by Gloria Cook
Turning on his heel he strode away from the workshop. Sylvia had made him suffer enough. He would no longer be denied his place as the head of his household and the right to his own bedroom. He burst in through the kitchen and then into the front room.
Sylvia leapt up from her armchair where she was hemming a baby’s dress. ‘Have you taken leave of your senses, man? How dare you come in here like this and with your boots on.’ Morton looked so fierce she was glad that Hope was safely upstairs in the nursery. He had returned the day following the baby’s birth in an unkempt state and had not asked about either of them, and since then he had never as much as looked at Hope.
‘It’s you who’s taken leave of your senses, and how dare you speak to me like that, you bitch!’ Morton curled his fists.
Sylvia was shaken. He had taken to uttering oaths but he had never insulted her before. However, she was not about to let him get the better of her. She lifted her chin. ‘Get out.’
‘Get out? Of my own house? I don’t think so!’ He stormed up to her, throwing a high-backed chair out of his way. ‘I’m the man here and you’ll do as you’re bloody told!’
As unwise as she knew it to be, Sylvia spat back, ‘A man? You’re not a man at all, Morton Lewarne. You’re conducting yourself like a villain. You’re a weak-willed hypocrite!’
Drawing back his hand Morton slapped her hard across the face. Sylvia cried out in pain and was thrown off her feet. She lay huddled, her arms ready to ward off the next blow that was coming, but he was hauled away from her. Sol had him by the back of the collar. He twisted it tight and Morton made choking sounds. He was clearly terrified. ‘D–don’t hurt me.’
‘Don’t hurt you?’ Sol bawled at him. ‘Yet it’s all right, is it, for you to hurt your wife? A defenceless woman?’ After the abuse his grandmother had suffered at her husband’s hands, wife-beating was something he hated and would not tolerate.
‘Sylvia . . . help me.’ Morton’s eyes bulged with fear.
Sylvia had got to her feet. Standing resolute, hands clasped together, she stared at her husband for some moments.
‘What do you want me to do with him, Mrs Lewarne?’ Sol said, shaking Morton as if he was a rat, making him whimper.
Sylvia took a step towards Morton to show she was not afraid of him. ‘Get him out of here please, Sol.’
‘With pleasure.’ To Morton’s blubbering wails, Sol dragged him out through the back door, round the side of the house and all the way to the front gate. He threw him down on the road. ‘You heard your wife. Get!’
‘Get where?’ Morton scrabbled about on all fours like a madman. ‘Where am I supposed to go?’
‘That’s for you to decide,’ Sol muttered coldly, his eyes blazing. ‘Don’t ever show up here again.’
‘You can’t throw me out of my home, my business!’ Morton held up imploring hands.
‘I’ve just done it. You’re not wanted here. Your wife doesn’t want you. You are no use here. None of the villagers will take you in after they learn what you’ve done to Mrs Lewarne. Don’t ever try to come back. I’ll be stationing the dogs at the gate, they’ll tear you to pieces.’
‘But what will I do?’ Morton was thinking in rapid fright. ‘Amy! Amy won’t approve of this. She’ll make you let me back in.’
‘No, she won’t. Amy knows what’s best for herself and her mother and sister. And she’s making new friends. Do you know where she is at the moment?’ With his hands on his hips, Sol leaned forward, mocking, ‘She’s at Burnt Oak visiting my grandmother. You’re responsible for destroying Toby. And now your wife and Amy have moved on with their lives and they don’t want you. Leave Meryen today Morton Lewarne. Show your face just once and I swear I’ll rip your heart out. Now, go!’
‘G–give me a horse. I need a horse.’ The only thought in Morton’s terrified brain was to ride to Marcie Dunn. He had given the prostitute a whole guinea on his last visit, she owed him at least a bed for the night.
‘The business needs the horses. Your disgusting behaviour has forfeited you everything.’ Sol took a lunge forward. ‘Do I have to come to the other side of this gate?’
‘No!’ Morton squeaked. ‘I–I’m going.’
Sol’s strong dark features were as cold as a winter’s night as he watched Morton, snivelling and crying, get up on rubbery feet and limp off, one weak shambling step at a time.
Sylvia joined him at the gate. ‘Where’s he going?’
‘I sent him away,’ Sol replied grimly.
‘Morton!’ Sylvia called out.
He whirled round. ‘Yes? Yes, dear?’ There was begging in his every stance.
‘Send word where you’ll be staying. I’ll have your things sent there.’ With that, she turned and went back inside, on Sol’s arm.
Morton fell down in a heap into the dirt. Within seconds Stumpy and Rip were at the gate snarling at him. Scrabbling to his feet again, bent over, Morton trudged on. Spittle ran down his face and he banged his fists against his thighs, and hissed, ‘You won’t get away with this! I swear on the devil’s heart I’ll make you all pay!’
Tempest Kivell swept towards the girls on graceful feet. She was tall and slender and regal, with high distinctive cheekbones. Her eyes, like Sol’s, were alert, intelligent and jewel-blue. She was the sort of person another couldn’t take their eyes off. She wore a dress of lilac, thick with exquisite lace. She was like a queen. Amy and Sarah curtsied as if she really was one. Her private room was lavishly furnished, with glass display cabinets of ornaments and plate, hanging shelves, tabernacle-framed mirrors, jardinières, a spinet and plush stool, and a huge veneered writing desk with a silver ink stand. The curtains were turquoise, opulently draped with swagged pelmets and pleated tails and fringed tie-backs. Amy thought that no room at Poltraze could match this one.
Tempest’s redoubtable eyes flicked from the brown-haired girl to the brunette. ‘So, you are Amy and you are Sarah?’ Her voice was flowing and made Amy think of honey. ‘I have heard much about you, Amy, but not your friend. You are both very welcome here. My daughter will bring us tea. Titus, you may leave. Send someone to collect Sarah in half an hour to show her around. Amy and I will discuss Toby privately.’
‘Of course, Mama.’ He withdrew. Amy noticed Sarah’s eyes were on him and his on her. He gave Sarah a long smile.
‘Well, sit yourselves down,’ Tempest said, pointing to a tapestry cabriole sofa that faced the long windows. She glided to a matching chair where she had a perfect view of a beautifully arranged garden within the perimeter wall. She noticed Amy gazing outside before taking a seat. ‘You like the garden, Amy?’
‘It’s amazing, Mrs Kivell. I’ve never seen so many different flowers and shrubs.’
‘My nephew Laketon is responsible for the landscaping. He has a passion for beauty.’ Tempest took several moments to gaze at each girl in turn. ‘I know what you do, Amy. You care for your mother admirably, and I hear the new arrival in the family is thriving. Your mother chose her name as Hope, I understand, because after the tragedy of losing Toby the baby gives her hope for the future. I am pleased for her. Do you feel the same?’
Amy wasn’t sure whether to be pleased, annoyed or offended that Sol had obviously repeated so much about her home life to his grandmother. Any hope she had was marred by her father’s wanton behaviour. ‘Sol was a great help on the day Hope was born. He is full of surprises.’
‘Ah,’ Tempest said with a meaningful spark in her deep eyes. ‘You aren’t comfortable with direct questions. Sol has many fine qualities. You will find out more about him. Now, Sarah, all I know about you is that you’re Amy’s closest friend. You live with your parents, I take it?’
‘No, Mrs Kivell,’ Sarah answered in her best voice, shyly, proudly. ‘My parents are dead. I’m a bal-maiden at the Carn Croft Mine, and I’m responsible for my young brother and sister.’
‘A mine girl?’ Tempest raised her curved eyebrows. ‘If I may say, you don’t appear as so. You are very well turn
ed out.’
‘I–I have a benefactor, Mrs Kivell.’ Sarah blushed to the roots of her hair then looked down at her feet, resting on the hand-woven carpet.
Amy was embarrassed for Sarah and hoped the woman would not persist with questions. She had wanted to come here for a long time but now wished she had waited for an opportunity when Sol was guaranteed to be here. It was a relief when the door was opened and Eula came in with a tea trolley. A bone china tea service and a tiered floral-patterned china plate heaped with dainty cakes was wheeled across to them. ‘Here we are, Mama.’
‘Thank you, Eula. Girls, this is Eula Kivell; she married a cousin. Like many here at Burnt Oak she’s pleased that we’re to make more contact outside of our home. Some of our younger members have been finding things claustrophobic.’
Eula had a glowing smile. ‘Some of our people want things to remain as before. I hope Meryen Village will be understanding to all of us. I hope you enjoy your time here today and feel able to go back as ambassadors for us.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ Sarah replied eagerly. Eula had helped her to relax. She longed to be with Titus again. When Eula left, Sarah hoped it was she who was to show her around.
The talk over the tea drinking and cake nibbling was centred on the garden, a safe subject, an easy one for the girls to listen to. The tea was delicious, different from anything they had tasted before, and with smuggling rife on both Cornwall’s south coast, and the north coast, which wasn’t many miles away at Portreath, Amy thought it likely the Kivells indulged in ‘freetrading’.
The half-hour since Titus had left the room was up. Sarah kept glancing sideways at the mantel clock, keen to get away from Tempest Kivell’s penetrating gaze. Although she was paying more mind to Amy, Sarah too was worried the woman could see right into her. Did she know she had an inappropriate relationship with her son? Titus was a widower but he was still involved with two other women. Tempest Kivell would think her a strumpet.
Amy wanted the time to pass quickly too. To talk about Toby and leave. She should never have come here. There was little the woman could tell her about Toby that Sol hadn’t mentioned already. Amy wished Sol had never turned up at Chy-Henver, and that her father had taken on another experienced craftsman, someone content to live a normal, everyday life, and that her father was still just a staid and self-righteous misery.
Someone was at the door. Eula? Sarah’s head shot round that way. It was Titus who came in. He was all smiles but seemed awkward. ‘I thought I’d come for Sarah, Mama.’
‘Oh, did you indeed?’ Tempest stared at him.
Sarah got to her feet. Amy looked from mother to son, and from their silent communication, hers of disapproval and angry resignation, his of dogged intent but discomfort, she realized that it was a matriarch who ruled here and she did not approve of her son.
‘I see,’ Tempest said archly. ‘Then Sarah had better run along with you.’
When the pair had gone, Tempest fussed with the teapot. It took a full minute before Amy came to the same conclusion as the woman had. Then it all fell into place. Sarah’s benefactor was Titus! And he had her firmly in his grasp.
‘More tea, Amy?’
‘Um, no, no thank you. I think I should take Sarah home.’
‘It wouldn’t be of any use. I’m afraid she’s infatuated with my son.’
‘I just can’t let her be alone with him.’ Amy stared anxiously at the door. Doubtless it would cause a scene if she tried to get Sarah to leave and Titus might use aggression to stop her, but she couldn’t sit tight and allow Sarah to walk into possible danger.
‘Amy,’ Tempest said in a sad confidential tone. ‘Don’t you think Sarah has been alone with him many times before?’
Amy brought her hands up to her face. ‘Oh, poor Sarah.’
‘I’m afraid you can’t go against your own fate. There’s nothing you can do but remain a friend to her. She may need you. Let’s talk about Toby.’ Tempest’s stern expression moderated into a gentle smile. ‘I became very fond of your brother.’
Amy pushed her concern for Sarah to the back of her mind, her mother would want every detail repeated in full. ‘I know Sol saved him from the hazards of a marsh. My mother and I wish to thank the women here for looking after him.’
‘Dear Toby. When Sol brought him here he was caked in mud. He was wet through, cold, scratched and bruised and sobbing his heart out. He was too afraid to go home. He kept repeating, “My clothes and shoes are ruined. My father will say I’m a disgrace.” We gave him a bath, washed and dried his clothes and gave him something to eat. My, how that boy ate, plate after plate of lamb stew, as if he’d never had a meal in his life before.’
Amy smiled forlornly, picturing the scene. ‘Lamb stew was his favourite.’
‘After that I read to him. He told me how you and your mother read to him every night when he was little. I could see he was very unhappy. I pointed out he had a lot to be grateful for. A loving mother and sister. A nice home, food, clothes, an inheritance. He said he was grateful for all that. Then he told me what it was like in the workshop with your father. By the end I wanted to rear up and strike Morton Lewarne across the face. He harangued the boy every minute. He stood over him, rapping on his wrists, banging on his shoulders, cuffing the back of his neck, breathing all over him. He obviously got the poor boy into such a state he could hardly get his hands to work. There were times he could hardly see, he got blinding headaches. He was never excused to make a call of nature and was forced to hold himself for hours.
‘I told Toby he could come to Burnt Oak any time he liked. Which he did, as often as he could. One day he went home with Stumpy, exchanging him for a drawing that he made in this very room. He didn’t think he’d be allowed to keep him but your mother stepped in and insisted Stumpy stay. Toby told me that his father kicked the dog every chance he could, when only Toby was there to see it. He never told you that he came here, Amy, because he was sure your father tried to listen in on all you and he said together. Toby was afraid that his secret would come out and he’d lose his refuge. He wanted to come here to live. He begged me to let him stay and I said that if things didn’t get better that he could. That Sol would ensure your father caused no trouble about it.’ Tempest shook her head mournfully. ‘It’s one of my biggest regrets. I left it too late. I’m so sorry.’
Amy had to produce her handkerchief and wipe away her tears. ‘Mother and I knew it was bad for Toby. It sounds so much worse to hear it from someone else’s lips. When was the last time he came here?’
‘A week before he died. If only he’d come here that day. He often spoke about trying to prove himself. Lingering in the woods must have been his way of doing so, with terrible consequences.’
‘Mrs Kivell, people say you have the sight. Why didn’t you see Toby was in danger?’
‘Amy, sometimes, occasionally, I do get the sense of what is about to happen. I dream dreams that point to future events. The night before that old devil, the squire, died I dreamed about Poltraze. It had black smoke pouring out of the same wing in which he and his valet and his wife and her maid died. I’m sorry, Amy, that I didn’t see danger for Toby. I’m sorry you’ll never have the comfort of at least knowing how he died. I’m sorry too about your father. He has the darkest heart. He’s heading for a terrible downfall.’
‘The way things are at the moment,’ Amy said, filled with a horrible tension. ‘I doubt if a prediction is needed about that.’
Titus allowed Sarah to peep into the music room. It was lined with books where he informed her all the children received lessons four times a week. Then they climbed the stairs and he took her off to the left, passing doors until he showed her into a room with an enormous bed in the centre of it. ‘This is my room,’ he said. ‘Take a look around.’
‘It faces south. There’s so much light in here.’ She touched the bed quilt of hexagonal shapes. ‘Did Eula make this? It’s beautiful.’
‘She did. She could teach you to quilt, if
you like.’ Titus came up behind her and slipped his arms firmly around her waist. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek and nuzzled her ear. ‘Sarah, how would you like to live here, secure, with everything you could ever want? And the little ones? You’ve seen for yourself how well the Kivells look after their women and children.’
‘We could have a room here, you mean? Me, Arthur and Tamsyn?’ It was beyond Sarah’s wildest dreams. ‘And work here?’
‘You can work if you want to. Tamsyn and Arthur can share a room until they get older, but you’d sleep in here with me.’
‘You mean . . .? But I couldn’t live with you like that!’ Sarah was horrified and she tried to get free of him. ‘I’m not a trollop! What about your two women?’
Titus kept her within his grip and he turned her round to face him. ‘I know you’re not loose, darling. I wouldn’t be interested in you if you were. We’ll get married. As for the other women, I’ve had enough of them and they’ve had enough of me. One’s left here and the other’s moved into Uncle Genesis’s house. You love me, don’t you? You want to be with me all the time?’
‘Get married? You want to marry me?’ Sarah shrieked with disbelief.
‘It’s what people in love do, isn’t it?’ Titus bracketed his hands either side of her face, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs.
‘Yes! Yes. I can’t believe this is happening.’ Sarah was bubbling with excitement.
Titus played with her hair then ran his hands down her arms, then placed them on her waist. ‘You are so beautiful.’ His voice dropped to a throbbing husky tone and he brought his face in close for a kiss.
Joyfully, Sarah threw her arms around his neck. She kissed him with every ounce of the love swelling up in her heart.
Titus was moving her backwards. She felt her legs come into contact with the bed. Titus kept kissing her, deeper and deeper and more demanding. He was swaying against her and his hands were moving over her, up and down her spine and round to her stomach, then up and up to rest over her breasts. He pulled his mouth away and looked down where his hands were. Sarah shivered as he moved his hands about. He reached round her and began to undo the hooks of her dress. ‘Don’t be afraid,’ he whispered. ‘I’m sure you’re beautiful all over. You have a woman’s body. I want to see it.’