“We’ve been so busy at the estate since my sister sent me the loan, and it was more than I asked for.” His tone grew serious again. “I’ve also hired more men to re-dig the shaft at Wheal Marya, to see if there is a new vein of tin. The mine is being shored up for better safety.”
“I pray that you find the tin. Your sister is a generous woman I quite like.”
A gust of wind sprinkled their faces with raindrops.
“She likes you as well.” He squeezed her hand. “She encourages our relationship.”
As his mistress! “She doesn’t feel shamed that her brother is cavorting with a common woman?” she said with a humorous air, though her sadness lurked beneath the surface.
She glanced away from him and stared at the lights of Truro that twinkled like stars up ahead.
“You’ll find Lucinda is a selfless person when it comes to me. She only wants my happiness.” He leaned into her and kissed her cheek. “And there is nothing common about you, my dear. You’ve given me a most special kind of love.”
Footsteps sounded, and a figure lurched into their path. “Got what you wanted, didn’t you, sir?” Chenery’s voice grumbled from the shadows.
Jenna stifled a gasp, more of exasperation than fright.
“I did what needed to be done.” Branek raised the lantern to glow on the man’s face. “And if you had any conscience, you’d understand that.”
Chenery squinted. “Well, like you, sir, a man has to get by.” He backed a step out of the light. “But I see I were right about you an’ her. The two of you wanted Mrs. Pentreath dead so you could carry on.” His words slurred; he sounded drunk.
“I hardly knew Mr. Pentreath when his wife died.” Jenna made a futile attempt to defend herself. The little weasel wouldn’t care about the truth.
“Go home, Chenery. A more trustworthy constable is looking into things now. Don’t try to create more mischief. You’ll rue it.” Branek waved the lantern to the side to indicate the man should leave. The light caught on the sparkles of drizzle.
Jenna pulled her cloak hood up and closer around her in the frigid air. The wind swept around her face, the sprinkle dampening her cheeks as her hat rustled.
“I don’t take orders from you.” Chenery staggered back into the lantern light. “I’ll go where I please, won’t I?”
“Have a care, you rascal. Move aside so we may pass.” Branek started forward, his face stern, his arm slipping around her. “Good night, and mind your conduct.”
Chenery snorted. “You off in a hurry to bed your whore?”
Branek handed her the lantern in a quick jerk. He grabbed the little man by his coat collar and punched him in the face.
Chenery sprawled in the dirt with a yelp. He touched his mouth where blood seeped out, and rubbed his long nose. His wig had plopped beside him, along with his fantail hat. His wispy hair stood on end.
“You will never insult Mrs. Rosedew in any manner again. I’ve pressed charges against you for taking bribes, and I’ve written a detailed complaint to the sheriff, with a copy to the magistrate.” Branek loomed over the prone man, who stayed where he was, head down.
“I always thought this wig needed a good scrub.” Jenna snatched the item up, ran back a few steps and threw the cheap horsehair into the river where it splashed. It was a childish act, but she couldn’t help herself after enduring Chenery’s harassment.
She swelled with pride that Branek had defended her, and had given the ex-constable his comeuppance. Then her shoulders drooped over how many other abusers he might have to fight to defend the honor she no longer possessed.
“If you don’t want to end up alongside your wig, I suggest you leave my sight immediately,” Branek warned, arm raised.
Chenery crawled to his feet, turned and shuffled into the darkness.
“I hope that’s good riddance.” Branek shook his hand, then inspected his fingers. “I think I slashed my knuckle on his jagged teeth.”
Jenna examined his knuckle where a spot of blood formed. “We’ll hurry to my shop where I will take perfect care of you.” She kissed his finger as heavier raindrops fell on her hat and shoulders. “An’ more than that if you’re good.”
* * *
Branek swiped dust from his breeches as he entered his house the following day, through the kitchen and into the corridor. Mrs. Sandrey drifted forward and took his coat. “At the mine again, sir? I trust it all goes well.”
“Quite well, so far. The old parts of the mine are dug out and reinforced and they’re digging the new shaft. Is Will about?” he asked casually, though he’d stewed over this during most of the ride from Poldice Valley. Will had returned late last night and Branek needed to confront his estate manager. Hopefully it would come to naught. Constable Sholl was poking around and Branek endured the continued rehash of his wife’s painful death. He’d spoken to the man at Odgers’ residence. The investigator would be here tomorrow to question the servants.
“He’s in the office, sir. Would you like me to bring you some mulled ale?”
“Yes, bring some for both of us, thank you.” Branek hurried upstairs and washed his hands and face at his ewer. He changed into fresh clothes and returned downstairs.
When Branek entered the office, Will sat in the corner, bent over his desk. A friend who had been steady in his life for as long as he could remember.
“Welcome back. How is your mother-in-law?” Branek asked as he approached. His mouth felt dry as cotton.
“She’s improving. Anne and the children are staying with her a little longer.” Will turned and leaned back in the chair. His easy smile lit up his now thinner face; his blond bushy hair, as usual, tried to break free of its queue.
“I’m glad to hear it.” Branek stepped closer, hands gripped behind his back. “I hope your son is recovering from his fever as well.”
“He has, and is already running about as if nothing had happened.”
“Good, very good.” Branek rubbed the side of his neck. “How are the accounts this month?”
“I have fortunate news. Mr. Windle brought over his first payment for the land purchase.” Will stood and scratched at his hair. “He said his wife insisted that he no longer honor your agreement, but Windle was adamant to go through with it.”
“And why did Mrs. Windle want him to withdraw from the agreement?” Branek suspected the answer.
Will half-shrugged, his gaze growing reticent. “He said his wife is upset by the rumors of your—connection with Mrs. Rosedew.”
“Ah, now I see. His wife’s disapproval has spurred him into action.” Branek massaged a tense muscle in his shoulder. This unexpected subject distracted him from his true purpose.
“He does not fault you. He even winked to me about it, if you pardon my boldness.”
“I’m certain there are many winks as well as disapprovals in the community.” Branek experienced a stab of guilt over lowering Jenna to such ridicule. She didn’t deserve it. He must rectify that, though he couldn’t promise her anything while the ghost of Sophie’s murder still lingered in this house.
“Not from me. I mean, I don’t disapprove. She’s a good woman. I’m certain you’ll make a suitable marriage later.” Will turned to the account books. “With Lady Nancarrow’s loan and this payment, the guarantee of increased wool production, matters are looking better, but we must still watch our spending.”
How possessive that sounded. Will had quite the stake in this estate.
“I’ve always been a frugal man. However, I plan to send money to Lew Polwin’s wife.” Branek leaned back on the edge of his desk, contemplating his next words. His stomach tightened.
Mrs. Sandrey hurried in with two pewter tankards. The spiced smell filled the room. “Here you are, sir. Mulled ale to warm you up.” Her colorless lips smiled under her snub nose.
“Thank you. That will be all, Mrs. Sandrey.” Branek took both tankards. He handed one to Will. The housekeeper bobbed her head and left.
Branek drank, s
avoring the taste of cloves, ginger and apples mixed with the heated ale. The liquid failed to unknot his gut. He needed to just get this over with. “Will, did my wife threaten to discharge you?”
Will started and blinked, then fingered his tankard. “Where did you hear that?” He stared into the ale. “She did, once. I didn’t take it seriously, sir.”
Branek might have left it at that—how he longed to vindicate his friend—except for the slight tremor in his estate manager’s hand.
“Didn’t you?” He half finished his drink and set the tankard on his desk. The contents churned inside him. “You weren’t angry over it? You never came to tell me.”
“I didn’t wish to trouble you. You dealt with enough from….” He glanced up. “I won’t be insulting and say anymore.”
“About what? What more is there to say about my wife and our ill-fated relationship?” Branek gripped his desk edge. “You must have kept much from me in your dealings with her.”
“I wanted to protect your peace of mind.” Will swirled the liquid in his tankard.
“You’ve always had my best interests at heart, haven’t you?” Branek stretched his rigid shoulders, but the tension remained. He had recalled an incident from his childhood after his run-in with Chenery. It had niggled at him all night. “Remember when we were boys and we had visitors, friends of my parents, with their nasty son Phillip?”
Will seemed to force a smile on his face; a visage that appeared wan with strain. “Yes. He was a horrid blob of bother.”
“He was two years older than me, and much heavier. He taunted me until I challenged him to a fist fight in the stable yard.” Branek struggled to keep his voice thoughtful. “I think I was twelve.”
“True, and I ten. The varmint had rocks in his fists.” Will shook his head in dismay. “Not at all a fair fight.”
Branek rubbed along his cheeks as if he felt the pain again. “He quite clobbered me. Until you pulled him off. Do you remember what happened next?”
Will glanced away. “I thrashed him. He deserved it.”
“You beat him with a rake.” Branek scrutinized the other man, his heartbeat picking up. “I had to stop you from practically killing him.”
“We were children. Matters got out of hand.” Will’s voice rose in pitch. He drank slowly from his mulled ale. “I was furious that he’d hurt you.”
“Did you ever feel that way about Sophie?” The softly spoken words hung in the air like a bad smell.
Will stared off for a moment then set down his tankard. More silence lingered. “Not at first. I always hoped you’d get your heir and she would turn sweeter with motherhood.”
Branek shifted against the desk. “But that never happened.”
Will traced his finger under his chin. “No, regrettably, it didn’t.”
Branek found it significant that Will didn’t seem suspicious of this questioning. A chill rippled through him. He had to know, but loathed to condemn his comrade. “You did take her threat to discharge you seriously, didn’t you?”
“I knew you wouldn’t have allowed such a thing. I told her that.” Will hunched his shoulders as if he grew smaller, folding into himself. “I asked her to be kinder toward you, more than once. She resented my interference. She said—she insisted she’d tell you that I’d stolen money from your accounts.”
“I would never have believed her.” Branek’s throat constricted at the outcome he dreaded. How could this have happened right under his nose? “You should have discussed these issues with me!”
“Everyone, especially you, had suffered so much. It shouldn’t have been that way.” Will’s eyes clouded with torment. “But there was more.” He groaned. “After I insisted, one last time, that compassion toward you would make her happier, she said she’d never find happiness because you refused to follow the strict teachings of the Bible. She felt your soul was in peril. She planned to admonish you before the congregation, to damage your reputation, if you didn’t repent.”
Branek raked his fingers through his hair. “I might have stopped her from such actions.” Such vindictiveness from his wife stunned him. He didn’t know if he could have stopped her. He straightened, his pulse a hammer inside his chest. “So did you decide to take care of the situation?” He said it so gently, he wasn’t certain if Will had heard him.
“Damme, I couldn’t take any chances she’d carry out either of her threats, it would ruin us both. She always destroyed everything around here. She never cared about anyone’s opinion or welfare, unless it came to the church.” Will stared at him, his eyes wide with misery, his hands fisted. “You know that was true.”
Branek breathed slowly. His brain clogged with fear, remorse. “Did you poison her with the arsenic brought here for the rats?”
Will slumped, shaking his head again; several bushy curls sprang loose from his queue. “I’ve barely eaten or slept since it happened,” his reply rasped out.
“Then redeem yourself and tell me the truth, Will,” Branek whispered, a sour taste in his mouth, his jaw so tight he thought his teeth might crack.
“I was furious and gave her a…a large dose in her tea, to silence her sharp tongue.” He gasped for air, his eyes pouched. “But she hung on in sickness. I had to give her another dose, in her medicine—then another. I wanted it to end!” Will’s shoulders trembled, his voice a pathetic whine. “Does it matter now? She was so anxious to reach Heaven, wasn’t she?”
Branek cursed silently then stared out the high windows, his heart a lump quaking in his chest. Should it matter? Could he let it go? But then he and Jenna, and Grace, would continue to live under suspicion. Sophie’s ghost had to be eradicated. “I’m afraid it does matter, my friend.” He felt sick to his stomach, his voice cracking. “You had no right to take an innocent life.”
Will sank into the chair and covered his face with his hands.
Branek pressed his friend’s shoulder as tears blurred his own eyes. “I’m devastated you thought you had to resort to murder.”
Will’s weeping echoed through the chamber.
Chapter Twenty-six
A woman brushed up against Jenna outside the green grocers. Jenna rearranged her sack of potatoes, parsnips and celery, then almost flinched at seeing Delen Drake.
Delen tipped up her face from under her red felt hat. The white feather atop waved in the wind. “I have wanted to speak to you, but didn’t think it appropriate to enter your shop. Do you have a minute?”
“What did you want to speak to me about?” Jenna kept any contempt from her voice. Holding such a grudge was too exhausting, especially now when she was happier than she’d been in years.
“I wanted to give you these.” Delen held out a small velvet box in her dainty gloved hand. “They’re garnet earbobs. They went with the ring and necklace.”
“You told me you had nothing else.” Jenna raised her brows and said it as a slight scold. The air chilling, she moved up against the building on Pydar Street. She put down her sack, took the box and opened it. Two garnet, single-stone earbobs nestled inside.
“I thought I wanted to hold on to something—but I’ve changed my mind. They are rightfully yours.” Delen’s bright red hair ruffling in the breeze, she spoke officiously, as if trying to detach herself from any sentiment. “This is all I have.”
Jenna touched the red stones, relieved she felt nothing but cold jewels beneath her fingers. “Why have you changed your mind? Do you no longer have affection for Lem’s memory?” Her question bordered on sarcastic.
“I do.” Delen stared about at the people on the street. A coach and four thundered past them. Women hurried by with packages, skirts swishing; their feathered and flowered hats bobbed. “But I felt guilty for all that has happened. And things have changed for you. I’ve heard you have your own…clandestine affair.”
Jenna swallowed and met the other woman’s gaze. She wasn’t shocked that the affair was known; many women in the town had given her glaring looks this past week, and the men
a few sly smiles. No doubt Chenery’s doing.
Despite her first fears, her regular customers still patronized her shop, and that was a godsend. So far, her love for Branek kept any misgivings over the ruination of her character in the shadowy corners of her mind. She returned the box. “You keep these jewels, I don’t need them.” She picked up her sack.
“I thought now you might better understand what I experienced.” Delen’s round, white face drooped in a humbling look—like a sagging moon. She rubbed her thumbs over the box lid. “The turmoil I dealt with.”
“No, my experience is far different. There’s no wife involved. I would never sleep with a married man.” Jenna turned to leave, then hesitated. She wondered if she might have bedded Mr. Pentreath while his wintry wife was alive—if she’d known him and he’d admitted his love to her. But Lem had stoked his home fires as well as burned fuel abroad. She shook it off. “’Tis true, one never knows what will happen, or what man might catch their heart.” A man they can never really own. She suppressed a tremor. Maybe they weren’t so different. “I’m no longer angry with you. You enjoy the earbobs.”
Jenna rushed toward St. Nicholas. In her kitchen, she set down her purchases, and poked at her turf and furze to encourage the sullen flames.
The shop door opened and her breath hitched at the thought of Branek. Though clomping footsteps told her it was probably Horace.
“Good day, m’dear.” Horace entered the kitchen, removing his hat. “How is the comely Mrs. Rosedew? The gem of Truro.”
“Enough of your flummery. Save it for Mary. But I’m glad you’re here. I do need to place an order.” She hung her cloak on a peg near the hearth. The turf fire emitted a little more warmth in an earthy aroma.
“I’m always at your service.” He removed his gloves and spread his fingers over the now crackling flames. “I haven’t been about for a week or so. You never said how you’re faring.”
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