Miss Mary’s Daughter

by Diney Costeloe

  ‘No, she never spoke of any of you.’

  ‘Never?’

  ‘I didn’t know you existed.’

  ‘She never once mentioned her family?’

  ‘Why should she?’ Sophie spoke more calmly than she felt. ‘You’d thrown her out; you weren’t important any more.’ It was a harsh thing to say and Sophie knew it, but she felt defensive of her mother.

  Surprisingly, Thomas Penvarrow laughed at this. ‘Well done, Sophia, don’t let yourself be bullied.’

  ‘I won’t,’ promised Sophie. ‘And my name is Sophie.’ She looked him firmly in the eye and added, ‘I’m not afraid of you and if I don’t like what you say and do, I shall simply go home.’ The old man nodded appreciatively and Sophie went on, ‘How did you know my full name?’

  ‘I’ve always known it,’ her grandfather replied. ‘Your mother wrote and told me when you were born.’

  ‘Did you reply?’ flashed Sophie. ‘Did you write back?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not? Why couldn’t you forgive her?’

  ‘She chose her own path. I didn’t choose it for her.’

  ‘You tried to,’ said Sophie. ‘You tried to run her life.’ Colour flooded Sophie’s cheeks and she clenched her fists in her lap, but the fight suddenly went out of the old man and he said, ‘That was a long time ago, Sophia. There’s nothing to be gained by dragging all that out again. I’m your grandfather; you’re my granddaughter. Can’t we start from there and begin again?’ He reached out his hand to her, his eyes searching her face, compelling her to respond. And in spite of the antagonism that had grown within her ever since she had heard of her grandfather and his dictatorial ways, Sophie found herself reluctantly extending her hand to meet his. Her mother had written to him to ask for help, perhaps hoping Sophie might heal the breach in the family; having come so far, it seemed wrong to draw back now. So she took his hand in hers and said quietly, ‘We can try, Grandfather.’

  There might have been tears in his eyes, for he looked away, but if there were they did not fall. The old man simply said, ‘Thank you, Sophia, thank you.’

  In the brief silence that followed Sophie spoke briskly. ‘Well, if we are to start again as grandfather and granddaughter, please may I remind you that my name is Sophie.’

  Thomas looked at her for a moment, as if surprised at her temerity – then he sighed.

  ‘I’ll call you Sophie if you prefer,’ he conceded, ‘but Sophia was your grandmother’s name and you’re so like her.’

  ‘My grandmother’s name?’ Sophie faltered. ‘I didn’t know.’

  Thomas gave a brief smile. ‘Sophia Alice, the same as yours. When you stood in the doorway just now you could have been she – just as she was when I married her, so beautiful she made me catch my breath. You will stay, won’t you?’ His voice was suddenly demanding again. ‘You will stay here now that we’ve found you?’

  ‘I’ll stay a few days, Grandfather.’ Addressing him as ‘Grandfather’ seemed very strange to Sophie, but she could see that he was pleased she’d done so.

  At that moment the door opened again and Louisa came in carrying a tray, followed by Matty with another. ‘Here we are, Father. We’ve brought you some tea,’ Louisa said.

  ‘Where’s Charles?’ demanded her father. ‘I want to see Charles.’

  ‘He’s around the estate somewhere,’ Louisa replied. ‘He’s been very busy after the storms last week. They caused a great deal of damage.’

  ‘He’s never here when I want him,’ muttered the old man irritably.

  ‘He works very hard on your behalf, Father,’ said Matty severely, handing him his tea. ‘You never give him enough credit for all he does. The place would fall apart without him, and you know it. You’d never get an estate manager who’d work as he does.’ She turned to Sophie. ‘You’ll meet your cousin Charles at dinner this evening.’

  ‘He’s not her cousin,’ grumbled Thomas to himself as he sipped his tea. ‘That’s the trouble.’

  ‘Now then, Father,’ Louisa said nervously. ‘He’s my son and that makes him your grandson and Sophie’s cousin.’

  ‘Of course it does,’ agreed Matty heartily and then changed the subject by saying, ‘Poor Sophie hasn’t even seen her room yet. Where have you put her, Louisa?’

  ‘In the cliff room,’ replied Louisa. ‘Where else?’

  ‘That used to be our room,’ explained Matty. ‘Your mother’s and mine. I’m sure you’ll love it. It looks over the cliff top and out to sea. When you’ve finished your tea I’ll take you up to see it.’

  ‘There’s no need for that,’ Louisa said abruptly. ‘I can show her. You’ll be wanting to get back home, I’ve no doubt.’

  Sophie felt dismayed; Matty suddenly seemed her only friend in a house full of strangers. ‘Aren’t you staying here, Aunt Matty? I thought...’

  ‘I’m afraid not, Sophie. I did explain to you that I have my own home, Treslyn House, near St Morwen. Paxton will drive me home as soon as I’ve finished my tea. Don’t look so cast down, my dear. I’m only a few miles away, and you’re with your family now.’

  She smiled encouragingly at Sophie. ‘Now then, you must be longing to wash and change after the long journey, so if you’ve finished your tea, my dear, I’ll take you along. Hannah will have unpacked for you by now I expect, so everything will be ready for you.’ As if anticipating Louisa’s objections, Matty turned to her sister and said, ‘You don’t mind if I show Sophie, do you? After all, it was my room as well as Mary’s.’

  ‘You must suit yourself.’ Louisa shrugged. ‘You always do. But don’t be too long. Paxton will be waiting for you.’

  Matty swept Sophie out of the room and along the landing. There were more stairs halfway along the gallery, leading to a half-landing from which two rooms jutted out from the back of the house. Matty flung wide the door of one and ushered Sophie inside.

  ‘Here you are, my dear, and here’s Hannah waiting for you.’

  Sophie went into the room that had been her mother’s as a child. It was large and had two beds covered with faded, rose-patterned quilts. It was comfortably if somewhat shabbily furnished, with a chest of drawers topped with a mirror, a heavy wardrobe, and a washstand complete with a rose-patterned bowl and jug. A cheerful fire leaped and crackled in the grate. Hannah had lit the lamp too, and in the warmth of its glow the room looked cosy and welcoming. Hannah was about to draw the curtains across, but Sophie stopped her and, going to the window, peered out into the September evening. The sun had gone and colour was fading to flat grey dusk, but she could still make out the line of the cliff and the expanse of sky beyond.

  Immediately below the window was a walled garden full of shapes and shadows, surrounded on two sides by the house itself, and beyond it she could just discern the roofs of outbuildings, sheds or stables.

  ‘Wait till you see the view in the morning,’ Matty told her, smiling. Then she looked round the room. ‘Well, Sophie, do you think you’ll be comfortable in here?’

  ‘I’m sure I shall, Aunt Matty.’ She paused and then added, ‘But I’m sorry you’re going home straight away, Aunt.’

  Matty smiled. ‘Don’t worry, Sophie. I’ll be back to see how you’re getting on in a day or so. You’ll soon get to know them all. And don’t worry about your Aunt Louisa. She’ll get used to having you here and be pleased with your help and your company. It hasn’t been easy for her these past years, running this place and taking the brunt of my father’s ill-humour. There was no escape for her, even when she married, living here at Trescadinnick.’

  ‘Tell me about my cousin Charles,’ Sophie said, as much to keep her aunt with her a few minutes longer as because she was interested.

  ‘Charles?’ Matty smiled affectionately. ‘You may find Charles a little cold at first. He’s a very private person and it’s sometimes hard to break through his reserve. Don’t worry if you find him a little stiff to begin with, that’s just his way. Life hasn’t been that easy for him either. As I
told you, Louisa’s husband, James, was married before and Charles was the son of that marriage. James’s wife died trying to give birth to their second child, and Charles and James were left alone. When James married Louisa, he and Charles moved in here. Trescadinnick is the only home Charles remembers, and we’re the only family he knows. Louisa has no children of her own, but she loves Charles as if he were indeed hers; we all do.’

  ‘Except for my grandfather,’ remarked Sophie, thinking of his earlier comments.

  ‘No, you’re wrong there,’ Matty said. ‘My father is very fond of Charles in his own way and really regrets he isn’t a true Penvarrow, but unfortunately he does remember that thin dividing line which the rest of us have long forgotten, and it’s important to him.’

  ‘How horrible for Cousin Charles,’ said Sophie.

  ‘It wouldn’t matter if there was another male heir,’ sighed Matty. ‘But Father is reluctant to leave Trescadinnick outside the family. He’s such a traditionalist at heart; he can’t bring himself to accept that Charles is just as good as any other grandson he might have had.’

  ‘What exactly happened to your brother, Jocelyn?’ asked Sophie suddenly. ‘You once said he was killed. I suppose he didn’t have any children. He wasn’t married, was he?’

  Matty didn’t answer the question immediately and Sophie felt the change in her as she searched for words to frame her answer. ‘I told you before, Joss was tragically killed in an accident, and no, he wasn’t married. He was hardly more than a boy when he died.’

  ‘Oh, how dreadful,’ cried Sophie.

  ‘It was,’ Matty said flatly and then added, ‘We never talk about him now, it upsets my father too much. Don’t mention him or ask questions while you’re here, Sophie, your grandfather’s not supposed to be upset. As for Charles,’ she went on swiftly, returning to their original subject, ‘he works very hard to make what’s left of the estate pay, but it’s not easy. Much of the wealth used to come from tin mining, but the mines are closing now and there’s little profit to be made from farming this land. Since my father grew ill everything has fallen on Charles’s shoulders. He works to provide for them all, to save Trescadinnick from being broken up. When he first married and brought Anne to live here, the whole house was filled with new life, infused with hope and happiness.’

  ‘But she died having... Alice?’

  ‘AliceAnne, yes,’ confirmed Matty. ‘It was as if a cloud descended on the place again, as it did when my mother died. Trescadinnick needs warmth and laughter to keep it alive. It used to be my home, but I’m always glad to leave it these days.’

  As if suddenly realizing exactly what sort of picture she was painting, Matty laughed lightly. ‘But enough of this gloomy talk,’ she said. ‘Now you’re here, I’m sure everything will change. Perhaps you can even do something with AliceAnne. She’s a quiet little thing and needs someone to take an interest in her. Charles is too busy and they’ve never been close.’

  ‘She must be very lonely, living in a house full of adults,’ said Sophie. ‘Hasn’t she anyone to play with? Children from the village?’

  ‘No, she’s a solitary child,’ Matty said. ‘Unfortunately, there are few suitable children of her age nearby, and playing with the village children is out of the question.’

  Sophie was surprised at the vehemence of this last remark and said, ‘Poor child, how sad to have no friends at all.’

  ‘She’s a strange little girl,’ conceded Matty. ‘I’m never quite sure about her. She’s far too secretive and she’s always watching, almost as if she was spying on the rest of us.’

  There was a knock and without waiting for an answer, Louisa came into the room. ‘Paxton’s waiting for you, Matty,’ she said. ‘If you’re going tonight you really must go.’

  ‘I’m coming now,’ replied her sister. She turned to Sophie. ‘I’ll be over again in a few days,’ she said. ‘Goodbye now, and remember you’ll always be a welcome visitor at Treslyn House.’ She presented her cheek for Sophie’s kiss and then added warmly, ‘I’m glad you’ve come to Trescadinnick; I think it needs you.’ She left the room then, followed by Louisa, who paused only to tell Sophie when she would be expected downstairs for dinner.

  6

  Sophie dressed very carefully, choosing to wear the simple black gown she had bought to mourn her mother. With her hair swept up and secured with her mother’s tortoiseshell combs and the plain silver band of her mother’s necklace about her neck, she looked pale but composed.

  ‘Don’t you worry, Miss Sophie,’ Hannah had said as she saw her charge take one final glance in the mirror. ‘Your ma’d be proud of you.’

  It was a comforting thought and Sophie smiled at her gratefully. ‘Thank you, Hannah, I’ll remember that.’

  Sophie went downstairs at the appointed time in some trepidation. She was not quite sure why she felt so nervous. She wanted to meet her cousin, Charles, after all, but from what she had heard he seemed to be rather a severe man, and she wondered if he would approve of her.

  Not that it matters if he doesn’t, she thought. After all, I’m not going to be here long.

  There was no one in the hall when Sophie descended the stairs, and she paused for a moment, uncertain where to go. Then she noticed that one of the panelled doors was slightly ajar and there was light within, so drawing a deep breath, she crossed the hall and pushed upon the door. Hesitating in the doorway, Sophie looked round her. The room she had entered was large and high-ceilinged, with heavy furniture and a well-worn Turkey carpet on the polished floor. There were several portraits on the wall in heavy gilt frames and the windows were curtained to the floor with faded velvet. Three oil lamps made warm pools of light, but the edges of the room receded into shadow.

  If it weren’t for the fire crackling cheerfully in the grate, Sophie thought, it would be a very overbearing room.

  To her surprise she found her grandfather already there, dressed for dinner and sitting in a chair beside the fire. She had not thought that he would leave his bed again that day. He looked up as she came in. ‘Ah, there you are,’ he said, as if they had all been waiting for her, though in fact there was no sign of Charles or Aunt Louisa yet. ‘Don’t stand in the doorway. Come and sit by the fire and talk to me.’

  Sophie did as she was bid, settling herself on the plump tuffet he indicated at his side, and was thus in close conversation with him when Louisa came in. She too had changed her gown and after a long appraising glance at Sophie, she announced, ‘Dinner is ready, Father.’

  ‘Then Charles is late,’ he remarked.

  ‘I expect he’s gone to say goodnight to AliceAnne,’ Louisa replied wearily. She spoke, Sophie thought, as if she were tired of defending her son against his grandfather. But almost at once the door opened and Charles was on the threshold, apologizing for keeping them waiting. ‘I hadn’t realized you intended joining us for dinner, sir,’ he added. But his eyes were on Sophie, sweeping over her.

  Almost, thought Sophie, disconcerted, as if I were a horse he considered buying. That’s the fourth time today I’ve been inspected to see if I pass muster and I’m getting tired of it. She raised her chin in a determined fashion, levelly returning his gaze.

  ‘Well, let’s not waste any more time now you do,’ the old man was grumbling. ‘Make your compliments to your cousin Sophia and then help me out of this chair.’

  Sophie had risen at her cousin’s arrival and they met, hands extended in greeting. Despite his appraisal she smiled at him as she said, ‘I’m called Sophie, not Sophia. How do you do, Cousin Charles?’

  He was not at all as she had imagined him. His dark hair was thick and slightly curling, and being of medium height, he did not tower over her as Dr Bryan had done, but he was broad-shouldered and strong and his grip was a firm one. Clear brown eyes met hers and a brief smile touched his lips as he heard her daring to correct her grandfather.

  ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, cousin,’ he said. ‘I trust that the journey from London wasn’t too
tiring.’ Then without waiting for her answer, he dropped her hand and turning to the old man, assisted him to his feet. Once he was standing, however, Thomas Penvarrow brushed the helping hand away and offering his arm to his granddaughter, led her into the dining room. This was another gloomy room, panelled in dark wood and lit this time by two candelabra on the dining table and two sconces over the mantelpiece. Logs glowed in the fireplace, silver and glass glinted in the flickering light, and the table was covered with a gleaming white cloth, but the corners of the room still lurked in shadow, where neither candlelight nor firelight could reach.

  Not a welcoming room, Sophie decided as she glanced round it, nor a warm one. She was glad when she was seated in the place nearest the fire.

  ‘You’ll find we’re very simple here, Sophie,’ Louisa said as they sat down. ‘Mrs Paxton brings in the dinner, but when we’ve all been served, we dine unattended.’

  As she spoke Mrs Paxton came into the room carrying a large tureen which she placed on a serving table, followed by Edith with soup plates, and together they dispensed and served the thick broth the tureen contained.

  Not yet having met either, Sophie looked at them with interest. Mrs Paxton was a small neat woman of middle years. With her hair drawn back in a bun topped with a white cap, she was dressed in a plain dark-blue stuff bodice and skirt, and moved with quick confidence about the table. Edith, on the other hand, was a short, dumpy girl of perhaps eighteen years, dressed in a black uniform dress, cap and apron. She seemed awkward as she served those at the table and Sophie could see that she kept an anxious eye on Thomas Penvarrow, and was clearly afraid of him.

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Paxton,’ Louisa said in dismissal when they had all been served. ‘I’ll ring when we’re ready.’

  Once Mrs Paxton and a relieved-looking Edith had left the room, Sophie turned to Charles who had been seated next to her. ‘I still haven’t had the pleasure of meeting your daughter yet, Cousin Charles. How old is she?’