Pengarron Pride

by Pengarron Pride (retail) (epub)

  ‘I have no intention of making it easy. Well?’

  Kerensa stumbled to the nearest chair, her legs feeling they were about to give way. Oliver followed her, keeping up his piercing glare.

  ‘First of all we must stop this shouting,’ she said, her voice quivering. ‘It’s a good thing Ameline and Cherry and the children have gone for a walk down by the river.’

  He lowered his voice but in no way had his rage abated. ‘Go on, Kerensa, I’m waiting.’

  She stayed silent for a few moments, trying to find the words to relate to her husband what his dead half-brother had told her. When Oliver let out a loud impatient sigh she plunged on.

  ‘Samuel hated the Pengarrons, your father and you. He said nothing could make up for what Sir Daniel had done to his mother. He said he didn’t approve of taking charity, particularly from a Pengarron, even me. He was very bitter about it all. He thought you to be selfish and cruel… and immoral, criminal even. I begged Samuel to let me tell you the truth, but he only told me because he couldn’t bear the thought of me believing there might have been something between you and Jenifer. I told him that I thought the Pengarrons owed him a lot, that he and his family shouldn’t have to live in poverty, but that was the way he wanted things to remain. I believe he was as stubborn as you can be. He was a proud man. How could I tell you that Samuel despised you, Oliver?’

  ‘The Reverend Ivey told me as much, it is of no importance,’ Oliver said coldly. ‘I should have been given the opportunity to talk to Samuel. We should have had the opportunity to get to know each other. Who can say what might have happened. Blood is said to be thicker than water. I never had a family, only a kind but rather distant mother and an amoral father. Most of the Cornish gentry is intermarried yet my own children have no grandparents, no uncles or aunts – save Jenifer Drannock now. Hell to it, Kerensa! I had a brother and you have denied me the chance of ever knowing him. Granted, Samuel Drannock was a miserable, dour man, but he was honest and reliable. If we could have formed any kind of friendship at all he might have been good for me and maybe I might have been good for him! We should have been given that chance. Did that not ever occur to you, Kerensa? Not even once?’

  ‘I just tried not to think about it,’ she explained, eyes glittering with unshed tears, hands wrung together. ‘Back then I was more concerned with trying to make our marriage work and so many other things were happening. Then we rescued Kane, and because of him we realised how much we were in love. We were so happy, even more so when I became pregnant with Olivia and then Luke soon afterwards… Oh, I couldn’t see a good reason for bringing it all out in the open. Samuel and Jenifer both wanted it to stay secret and I didn’t want anything to threaten the happiness we had found. All I can do now is to say that I’m so sorry, I’m really, really sorry.’ She looked at Oliver with all her love plainly in her eyes but he could not see it.

  ‘You certainly will be sorry, Kerensa,’ he said slowly and bitterly. ‘I can promise you that.’

  A peculiar emptiness took over Kerensa’s body. ‘What on earth do you mean?’ she exclaimed, bolting to her feet and clutching his arm. ‘Surely we can talk about this and get it settled, Oliver?’

  ‘Talk?’ he sneered. ‘You should have talked to me eight years ago.’ Stalking to the door he angrily threw it open and left the room.

  Kerensa was paralysed by his words. Bob ran in, eager to see his mistress, but she did not notice him sitting expectantly with a paw prodding her skirt for attention.

  She stood motionless in utter disbelief. Why did this have to happen now? With Samuel dead and Jenifer still refusing help, she thought the danger of the secret being revealed had passed. It was obvious that Jenifer wasn’t long for this world and if and when she died, Kerensa had intended to help the Drannock children somehow.

  Many times she had been tempted to share Samuel’s secret with Oliver. But he was not always an easy man to live with, with his aristocratic ways and fierce male pride coming to the fore in outbreaks of bad temper and impatience. And although they were never directed at her or the children, she had soothed him and calmed the troubled waters. Sometimes, after their moments of exquisite intimacy, she had nearly bared her soul and told him this one burdensome secret that she held from him. But her promise to the dead fisherman and worry over the consequences once the truth was out had always made her keep quiet.

  Now it was all out in the open, it was worse than she could have imagined. Oliver’s dreadful reaction had stung her in many ways but, worst of all, she could only now understand what she had irrevocably denied him.

  ‘Are ’ee all right, cheeil?’

  The rasping voice brought Kerensa out of her trance. ‘What? Oh, it’s you, Beatrice. I didn’t hear you come in.’

  The old woman shuffled her flabby body deeper into the room. She wiped her running nose and with her small eyes peered at Kerensa’s stricken pale face. ‘Sit yerself down, m’dear,’ she said. ‘I d’reckon you could do with an ear t’listen to ’ee.’

  ‘It’s all very simple really, Beatrice,’ Kerensa uttered miserably. ‘It’s all my own fault… A long time ago I made a promise I shouldn’t have kept.’

  Chapter 11

  The sea was a myriad of tiny choppy waves, coloured a dull hue by lifeless grey clouds overhead that had not moved all day. Two gulls out on the water were joined by a third and then another, all flying off moments later in the same direction as though they had decided they had business elsewhere and ought to be on their way.

  Ameline Beswetherick sat side-saddle on Kernick, Kerensa’s pony, her body straight but relaxed, watching white-foamed water smack the perimeter of a solitary jagged stretch of rock several yards offshore. The water swirled in and out of its shapes and crevices, running up channels, making lacy spray, rapidly devouring more and more black granite before subsiding, leaving behind miniature twisting waterfalls to make their own way back into the sea.

  Ten minutes passed and the rock was completely submerged, consumed by cold, hungry water. Ameline felt satisfied. She dismounted and with the greatest care led the pony down the winding figure-three of the cliff path that ended in the heart of Trelynne Cove. Kernick was used to the path but Ameline found it necessary to hold on tightly to his bridle and saddle to prevent herself from slipping and sliding onto her bottom. She made it halfway down the path with her dignity intact and jauntily lifted her head and put her gloved hands on her waist to survey her private domain for the afternoon.

  Ameline wanted to be alone. She had ordered Conan, her stable boy escort, to stay up on the cliff and forbade him to look over into the cove. He had sullenly obeyed, grumbling that he would get into trouble for letting her out of his sight. Ameline insisted she would take full responsibility should any mishap befall her.

  She had ridden to the cove once before, when she had first arrived at the manor, with Kerensa. They had sat side by side on a piece of rock so straight and flat on one edge it could have been sliced away by a giant’s axe. And there Kerensa had told Ameline of her life in the cove before her enforced marriage and its stormy first year. And how she and Oliver had fallen in love.

  In Ameline’s youthful imagination the cove became a place steeped in romance and adventure, the echoes of the violent deaths perpetrated there holding no spectres for her. It was the perfect location for her to return to and dream of love and ponder over her marriage proposal.

  She considered herself fortunate to be allowed this time at Pengarron Manor to consider James Mortreath’s offer although she knew her parents were becoming impatient with her. They and her grandfather approved of the serious, upright lawyer with his own substantial private means, and were pressing her to take him. They would expect a good reason if she decided to the contrary. But marriage was a lifelong commitment and Ameline could see no reason why she shouldn’t take her time making up her mind.

  She thought kindly of James Mortreath and she was nearly sure she would agree to become his wife. The fifteen-year age span be
tween them caused her no concern; many of her contemporaries were married or promised to gentlemen much older and not as presentable. James was considerate, intelligent and, most important to her, neat, clean and unpretentious in dress. She detested the filth some of the gentry indulged in and since the disquieting encounter with Captain Hezekiah Solomon at her grandfather’s birthday party she no longer found the perfumed, powdered variety of male a figure of amusement. The sight and smell of such a spectacle now left her chilled to the marrow and she avoided all contact with such men.

  James was in no way one of these fops. He was not unattractive and the thought of lying with him was not disagreeable. (This was a thought most contrary to Ameline’s disposition but as it was marriage under consideration she thought it permissible.) And James intended to live in London and had intimated she could choose her own house in a secluded and exclusive part of the capital. Ameline had been ‘finished’ in a ladies’ academy in London and she liked the idea of living there. Another point in his favour was his dislike of large, noisy social gatherings. Ameline was enjoying the respite from the long, wearying round of parties and dances her raucous extrovert mother persisted in dragging her to.

  Pengarron Manor was blissfully quiet compared to Tolwithrick, but her stay was different to what Ameline had envisaged. The most noticeable thing missing was laughter – yet it had been there when she arrived. As she continued an unsteady descent in a pair of unsuitable high-heeled riding boots, it occurred to Ameline that although she found a feeling of romance in the cove there was none at the manor.

  She halted a moment. She had been so entrenched in her own thoughts for her future she had not realised that back in the huge imposing building something was wrong. For nearly all of the two weeks since she’d been there Oliver had absented himself, and when she had asked eager questions about the coronation of the new king, George III, he had given her the details gruffly and not included Kerensa in the conversation. Ameline recalled more than one occasion when Oliver had spoken to Kerensa with unusual sharpness. Kerensa herself was unusually quiet, her voice pitched softer, her words to everyone carefully chosen, and she made no mention of Oliver or any matter relating to him.

  Ameline skirted the remains of a gull killed by a bird of prey, holding a handkerchief to her nose in case there was a bad smell. She assumed some boy had killed it; she assumed that anything nasty she came across had suffered at the hands of some awful boy. That made her think of Luke Pengarron, not that he would do such a dreadful thing because she knew he loved animals and birds, but because at times he possessed that sullen look that could proceed to an act of cruelty. She thought of all three Pengarron children and drew in her brows as it struck her that they had become restrained in their behaviour, with Luke in particular inclined to be tetchy and ill-tempered. They ran often to Kerensa with minor complaints or petty quarrels for her to sort out, and if she was not immediately at hand, to Beatrice for comfort and sweetmeats. Ameline wrinkled her nose at the thought of the ageing servant. No one as disgustingly filthy and evil-smelling would be allowed to enter her household when she acquired one.

  Ameline did not possess the kind of imagination which would have suggested what the source of the trouble might be and she was unlikely to find out unless she asked some direct questions. But this was not in her nature and there was no tittle-tattle to be overheard at Pengarron Manor. She had brought her own personal maid with her, but Peters considered herself superior to the manor’s staff, even to Polly, who once worked at Tolwithrick. She kept herself apart from the others so it was unlikely Ameline would glean anything useful from her.

  She reached the end of the path with an ungainly slither and with a start it occurred to her that what she was witnessing in Kerensa was a tightly held-in sadness.

  ‘What is wrong with your mistress?’ she asked Kernick. She looked about for something to tie the pony’s reins to. There was nothing, but remembering that Kerensa had left them untethered she let them fall from her fingers and told Kernick sternly, ‘You are not to wander off.’

  She took a few steps then gazed up and down the lonely beach and set her eyes on the restless sea. Although she was there with the intention of thinking about her own future, she was unable to get Kerensa out of her mind. Ameline couldn’t believe there was anything amiss with the other young woman’s marriage; it was based firmly on a deep, passionate, devoted love. It had to be something else. She would have to keep herself alert, watch and listen carefully but unobtrusively. If she could discover the reason for the uncharacteristic sulky atmosphere in the Pengarron household then perhaps before she left she might be able to help.

  Ameline tried not to think about Oliver. From the time she’d begun to butterfly into womanhood, her feelings about men, other than male relatives, and male servants who were nonexistent to her, were uncomfortable and confused. With men like Oliver, who possessed an overpowering male sexuality, she felt utterly ill at ease and was secretly relieved he was not often at home.

  She put aside the problem at the manor house and dipped her thoughts back to her own future. She crunched unsteadily towards the rush of the sea, a sharp breeze bending the feathers on her cocked hat. She had decided Trelynne Cove was the ideal place to settle the course her future would take. She allowed her imagination to swirl with possibilities and impossibilities, of undertakings involving many risks and much passion, all safely tucked away in daydreams that could not touch her.

  Her train of drifting fantasies was violated by a strong male voice hailing her from behind. Ameline whirled round, angry that Conan had followed her. But it wasn’t the stable boy. She watched nervously as a tall young man hurried towards her. He slowed down as he neared her and glaring into her flushed face he did not bother to hide his disappointment.

  ‘I thought you were Kerensa Pengarron. That’s her pony back there,’ he said accusingly, tossing his dark head backwards.

  Ameline thought she should know this young man but she could not place him. She saw by his clothes he was of the working class but did not know whether he was a miner, fisherman or farm labourer. Although there was an edge of refinement in his voice she was offended at the way he addressed her and she deliberately took several moments to speak.

  ‘I am Miss Ameline Beswetherick of Tolwithrick,’ she told the young man, keeping her tone clear and superior. ‘I am presently staying at Pengarron Manor and Lady Pengarron, as you should refer to her, has kindly loaned me her pony for the day, not that it’s any of your business or that you have the right to an explanation!’

  The youth was not impressed. ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked brashly.

  Ameline visibly bristled, she wasn’t used to subordinates speaking to her in such a disrespectful manner. ‘More to the point,’ she retorted, ‘what are you doing here?’

  ‘I have permission to be here,’ he said, his big rough hands moving automatically to rest on his hips as he met her challenge.

  ‘And naturally so have I,’ Ameline returned coldly. ‘I have told you my name, now perhaps you will have the courtesy to enlighten me as to yours. Oh, and I warn you I have an escort up on the cliff.’

  To her consternation he threw back his head and laughed. Then lowering his shoulders, he put his hands above his knees and leaned towards her.

  ‘You bloody gentry!’ he said, as if he was about to spit in her face. ‘Just who do you think you are? Find yourself born into a bit of money and you think you’re better than everyone else, that people like me aren’t fit to lick your blasted boots. You and your big words and fine phrases! How dare you speak to me in that bloody damn superior voice and manner. Think yourself a lady, do you? Well, I’ll tell you this, Miss full of airs and graces Ameline Beswetherick. I’ve only met two real ladies in my life. One is my mother, who was born into what the likes of you sneeringly call trade. The other is Kerensa Pengarron, and you’re no match for either of them. While you’re up there lording it at the manor, just you watch Kerensa closely. She may have been b
orn a peasant in this very cove, but you could learn a few things from her.’

  Ameline clasped her fists to her gaping mouth. When the vicious tirade was finally over she gave a small choked cry and ran back to Kernick. Stumbling over the shingle she was crying wretchedly when she reached the pony and in such a state of agitation she could not mount. Her hands and feet were unable to gain purchase and she became frantic in her need to get away from the cove and the angry young man.

  But he had followed her and caught both her hands as they scrambled for the reins. Ameline screamed shrilly as he swung her round.

  ‘Shut up that squawking or I’ll shake you till your bones rattle,’ he threatened loudly.

  Ameline stopped, the shock of his words as effective in their intonation as their content.

  ‘You’re not going to let me stop you looking round the cove, are you?’ he said, slipping into an amiable tone. ‘Come on, there’s a lot to see, I’ll show you around. And don’t worry about your escort up there, he’s fast asleep by his pony, but you don’t need him anyway, I won’t hurt you. By the way, my name is Bartholomew Drannock.’

  He stalked off leaving her feeling drained and a little faint. She rearranged her hat and dabbed a scrap of lace to her eyes. It did not occur to Ameline that she did not have to obey his command. She didn’t wonder why he’d had a change of heart. The only thing that kept running through her mind was that she could have coped with this dreadful dark-eyed, blackhaired young man if he wasn’t so incredibly handsome.

  While he slowed down and waited for her, Bartholomew compared this sensitive young lady of quality unfavourably to Kerensa. It wasn’t the fact that she was not beautiful that annoyed him, it was her ladylike ways. Kerensa would tramp barefoot over the beach, not pick her way slowly and fussily. Kerensa would not be wearing gloves, she would have pulled off her hat to allow the breeze to flow through her hair, she would have laughed with him and been at ease. He’d enjoyed lambasting Ameline, he was enjoying the power he was exercising over her. Now he had a mind to try to seduce her, just for the sport of it.