Clay Country

by Clay Country (retail) (epub)

  ‘’Tis a good thing you’m still here to back up your Daddy, Sam Tremayne!’ another jeered. ‘When be you finding the clay too heavy for your white hands like the rest of your fine brothers? And your sister, Morwen, visiting us with some fancy officer and acting the real lady—’

  Sam lashed out at him with the back of his hand.

  ‘This here meeting was about bonuses, and ’tis high time it ended and you buggers got back to work. When me and my Daddy start criticising your families, you can do the same about ours. Till then, keep your traps tight shut, or you’ll find my fist in ’em, and I’m not fussy who’s first.’

  ‘Sam’s right,’ one of the older men growled. ‘We’ve no grudge against him and Hal. You young bucks need putting in your places. There’s some here who don’t like to hear Morwen Tremayne spoken of that way neither. She be a fine maid.’

  ‘’Twas a long while since since she were a maid, unless Ben Killigrew’s got nought but string between his legs,’ came the sniggering reply.

  ‘Leave it, Sam!’ Hal rapped out, as his son turned murderous eyes on the taunting kilnworker. ‘We’ve had enough arguments for one morning. Ben will have to sort out the rights and wrongs of the bonuses, and ’tis time to get some order here.’

  ‘I’d prefer to break yon bastard’s head, but I suppose you’re right,’ Sam muttered savagely. He turned to the men and raised his voice above the rumpus.

  ‘Tea-break will be taken now while your tempers cool down, then I want to see all you buggers hard at work for the rest o’ the shift, or I’ll be reporting to Ben Killigrew those who ain’t deserving of any wages at all. Do ’ee all understand me?’

  He gave the tea-break whistle a piercing blow, and the kiddley boys began to scurry about with boiling water and mugs. The unofficial meeting slowly dispersed as the men went back to their own corners of the pit, the bal maidens giggling and chattering at the unexpected lull in the boredom of the shift and the fuss the men made over nothing.

  The men considered it a legitimate grudge, and as ever, were prepared to make a stand for their rights. But they’d had their say, and they knew when it was time to let things simmer. Once the atmosphere was calmer, Sam slammed his father’s hut door shut behind them both and glowered at Hal.

  ‘’Twas a fair compromise, Daddy, but how the devil will ’ee back it up wi’ Ben Killigrew?’

  Hal shrugged. ‘It’s Ben’s problem, not mine. He should make the bonuses fairer anyway, so those who’d get more from the excursions get a bit more than the rest who do nothing. I can see the sense in their argument. Either that or pay no extras at all. I doubt that other pits would be as generous.’

  ‘Ben won’t like having his head held to the wall. He never did.’

  ‘No more do I,’ Hal snapped. ‘But if I was in the clayworkers’ boots, I daresay I’d feel as they do. Don’t ever get so high and mighty that ’ee forget their feelings, Sam.’

  ‘Was I ever so block-headed?’

  Hal grinned. ‘Who said you ever got any different?’

  Sam smiled grudgingly, accepting the jibe.

  ‘All the same, I don’t like ’em leering at our family. There’s no call for it, when they’m not here to defend themselves, and nobody could call our Jack soft for one!’

  ‘Building boats is as honourable a profession as digging clay,’ Hal agreed. ‘I’m ’mazed that they haven’t picked on young Freddie yet, for bein’ at a proper school instead of still being a kiddley boy like most o’ the young uns. As for him goin’ away to London—’

  ‘I doubt that many know of it yet,’ Sam grunted.

  Sam didn’t hold with the idea of Freddie going away to London. Matt had already split the family by going off to America with Jude Pascoe. To Sam, London was no less distant. If you had a horse beneath you, or the inclination for a day’s walk, then Jack was no more than a spit away in Truro, so that was all right. And Morwen was still part of Killigrew Clay, being the boss’s wife.

  They could do nothing about Matt, but the others still had a hold on the old life, and privately Sam thought that his Daddy should put a stop to Freddie’s ambitions before he grew above himself and everybody else.

  * * *

  Freddie buzzed around Morwen as irritatingly as a bee, wanting to know when he could spend a day at Killigrew House. It wasn’t that she didn’t want him there. In fact his presence could usually be relied on to keep her cheerful, and old Charles Killigrew liked a brief visit from the chirpy young Tremayne boy. But now that Morwen shared the secret regarding Captain Peterson, she found herself constantly on edge whenever Freddie badgered her for a visit. But she couldn’t fob him off forever, especially when Bess said pointedly that she hoped Morwen wasn’t getting above herself and not wanting her family at the big house.

  ‘You know it’s not that!’ Morwen said crossly, when she and Bess met for their weekly tea and buns at Fielding’s Tea Rooms. ‘I haven’t had a day lately when it was convenient—’

  ‘Convenient now, is it?’ Bess said tartly. ‘’Tis your little brother you’re speaking of, Morwen, not some posh lord or other.’

  Morwen felt her cheeks burn with colour. Her mother had always had the knack of putting her in her place with the briefest of phrases. She spoke quickly.

  ‘He can come tomorrow. It’s the day for my pianoforte lesson, but he can read to Ben’s father whilst I’m engaged with Mr Glass. Will that suit, Mammie?’

  ‘’Twill suit fine, so long as it suits you,’ Bess said drily.

  ‘Why don’t you come as well? You hardly ever visit us.’

  ‘I’ve my own house to look after, and work to do. I’ve promised a gown for my new client, Miss Wellesly, and I’ve never been late with an order yet.’

  The quiet pride was in her voice, and Morwen felt a rush of love for her mother. She leaned across the table and squeezed her hand.

  ‘I’ll ask Ben if we can have a tea-party soon, and you’ll all come. Once Captain Peterson has gone, and we have the house to ourselves again—’ she stopped, knowing it sounded slightly ludicrous, for in a place the size of Killigrew House, one extra person made as little difference as an extra grain of sand on a beach.

  ‘You don’t like him, do ’ee, Morwen? Our Freddie seems quite struck wi’ him. He’s not been improper towards ’ee, has he?’ Bess lowered her voice, so that the good dames of St Austell town who frequented Fielding’s Tea Rooms shouldn’t overhear.

  Morwen felt the laughter bubbling inside her and blamed it on the tears pricking her eyes as she shook her head.

  ‘Of course not, Mammie! What an idea! You’re imagining things. Don’t forget now, tell Freddie he can come for the day tomorrow, and to slick his hair down before he leaves home!’

  She turned the conversation quickly. The last thing she wanted to do was to dwell on thoughts of Captain Peterson, and she could hardly tell her mother that it was highly unlikely that Captain Peterson would be making advances towards Morwen!

  As she raised her tea-cup to her lips, Morwen realised that she had accepted Ben’s assessment of the man, and wished with all her heart that he would leave Killigrew House soon.

  * * *

  The day of Freddie’s visit was blisteringly hot and still, without a breath of air to relieve the oppressive heat. It was a day for taking a picnic to the shore… Morwen thought longingly of cool salt breezes and the shifting sand beneath her feet, and she and Ben together in an idyllic world of their own…

  ‘Mrs Killigrew, I think we had better play that piece once more, if we are to get it right.’

  Morwen heard the soft, apologetic voice of David Glass, the pianoforte tutor, as if through a cloud of cotton. It was impossibly hard to concentrate today, and she dimly realised that she had played the wrong notes for the third time in the piece of music she was trying to master. She rubbed her damp hands against the thin fabric of her gown.

  ‘Why do you always instruct me as if there are a group of us playing the instrument?’ she sulked at him. ‘�
��Tis not we playing the wrong notes. ’Tis me!’

  ‘I apologise, dear lady. I fear that it’s a habit I’ve developed when I’m teaching younger children. I find it gives them a little more confidence in their ability.’

  ‘Well, it does not give me confidence,’ Morwen said crossly. ‘And it makes me feel even more inadequate to know that you class me with younger children!’

  ‘Oh, my dear Mrs Killigrew, I meant no offence!’ David Glass said in consternation, his pale face flushing. ‘You have improved tremendously, as you well know. Please forgive me if I have upset you unduly!’

  ‘You’ll upset me more if you go on so,’ Morwen found him increasingly irritating in his fatuous attempts to be pleasant. Had he always been this ingratiating? Or was it simply the heat that was trying her patience with him?

  She twirled round on the pianoforte stool.

  ‘I have had enough of this lesson for today, Mr Glass. I know I have not been the best of pupils, but perhaps we shall both be in a better humour when the heat is less bothersome. If you would care to retire to the summerhouse where it is cooler, I will have some lemonade sent out to you.’

  The tutor didn’t hide his relief.

  ‘As you wish, dear lady. I believe I saw your houseguest in the garden earlier. I will join him, if I may.’

  ‘Please do.’ The man was irritating her more than ever. ‘Tell Captain Peterson some refreshment will be forthcoming, if you please.’

  She flounced from the room, annoyed that the tutor seemed to be so well acquainted with the Captain. Everything seemed to annoy her today. She tried to relax, and failed miserably. When David Glass was out of earshot, she made one last private attempt to make the jumbled notes become a melody, and finished by crashing down the lid of the instrument in a fury. She would never be a Jane Askhew, she raged. She would never be a lady…

  She met Freddie in the doorway as he came hurtling down the stairs from his sojourn with Charles Killigrew, tired of acting nursemaid, and eager for more exuberant pursuits. He cannoned into Morwen, who was sorely tempted to box his ears, and restrained herself with an effort, merely shaking him instead.

  ‘Go into the kitchen and ask Cook for some lemonade for the gentlemen,’ she snapped. ‘Mr Glass and Captain Peterson are probably in the summer-house. Take a tray out to them, and try to be still, for heaven’s sake, Freddie. You make my head ache!’

  He turned readily enough, and Morwen thought guiltily what a grouch she was becoming. He was eager enough to please, and it was his treat to be here for the day. She would make it up to him later. She would suggest a ride to the sea. Freddie loved to ride along the water’s edge, with the horse’s hooves sending the salt spray flying into his face… she would just sit in the cool of the drawing-room for a little time, while she let the humiliation of the pianoforte lesson disperse… she would just close her eyes for a moment or two…

  * * *

  A horrendous scream and the sound of splintering glass brought Morwen jumping to her feet, her heart pounding. Dear God, what had happened? Her first thought was that it must be one of the servants, and that Charles Killigrew’s end had come…

  Her brother tore into the room, his eyes wild. Morwen grabbed at his shoulder, shouting at him to know what was wrong.

  ‘What is it, Freddie? Tell me at once! Is someone hurt?’

  He gawped at her, his face as red as beetroots. His mouth trembled, and she could feel him shivering as though he had the ague. He seemed unable to speak. She shook him hard.

  ‘I can’t tell ’ee, our Morwen,’ he gasped out at last. ‘’Tis just like the boys at school were sniggering about—’

  He twisted away from her, darting under her arm and rushing through the house and out of the front door. Morwen raced after him, knowing he couldn’t go tearing about the town like this. People would think he was demented, and he’d probably come to grief beneath the wheels of a vehicle or the flailing hooves of a horse…

  Besides, from his brief intimation, she knew what was amiss. As though she was gifted with old Zillah’s sixth sense, she knew what Freddie must have seen. She wondered why the clarity of it hadn’t been obvious to her before.

  David Glass had been here so often, and each time Neville Peterson had been hovering about. The two men had smiled politely at one another. Several times David Glass had offered the Captain a lift into town in his modest vehicle. Peterson had made friends in St Austell remarkably quickly. Or had it been just one friend? A friend he had met in this very house, under Ben Killigrew’s roof?

  Morwen caught up with Freddie before he reached the front gate, and hauled him back the way he had run. Out of breath herself, she pulled him into the shade of the shrubbery, and slapped his face hard. He was already shocked. She could see it by the dilation of his blue eyes.

  Morwen held Freddie’s arms tightly as though he would take flight at the slightest chance. Indeed, she was certain that he would if she didn’t hold him captive.

  ‘Freddie, listen to me,’ she said, praying that her voice wouldn’t waver. ‘You must tell me what happened to make you scream. You must tell me, Freddie.’

  ‘I can’t tell ’ee, Morwen. ’Tis not for women’s ears.’

  ‘Love, forget that I’m a woman,’ she said gently. ‘Ben would want to know if something has happened at Killigrew House, and since Ben’s not here right now, I’m the one you should tell. Ben will deal with it, but by the time he comes home, you may have forgotten it—’

  ‘No, I won’t.’ Freddie shuddered. ‘I won’t ever forget. It was Captain Peterson and Mr Glass, Morwen. They were in the summer-house – together. They were touching each other – in private places, our Morwen.’ Freddie was scarlet with embarrassment. ‘They were kissing on the mouth. Mr Glass was bent back over the shrubs in the corner and Captain Peterson was whispering things to un. I thought it was a game at first, and I watched, and then I knew it weren’t a game. I dropped the tray and Captain Peterson yelled awful things at me, and I ran off. Don’t make me see him again, Morwen.’

  She folded her arms around him. ‘You won’t ever have to see him again, Freddie,’ she vowed. ‘And neither will I. We’ll go to the stables and get the horses, and we’ll go to the beach right this minute. I’ll leave a message for Ben to meet us there. We’ll tell him together. He’ll know what to do, my lamb.’

  She ached to put things right for him, to make things as they were this morning when he had arrived, young and full of life, before the pain of awareness clouded his whole being. The total loss of innocence, the fear of Colonel Peterson’s savage words.

  God, but she hated that man. If she had the means to strangle him with her bare hands, she would gladly do it now.

  She kept her arm around Freddie as they walked around the house to the stables. She talked soothingly to him all the while, and tried to calm her own jangling nerves.

  An hour later the two of them had ridden for the tenth time along the length of the sandy bay, and Morwen was straining her eyes desperately for the sight of Ben’s horse winding its way down the sandy path towards them. Would he never come? He must have got the message by now.

  He had been due home long ago, and she had instructed the stable-boy to go at once to the housekeeper and deliver Morwen’s words. Ben was to come at once to the bay where she and Freddie were waiting for him, and it was on a matter of great urgency. How could he fail to know it was desperately important?

  He couldn’t fail her now. They had been so much at loggerheads of late, but surely he knew she would never send such a message for a frivolous reason? Had they grown so far apart that he couldn’t sense the panic in it…?

  ‘Here he comes,’ Freddie said suddenly.

  He had grown tired of riding and was disconsolately scratching in the sand with a piece of driftwood. But at the sight of Ben approaching, he jumped to his feet and all the agitation was back in his eyes again.

  ‘Morwen, I’m afraid,’ he stuttered. ‘Supposing he don’t believe me? The Capt
ain be his friend—’

  ‘You must trust Ben, the way you trusted me.’

  She felt the same sense of relief that she always felt when Ben came striding over the firm sand towards her. Ben would put things right, and send Neville Peterson packing for the horrors he had shouted at Freddie.

  ‘What’s happened?’ Ben said at once. ‘I haven’t been inside the house. The stable-boy passed on your message so you’d best tell me at once. I presume it’s not my father, since you chose to meet me here. Is Freddie in disgrace?’

  He couldn’t have said anything worse in his attempt to brighten the two gloomy faces in front of him. Morwen pulled her brother towards her at once and Freddie’s wan face crumpled.

  ‘Ben, you’d best listen to what Freddie has to say,’ she said quickly, but she could feel his shivering again, and wondered if they would get anything coherent out of him. ‘Go on, Freddie. Tell Ben what you saw in the summerhouse.’

  ‘I – I can’t,’ the boy said chokingly.

  Ben’s eyes met Morwen’s above Freddie’s head. He moved forward and drew Freddie away from her, sitting down on the warm sand beside him.

  ‘Freddie, you’re Morwen’s brother, and that makes you part of my family. Anything that hurts you hurts me too, but if you don’t tell me what it is, I can’t put it right. This friend that you speak of – is it Captain Peterson? And if it is, let me tell you at once that he is no true friend of mine, and never has been. I knew him at college, that’s all, and I did not invite him to stay at Killigrew House.’ He avoided looking at Morwen. ‘If Captain Peterson has said anything to upset you, let’s hear it.’

  Freddie looked desperately at Morwen.

  ‘Tell him, Freddie,’ she ordered.

  He took a deep breath, and the words tumbled out. ‘They were kissing, and whispering, and doing… and then he said awful things—’

  ‘All right, boy, don’t worry.’ Ben’s instinct was to pull Freddie into his arms, and yet he knew it was better that he did not. The boy’s nerves were too fragile as yet. Instead he spoke crisply and decisively.