The Carpenter's Daughter

by Gloria Cook

  ‘Titus, we shouldn’t be doing this. Amy’s downstairs.’

  ‘Mama will keep her occupied for ages. We have time, Sarah. Time to be together.’

  Sarah was in love with Titus, her every waking thought was about him. He was offering her everything, but she had been brought up with a different code of what was right and wrong. ‘I–I don’t know . . .’

  ‘There’s nothing bad about showing love to those we want to be with, darling,’ Titus said, smiling at her and giving her tiny soft pecks. ‘It’ll be all right. You can trust me. In a few weeks we’ll be together, always. We’ll have a wonderful life. Think how excited the little ones are going to be. You’ll all be part of a big, close family. You’ll never have a worry again.’ Titus had kept his fingers working and Sarah’s dress – a dress he had bought for her – was open to her waist. He pulled it down until her shoulders and the swells of her breasts above her corset were exposed. ‘You’re so beautiful. I must have you.’

  With fervency he gathered her in and kissed her with abandon. Sarah’s nerves reached breaking point and there came a release of her worries. She loved him and wanted to please him, to repay him for all he’d done for her and to reward him for all he was promising her, and he was filling her with desire. A sensation within the root of her grew hot and fanned out and filled her with exquisite sensations. She allowed Titus to pull her sleeves down and off her arms and unlace her corset. He threw the lace-edged corset, another gift of his, down on the floor. Sarah held her breath as Titus slid her chemise down to her waist but she felt no shyness. He handled her and followed with his lips. ‘So beautiful, so beautiful. You’ll bear me many fine babies, won’t you, Sarah?’

  He couldn’t wait or linger. He lifted her on to the bed and pushed up her skirt and petticoats. Sarah wriggled with need, a need she had no notion of how exactly would be fulfilled, and Titus weighed himself down on top of her to keep her still enough for him. Then a pain seemed to be tearing her apart and her scream was silenced by Titus placing his hand over her mouth.

  Next to Tempest’s sitting room was a door that led outside. She and Amy had just passed through it and were strolling down over the well-kept lawn to view the gardens when Sol joined them.

  ‘What is it, dearest?’ Tempest said, aware he had travelled here in a rushed state. His black hair was in more than its usual tumbling disarray and a strange light was gleaming in his eyes.

  ‘Excuse me, Grandmama.’ He strode up to her and kissed both her cheeks, clasping her hands in his with affection. ‘There’s been trouble at Chy-Henver. I’ve come to fetch Amy home.’

  ‘Are my mother and Hope all right?’ Amy exclaimed.

  ‘They’re fine, Amy, at the moment,’ he replied, giving her a smile full of strength and purpose.

  Amy turned to her hostess. ‘Please, Mrs Kivell, could you send for Sarah?’

  ‘Titus will take Sarah to her home,’ Tempest said. ‘What’s happened, Sol?’

  Sol frowned over his grandmother’s reference to Sarah. He explained briefly why he had come so urgently. ‘I’m afraid I need to be at Chy-Henver a lot more, Grandmama. Give me a minute while I pack some things. I will be staying there.’

  Tempest stared into space, her august face grim. She looked bereft, as if she was losing the thing most dear to her. She nodded. ‘It’s as it must be.’ She turned her gaze on Amy, who looked as if she was about to argue with Sol’s decision. ‘It’s pointless to say anything. You can’t go against your own fate.’

  Seventeen

  ‘You have an engagement, Tara?’ On light feet, Michael entered Poltraze with the usual intention of making his way to the library. He never failed to stop to share a few words with her. ‘It’s as well you’re wrapped up warmly, it’s a bracingly cold day.’

  Tara was dressed for travelling, in a fur-trimmed cloak and a small black netted hat. ‘I’m on my way to the village to call on a friend.’ She smiled, pleased to have received an invitation from Amy.

  ‘You have a friend there? Among the common people?’ Michael was bemused. Phoebe wouldn’t give the time of day to anyone not high bred.

  ‘I have.’ She fastened the jet buttons on her gloves.

  ‘How so? You’ve hardly left the house since you moved in.’

  ‘I met Amy Lewarne when I lived here as a girl.’

  ‘Lewarne? The name’s familiar.’ Michael tapped the first knuckle on one hand with a fingertip of the other, a habit of his when thinking. ‘Lewarne, the carpenter thrown out by his family. His son died in our woods. Is that right?’

  ‘I thought you knew nothing about the villagers, Michael,’ Tara said, picking up a toy, a brightly painted clockwork carousal, off the credenza.

  ‘Oh, I know it seems I’m always poring over old writings but I do listen to what the steward says about local matters. Your friend has had a lot of troubles.’ He indicated the toy. ‘She is partial to that sort of thing?’

  ‘It’s a gift for her new baby sister, a source of some happiness to Amy and her mother.’

  ‘Very thoughtful of you, Tara, my dear, and just as I have come to expect of you.’

  It wasn’t the first compliment of this kind he’d paid her. Tara always ensured he had refreshment when in the library. Sometimes she went there to enquire if he and Phoebe and the two girls were well, and he’d show her the latest discovery to add to the family records. ‘Past events have been jotted down in a most haphazard fashion and stored just about anywhere,’ he had said. ‘I’ve found matters of interest in my father’s study, on shelves in the drawing room, in cupboards, in chests in the corridors and even up in the attics. It’s quite a job getting everything in the right order.’

  ‘But it’s a labour of love to you.’ She had read the notes about the Mrs Nankervis for whom the Dower House had been built. ‘Matilda Nankervis had a tragic life. She lost all her children except one, and had an accident which destroyed the use of her arm.’

  ‘She was highly sensitive and prone to hysterics. Sadly, she became an embarrassment when senility set in and was banished to a place of her own. It’s the first time anyone has been as interested as me in all this. Phoebe thinks only about her social life, or rather the lack of it, and Joshua his precious plants. She’s asked Joshua if the Dower House can be renamed, did you know?’

  ‘Yes, he’s mentioned it to me. I think it’s a good idea. Now the renovations are under way and the gardens are being beautified it will give the place a new lease of life. What name will you chose?’

  ‘I’ll leave that to her. Anything to stop her grumbling. No doubt, she’ll choose something pretentious in the hope of it giving her a higher standing.’

  ‘I was surprised when Joshua allowed a Kivell to take the commission for the carpentry of your house. I know he keeps company with Laketon Kivell in the inns, but it’s different altogether to allow him in the grounds. How’s the fellow getting on with the work?’

  ‘Kivell knows the grounds well. Joshua met him a long time ago when he caught him wandering about. They discovered they had a mutual admiration for petals and leaves. Actually, Kivell works very well. Phoebe has no complaints, which is very unusual. She watches all that he and his labourers, all of them younger Kivells, do. I hope she’s not getting in the way. My father would never have allowed a Kivell to work for us. Times are changing, Tara. For the better.’

  His last sentence was meant to convey that times were better now his father was dead. ‘Yes,’ Tara agreed with the sentiment, although she still shuddered at the terrible end Darius Nankervis and her aunt had met. She was no longer under pressure to produce an heir, which was just as well, as Joshua had made no second attempt to make love to her. It was easier with her aunt gone and with no more of Atkins’s stifling opinions. There was a lightness about Poltraze now. The old house did not seem as heavy, and she had ordered the suffocating curtains to be torn down from every room, and everyone, including the servants, was more at ease. The only sign of mourning was the wearing of black. Mi
chael had given up soothsaying. Joshua had begun to sing about the house. Yes, times were better.

  She had taken the opportunity of Joshua’s good humour, cornering him as he’d hurried away from his dressing room this morning, to ask about a matter that was normally his or the steward’s domain. ‘Will Laketon Kivell be responsible for the woodwork in the burned-out wing?’

  ‘I have viewed his work at the Dower House myself and it’s satisfactory, therefore his tender will be considered. What a strange thing you’re wanting to know, Tara.’

  ‘I was thinking about my friend, Amy Lewarne. Do you remember her?’

  ‘Oh, yes, the carpenter’s daughter. What about her?’

  Tara was as disappointed as the villagers that Joshua showed no interest in Meryen. After his earlier thoughtfulness towards Amy and Mrs Lewarne, he seemed to have forgotten they existed. ‘Her father’s business could do with the work. He’s no longer there but there’s a young man, another Kivell, as it happens, who’s taken over very commendably. Would a tender from there be considered too?’

  ‘Tara.’ He had scratched his head, puzzled and amused, too kind to be vexed with her over something that was not her concern. ‘I will probably have to hire every local carpentry business and bring in every woodworker on the estate to accomplish the great deal of work required in the west wing. The debris has been removed and the walls are replastered but the site is somewhat dangerous. I don’t want you going anywhere near it.’

  ‘That is not my intention.’

  ‘Good.’ He had pecked her forehead, a touch of affection that was brotherly. ‘I shan’t be in for dinner tonight. Good day, m’dear.’

  Michael wished her a good day now. Before they went their separate ways, Phoebe arrived. As always when his wife was present, Michael’s face tightened and he looked exasperated. As always, Tara secretly sympathized with him. As always, Phoebe had come by trap, considering the walk up the hill out of the question for a lady. ‘Oh, Tara, you’re about to go out. I was hoping we could take morning coffee together.’

  Phoebe had been ingratiating herself with Tara now she was first lady of Poltraze. Tara knew her ploy, to attempt to manipulate her, but she was not about to allow herself to become easy prey. She told Phoebe where she was going. ‘You are welcome to join me. I’m sure Miss Lewarne and her mother wouldn’t mind.’

  Phoebe’s attempt to hide her aversion to the invitation was belied by the shift of appalled eyes and a smile that looked sprayed on. ‘I wouldn’t dream of encroaching on your time together. I’d come to say that the dining room of Wellspring House is completed. It’s excellently done.’

  ‘Wellspring?’ Michael said, raising his brows.

  ‘Yes. Don’t you like it?’ Phoebe asked sharply.

  ‘Actually, I do.’ He nodded. ‘The house is built on the site of an ancient well fed by a spring. An excellent choice.’

  For once, Phoebe was delighted with his reaction. ‘Tara, you and Joshua simply must come to dine with us soon. Mustn’t they, Michael, dear?’

  ‘Indeed they must,’ Michael replied, displaying twinkling eyes to Tara above his wife’s head.

  Tara met his merrymaking with a friendly smile. ‘We’d be delighted to, although it will be necessary to pin Joshua down to a particular time. He’s always very busy.’

  ‘Well, I am too today, at home, really. I’ll call again another time.’ Phoebe left on important feet.

  ‘I’d better be on my way too,’ Tara said. ‘I hope you have a successful day rooting out something interesting for the family annals, Michael.’

  ‘I’ll let you know if I do, Tara.’ Michael’s smile was full of genuine warmth.

  ‘I’d like that.’

  He escorted her to the carriage and waved her off. Before leaving the gravelled courtyard Tara turned round to see if he was still there. He was.

  Amy sighed at seeing that Sol had left his tobacco on the kitchen table. She snatched up the leather pouch, with his initials S.K. burned into it, and strode off for the workshop. He had made himself too much at home during the few days he had moved in. She wasn’t about to pick up after him in the way he was used to at Burnt Oak. He wasn’t just encroaching, he was an encroachment. He behaved as if he was doing her and her mother some great favour. In truth, he was, and it bothered her. She couldn’t accept the way her father had been forced to leave. Her mother had no regrets about it, but now she had grasped that her marriage was over she was desperately unhappy. It was a good thing she had Hope to distract her.

  Amy bounced the tobacco pouch up and down in her hand. It was full. Sol always had a good supply of everything, he didn’t believe in stinting himself. He went out some nights, after stationing the dogs at the doors in case Morton returned to cause trouble, and he came back late. Her mother had been reluctant to hand him his own key to the house but she said he had the right to visit his grandmother. Amy doubted if he spent all his free time at Burnt Oak. Meals were changed to suit his taste and her mother fussed that he had been given enough to eat. He talked about Toby and listened about Toby as if he had as much right to his memory as she and her mother had. He had no right to so many things. She brought the pouch up before her eyes and glared at it. He must stop leaving his things lying about.

  As she closed in on the workshop she pulled her face in so tight she threatened to wrinkle her perfect skin. There was much sound of work and singing, from two people. Another Kivell was arriving every day to bother her. Jowan, a cheeky, quick-witted individual who often had to be reminded about his language. It irked her that he was of Toby’s age. She marched in on the brothers and as always was annoyed to see Sol at her father’s workbench and Jowan at Toby’s.

  The singing broke off. Jowan carried on working, ignoring her and her ill humour. Sol stopped, straightened up and watched her. He waited for her to speak but he pulled a sardonic expression. These reactions between the three of them were becoming a habit. ‘I’ve brought you this.’ She tossed the tobacco pouch at Sol and he caught it deftly. ‘I’m expecting a visitor shortly. A lady. I don’t want either of you in the house.’

  ‘What about our tea?’ Jowan sang out in his high-pitched voice.

  ‘I’ll see you get it.’

  ‘Mind you don’t turn the milk sour.’

  ‘Keep your remarks to yourself.’ She turned on her heel, she wasn’t about to bandy words with an ignorant boy.

  She was several steps away when Sol caught up with her. ‘Amy, have you thought about what I’ve been saying? About looking at the account books?’

  ‘Why are you asking me?’ She turned on him. ‘You should defer to my mother on any such decisions.’

  He kept a calm, reasonable voice. ‘She’s got enough on her mind, and I’m sure she wouldn’t like what she’d see.’

  ‘Why shouldn’t she? My father was meticulous about everything. I’m sure the accounts are in perfect order.’

  ‘Then perhaps you can explain why the timber merchants and other traders Morton dealt with are threatening to stop supplies unless they get prompt payment. I’ve got word of this from my second cousin, Laketon. Amy, don’t you realize Morton is in debt?’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ She had slipped out of the house without her shawl and shivered in the biting easterly wind. Spiteful cold raindrops were beginning to fall.

  ‘Amy, think carefully, when was the last time anything was delivered here? Morton used to go off for supplies but always came back with an empty cart. He’s not been paying his bills. You need to look at the account books as soon as possible.’

  ‘My father’s not in debt.’ The very idea! Her father had spoken out forcefully against those who did not pay their way.

  ‘He is, and I believe it could add up to several hundred pounds. He may have arranged long credit but he’s stretched it too far. It’s why I haven’t mentioned it to Mrs Lewarne. Would you like me to go over the books with you?’

  ‘No, I would not!’ She saw this suggestion as a liberty. ‘My father has
n’t sent for his things. He may come back any day. He’d be furious if he knew I’d been poking about in his den.’

  Sol gazed at her soberly. ‘It’s time you accepted he’s never coming back.’

  Her eyes sparked at the harsh announcement, she was shivering but did not feel the cold entering her bones. ‘Not while you’re here, he’d be too scared. But the business belongs to him and there’s nothing anyone can do to prevent him from claiming it. You had no right to turn him out the way you did.’

  ‘You’ve not said that before.’ Sol’s face darkened with impatience. He tossed his head to dislodge the hair blown across his face. ‘You were pleased he had gone the day you learned he’d hit your mother. He behaved like a savage.’

  ‘And so did you. He had no right to be violent and I hate him for what he did, but it didn’t give you the right to take matters into your own hands so brutally. He should have been sent away with his clothes and some money. Goodness knows what he’s doing now, how he’s living. You Kivells have no heart and you have no morals. You’re here to take the business away from us. Why else did you come? You might not have turned me and my mother out but we’ll always be beholden to you. It won’t be long before we’ll be living like your women, under your thumb, or worse.’

  ‘I’ll take against all that,’ Sol fumed. ‘My father wanted me here and I refused, then I changed my mind because my grandmother suggested it would be a good thing. She has strange notions but I trust her. Now I’m glad I did come, for your mother’s sake. I’ll make my own way in the world one day and it won’t be by ousting another. I thought you’d got to know me. How could you think that of me?’

  How dare he become self-righteous? ‘You allowed Sarah to be led astray by your rotten father. We should have brought her back with us that day. You Kivells treat women in any way that you care to.’