Miss Mary’s Daughter

by Diney Costeloe

  ‘I shan’t say anything,’ replied Sophie. ‘I shall listen to what they have to say to me.’

  ‘So, why am I to be excluded?’

  ‘Because,’ Sophie said, ‘I want to hear them without interruption. I want—’

  ‘What do you mean, without interruption?’

  ‘Exactly what I say. Listen to yourself, Nicholas. If you don’t happen to agree with what’s being said, you interrupt and shout it down. You don’t listen. If you want to wait in here and come to join us in the library when we’re discussing what we plan to do, that’s fine, but I will hear them alone first.’

  ‘Sophie, this is quite ridiculous,’ snapped Nicholas. ‘You need to have another pair of ears listening to what they say. If I’ve heard everything myself, I shall be able to explain it to you afterwards, so there are no misunderstandings. You won’t know what questions to ask.’ Seeing her rigid expression, he softened his tone. ‘My dearest girl, I only have your best interests at heart. I just want to be sure—’

  It was Sophie’s turn to interrupt. ‘To be sure that I’m not going to tell them of the discussion we had yesterday afternoon. About your being a Penvarrow? Well, I’m not, but you’ll just have to trust me for that.’

  Just then the front doorbell rang and glancing out of the window, Sophie said, ‘That’ll be Mr Staunton.’ Without further comment she walked out into the hall to greet him. Nicholas followed, pale with rage at her decision. Charles was emerging from the study and when Staunton was divested of his coat he led him towards the library door.

  Nicholas stepped forward and said, ‘I’m afraid I shall not be able to join you this afternoon after all. As I’ve just been explaining to Sophie, I have an extremely sick patient to visit beyond Felec Head, and her son has sent for me, so if you’ll excuse me...?’ He retrieved his coat from Edith and with a curt nod went out of the front door.

  If Sophie wasn’t going to allow him to hear all that the trustees said, then he wouldn’t stay at all. He was angry, as angry as he had been the night before.

  When he had got home the previous evening, he had poured himself a large brandy and considered what Sophie had faced him with. All his instincts had been to deny everything, to dismiss Nan as being senile and refuse to listen to any evidence that Sophie had. He had been to see Nan and there would be no further interference from that quarter, but he had been so stunned by Sophie’s assertions that he hadn’t considered his answers carefully enough. He had begun his denial in such vehement terms he couldn’t go back on it. What he should have done was to acknowledge that he was indeed Jocelyn’s son. He should have said that he’d only recently learned of his connection with the Penvarrows.

  ‘You see, Sophie...’ he spoke aloud as he paced his parlour, rehearsing the conversation he should have had with her. ‘I understood that they might not be pleased to recognize me as Jocelyn’s son, so I decided the best thing was to become acquainted with them slowly, before I claimed any kinship. I was just getting to know your grandfather, my grandfather, when you first came to stay at Trescadinnick. When I saw you, Sophie, it was love at first sight. I’ve never believed in that before, but it does happen, and the day you stepped down from the trap, it happened to me.’

  Yes, Nicholas thought, he’d been stupid. That was how he should have handled her revelations. He should have admitted them and brought her in on his side. A version of the truth would have served him better than denial. Calming down a little he’d refilled his brandy glass and planned his next move. After the meeting with her trustees, he would speak to Sophie privately. He would apologize for lying to her, saying he’d been afraid of her reaction. He’d tell her he was trusting her now with his deepest secret, their secret. No one else need ever know that Jocelyn had been his father.

  That had been his plan and he was sure it would have worked. Sophie doted on him, and he could have talked her round, but now, suddenly, she had shut him out, publicly shut him out and he’d had no chance to speak to her. He was furious, but he had walked away on his own terms. He could play the waiting game. It had worked well before. He would stay away from Sophie for a few days and then go back and make his admission. She had told him she wasn’t going to mention the question of his parentage to her trustees and he believed her; nor had she denied his excuse for leaving, allowing him to make a dignified exit. So, he decided, as he climbed up into his gig and set off down the lane to his imaginary patient, he was still angry, but all was not lost.

  36

  Sophie and Hannah took the train back to London on Saturday morning and arrived in Hammersmith late in the evening. As the hansom carried them through the familiar streets where gaslights threw pools of hazy light, and lighted windows poured their brightness into the road, or lit bright curtains with indoor warmth, Sophie knew a deep feeling of homecoming. The house, so familiar, standing in darkness, a darker shape against the blackness of the night sky, was cold when they went inside. But it wasn’t long before the lamps were lit and Hannah had the kitchen range alight and a fire burning in the parlour. Mrs Paxton had packed them a basket of food for the journey, including some of her chicken broth, thick with vegetables and wonderfully warming, and they were soon sitting down to steaming plates of the broth and some home-made bread and cheese.

  Sophie stretched out her toes to the fire. ‘Isn’t it lovely to be back, Hannah?’ she said. ‘How I miss the cosiness of our little home in that great house.’

  Hannah had to agree. She had learned to fit in at Trescadinnick, but she was certainly more at home in the comfort of the Hammersmith house... or better still the large warm kitchen at the home farm.

  She had slipped out on Friday evening and hurried down to the farm to tell Will they were going back to London. ‘I don’t know what the problem is,’ she told him, ‘but Miss Sophie’s real upset about something. Won’t tell me what it is, but maybe she will when we’re back in her own place.’

  ‘Trescadinnick’s her place now,’ said Will.

  ‘Well, it don’t feel like it to her,’ Hannah replied.

  ‘Reckon she’ll come back?’

  Hannah shrugged. ‘I suppose so. She’s getting married in a couple of months. She’ll be back before then, won’t she? Getting ready.’

  ‘Suppose she will. That’s good,’ Will reached for her hand, ‘cos you’ll be coming with her.’

  ‘Oh, Will.’ Hannah sighed. ‘I wish I didn’t have to go, but she needs me.’

  ‘’Course she does, love. ’Course you must go.’ He put his arms round her. ‘But when you come back, I’ll be waiting for you. I need you, too.’

  ‘I’ve been wondering if she’s been having second thoughts,’ said Hannah as she nestled against his comforting warmth.

  ‘Second thoughts?’

  ‘About getting married. Maybe she’s been rushed into it and wishes she hadn’t.’

  ‘Well, she can change her mind, can’t she?’ said Will.

  ‘She can, I suppose, but it’s not that easy. She knows people think that she’s made a mistake, but her pride may not let her admit it.’

  They had parted with a kiss but as Hannah began to settle back into the Hammersmith house the next day, she knew for sure that it was no longer her home.

  Sophie hadn’t seen Nicholas again before she left. He probably didn’t even know she’d gone. When he’d walked out of the house on Friday afternoon she went into the library to sit with Charles and Mr Staunton, and listened to the various things they proposed. The first was an income for her, paid every quarter.

  Sophie’s eyes widened at the suggested amount. She’d never had that much money before and said so.

  ‘Well, that’s for your own personal use,’ Charles explained. ‘Then there will be monthly housekeeping, which is needed for such household expenses as the servants’ wages, kitchen expenses, food, fuel and such. Anything major, maintenance work that needs to be done and suchlike, well, you simply ask us and we’ll deal with the matter.’

  Charles also described
how the estate was being changed. ‘We can’t live on income from the mines any more, so in recent years we’ve bought some seine nets and boats, to take advantage of the autumn pilchard shoals, and we employ men to man these when the pilchard shoals come in. It’s a seasonal harvest, but the shoals are so huge that there’re plenty for everyone and they produce a fair profit.

  ‘We still own several farms, but I’m inclined to sell them to their tenants and use the capital for other investment. Your grandfather was against that, so it shouldn’t be something we rush into. Our best investment was made three years ago, when I persuaded him to buy a part share of a small coastal ship The Minerva, which plies between Liverpool, Plymouth and London. She carries a general cargo and is certainly paying her way.’

  The Minerva, thought Sophie. Surely that was the ship Nan Slater’s son was aboard. The thought of Nan turned her mind to what Nan had told her about Nicholas, and for a minute or two Sophie stopped listening to what Charles was actually saying, as she wondered whether she should, after all, tell them what Nan had said. No, she resolved, yet again. She hadn’t believed his version of events. She knew he was lying, but she hadn’t yet decided what she was going to do about that. She gave her attention back to Charles and found he was still explaining where the Trescadinnick income came from.

  ‘She brings in a steady income,’ Charles was saying, ‘and I would like to invest in another ship. Steam is the way forward and another share in such a ship could bring us great profit.’

  ‘At what risk?’ Sophie’s question was a shrewd one and Charles smiled his appreciation.

  ‘Good question,’ he replied. ‘Of course, there’re always risks when you’re challenging the sea, but steam ships are better able to survive bad weather, being less reliant on the wind.’

  Sophie listened as the two men discussed this and other possibilities, and Charles was charged with working costs and returns so that they could make an informed decision at some time in the future. Mr Staunton had left it to Charles to explain his ideas, but he agreed that such an investment was worth looking into now that there was so little return from the land and the pilchard fishing, though lucrative, was very seasonal.

  Nicholas was mentioned only once, when Sophie asked about living in Trescadinnick.

  ‘I don’t want to turn you and your family out, Charles,’ she said, ‘but I know Nicholas wants to live here at Trescadinnick when we are married. I think it would be difficult for us all to live together—’

  ‘It would be impossible,’ Charles said quickly. ‘I have already made enquiries about a number of properties in the area and hope that we shall have settled upon somewhere suitable before very long.’

  Sophie gave him a grateful smile, a smile that made his heart contract, and he said, ‘You shall have the house to yourselves, I promise you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Sophie said. It would be a relief to tell Nicholas that much at least. ‘But you won’t be far away, will you? I mean, I want to be able to see you and AliceAnne and my aunt, all of you, very often.’

  When Mr Staunton left, Sophie went upstairs to see AliceAnne. The little girl was in the schoolroom. Sophie wanted to spend the last evening with her and together they played Snap and Beggar-My-Neighbour until Hannah came upstairs to put her to bed.

  ‘Aunt Sophie says you’re going away again tomorrow,’ AliceAnne said. ‘I thought we were going to play at the home farm. Alison is coming, and Tommy. Now I can’t go! It’s not fair.’

  ‘Tell you what,’ Sophie said, ‘I’ll ask your papa if Lizzie may come and fetch you after lunch and bring you home again before it gets dark. She’s a sensible girl.’

  At that moment Charles came into the room and AliceAnne rushed to him, crying, ‘Aunt Sophie and Hannah are going away tomorrow, so Hannah can’t take me to Mrs Shaw’s so I can play with Alison and Tommy, but Aunt Sophie says can Lizzie fetch me because she lives there too, Papa, and so she knows the way and would look after me and bring me home again before it gets dark. So can I go with Lizzie to the home farm?’

  Sophie watched Charles’s face. It seemed incredible that he was the same man who had hardly a word to say to his small daughter just three months ago.

  ‘We’ll see,’ began Charles, but AliceAnne interrupted him, something she would never have dared do before.

  ‘Oh, Papa, that means no!’

  ‘No, it doesn’t,’ answered her father. ‘It means we’ll see.’

  Later, at the dinner table, he asked Sophie what she really thought of the idea.

  ‘I think AliceAnne will be very disappointed if she doesn’t go,’ Sophie said. ‘And Lizzie could quite safely take her there and back. She’s used to her sister’s children and deals with them very well.’

  ‘I’m not sure about Lizzie. Perhaps I should take her there myself.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Charles,’ interposed Louisa. ‘I can’t imagine any other father taking his daughter to somewhere like that. If Hannah isn’t here to take her,’ and as she said this Louisa glowered at Sophie, ‘then the child can’t go! No reason for you to act the nursemaid.’

  ‘I think she’ll be disappointed,’ Sophie murmured.

  ‘I expect she will,’ agreed Louisa, ‘but she’ll have to learn to cope with far greater disappointments in life than not visiting a farm. Goodness knows what manners she’s picking up there!’

  No more was said at the table, but as they moved into the drawing room Charles said, ‘Don’t worry about AliceAnne. I’ll take her. I need a word with Will Shaw anyway. I’ll tell her in the morning when you’ve gone, and with luck it will cheer her up.’ He smiled at her and went on, ‘We’ll all miss you while you’re away, but I’m sure it won’t be for long.’ He looked over at the piano and on impulse asked, ‘Will you play for us tonight, cousin?’

  ‘Of course,’ Sophie replied, though she had hardly touched the piano since her grandfather had died. She crossed the room and pulled out the piano stool. A Chopin nocturne was on the music stand and she ran her hands over the keys. Charles watched her, seeing the graceful movement of her hands and arms, and the lamplight on her hair, and cursed himself for a fool.

  When Sophie woke up on Sunday morning it was to the familiar sounds of a London street, wheels on cobbles, footsteps on the pavement and an occasional voice calling; so different from the quiet of the Trescadinnick countryside. Church bells were ringing in the distance, but as she lay in the warmth of her bed she decided she was not going to church this morning. Hannah brought her a cup of tea and said she was going to the market, leaving Sophie sitting up in bed, drinking her tea. Though she was back in Hammersmith, Sophie’s thoughts were still in Cornwall. Would Nicholas be standing, waiting for her outside the church in Port Felec? If so, he was probably angry that she hadn’t appeared. She knew she should have sent him a message to say she was leaving, but all she’d been able to think of was getting away to a place of refuge, a place where she could think. She thought of Charles and hoped that he had kept his promise and taken AliceAnne to the home farm yesterday afternoon. She smiled as she thought of how close he and AliceAnne had become. At least something good had come from Mama’s deathbed letter. Dear Charles, so strong and steady; she had come to love her cousin dearly and still wished with all her heart that Thomas had not made her his heir. Then she and Nicholas could have married without Nicholas being regarded as a fortune-hunter. She thought of her aunt, Louisa, so bitter against her for stealing Charles’s rightful inheritance, and knew that would never change. She thought of Aunt Matty in her house at Treslyn, well away from all the family unpleasantness. She had welcomed Sophie into the family, and had offered her a place to stay if she ever needed one. Perhaps she should have gone there instead of coming home. Perhaps she could have confided in Aunt Matty, told her what she had learned about Jocelyn, Cassie and the baby. But she knew Matty would have been angry at her intrusion into Joss’s room, and might have blamed her for reopening a matter that had been laid to rest over twenty-five years ag
o.

  When Hannah returned to the house she found the fire lit in the parlour and the kettle singing on the kitchen range. Sophie was sitting at her mother’s bureau, writing a letter. It was clear that she’d come to some sort of decision for she looked relaxed and some colour was creeping back into her cheeks. The smile on her face and the happiness in her eyes belonged to the old Sophie.

  Sophie posted a letter to Nicholas, and waited over the next few days for a reply. In the meantime she and Hannah began packing up the house. If she were going to live at Trescadinnick permanently there were things from home that would have to be sent down to Cornwall. In her letter she had told Nicholas she was buying mourning clothes and so decided to make that the truth. There had been no reply from Nicholas by Thursday and so she thought she would go out. Flush with her new allowance from the Trust, she set off to Madame Egloff’s salon. Hannah was far less worried about her going about town alone than she had been about her riding alone in the country, and watched from the window as she set off down the street. She was pleased that Sophie was much more her old self. Whatever it was that had so upset her down in Cornwall seemed to have resolved itself. Perhaps, Hannah thought, it was simply that she had found the big old house oppressive. If that were the case, she wondered, how would Sophie manage living there permanently? Only time would tell, she supposed, but she was still worried about Sophie’s proposed marriage with Nicholas Bryan.

  *

  It was an hour later that there came a knock at the front door. Hannah went to answer and found herself facing a thin, scruffy individual, wearing a coat several sizes too large for him and oversized black boots.

  ‘Well?’ she said discouragingly.

  ‘Come to see the lady of the ’ouse,’ replied the man.

  ‘She’s not at home,’ said Hannah and began to close the door.

  The man planted one of his huge boots into the doorway and said, ‘She’ll want to talk to me.’

  ‘Take your foot out of the way.’ Hannah fixed him with a gimlet eye. ‘She’s not here and she won’t want to talk to you.’