‘Your daughter needs a mother,’ Thomas reminded him.
‘If that is the case, and I dispute it, I would choose a woman of good sense, experienced with children, not a chit of nineteen.’
‘She’s twenty, getting on for twenty-one, and it’s the only way you’ll get your hands on Trescadinnick,’ Thomas said flatly. ‘Now send Paxton to me. I want to go to bed.’
Charles downed the last of his brandy in one gulp and stood up. ‘I will indeed send Paxton to you, sir, but before I do, allow me to say that if you make marriage with Miss Sophia Ross a condition of inheriting Trescadinnick, I tell you straight away that I’m not interested. There are plenty of other estates in the country, which I could run a great deal more efficiently than this one, and if necessary I will apply for the position of estate manager on one of those. And,’ he added with a vicious smile, ‘get paid for what I do. I wish you goodnight, sir.’
With this parting shot, Charles left Thomas alone in the library, and having called Paxton as requested, he went out into the cold night air, to cool his temper and to calm his seething thoughts. For long minutes he paced up and down, his fists clenched in fury. How dare he! How dare his grandfather dictate to him on such a matter? How dare he decide to marry him off simply to suit himself! To ease his own conscience! And to a schoolroom miss.
Well, he thought, as he paced the garden, the old man can think again. I have no intention of marrying her.
He wondered what Sophie herself would think of Thomas’s plans for her. Certainly she’d had enough spunk to stand up to him this evening, and Charles allowed himself a rare smile as he remembered how she had corrected her grandfather on his assumption that she would now live at Trescadinnick. That had surprised Charles as much as it had the old man himself. Not many people held their own against Thomas Penvarrow, and Charles wondered if she would continue to do so when she heard she was to be his heir. But I will stand against him, Charles thought to himself. He will not dictate to me and I won’t be coerced into marrying Sophie Ross... or anyone else, for that matter.
His mother had been right about her father’s intentions, he thought ruefully, but even she hadn’t imagined the extent to which he would go to carry them through. He decided not to tell her of the conversation in the library yet. Perhaps, as a result of his reaction, Thomas would reconsider the ultimatum he’d laid down once he realized that Charles would not, now or ever, accept his demands.
At last he turned back to the house and, resolutely setting aside thoughts of Sophie, locked the great front door behind him and went upstairs to bed.
8
Sophie awoke the next morning to the sound of a rooster crowing and to the far-off murmur of the sea. For a while she lay in bed, listening to the unfamiliar sounds. She thought again about Trescadinnick and its inhabitants, and a wave of tingling expectation came over her. She got out of bed and crossing the room, threw back the curtains to look out on the view her aunt had promised her the previous evening. Throwing up the sash, Sophie kneeled with her arms on the sill, sniffing the crisp air and drinking in the sights and sounds around her. Autumn sunlight played on the garden immediately below her window, giving a pale imitation of the warmth which would invade that sheltered spot in summer. The garden was enclosed on three sides by the house, the fourth opening out onto a wider expanse, sheltered by a wall at the far end. A huddle of outbuildings lay to the side of the house, the dairy and a hen house perhaps, where the rooster still announced the day. She could see stables and what must be the stable yard; even as she looked, Sophie saw Paxton emerge from the house with clattering buckets, which he filled at the pump and carried back into the kitchen through some unseen back door. And beyond it all, dipping and curving to a jutting headland at the end of the bay, was the sweep of the cliff. It was bleak and windswept, its grey-green grass tufted and coarse, and in the distance, restlessly sighing, was the slate-grey sea.
This is the view that Mama looked at all through her childhood, thought Sophie. This won’t have changed at all.
She looked down into the sheltered garden where neat flowerbeds bordered the lawn. Though they were brown and empty now, Sophie knew they would be full of colour in the early summer. Shading one corner of the grass stood a huge old apple tree, its bare boughs stretched out, waiting for spring. She could imagine a swing hanging from one of those spreading branches; indeed, Sophie thought it strange that none hung there now for little AliceAnne to enjoy. Built against the wall of the house were two stone benches, each set into an alcove to catch the afternoon sun.
That’s where they played, Mama and Aunt Matty, or sat and read, Sophie thought. And she tried to visualize her mother seated on the bench with a book in her hand, or playing under the tree with her sister.
A knock and the immediate opening of the door brought Hannah into the room and Sophie sharply back to the present.
‘Oh, Miss Sophie, you’ll catch your death sitting there at the window with nothing over your nightgown,’ scolded Hannah. ‘Close it at once and come back here by the fire.’
Sophie did as she was bid, turning back into the room as Hannah busied herself poking the fire into life and putting on more coal.
‘I’ve brought you up some tea,’ Hannah went on, ‘and when you’ve drunk that I’ll bring your hot water.’
‘Is everyone else up?’ Sophie asked as she sat by the fire and sipped her tea.
‘Yes. Mr Penvarrow had his breakfast on a tray. Mrs Leroy and Mr Charles finished theirs half an hour ago, but Mrs Leroy said to let you sleep after your long journey.’
‘Then I must get dressed at once,’ cried Sophie, jumping to her feet. ‘Please fetch the water now, Hannah. I can’t wait to explore this place.’
Within twenty minutes Sophie came down to the hall. For a moment she paused uncertainly, then went into the dining room where they’d had dinner the night before. It was cold and dark, with no sign of occupation this morning. As she backed out again, she heard a movement behind her and turned to find AliceAnne standing at the mouth of the kitchen passage, solemnly regarding her.
Sophie smiled at her. ‘Good morning, AliceAnne,’ she said. ‘Can you tell me where we have our breakfast?’
‘In the morning room,’ replied AliceAnne.
‘Will you show me where that is?’
The child nodded and led her through another door into a snug room, flooded with sunshine and a view out over the garden. The table was laid for breakfast with bread and butter and jam, and on a small sideboard was a chafing dish with kidneys and bacon in it.
‘Mrs Paxton says will you take coffee or tea, and will you have two eggs?’ AliceAnne’s words all came out in a rush as she discharged her message.
‘Coffee, please, AliceAnne, and just one egg,’ answered Sophie. And as the child turned to leave the room, she added, ‘If you’re not busy, will you come back and talk to me while I have my breakfast? I don’t like eating alone.’
AliceAnne nodded again and disappeared on her errand. Sophie went to the window and looked out. She was looking over the sheltered garden she had seen from her bedroom, but from a different direction. The morning-room window faced east and was at right-angles to her bedroom.
AliceAnne came quietly back into the room, hovering inside the door as if she expected to be sent away again.
‘Come and sit with me at the table,’ Sophie suggested with a smile and having helped herself to bacon from the dish, sat down and pulled out a chair beside her. ‘I want you to tell me all about Trescadinnick, and yourself, and all the people who live here.’
AliceAnne came shyly across and slid onto the chair, but still said nothing.
‘Your name is AliceAnne, isn’t it?’ Sophie tried again. ‘Mine is Sophie, and I’ve come all the way from London. Do you know where London is?’
The child shook her head.
‘Well, it’s hundreds of miles from here and it’s the capital city of England. It’s where the queen lives.’
‘Do you know the queen?’ AliceAnne
asked.
Sophie shook her head, laughing. ‘No, but I saw her once, driving through the park in her carriage. My father took me when I was a little girl, and we all waved and cheered, and the queen waved back.’
The door opened and Mrs Paxton came in with Sophie’s egg and a pot of coffee. She was followed by Louisa, who said briskly, ‘Good morning, Sophie. I trust you slept well. When you’ve had your breakfast, your grandfather wants to see you.’
‘Of course, Aunt. Where will he be?’
‘In his room, where you saw him yesterday. He’s decided not to get up this morning. Now, AliceAnne, don’t be a nuisance to your Aunt Sophie.’
‘Oh, she’s not,’ put in Sophie quickly. ‘I asked her to come and talk to me while I had my breakfast.’
‘I see,’ said Louisa stiffly. ‘We don’t usually encourage her to talk at the table. Still... just this once, AliceAnne.’
‘Yes, Grandmama,’ whispered the little girl, shrinking back into her chair.
‘Is there anything else you’d like me to do?’ Sophie asked, to turn Louisa’s attention back to herself.
‘Spending time with your grandfather is the most help to me,’ Louisa replied. ‘The papers should be arriving from London today. Paxton will pick them up from the post office at St Morwen, later, then you can take them up and read them to Father. This is a working household,’ Louisa went on. ‘We have a meal at midday in the dining room, tea later in the afternoon for those who want it, and dinner in the evening. Oh, by the way, Matty is coming over to join us for dinner this evening. I’m going to the village now and then I shall be in the dairy. I’ll see you at luncheon.’
When Louisa had gone, Sophie ate her breakfast quickly. ‘What are you going to do today, AliceAnne... or do you prefer to be called Alice?’ she asked.
‘AliceAnne, Aunt Sophie,’ answered the little girl.
‘I’m not really your aunt, you know,’ Sophie said gently.
‘No, but Grandmama said I was to call you that.’
‘That’s fine then,’ Sophie agreed quickly, not wanting to make any further difficulties for her. ‘So what are you going to do today?’
‘I don’t know, Aunt Sophie.’
‘Well, in that case,’ Sophie said, ‘when I’ve seen my grandfather and done whatever it is he wants of me, perhaps you’d like to show me everything.’ She smiled cheerfully at AliceAnne. ‘I don’t even know my way round the house, so perhaps you could show me? And the garden too?’
‘Yes, Aunt Sophie.’
‘Good.’ Sophie was on her feet and heading for the door. ‘Where will I find you when I need you?’
‘In the kitchen with Mrs Paxton.’
Sophie watched her scurry down the kitchen passage and then went up the stairs to her grandfather’s room, and knocked on the door.
‘Good morning, Grandfather,’ she said cheerfully. ‘How are you this morning? Did you sleep well?’
‘No, I didn’t,’ grumbled the old man. ‘Never do. Is Paxton back with the newspapers yet?’
‘No, not yet. Aunt Louisa said that he would be fetching them later. Now what did you want to see me about?’
‘I wanted some company,’ he replied, and then added after a pause, ‘I wanted to hear about your mother.’
‘What do you want to know?’ asked Sophie, sitting down on a chair by the bed.
‘Was she happy?’
‘Until my father was killed, she was very happy,’ answered Sophie. ‘After that we had each other. Then she became ill. The doctor couldn’t do anything for her; she just wasted away before my eyes.’
Sophie still found it difficult to speak of her mother and she fought back tears as she told Thomas about her mother’s last illness, her pain and her courageous fight against it.
‘Well, you’re here with us now,’ he said gruffly when she fell silent. ‘This is where you belong. I have plans for you here.’
‘I’m only visiting for a little while, Grandfather,’ Sophie reminded him, but he seemed not to hear her.
‘I’ve changed my mind,’ he announced suddenly. ‘I’m going to get up. Send Paxton to me, please, and tell Mrs Paxton I shall be down for luncheon.’
Sophie took this as her dismissal and hurried down to deliver the messages. She went into the kitchen where she found both the Paxtons and AliceAnne. Paxton went straight upstairs and Sophie said to AliceAnne, ‘Well, AliceAnne, would you like to show me the house now?’ She held out her hand and the little girl took it. ‘And later, perhaps, we could go to the village.’
AliceAnne took her job seriously, and beginning where they were, the kitchen, she led Sophie through to the pantry and into the dairy. With Mrs Paxton’s permission, she showed Sophie the snug little sitting room where the Paxtons sat in the evenings.
‘I like this room,’ AliceAnne confided, looking round it. ‘It’s warm and cosy and full of... things.’
Sophie looked round, too, at the comfortable clutter and agreed that indeed, it was full of things.
From there they inspected the rooms off the hall; dining room, drawing room, rather imposing and not at all comfortable, both of which Sophie had seen the previous evening. Next, the morning room, and then AliceAnne paused before another door and knocked. There was no reply and after a moment’s hesitation she opened the door and stood aside for Sophie to enter. She found herself in a library, its walls lined from ceiling to floor with books. Sophie had never seen so many, and she exclaimed with delight as she saw them. Its long windows faced west, waiting for the evening sun. From them Sophie looked out across a lawn, over a low wall to the cliff top beyond. There was a fire laid ready in the grate and Sophie could imagine the room, curtains drawn, lamp-lit and snug, with her grandfather in the huge leather armchair beside the chimneypiece, reading or playing chess on the chess table which stood beside it. It was much the most welcoming room she’d been into so far.
‘I like this room,’ she said to AliceAnne. ‘So many books.’
‘Only Grandfather and Papa come in here,’ AliceAnne replied. She hovered uneasily at the door, and Sophie, seeing she was worried they would be found in the room uninvited, led the way back to the hall.
‘And that’s Papa’s study,’ AliceAnne said, waving a hand at the last unopened door but making no effort to open it. ‘He does his work in there. Shall we go upstairs now?’
‘Yes, you can show me your room.’
AliceAnne led the way up the stairs and pointing at closed doors on the landing, said, ‘That’s Papa’s room, and that’s Grandmama’s. Grandfather’s is along there, but you know that.’ Turning back along the landing, past the few stairs that led up to Sophie’s room, she opened another door at the far end, revealing a twisting staircase. At the top another door stood open and AliceAnne took Sophie through.
‘This was the nursery, where I used to sleep,’ she said. ‘But it’s my schoolroom now, where I do my lessons.’
Sophie stepped into the room and looked about her. The room was large with two dormer windows jutting out from under the sloping eaves. Beneath one was an old schoolroom table and beneath the other was a cushioned window seat.
‘Oh, AliceAnne, this is lovely. What can you see from your window?’ Sophie kneeled on the window seat and looked out. ‘You can see the sea like I can. It’s a lovely view!’ She turned back to admire the rest of the room, though it was clearly furnished with cast-offs from the rest of the house. At the far end was a closed stove giving off gentle heat, flanked by two easy chairs. An aged sofa stood along one wall beside which was a shelf of rather dilapidated books.
‘Are these your books? Which stories have you got?’ Sophie moved to the shelf, but AliceAnne was already opening a door in the corner, leading to another, much smaller room; her bedroom.
‘I sleep in here now,’ she said, and crossing to the bed, she picked up a very elderly and obviously much-loved rag doll, holding her against her cheek.
Following her into the room, Sophie smiled and said, ‘Who’s that?’
‘Mary-Jane,’ whispered AliceAnne. ‘She belonged to my mama.’
‘Did she now? Well, d’you know, I have a doll a little like Mary-Jane, who belonged to my mama. Would you like to see her?’
‘Yes, please,’ AliceAnne replied, and for the first time Sophie saw the glimmer of a smile on the little girl’s face.
‘Come along then,’ said Sophie, holding out her hand. ‘Bring Mary-Jane and I’ll introduce you both to Emily. She’s in my room.’
They went down to the gallery landing and then mounted the few stairs that led to the half-landing and Sophie’s room. As they reached it, Sophie pointed to the other door on that landing and asked casually, ‘Whose room is this, the one next to mine?’
‘That’s Uncle Jocelyn’s room,’ answered AliceAnne. ‘He died. We don’t go in there. It’s locked up.’
‘Oh, I see,’ replied Sophie and said no more, but she didn’t see. Why should Jocelyn’s room be kept locked? He died in an accident, she knew that, but that was years ago, before she was born. Why close up his room? Perhaps I’ll ask Aunt Matty, she thought.
Opening the door to her own room, she took AliceAnne in to see her doll, Emily, the one that had belonged to her mother.
As they went back downstairs they were met by Hannah, about to come and find them. ‘Ah, there you are, Miss Sophie. Mr Paxton’s been for the newspaper and your grandfather wants you to go and read it to him.’
‘Of course,’ Sophie said at once. ‘Where is he, Hannah?’
‘In the library, Miss Sophie.’
‘I’ll go at once. AliceAnne, I’d love to see the garden and maybe we could go to the village later on. Perhaps after lunch while my grandfather has his rest.’
Hannah said, ‘You come with me, Miss AliceAnne, and we’ll see what Mrs Paxton’s been baking, shall we?’
Sophie watched, as together they went off hand in hand down the kitchen passage to find Mrs Paxton, before entering the library to find Thomas. She spent the rest of the morning in the library reading to him. The fire had been lit and they sat, one either side of it, while Sophie picked out pieces of news that she thought might interest him.
Miss Mary’s Daughter Page 9