, I told her, when the little maid’s near to death’s door, and the parents’ feelings should be respected—’
‘Who is it, Mrs Enders?’ Morwen said sharply, shutting off the woman’s invective.
There was a rustle of skirts behind her, and Morwen blinked in the shadowed room as Jane Askhew came towards the bed and knelt down beside Morwen’s chair, taking her cold hand in hers.
‘Morwen, darling, I had to come, to see if I could help. You look so exhausted—’
‘You shouldn’t be here,’ Morwen said jerkily. ‘You can’t risk taking the infection back to Cathy and little Theo. You should have known better—’
The hand that held hers gripped it even tighter.
‘Morwen, why will you never let anyone help you, when you’ve always helped others so much?’ Jane said, her voice as soft as ever. ‘Have you forgotten all those years ago when Cathy was so ill with the measles, and I felt so useless? You were so wonderful, and I went to pieces. Let me help you in return, my dear, in whatever way I can.’
Morwen looked at her dumbly. Yes, she had forgotten.
Because of her insane jealousy over Ben’s fondness for Jane, the woman had been a thorn in her flesh all these years, and she had always been the one to hold off any attempt at friendship between them. Yet time and again, Jane had offered friendship, only to have it spurned.
‘I’ll fetch Mrs Askhew a chair,’ Ran said, and then, as if to make Morwen feel even more ashamed of her feelings, he said: ‘Everyone needs friends at a time like this, even though my wife believes she can hold the entire world together by herself.’
Morwen looked at him in astonishment.
‘I do not!’ she said. ‘What a stupid thing to say!’
‘No, it isn’t, honey. You shut everyone out, even me, and you give yourself the luxury of retreating into your own little world where no one can reach you.’
Whatever she might have said to that was halted as they realized Emma had woken, and immediately it seemed terrible to Morwen that they’d been on the verge of a row while Emma was so ill.
‘Mammie,’ the child said feebly. ‘Can Mrs Askhew stay with me? I like her, ’cos she smells like the rose garden.’
Jane smiled gently, accepting the child’s compliment without comment, and ignoring the adults. ‘I’ll stay as long as you want me to, precious.’
As Morwen went to fetch more cooling cloths to place on Emma’s brow, she saw Jane take her place near her daughter, and fought to smother the pang it gave her. It was like an unwelcome little cameo picture. Jane, and Ran, sitting opposite one another, with her daughter between them… dear God, she thought furiously, would this jealous madness never leave her? But at least it told her she was still alive, still capable of loving and wanting her husband…
Emma was rambling a little now, asking for a story, and Jane began telling her about a ball she had attended, at which there were lords and ladies and even royalty, and Emma absorbed it all through those poor sore eyes. And memory instantly took Morwen back to when the tiny Cathy Askhew had rambled in her measles delirium, asking for stories about the clayworkers’ boots.
Morwen hadn’t thought of the incident for years, but she remembered now how Cathy had adored hearing how the clayworkers’ long boots were especially made for each man by the local cobbler, so that each man could be identified by his own footprint. She had even made up a tale about the fearless clayworker who had led a group of lost children to safety over the mist laden moors. Cathy had been calmed and charmed by the tale, just as Emma was now, at hearing about lords and ladies and royalty.
Morwen swallowed, and moved to the bed, putting her hand on Jane’s shoulder as she saw Emma’s eyes droop.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘You’re a true friend, Jane.’
‘So take a friend’s advice, both of you, and take a rest together,’ Jane said quietly. ‘I’ll sit with Emma, and if you’ll permit me, I’ll be happy to stay for a night or two.’
Her eyes didn’t falter as she looked at Morwen for her approval, and finally it came. For the first time ever, Morwen leaned forward and kissed Jane Askhew’s soft cheek.
‘I’d be honoured to have you stay,’ she said, and she moved quickly away before she could burst into unrelenting tears. ‘I’ll let Mrs Enders know – but you’ll be sure to call me the minute you think I’m needed?’
‘Of course.’
Ran assisted her out of the room. Part of her wanted desperately to stay, but she knew how exhausted she was, and by now she’d lost count of the days and nights she’d sat up with Emma. Even though Doctor Daker was quite satisfied with her progress, Morwen still couldn’t rid herself of the fear that was like a sickness inside herself.
Was this a punishment for all the sins of the past? The ultimate wickedness in what she and Celia Penry had done in ridding Celia of an unborn child? The jealousy and hatred she had felt for Miss ‘Finelady’ Jane Askhew over the years, and who shamed her now by showing such generosity of spirit towards her? The passion she and Ran had shared while her husband Ben was under the threat of death? The love they had acknowledged, even while Ben was still alive, and couldn’t ignore…
Had these sins come back to haunt her by threatening to take another, sweet daughter from her, the way they had taken Primmy to the other side of the world, and removed Charlotte from her care…? Her imagination had taken her down this road before. But with Emma, this was the cruellest way.
She tried to smother her rising panic. She needed sleep, but she doubted that sleep would come, even when she was held in Ran’s arms. But he couldn’t understand how she felt. How could he und
erstand, when she couldn’t tell him…?
As she tossed and turned, her body felt so fiery that she even wondered if she herself was succumbing to the measles… in her mood of self-condemnation, she knew it would be a just punishment…
She suddenly realized that Ran’s shoulders were shaking, and, aware that she was awake, that he was speaking in muffled tones. She couldn’t hear him at first, but then she felt a great and extraordinary calmness of spirit as she realized what he was saying.
‘Why won’t you let me into your thoughts, Morwen? Why must you always try to bear everything alone, always shutting me out, when Emma’s as much mine as she is yours? I grieve for her too. Do you think a woman has the monopoloy on grief?’
He had said something of the kind before, but never with such passion, such pain. And it didn’t lessen him in her eyes to know that he was weeping. She held him close, kissing his face where the tears were damp on his cheeks.
‘I know she does not, my darling, and I know I’ve been selfish,’ she whispered. ‘Will you forgive me?’
‘Don’t I always?’ he said roughly. ‘But you always seem so strong, when sometimes I just want you to lean on me—’
‘Oh, my love, I’m not strong. I’m just a woman who foolishly wants the whole world to be always sunny, when I know it can’t be. And I’m filled with so much fear now—’
His arms tightened around her slender body. ‘We have to have faith that Emma will get well, my love.’
‘Then – you don’t think it’s a punishment?’
He held her away from him for a few seconds, not understanding. And she knew it had to be told: all the foolish fears and superstitions that made her what she was, and tormented her so. When she had finished, Ran didn’t scoff at her fears, but spoke quietly and logically, as only he could. And if she didn’t feel cleansed, at least she felt as though all the shadows were lifting at last. She felt closer to him than she had in many months, and at last she slept.
She awoke with a start, to find someone tapping her shoulder, and her thoughts leapt to Emma at once. But it was to find Ran, already fully dressed, smiling down at her.
‘She’s come through it,’ he said. ‘The fever’s down and her eyes are brighter, and she’s asking for food.’
‘Oh, thank God,’ Morwen said weakly.
‘I think you should thank Jane as well,’ he said. ‘She’s been awake half the night, sponging Emma down, and telling her stories. She’s been a good friend, Morwen.’
His eyes challenged her, but there was no need. Donning a dressing gown, Morwen went quickly into her daughter’s room, to see the healthier looking child and the exhausted woman. She squeezed Jane’s hand tightly.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I won’t forget your kindness.’
Jane nodded tiredly. ‘I was glad to do it. We’ve travelled a long way together, Morwen, however distant we may have seemed at times. But now the corner’s turned, and I must go home.’
‘Won’t you at least stay and have some breakfast?’ Morwen said, but Jane declined. Then Emma spoke.
‘Will you come and see me again, Mrs Askhew?’
Jane looked at Morwen, who responded quickly.
‘Mrs Askhew is welcome here any time,’ she said.
* * *
Once the doctor had pronounced Emma well and free of infection, one by one the family came to visit, and she was petted and spoiled with so many presents that Luke howled that he wished he’d had the measles too.
His Grandma Bess told him not to be so wicked, and Morwen knew she’d be remembering Sam’s wife, but it was said with good humour, knowing the boy hadn’t meant anything by the remark. And Ran reminded him that it was all due to Emma being so ill and their normal lessons being suspended, that he’d had all the extra tuition on his pony, so that he already had the makings of a fine young rider.
But by now Morwen could see that Ran was becoming restless at being at home all this time, and she told him it was time he went up to Killigrew Clay. The autumn orders would soon be ready for despatch, some to go to the port, and more stacked in readiness for the all-important long journey north by wagonload.
It seemed odd to think that road wagons were to be used for transporting the clay blocks again, when Ben Killigrew had been so proud of his little railway that took them from the works to the port. And yet it was also right. The northern contact had been Ran’s achievement. Morwen felt her heart gladden as she saw his face lighten. He was as much a part of the clay now as she ever was, and how could she ever have doubted that?
She put her arms around him and kissed him, and as he breathed in her sensual, musky scent, it was as if her inborn optimism was transmitted to him.
‘I need to talk with Walter and the pit captains, anyway,’ he said. ‘I want nothing to go wrong at this stage.’
‘Nothing will,’ she said softly, and he smiled at her.
‘Is that more Cornish intuition?’
She shook her head. ‘Just faith,’ she said.
* * *
It was good to see his enthusiasm return, Morwen thought thankfully, but he stayed to entertain Emma for the rest of that day after all, deciding to return to the clayworks the following morning. He was up and away early, even before Charlotte came bursting into the house. Like the rest of the family, she had quite rightly stayed away until all risk of infection was passed, since she had her own small charges to care for at the Pollard mansion. But she was eager now to see her small sister, and had brought her toys and sweets. But first of all she wanted to see Morwen.
It was an unusually early hour for her to have come all this way, and Morwen felt a brief anxiety until she saw the glow on her daughter’s face as she rushed into the drawing room where Morwen was writing letters to the more distant family members, assuring them Emma was well on the way to recovery now, and that all danger was over. It would be a tussle to persuade her to stay in bed until later in the day, but the doctor had insisted on it until she recovered her strength. And now here was Charlotte, her eyes glowing, and her supple young body practically quivering with excitement.
‘Have you seen the newspaper, Mammie? Oh, please say you haven’t! I wanted so much to be the first to show it to you!’ she said, almost squealing in her excitement.
‘Of course I haven’t! I’ve hardly had time for such frivolous things lately!’
Nor to care about whatever scandal it might be that Tom Askhew was delving into now, she thought. But Charlotte gave a triumphant whoop as she drew out a copy of The Informer from her bag. It was folded so that one of the inner pages was prominent, and a large item had been heavily ringed around.
‘Read it, Mammie,’ Charlotte said, almost choking with excitement now. ‘I know how much this will mean to you, and if I have to read it aloud myself I shall simply burst out crying, I know I will!’
Mystified and urged on by her agitation, Morwen quickly read the several paragraphs inside the ringed item. And then she read them again, trying not to let the words dance crazily in front of her, or to wonder if it were really true, or if she was dreaming. And maybe Charlotte couldn’t read it aloud, but she had to do so, just to make herself believe it.
‘To all whom it may concern,’ she read, ‘Notice is hereby given that Harriet Pendragon refutes any and all interest in the property and clayworks known as Killigrew Clay, now and in all perpetuity. This declaration is legally binding, and has been made and witnessed before Messrs Showering and Ball, solicitors of Bodmin, and may be inspected by any interested parties. The said Harriet Pendragon is currently putting her property on the market, together with all the Pendragon clay holdings, such sale which is also in the hands of Messrs Showering and Ball. All communications shall be made through them, as Mrs Pendragon will be removing to London immediately, and is unavailable for comment.’
Morwen felt her eyes prickle with shock and relief. They were rid of that woman for good, and with no logical reason that she could think of. Except that there was a certain familiari
ty in the wording of the announcement, ‘…refuting all interest in Killigrew Clay in all perpetuity…’ surely it was the way Ran had worded it…
She felt Charlotte shaking her, impatient to get a reaction from this apparently stunned silence.
‘Aren’t you going to say anything, Mammie? It’s all because of you, of course. It’s because of what you did at Truro Fair, and this is her way of thanking you.’
The girl’s face came into focus. ‘Do you think so?’
‘Of course! Everybody’s saying so.’
‘Everybody doesn’t know yet! Ran doesn’t know!’
She suddenly came alive again. ‘Charlotte, can you stay a while with Luke and Emma? I have to tell Ran myself. I have to go to Killigrew Clay—’
‘Of course. But I’ve something else to ask you, Mammie. Vincent wants to come here tonight to speak with him. Will it be all right, do you think?’
She looked so anxious, just as if Morwen couldn’t guess exactly what it was that Vincent wanted to ask. And it would be more than all right. It would be perfect. A wedding in the family was just what was needed to restore all their spirits. Life went on…
But there would be time enough for that later. Once the children were settled with Charlotte, and Gillings had saddled her horse, she rode like the wind with the precious newspaper item. Just as Charlotte had been bursting to show it to her, so she was bursting to show it to Ran, and she prayed that no one else had got there first. It was unlikely. Walter was in the habit of buying a copy on the way home in the evenings, and Ran didn’t always bother with the scandal rag.
She rode the horse hard, and both of them were breathing fast by the time they had slithered over the grassy slopes of the moors, fragrant and beautiful with its carpet of late summer foliage now. The white clay tips were ahead of her. They glinted in the sunlight as brightly as if they were diamond studded, symbols of all that the Killigrews had been, and all that they were, whether or not they had been born Tremaynes or Wainwrights.
Family Shadows Page 36