He emerged at the cliff top and immediately looked up at the chamber window from which Demelza had been watching. She was no longer there; she must have understood his earlier gesture. He noticed the bell leaning drunkenly against a gorse bush. “Right, which of you is on my back?”
“Jack. I’m Jack.”
“Jack, when I bend down you must stretch out and pick up the bell. If you fall off you will lose a point.”
Tom tugged at his shirt collar. “What’s a point? Have I got one to lose as well?”
Wishing he’d never mentioned the subject, Lucas tried to explain. “It’s a game, boys. We all started off with ten points and the person with the most left at the end of the day will get a prize.”
Serena gazed up anxiously. “Can I join in this game, or is it just you and the boys?”
“The game is for all of us. Your sister has lost five points for being silly enough to cut her foot. I have lost all my points already. You three have still to lose one. Are you ready, Jack?”
Somehow the child managed to retrieve the bell and stay in situ. Lucas was beginning to enjoy himself. “Well done. Now, it’s your turn, Serena. I will race you to the house. If I win, you lose two points.”
Squealing with excitement. she raced away. He followed, appearing to make every effort to overtake her but in fact hanging back to allow her to win. He dropped the boys in a heap on the grass. “I’m quite exhausted after all that. Does anyone know where I can get a cold drink of water?”
Chattering like magpies, the children led him around the house to the kitchen yard where there was a pump. “Right. Tom, you pull the handle and I’ll put my head underneath.” Lucas slipped off his shirt and ducked under the spout.
After a deal of heaving and laughter, water eventually emerged. The icy deluge made him splutter. He emerged and shook himself then wiped his face on his shirt. The children were staring at him in horror. What had he done to alarm them?
Chapter Four
“What is it, Serena?” Lucas asked.
She shook her head. “Demelza doesn’t like us to use our clothes to dry ourselves.”
Jack joined in. “She doesn’t. She will be cross with you and you won’t have any points left.”
Lucas grinned. “I’ve already lost them. Your sister won’t be cross, young man. It’s my shirt and I can do as I please with it. These rules only apply to you to and your sister.”
The other boy bounced. “Can we share your rules, then, sir?”
“We’ll see.” He shrugged his damp shirt on over his head. “Come on, little ones, I’m sure there’s more you can show me.”
At noon, he escorted his adoring flock back to the house for their midday meal. The delicious aroma of cooking mackerel filled the kitchen. A dish of potatoes sprinkled with chopped parsley and glistening with butter stood proudly in the centre of the table. Next to this was a bowl of salad leaves and radishes. Lucas smiled at the sprinkling of marigold petals; they certainly looked pretty and presumably were safe to eat. There was no sign of the cook or the maids.
Should I remove the fish from the spit?
Serena answered this question for him. “Uncle Lucas, the fish are burning.”
Grasping the hot skewers with two cloths he carefully transferred them from the fire to the table. His mouth watered and his stomach gurgled loudly. The children giggled. “As you no doubt heard, I am starving. I hope some of these are for me.”
The cook appeared from the scullery and seemed put out to find him in her kitchen. “I have laid up the in dining room, sir. If you would care to go through, one of the girls will serve you right away.”
“I would prefer to eat in the kitchen with the children, Mrs. Trewith.”
Once they were all seated, the cook removed the largest fish from the skewer and served him first. The skin was crisp, the white flesh firm and succulent. He knew it would taste as delicious as it looked. “Help yourself to potatoes and salad, sir. Now, children, I hope you’re hungry for there’s plenty to go round.”
Demelza was eagerly anticipating her midday meal. Martha was to join her but the children would eat in the kitchen. Josie arrived with the tray, bursting to pass on some gossip.
“Do you know, miss, the gentleman is eating in the kitchen with the children. Cook asked him right politely to go into the dining room but he wouldn’t budge. She ain’t too pleased about it, I can tell you. She reckons gentlemen should stay out of her kitchen.”
Demelza laughed. She could just imagine Molly’s outrage. Within a few hours of her arrival, Molly had taken over the running of the house. Demelza supposed she should protest, but it was such a luxury nor having all the household decisions to make. “Josie, we don’t stand on ceremony at Tregorran House and I am pleased that Dr. Fairfield is of the same mind. Now, could you fetch Mrs. Smith from the schoolroom or this delicious repast will be cold.”
The pleasure of sewing her new gown had long palled when a soft knock on the door disturbed her. The children were playing cricket on the grass with Martha so it couldn’t be one of them. Her fingers clenched and she stabbed her thumb with the needle. Before she had time to invite him in, Dr. Fairfield was inside. Hastily she stuffed the partially stitched evening gown under a convenient pillow, trusting no blood from her thumb had spoilt the Indian silk.
“Another injury, Miss Tregorran? I shall begin to believe you are decidedly accident prone.” He strolled across and picking up a chair, spun it and straddled the seat. He folded his arms across the top and smiled at her disarmingly.
Whatever she’d been about to say was forgotten. Her heart beat faster and her cheeks glowed. “I must thank you for entertaining the children this morning. I can’t remember the last time I heard them laughing so uproariously.” She pursed her lips and attempted to look fierce. “However, I’m displeased to have been told I had five points deducted from my total when I was not aware I was part of the game.”
His eyes flashed and his lips curved. “I’m afraid, my dear, that I must deduct a further point for your misuse of a needle.”
She couldn’t restrain a bubble of mirth. “It’s the most nonsensical game I’ve ever heard of. Who is the arbitrator? For what are points lost and gained?”
“I’ve no idea. I’ve never played any sort of game before. The children have taken my suggestion and turned it into their own challenge. The rules are simple: points are deducted if you injure yourself or do anything you shouldn’t. I’ve already lost all mine.” He rested his chin on his hands and his eyes twinkled. “In fact, I believe I’ve lost tomorrow’s quota as well.”
“Good heavens! Whatever did you do?”
“I dried myself on my shirt.”
Demelza tingled all over as an image of him half naked popped unbidden into her head. “Oh dear! Such a misdemeanour definitely deserves to have five points deducted from your total.”
His answering smile added to her discomposure. “The children are the best judges of their own misbehaviour. This game should benefit us all.”
Demelza belatedly recalled that he must have come to visit her for a purpose. “Dr. Fairfield, was there something you wish to speak to me about?”
“It seems that I must dine in solitary splendour. I was wondering if I might be permitted to carry you downstairs so all three of us can share our meal.”
She had intended to refuse but said something quite the reverse. “I should like that, sir. I’m already bored from my confinement up here. Serving dinner in one place will make life much easier for the staff as well.”
In one fluid movement he rose, returned the chair and strolled to the open door. “I shall not dress for dinner tonight. In fact, I shall not dress for dinner any night as I do not have my evening rig with me. By the by, I have to go to Plymouth at the end of the week. You and Mrs. Smith must make a list of any purchases you require and I will return with them.”
“Shall you be away for long?” For some reason the thought of his absence depressed her.
“A week at the most, hopefully less than that. I shall leave you to your sewing, Miss Tregorran, and shall return at five o’clock to collect you.”
With a casual wave he was gone; the room seemed strangely empty afterwards.
Although sewing was usually a favourite pastime she was heartily sick of it. She stretched out and rang the brass bell Martha had left for her use. Eventually Betty puffed in.
“I’m sorry to drag you away from whatever you were doing, but I have an urgent task for you. Somewhere in the back of my closet is my forget-me-not blue muslin. Please have it ready for me to wear tonight.” She ran her fingers through her hair. It felt sticky; high time she washed it. “I wish to wash my hair in my dressing room. Could you ask Mrs. Trewith to send up as much hot water as she can spare?”
“Lawks, miss. You’ll not do that without help with it being so long and all. I’ll do it for you. Then you can sit on the window seat in the sunshine and I reckon it’ll be dry in no time.”
Good heavens, even Betty is giving me instructions now.
This was a new experience for her, but not an unpleasant one. She’d had sole charge of the household for so long and had constantly worried about making ends meet. Finally, she could relax and pretend she was a lady of leisure. Sometimes she felt old beyond her years, nearer his age than her own of just two and twenty.
Martha arrived promptly at five o’clock wearing the same plain grey cotton dress. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am we are not going to have dress formally in the evenings. I have no time for such nonsense.” She smiled at Demelza. “My dear girl, you look quite beautiful. You should wear a pretty gown and put your hair up more often.”
“Thank you, I think. I’m always so busy I’ve never have time to worry about my appearance. I think I might enjoy acting the part of a young lady of means for a while.” She shook out the folds of her skirt and smiled ruefully at her bare toes. “I considered wearing stockings, but I only have two pairs without holes and don’t intend to spoil either of them.”
“Not to worry, your foot will be much better without the constriction. Do you know Molly has been banging about in a frenzy all afternoon? I hope she’s up to the task of cooking for so many.”
“She used to cook at The Green Man when Old Jenny owned it. I’m sure running my kitchen will be simplicity itself after that.” Demelza glanced down at the revealing neckline of her gown. “I feel quite naked with so much of me on show, but this is the only ensemble I’ve got that’s suitable. Whenever we used the dining room, Mama insisted we changed into our Sunday best.”
“My dear, that’s positively modest compared with some I’ve seen. I must say the dining room looks splendid. I took the liberty of picking flowers for the silver epergne. That magnificent table just cried out for a centrepiece.”
Their conversation was cut short by the arrival of Dr. Fairfield. He paused, filling the doorway, and his eyes darkened. Then he bowed and smiled, at his most charming, and she thought she’d imagined the strange expression. She was relieved to see he’d done no more than brush his hair and put on a fresh cravat.
“Miss Tregorran, I see that you’re ready. Shall we go down?”
Now the time had come to be carried, Demelza wished she had refused. As he bent to slip his arm under her knees, she inhaled his scent — a mix of lemon soap and salt. Reluctantly, she threaded her arm around his neck and her fingers brushed his thick hair as she did so. A strange sensation rippled through her and she pressed her burning cheek into his collar.
Martha trotted along beside them, making sure no liberties were taken. Demelza was carried through the house to the freshly polished dining room and gently placed on a waiting chair. It took her a moment to recover her composure. She looked around with delight. “Oh, what a transformation a bit of beeswax and some flowers can make to a room. I can’t remember the last time this chamber looked so pleasing.” She carefully avoided making eye contact with Dr. Fairfield.
“Tregorran is a beautiful building, my dear. High time your home was brought back to life.”
Chairs scraped as Martha and Dr. Fairfield sat down. “Tomorrow I intend to start repairing the roof. It took me the whole of today to gather the materials and assistance I shall need.”
Demelza risked a glance in his direction. “There’s no need for you to do that, sir…”
“I hate to contradict a lady, but there’s every need. Another storm like the one we had the other night and you might well lose a couple of ceilings.”
“But you’re a paying guest. I intend to use some of your rent to employ local men to do the repairs. I can’t allow you to put yourself out in this way.”
“Nonsense. I have grown bored with painting and sketching and can’t wait to do something useful. You’ll be doing me a favour, Miss Tregorran.”
She was about to protest again when Martha interrupted her. “I take it roof mending is another of your many skills, sir? How is it that you have been a physician, a soldier and also worked as a labourer?”
The question hung in the air. His eyes narrowed with annoyance and Demelza braced herself. “I should tell you to mind your own business, madam, but that would be uncivil, would it not?”
Even the redoubtable Martha looked uncomfortable as he pinned her with his icy stare.
“However, I can see I shall have no peace until you are both fully cognizant of my situation. I was a medic in Wellington’s army until my brother and his entire family died in a house fire.”
His throat convulsed and tears glittered in his eyes. He recovered immediately and continued, his voice commendably steady. “I was forced to resign my commission and return to sort matters out. My family home is a blackened ruin. Those that I loved have been torn from this world. I cannot bear to be at my ancestral home so here I am, pretending to be an artist.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss. Please feel free to mend anything you like if it helps you deal with your grief. You are welcome to stay here as long as you wish.”
His lopsided smile made her heart somersault. “I thank you, Miss Tregorran. I had feared you might send me packing after this afternoon’s incident.”
“I did consider it, but decided to be practical.”
Martha dabbed her eyes with the corner of her napkin. “Might I enquire why you are travelling as plain Mr. Fairfield?”
He shrugged. “That life is over. I must eventually assume my responsibilities and return to Hertfordshire. I have a competent estate manager taking care of things in my absence, but I cannot remain away indefinitely. The house will have to be rebuilt, architects employed…that’s not something I can leave to anyone else.”
“Shall we refer to you as Dr. Fairfield or Mr. Fairfield in future?”
“You must suit yourself, Mrs. Smith, it’s a matter of indifference to me. Ah — is that the sound of food arriving?”
“We are having crab patties, tarragon sauce and fresh cooked prawns. Strawberries and cream will follow,” Martha informed them as Josie and Betty came in with steaming tureens. Molly, who was, for the present, both housekeeper and cook, trotted in behind to ensure the girls served correctly.
Dr. Fairfield smiled at Molly. “This looks and smells delicious.”
“They’ll be back with the taties, spinach and carrots. There’s fresh bread and butter to mop up the sauce. The cider’s good and cold; Jethro hung the jug in the well for an hour or two.” Demelza hid her amusement as her guests exchanged glances. Molly did take a deal of getting used to. Soon the table was crammed with dishes.
“That looks absolutely splendid. As we are dining informally, shall we help ourselves?” Martha enquired. Demelza nodded and reached out with the serving spoon but her hand collided with his. The spoon dropped into the dish of vegetables, scattering carrots across the table.
Laughing, Lucas retrieved the spoon and scooped up the debris. “I beg your pardon. Allow me to serve you without throwing the food all over the place.”
“Thank you, but you can hav
e those that were on the table. I fear they’ll taste of polish.”
“I shall dish up, Demelza. I don’t wish to have my meal scattered before I eat it.”
Several helpings later Lucas finally pushed away his plate with a groan. “I can eat no more. I don’t think I’ve eaten better anywhere in the world.”
Suddenly, Martha clapped her hand to her mouth. “Crab meat obviously disagrees with me. Excuse me — ”
She ran from the room, leaving them alone. Demelza dropped her cutlery and prepared to follow.
He reached out and touched her hand. “No, sweetheart. Mrs. Smith does not require you. A bilious attack is best dealt with alone. Don’t look so worried; I shall go up in a while and check she’s not in any serious distress.”
“If you’re sure, then I shall remain here.” His smile sent her pulse racing. She leant forward to recover her dropped napkin. Instantly his eyes darkened and a hectic flush appeared along his cheekbones. She sat back sharply. She knew that expression; he was reacting to her low-cut gown.
Her cheeks were as red as his. He slammed back his chair and grabbed the empty cider jug. “I need another drink. I’ll fetch some from the pantry.”
The kitchen was deserted. A tray with three bowls of plump red strawberries and a small pitcher of cream was waiting to be carried through to the dining room. The pantry was cool and he leant his face against the wall, taking several deep breaths to steady himself. Whenever he was in close proximity, he wanted to make love to her, hold her in his arms and kiss her lips. He must get hold of his emotions. In a few weeks he would be gone and he had no intention of causing hurt to this innocent Cornish girl.
The dining room was far too stuffy and she needed to chill her burning cheeks outside. Using the furniture to lean on, she hobbled outside onto the terrace. Childish shrieks of laughter disturbed the night. The children were returning from the beach, where they had gone with Josie as a treat before bedtime. She wished she could go and meet them. The less time she spent alone with her guest, the better it would be for both of them.
A Cornish Maid Page 4