Kerensa’s hopes of an intimate family breakfast had been crushed. Oliver had risen before first light, declaring he had important business and would go straightway to Ker-an-Mor Farm and eat with the estate steward, Matthias Renfree. Luke bolted down his food, stating impatiently that he had no time to linger and answer more questions; apparently it was a matter of some urgency for him to see Jack and Mrs Rosevear settled into their cottage. Hearing her father was abroad, Kelynen immediately took off after him, rebelliously refusing to eat a morsel. Cordelia, uncommonly in a strop, had asked Esther King to take her breakfast up to the nursery, where she would eat with Samuel. Kerensa knew this was Luke’s doing. He had only given her passing attention since his return, even pushing her arm away when she sought to link it through his. Kerensa hoped Cordelia’s infatuation for Luke had not turned into something stronger. She had felt she had no other choice but to allow Cordelia to monopolize Samuel all day.
If everyone else was so intent on their own agenda then perhaps she should take Beatrice’s advice, even if Oliver did not approve, and think more about herself and not place all her hopes and dreams in others.
‘Mornin’ m’lady,’ Ben Penberthy, Kane’s amiable foreman, stocky and dark in the typical Cornish build, appeared from an outbuilding and took charge of her chestnut thoroughbred. ‘Cap’n and missus ’ave just gone out ridin’, lookin’ over the livestock.’
Kerensa was disappointed and kept a hand on Kernick’s bridle. ‘Have they taken the baby with them, Ben?’ Jessica’s marriage into the gentry had given her no pretensions and she usually took Harry with her everywhere, tied to her body with a shawl.
‘Not this time, m’lady. Young Master Harry’s tucked up in his cradle.’ Ben was all grins. ‘Got someone special watching over un t’ day.’
‘Oh? Someone I know?’
‘Aye, missus wouldn’t leave un with just anybody.’ Ben seemed intent on keeping his secret and, happy at not having a wasted journey, Kerensa left him to his private amusement.
Kerensa let herself in through the front door, tossing her feathered hat and kid gloves on the side table in the passage. Where was this someone special? She made quiet investigation. There was no one in the pleasantly furnished parlour or dining room, or Jessica’s cluttered sitting room or Kane’s spacious den. All the windows were open and Kerensa was heedful to close each door carefully to prevent a sudden bang and awakening Harry. The kitchen staff were busy baking bread and pies, and after bidding a friendly good morning to the cook and housemaids, red-faced and respectful in the heat, she withdrew and crept up the stairs.
The first floor of the house seemed to be slumbering in peace. The door to Harry’s nursery was ajar, and mesmerized by the calm, Kerensa peeped through the space and listened. She could see her grandson’s fair silky hair above the light covers, the gentle rise and fall of his sturdy little body as he slept soundly. Harry’s watcher must be silently about her work, perhaps folding linen.
Kerensa called out softly, ‘Hello, it’s Harry’s grandmother. Can I came in?’
There came a careful tread from within the room and the door was opened wide. Illuminated in the delicate golden light streaming in through the lace-curtained window panes, a figure appeared. Tall, fair, blue-eyed, tanned, handsome. Smiling beguilingly.
‘Clem!’ she gasped, a hand automatically stretching out towards him. ‘You’re Harry’s watcher.’
‘Kerensa,’ he said. Just her name. He looked her over, looked into her, drank her in, breathed her into the substance of him, where she would always be. Could a woman become ever more beautiful? Grow more vital, youthful and divine with each passing year?
He claimed a hold over her reaching hand. Tenderly, he kissed her cheek.
‘My dear Clem, you look so well.’
‘And you, my precious love, look so beautiful.’
‘I can’t believe you’re actually here.’
‘Nor I you. I’ve dreamt of this moment, hoping and praying that when I saw you again we’d be alone. Two years is too long, far too long, to go without the sight of you and the sound of your voice.’
‘I’ve missed you, Clem.’
‘Life’s been empty without you, Kerensa.’
They could share sentiments like this, connected in the special bond of their old love.
To Clem, it was no liberty to place a delicate touch on her face. He did not have to tell her he loved her, and to his everlasting joy he was confident the love she had said she would always keep for him was still there.
He led her to the cradle. ‘Come, let us look at our grandchild.’
They knelt side by side and gazed down at the sleeping baby. Kerensa ran a finger along Harry’s brow. Strong, fair features were already set in the tiny contented face. ‘Isn’t he just gorgeous? And so much like you. We never thought we’d have a grandchild together, Clem.’
‘He’s got my blood in him, Kerensa. Your soul.’ Clem placed a loving hand on Harry, as if blessing him. ‘He’s the most precious child in all the world.’
‘Yes, he is.’
She looked into Clem’s face. Clem’s gaze came round to her. He was precious to her too. Her first love.
‘I’m so glad you’re here, Clem. Stay as long as you can in Mount’s Bay.’
Seven
Alicia Rosevear was sitting on a weathered bench in the apple orchard, which had become her favourite place. On every day she came here, she formed silent prayers for Lord Alexander Longbourne’s soul, ending by gazing down at the private memorial she had made to him, a small mound of stones arranged in a circle, symbolizing the eternal circle of their love.
In an effort not to weep, she talked to him in her heart. Please, beloved, don’t mind too much that I married Jack. I had to do it for the sake of our baby.
Alex’s excesses and gambling debts had cost him his life, leaving her alone to care for their child. Thank God, he had formed a friendship with Luke Pengarron. The two young men had found much in common, seeking pleasure at a furious rate, scorning anything considered commendable, right and proper. Alex, boyishly handsome, well set and starry-eyed, had thought he could indulge in wantonness forever, but Luke, thank God again, was something of a realist, admitting that his escape from conformity and duty was for a limited time only. And Luke, so she had thought, dreamed of something unobtainable, something he accepted, although not with good grace. And for Luke’s own good there had been Jack. Quiet, dependable Jack.
It had been with much silly amusement that Alex had mimicked Jack’s Cornish accent. Alicia had found it soothing, she had admired his honest, simple statements and innocent outlook. Alex had belittled his stern expressions and tut-tuttings. On more than one occasion Alex had fallen down drunk on their bed, declaring, ‘Did you see his face, Phia? How does Luke stand it? Bet the poor fellow will get a good few Bible verses muttered down his ear tonight.’ It was Alex who had brought Jack’s keenness on her to her attention – something she had not minded. Alex had held no concerns over Jack passing away many long hours with her while she’d waited for him and Luke to return from the gaming clubs.
Alicia was four months pregnant and beginning to show. It was assumed their marriage had taken place before the baby’s conception. This pleased her, for Jack’s sake, and she could think of no one better as substitute father and protector for her baby. Dear, kind Jack, now he was home and settled, he was expressing an interest in the baby. Unfortunately, so was the hideous crone that Luke and his family and Jack were so fond of; the disgustingly smelly individual who referred to her as Mrs Jack and looked her up and down as if she was a creature unknown to God or science. The old servant was proclaimed to be an expert on childbearing and had announced the baby would be a ‘cheeil’. Alicia hoped she was correct and it would prove to be a girl, inheriting none of her beloved Alex’s weaknesses.
Last night, after waking screaming from another nightmare of the fire and Alex’s gruesome death, she had lain in the comfort of Jack’s arms, in the doub
le bed that Luke had procured for them.
‘I’m sorry, Jack. I keep you awake every night and you have to start your work so early in the mornings.’
‘I don’t mind,’ he had replied softly. ‘Do you want a drink of water? Or a drop of Beatrice’s camomile tea? ’Tis soothing.’
‘I just want to stay awake, Jack.’
‘There’s no need to be frightened any more, Alicia.’
‘I can’t help it. I fear for my life, and yours and Luke’s, and I’m so afraid for my child. Its existence could be used as a ransom to call in Alex’s debts. It’s unlikely his younger brother, the new Lord Longbourne, would pay, but if he did and he were to demand Alex’s child in return, I couldn’t bear it. Or as a warning to others, the Society might kill the child.’
‘Nothing like that’s going to happen, Alicia, believe me. Have faith.’ He had rubbed her arm, and she knew he would like to have turned the affection into something else.
‘You’re so good to me, Jack.’ In the candlelight, lit to help chase away her terrors, his eyes were warm and caring. ‘I’ve not been a wife to you at all. I don’t cook your meals or do anything for you. And you’ve been patient with me – you know what I mean.’
‘I’m happy to wait as long as you want. You’re still grieving for Lord Alex.’
‘I’m grateful for your compassion. You deserve more than I can give you.’
Jack had cleared his throat, but even so his voice had come husky and a little shy. ‘I’ll be happy for the rest of my life if you give me no more than you already do.’ He had kissed her cheek then and ventured a soft kiss on her lips. Then retreated.
Remembering Alex’s perfect, long, deep kisses, she was caught unawares by grief again and sobbed throughout the rest of the night.
As she sat in the privacy of the apple trees, she felt guilty about denying Jack his right to the fullest use of the marriage bed. She had lost so much, escaped so much, and gained so much, in having a wealthy protector and an understanding husband.
She forbade a further time of weeping by reflecting on everything she had learned and witnessed in the last few days.
Luke couldn’t have brought her to a better place. The Pengarrons had been kind to her, although Sir Oliver seemed rather aloof. Alicia felt he neither liked nor trusted her, and he had made it clear to Jack that he suspected he and Luke were lying about their London venture; Alicia had supposedly been a governess to a family visiting the capital. If a certain name – Trenchard – was mentioned, she noticed Sir Oliver became scornful, unpleasant even, and her ladyship appeared to become impatient with him. She must ask Jack what was behind this. She did not want to make an indiscretion.
The servants were friendly, not pressing her for information after she had lightly warded off their first curious attempts, but she could hardly make out a word they said. Their dialect, especially the hideous old woman’s, was less distinct than even the broadest cockney she had heard. She was bemused at the close-knit community she now found herself in, but it worried her that the anonymity she had taken for granted in London, unless in the social sense, was almost entirely lacking. The Cornish were a superstitious race and employed all manner of odd sayings and practices to ward off bad luck, poverty and divine judgement. No matter, she didn’t intend to mix with them beyond the daily excursion to the kitchens with Jack to eat a cooked meal and collect fresh food for the remainder of the day.
She missed the noise and bustle of the city. It was strange to notice the weather conditions every day, and although she found the wide expanse of the sea awesome with its changing colours and constant movement, the mist that sometimes came suddenly rolling in off it was somehow frightening. The smoke and fog of London had given only nuisance value, it had never seemed alive and threatening.
She shook herself out of getting fanciful like the locals, and she tried to laugh at herself for believing the claim of the charlatan actress back in the capital: three, strangely connected, would die. She, Jack and Luke were safe. She placed a hand over her stomach where her precious baby was growing. Safe and protected.
Her new home, although small and ill-equipped, was welcomingly secluded from the great house and its everyday business. Luke had been the first through the front door on the morning after their arrival at Pengarron Manor.
‘You don’t hate it, do you? I know it’s only a tiny cottage but it’s thoroughly waterproof, quite warm in winter, isn’t it, Jack? And every room has a fireplace, hasn’t it, Jack?’ Luke had fastened an anxious expression on her as she had gazed about the one and only living room of Jack’s home. A short time earlier she had succumbed to a fierce bout of morning sickness, and although a little rested after a night in a proper bed with clean linen and feeling more secure, she had been glad to sit down on one of the oddments that made up a trio of chairs. She had worn a cotton day dress of a delicate floral pattern, donated by Lady Pengarron, a pretty affair but very ordinary compared to what she was used to.
Before she could reply, Luke had prattled on, ‘The manor’s attics are full of furnishings, all good stuff. I’ll have some sent round. Or you and Jack can climb up there yourselves and choose anything that takes your fancy. I’ll arrange for it to be sent round immediately. Or I can buy new, as much as you want. Absolutely anything, just say. What’s in the other room, Jack?’
‘The kitchen, but I’ve always eaten with Esther and Ruth, so I use it to store a few belongings in,’ Jack had said, smiling at her in a way that sought her approval. ‘I’ll move it all out today, turn the room into a little parlour for you, Alicia.’
‘That is good of you. Thank you, Jack.’ To her relief, at Luke’s insistence Jack was not to return to work for two or three days, until his hands were quite healed. Sir Oliver had agreed to this, on the proviso Jack oversaw the stables twice a day. Jack was home, with time on his hands and, he had told her emphatically, he wasn’t about to fritter it away as he’d done in London.
‘Good,’ Luke said. ‘You see, Alicia, there will definitely be no skivvying for you. I’m afraid you’ll have to do without a maid. That would raise too many eyebrows, eh, Jack?’
‘Yes, Luke. I’m sorry, Alicia.’
‘Don’t be sorry. I can’t forget that I lost my maid in the fire, and I’ve managed without one before. In fact, I’ve had to attend to many of the duties of a servant. My father had a little land near Alex’s estate, but there were no comforts in the house.’
‘My dear Alicia,’ Luke was suddenly all sympathy, ‘I’ve never really thought about your family. Where are your relatives? Would the Society know of their existence?’
‘My father was all I ever had. I changed my name after I left home to protect his honour. He died two years ago. I thought it best that I be thought to be dead too; his small means went to the poor of the parish.’
‘I’m sorry you have no one, but in the circumstances it’s not such a bad thing, if you understand my meaning,’ Luke reflected grimly.
‘I do,’ Alicia said. ‘This cottage is limited but I’m sure, thanks to the manor’s servants, it’s clean and comfortable. I have observed the esteem with which Jack is served here. But Luke, you mustn’t do too much for us, surely so much patronage will bring unwarranted attention.’
‘I promised Alexander I’d look after you,’ Luke returned, as if that was the end of the discussion.
‘I did too,’ added Jack quickly, and Alicia knew her husband was thinking that here, in his own home, he should be in charge of the proceedings.
‘What are you saying?’ Luke had glared at Jack. ‘That you don’t want my help, that this is how Alicia should live from now on?’
‘No, of course not,’ Jack replied mildly. Alicia had grasped that he had learned long ago to ignore Luke’s prickly nature, which weeded out criticism where there was none. ‘Alicia deserves and’ll get everything she needs. What I meant is we’ll have to make another cover story as to why she’s getting it. I am but a groom, with small savings. If you provide all that
you plan, questions will surely be asked.’
‘Simple. Did you not save my life?’
‘No, Luke. You saved mine.’
‘Don’t split hairs, man! We’ll put the story about that you saved my life in the fire, of course I’d be generous. Anyway, you saved me from many an undesirable situation, especially in the case of Sir Decimus Soames. That monster would’ve… well, you know his tastes, then after the perversion, a spot of torture.’
‘We don’t need reminding,’ Jack said sternly, glancing at Alicia. She had looked back at him with a perfectly straight face, then had given him a small smile of encouragement.
‘Oh, so it’s back to total sobriety, is it?’ Luke playfully cuffed Jack’s upper arm. ‘The juice of the vine is no longer to pass your lips and the unmentionable must not be mentioned. Don’t be such an old maid! Alicia knows what’s what, don’t you, my dear?’
Alicia watched as Jack turned pale and became quiet. She knew he did not wish to be reminded that she had been another man’s mistress.
‘You must not tease Jack, he does not deserve it,’ Alicia reproached her benefactor. Then fear had returned as a companion, making her glance all around, as if Sir Decimus Soames, the acknowledged head of the shadowy Society, a ruthless, violent man, who must have ordered Alex’s assassination, might have spies in the place. ‘Jack’s right, I’ve left my old life behind and it must never be mentioned again. All our lives may depend on it.’
Pengarron Dynasty Page 5