Family Ties

by Family Ties (retail) (epub)

  There had been renewal work done on the settling pits and linhays that hadn’t been paid for. The cottages on top of the moor had had repairs done to them, and masons, tilers and timber merchants were all demanding payment. The lists were endless, the amounts horrifying. How could Ben possibly owe so much? When Ran arrived in Cornwall, the debts were modest, as he had discovered on his brief working time in Gorran’s chambers, but since then the price for clay had plummeted, and Ben had become careless, taking more out of the business than was going in.

  By the time Daniel came back, Ran had seen enough and the file was safely back in its drawer. Ran was grim-faced. The older man shrugged his shoulders expressively.

  ‘Not even the best of friends can help a man who won’t help himself, Ran, and I fear that’s the condition Ben is in at this moment. The man has everything to live for, yet he’s throwing it all away as though there’s no tomorrow.’

  Ran gave a start. Was that what this was all about? Was Ben so uncaring, knowing his future was uncertain, that he had lost interest in everything but self-indulgence? Ran had no pity for him if it was so. What of those who were left? What of Morwen, and the children? Gorran knew nothing of Ben’s precarious state of health, so couldn’t guess at the turmoil he must be suffering. Even so, it didn’t excuse this, and Ran hardened his heart against the small burst of pity.

  ‘I appreciate your trust in me, Daniel,’ he shook the man’s hand as he made to leave.

  ‘If you think it’s of any use, then I’m glad. But I fear old Charles Killigrew will be resting uneasily in his grave at the present fortunes of his clayworks,’ Gorran said sadly.

  Ran stepped out into the darkness of the February evening, slid easily on to his horse and headed back to Killigrew House, far more disturbed than before he came. The man was a fool to allow things to happen like this, and short of a hefty loan or gift of money, it seemed as if Killigrew Clay was doomed. Ran had tentatively offered both and been refused, and in a short while, Ben Killigrew would have no choice but to sell up.

  Ran couldn’t imagine what the shame of it would do to Morwen. For a high-born lady to fall on hard times was bad enough. Such people seemed to face lowered standards with a special inborn dignity. Morwen, born of humble beginnings, would have to accept charity all over again, and he wasn’t sure she would be able to cope. He acknowledged that all his worries were for her. For her husband, he had nothing but contempt. Ben had it all, and he was throwing it all away.

  He arrived at Killigrew House to collect his belongings and told a tearful group of children that he wasn’t going away for ever, and that he needed to be nearer to his work. Morwen was white-faced, and he could hardly bear to look at her. But he couldn’t prolong the parting. He kissed them all, and held Morwen to his heart for a precious moment.

  ‘I’ll see you all again soon,’ he promised. ‘And when my house is ready, you shall all come to stay with me if your parents agree.’

  ‘Of course they may,’ Morwen said through parched lips. She felt as though she was losing her only ally, and it was a terrible admission to make. But after their fight, it was obviously impossible for Ran to stay here, even if Ben would allow it. And he had made it very clear by his rantings when Ran had gone out, that the American cousin was no longer welcome.

  They were both relieved that Ben had gone out again, but neither would have felt so easy had they known where he had gone and for what purpose.

  * * *

  The smoke-filled room was filled with gentlemen, and one particular gentleman was very interested in the one who had just arrived. Wild-eyed, with an ugly scar still lovid on his handsome face, and looking less like the prosperous clay boss he was supposed to be, observed Jervis Penhaligan. He didn’t often visit the gaming-houses in St Austell, living on the far side of Truro, but this new haunt was an attraction he had recently discovered. And he remembered the young Killigrew very well, even though it was years since the boy had taken a packet off him with one throw of the dice. He was a very astute opponent, Penhaligan recalled. But from the look of him, tonight was a night for revenge. Penhaligan mentally rubbed his hands together.

  ‘We’ve met before, I believe, Sir,’ he called across the table. ‘Are you planning to put your clayworks up for offer again? Or your house, maybe?’

  Ben looked at him with open dislike as a few cat-calls went around the table.

  ‘I didn’t come here to bet goods and chattels, Sir,’ he said stiffly. ‘If you care to make a wager, I shall be pleased to meet it.’

  Penhaligan taunted him. ‘You’re sure of that, are you? I hear the clay industry’s meeting hard times. It’s a dishonourable man who can’t meet his debts.’

  ‘Be careful, Killigrew,’ an acquaintance whispered behind Ben’s back. ‘The man’s been having phenomenal luck lately. He’ll wipe you out if he gets a chance.’

  ‘I know what I’m doing,’ Ben growled.

  He’d had a bellyful of ale before he came, still incensed at the way Ran Wainwright had got the better of him, and finding solace in a pint pot. His nerves were steady enough, even if his hands were not, but he was still canny enough to beat any man. He forgot all the losing times. In his head there was only the desire to win, and to win from this bastard who thought himself so superior.

  ‘Come on, Killigrew.’ Penhaligan still mocked him. ‘Your business against a few thousand? It sounds about right to me.’

  ‘You must be raving mad! Have you no idea of the worth of a clayworks—?’

  ‘I know the worth of a dying concern,’ the man said drily, to more guffaws from his supporters.

  Ben knew he was being a fool. He knew he was being goaded into this just as he was goaded into it by Desmond Hartley-Hogg in London. But his own pride wouldn’t let him back out now.

  ‘All right, I’ll make it easy on you,’ Penhaligan said with false kindness. ‘Never mind one turn of a card or throw of a dice. We’ll start modestly, doubling the stakes until the most cowardly one of us cries stop, and then the loser buys brandy for the whole company, so be sure to leave enough in the coffers for your round, Killigrew.’

  Ben was pushed forward by the cheering crowd who sensed a confrontation and wanted to be in at the kill. There was no getting away, and Ben knew now exactly how it felt to be a rat caught in a trap.

  Three hours later, he staggered out into the cold February night. He was ruined. The word hammered in his brain. Jervis Penhaligan had all the remaining money from the boxes in the study and a pile of IOUs that would keep all his other debtors waiting for months, even if the clay profits held as good as they were now. And all the signs were that things would get worse…

  He was soaked in sweat as he fell across his horse and headed for home. He tried to think coherently, trying to find some comfort in what he still had. He’d kept the works and the house, the horses and vehicles, and his precious railway. But for how long? For how long?

  Chapter Thirteen

  There was only one person that Morwen could speak to on the subject.

  ‘Daddy, will you please find out what’s wrong with Ben?’ she begged her father. ‘I just can’t talk to him, and he snaps everyone’s head off as soon as he comes into the house. It – it’s not doing his digestion any good to be so cantankerous.’

  It was all she dared say about Ben’s real medical condition. Not even to her beloved parents would she betray him, knowing how he hated to be pitied by anyone. Her father frowned.

  ‘He’s changed, for sure,’ Hal agreed. ‘Even to the way he comes to the works so often, as if he’s driven to be there like some kind o’ penance. There’s no need for a boss to have his finger in every pie, though the men are givin’ ’un grudging respect, for all that he sacked some of the young ’uns and old ’uns like he warned.’

  ‘How did they take it?’

  Hal shrugged. ‘Up in arms at first, but your man has a way wi’ words, Morwen, that I needn’t tell ’ee. He made ’em see it had to be done, to keep jobs for those that n
eeded ’em most – the young men with families. Oh ah, Ben’s got a way wi’ words.’

  Morwen thought bitterly that he had developed a fine way of wounding with words too.

  ‘’Tis a pity he can’t be such a champion to his children then,’ she burst out. ‘They almost fear his footsteps lately, knowing he’s going to find fault with everything they do. ’Tis no wonder they find such pleasure in going to Ran’s house, for there’s precious little at home.’

  Hal looked into the beautiful hurt eyes of his daughter, and sighed. Time was when she would have given the earth for Ben Killigrew, but the boy was throwing it all away.

  ‘Is the house nearly ready?’ Hal turned the conversation, and Morwen nodded, still troubled.

  ‘He’ll be moving in very soon, before Matt comes home.’

  Even saying those words failed to give her the usual thrill at that moment.

  ‘Daddy, I so want Matt and his family to stay with us, but what Louisa will think of my husband’s manners, I can’t think. He makes me ashamed.’

  ‘I’ll talk to ’un, my love,’ Hal promised. ‘Somebody’ll have to, I can see that.’

  Morwen was relieved. She was ostensibly taking a ride up to the moors, knowing just when to catch her father on his way down from Clay One. She leaned forward from her mare and kissed him, and then she was gone. Hal Tremayne watched her for a long while, until her lithe young shape and flying dark hair were lost in the mist, before continuing home. Yes, something had to be done. Morwen and Ben had been such spectacular lovers, so wrapped up in one another, and it pained him deeply to see them drift so far apart. It didn’t do to interfere into somebody else’s marriage, and he knew he’d get more than tongue pie from Ben Killigrew. But if anyone had to interfere, it was better to be someone who loved them both.

  He resolved to do it right away. Bess had gone over to Truro to have tea with Jack and Annie, and for once, wouldn’t be there to welcome him home. And Ben was due down from the works soon after himself. He screwed himself round in the trap, and strained his eyes for the first sight of Ben’s steaming horse. The boy never did anything by halves these days, Hal thought.

  It was only a short while later that he saw the mud flying from beneath the horse’s hooves. Hal hid a small smile. Here was he, Works Manager, but still a clayworker at heart, riding grandly home in a trap, the one-time gift of old Charles Killigrew, and here was the young boss, careering about on the back of a horse. The irony wasn’t lost on him.

  ‘What’s to do, Hal?’ Ben reined in at once. ‘You’re not ill, are you?’

  Hal grinned. ‘Not ill at all, just wanting a few words wi’ you, Ben. Can you spare some time at the house?’

  Ben shrugged. ‘Why not?’

  They rode together, awkward in the unfamiliar setting. At work there was plenty to say. At Killigrew House or Hal’s small home there was the family to draw them together. Now, jogging along in silence, they were in a kind of limbo. Hal felt a sense of satisfaction at his reply to Ben’s curt query. No, he wasn’t ill. There was a time when he’d thought he might be, but that had passed, and he felt as fit as ever. More so than this young man, who looked suddenly drawn and care-worn, and to his alarm, Hal realised he hadn’t even noticed it until now. The ugly scar on his face didn’t help, but it was more than that. There was more to know, and after his daughter’s plea, Hal Tremayne meant to find out just what it was.

  ‘Will you take a jug of ale, Ben?’ he asked, once they were inside the house.

  ‘If you’re offering, I’m drinking,’ Ben said in a lazy voice. The house was warm, and it was good to stretch out, arms behind his head, hands clasped. He could forget his troubles for half an hour or so, and he’d always had a healthy respect for his father-in-law, whatever his background.

  ‘What was it you wanted to see me about?’

  ‘’Tis our Morwen, and the way you’m treating her.’ There was no guile in Hal Tremayne. If he had a grievance, he came straight out with it. If things needed to be settled it was best to get them out in the open and sorted. It was his only philosophy, though he himself wouldn’t have credited it with so grand a name.

  Ben looked at him over the jug of foaming ale. He drank deeply, curling his tongue around the froth on his upper lip. His eyes were cold.

  ‘Really. And just how am I treating her?’

  ‘Now before you think our Morwen’s been telling tales to me, let me tell ’ee you’re wrong, Ben. She’s worried sick about ’ee, Ben, and about the way you don’t have much time for her and the children any more.’

  ‘My family affairs are no concern of yours.’

  ‘You’re wrong. What affects Morwen affects me and her mother. And when I hear of the children being unhappy, it affects me on their account as well. I’m their Granddaddy, Ben, and I’ve seen how Walter aches to work wi’ the clay, rather than going to that fancy school of his, and he’s only one example—’

  ‘Where I send Walter is my business,’ Ben was cold as ice now. ‘He’s got a brain, and he needs to use it, not let it stagnate—’

  ‘Like my boys’ brains stagnated? Have a care, Ben. ’Tis the Tremaynes and others like ’em who helped to make Killigrew Clay the concern that it is.’

  ‘Not for much longer!’

  Hal felt his heart lurch. He’d expected a bit of retaliation, then he could go on to say how stubborn Justin was becoming, and how Ben needed to handle the boy with more gentleness, and how Primmy was growing up and he’d seen the way the young boys looked at her… but all that was lost on hearing Ben’s flat voice.

  ‘What did you say?’ Hal said carefully.

  Ben gave a short laugh. He knew he was about to dispel a dream. He was about to send this fine man’s world crashing about his ears, and he was unable to stop it. The stab of remorse was momentary. Hal Tremayne must fall like Killigrew Clay.

  ‘You want to know why I’m such a bastard to my own family, Hal? Then I’ll tell you. It’s because I’m in so much debt I doubt that Killigrew Clay can last out another year. Another few months will be more like it. If we get the spring despatches away before the bailiffs come in and break up the railway and commandeer the pits for the highest bidder, we might be able to hold our heads above water until the autumn. And I don’t even know if I’ll be alive to see it. Do you want more reasons?’

  He drained his ale, holding out the jug for a refill. Hal saw how his hands shook and complied without question.

  ‘What are you saying?’ Hal said harshly, white-faced. ‘You still pay the dividends to me. We still operate—’

  ‘Hal, you’re an ignorant man, and I don’t mean that in any derogatory sense. You simply don’t understand business. Your dividends have been paid, and that’s the one saving grace that might earn me a place in Heaven. I’ve let everybody else down, but not my partner.’ His voice was heavy with sarcasm against himself.

  ‘I want to know more about this,’ Hal said grimly. ‘But what’s all this talk of dying and places in Heaven? I don’t like to hear you tempt fate like that, Ben.’

  Ben’s laugh was coarse. ‘Oh, I’m not tempting fate, Hal. I’ve already had my warning. Morwen obviously hadn’t told you that bit of news. My ticker’s like a bomb set to go off at any minute, only I don’t know the exact time it’s set for. Would you care to live under those circumstances? For two pins I’d finish it off now, and there’s plenty who’ll be saying good riddance in a few month’s time.’

  Hal was still reeling under the shock. It was true that Ben looked terrible lately. He was clearly drinking hard and living hard, and the attack in London had left more scars than the one on his face. But this…

  ‘Is it true, Ben?’

  ‘It’s true. You don’t lie about a death sentence. It would be tempting fate,’ he threw back Hal’s own words with a grimace of humour.

  ‘And Morwen knows?’

  ‘Morwen knows, and Randell Wainwright, and now you. Apart from that, there’s only the doctors in London, and Doctor Pender. I’d p
refer to keep it that way.’

  ‘I’ve never kept secrets from Bess. She needs to know. Our Morwen should know where there’s a shoulder to cry on when she needs it. Women are different creatures to men. They need other women to blab to about their troubles.’ He looked at Ben steadily. ‘Or would you rather she cried on Ran Wainwright’s shoulder?’

  Ben’s eyes flashed. ‘So you’ve seen the way he looks at her, have you?’

  ‘Do you blame him? Morwen’s a beautiful woman, but she’s loved you since she was a girl. Don’t throw it all away, Ben.’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about my marriage or my health. It bores me,’ Ben said crudely, and Hal pursed his lips.

  ‘All right. We’ve other things to talk about. How bad is it for Killigrew Clay? Your father built it up from nothing, and I can’t believe that things can be as bad as you say. Where have all the assets gone, Ben?’

  ‘The money, you mean. Money for bills, for new equipment, for repairs, and wages.’

  ‘Yes the money. I’ve a right to know, and I’ll know it all before you leave here.’ Hal was steely now, as Ben raised his eyebrows over Hal’s suddenly harsh tone.

  ‘You already know the circumstances by which I got control of the business,’ he snapped. ‘Put two and two together.’

  ‘Good God, man, you’re a bigger fool than I took you for if you’ve been gambling with Killigrew Clay’s money!’ Hal was incensed now, seeing ruination staring him in the face, and all because of this young fool’s weakness.

  ‘You’ve had your dividends regularly, haven’t you?’ Ben was shouting now, blustering at the look of disgust on the other’s face. ‘You’ve just said you had no wind of anything wrong. You didn’t want to be concerned with the business side of it, did you—’