Pengarron Dynasty

by Pengarron Dynasty (retail) (epub)

  He offered her his arm. She thrust hers to jar against his elbow and allowed him to escort her to Mrs Harrt who was surrounded by a gaggle of frivolous gossips. Timothy promptly left her there. He looked a little lost, until Kane suggested he accompany him to join Luke.

  ‘It appears Olivia could well learn to do a little obeying of her husband. Methinks your son-in-law is desirous of fatherhood,’ Lady Rachael observed in her high-pitched voice. The same age as Oliver, she tried, sadly unsuccessfully, to disguise the effect it unfairly made on her gender, with powders, rouge and face patches. Her extravagant gown was too tight at the bodice and the panniers on her waist ridiculously wide.

  Spying the tall, blond farmer who had stood across the church font from Oliver, she was intent on a little mischief.

  ‘My word, what pretty infants over there. Twins! Like two adorable cherubs. I must get Olivia to decorate the ceiling of my bedchamber with their likenesses. Whose are they?’

  ‘You wouldn’t want their likenesses anywhere but in your water closet,’ Oliver observed dryly, while staring at Kerensa for her reaction. He was angered to witness her flinch.

  ‘They’re my half-brother and half-sister and Harry’s uncle and aunt,’ Jessica cut in, looking loyally at John and Flora, who were sitting at a side table, napkins tucked in under their chins, eating morsels of food with delicate manners, their parents in attendance. ‘Harry’s waking up for a feed. I’ll take him along to Beatrice’s room, Mama-in-law. She’s expecting me. Thank you for Harry’s gift, Lady Rachael.’

  ‘Oliver!’ Kerensa rounded on him the instant Jessica left. ‘You’ve upset Jessica. Why must you keep up with these sort of witticisms against the Trenchards? They’re sarcastic and unkind. Clem’s only going to be in the house a little longer.’

  ‘He’s already been here far too long.’

  Kerensa had been careful to give Clem very little attention. Now she looked his way, and it was too bad if Oliver objected. Clem was beside a window and appeared to be discussing the gardens with Catherine. He pointed something out to his children, a kindly, interested husband and parent. Clem had not made a wrong move, said a wrong word all day, while Oliver’s conduct was tiresome. And now he was doing it again, deliberately blocking her view. Exasperated, wishing the day was over, Kerensa pushed on his body, but he stood resolute.

  William Beswetherick watched them, bemused. Rachael was thrilled, her glassy eyes flicking to and from the Pengarrons and Trenchards.

  Of a sudden, Oliver grabbed Kerensa’s arm and then Rachael’s and bowled them along towards the clutch of Trenchards.

  ‘Come along, William,’ he mouthed in a dangerously jaunty manner. ‘Allow me to introduce you to someone you’ll find most interesting.’

  Clem and Catherine rose at once, bowing and curtseying. Setting his jaw, squaring his feet, Clem placed a protective hand on Flora’s chair.

  Uneasy for Clem and his wife, angry at Oliver, peeved with Rachael, for the silly woman’s ploy had worked and might well mean trouble, Kerensa smiled pleasantly at Catherine. She was going to get in the first word. ‘You are enjoying yourselves, I hope. Do say if there’s anything you need for the children, Mrs Trenchard.’

  She studied John and Flora, unsurprised to find that like all Clem’s children they bore his fairness and handsome features. Jessica’s touch of wildness was not evident in the twins, nor Philip’s brawny toughness. They were temperate like David, Philip’s twin, currently upcountry in Yorkshire, preaching on the Methodist circuit. They also had Catherine’s sense of propriety, having stopped eating and eased themselves off their chairs to stand in respectful silence in front of their parents.

  ‘We are content, thank you, my lady,’ Catherine replied politely. Then she looked at Sir Oliver, and waited for him to belittle Clem in front of his friends, for surely this was the reason he had herded them and his wife here. She prayed Clem would not allow Sir Oliver his fun.

  Oliver said in a commanding voice, ‘William, Rachael, this is Clem Trenchard, Harry’s other grandfather, and Mrs Trenchard, his step-grandmother. Trenchard, Mrs Trenchard, allow me to introduce Sir William and Lady Rachael Beswetherick.’

  ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance, Trenchard, Mrs Trenchard,’ William said, true to his sincere nature.

  Clem and Catherine bowed and bobbed to the couple. Rachael took her time savouring Clem’s hard-set face. She knew all about Kerensa’s childhood sweetheart but had always expected him to be typically roughcast, of small intelligence, with a common weathered face. She was taken aback by the frank appraisal from his vibrant blue eyes. He knew Oliver’s game and he knew her own, and he was not about to be made a fool of. For once, brought to embarrassment, she said nothing, merely giving a slightly condescending smile to save face.

  ‘Likewise, Sir William, ma’am,’ Clem said, a shielding hand on a shoulder of each twin. He wished now he had agreed to Rosie’s suggestion, and Catherine’s plea, to allow John and Flora to go to Ker-an-Mor Farm after the church ceremony with Rosie and Matthias, to join their four young children for the celebration there. He’d never come to terms with the fact that Philip and David had been born in this house. He looked only briefly at Kerensa. There would be other times…

  ‘You have business interests hereabouts, Trenchard?’ William enquired, not astute enough to ascertain Clem’s position from the cut of his clothes, tanned skin and heavy, calloused hands.

  Oliver was smiling derisively.

  ‘No, sir,’ Clem replied levelly. ‘Do you know of any I might speculate in?’

  Touché, Oliver allowed him.

  ‘Well, the Roscawen Mine – I am its main owner – is yielding well presently. New investors are always welcome.’

  ‘Trenchard is a yeoman farmer, William. He deals with dirt of a different kind.’ Oliver caught sight of Cordelia walking close by, holding Samuel’s hand. ‘Ah, here comes my baby. Cordelia, my dear, bring Samuel here to me.’

  Cordelia did so, while scanning the crowds for Luke. Oliver swept his son up into his arms. ‘What think you of the latest addition to my family, Trenchard?

  ‘He’s the dead spit of you, Sir Oliver,’ Clem replied, with an expression that told exactly what he thought of the black-haired, robust child.

  ‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ Oliver mocked him. Then he handed Samuel over to Kerensa. ‘Well, my beloved, I think we gentlemen are done with family duties. William, shall we seek out our elder sons?’

  ‘Indeed, yes,’ William rejoined heartily, quite bored.

  Oliver made to walk away, stopped, flashed his white teeth at Clem. ‘Care to join us, Trenchard? Perhaps our children could amuse themselves together on the lawn. I’m sure Miss Cordelia will supervise them. It will allow the ladies time for repose.’

  ‘I would,’ Clem said immediately. He was a guest at the manor today and he wasn’t going to allow Pengarron the joy of him declining his insincere invitation. Not that he had the intention of spending time in the direct company of the man he likened to the hated dark, bastard-crows. Looking at Kerensa, he said in a melodious tone, ‘I understand Jack’s with the young gentlemen. I’m curious to learn something about his bride.’

  Left with the sight of the men’s retreating backs, and relinquishing Samuel again to Cordelia, who, for once, seemed disappointed at the idea, Kerensa prepared, while hiding her reluctance, to entertain Rachael and Catherine. The whole day was becoming increasingly trying, thanks to one member or another of her family or friends.

  Rachael declared she was hungry and Kerensa led the way to the food tables. Catherine admired the enormous bowls of exotic imported fruits, and Kerensa thanked her. Polite, stiff talk.

  Rachael, still thinking about the effect of Clem’s fine blue-eyed penetrating gaze, bit into a peach and piped up, ‘Heavens, Kerensa, now I understand just how distraught you were all that time ago when forced to give up your young farm boy. He’s simply divine, isn’t he? Don’t you keep just a tiny notion for him in your heart?’
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br />   Kerensa shot a look at Catherine, who had whipped her head round at once to do the same to her.

  Ten

  In the scrubbed-down stable yard, Luke and his male entourage were smoking their pipes and taking their snuff. The topic of the summer’s forthcoming country races had been exhausted, the wagers placed, the somewhat ludicrous amounts, encouraged by Luke’s frequent taunts, would be kept secret to the circle. A sense of sloth and dejection had set in, due to Luke’s impatience or indifference of anything anyone else had to say.

  Kane had spoken occasionally to his brother, but receiving no positive response, had decided to confront Luke about his unwillingness to let bygones rest when next they were alone. Sweating under the raw sun, Kane waved away troublesome horse flies. He was chatting to Jack. The smell of horses, leather and fresh manure was overwhelmingly strong in the noses of the two men who usually did not notice it. Jack wished he could strip off his coat and cool down with Alicia in the apple orchard, where she was likely to be.

  ‘So London holds no appeal for a return visit for you, Jack?’

  ‘No, sir. I hope never to leave Mount’s Bay again, nor the estate come to that.’

  Jack glanced anxiously at Luke, hoping he had not meant his temperamental declaration in the church vestry. His neckcloth pulled off and lying dirtied on the cobbles, an empty bottle of wine dangling in his hand, Luke was drunk. In danger of slipping off the bale of hay he was sharing with a dozing gentleman in regimentals, Colonel Martin Beswetherick, Sir William’s heir.

  ‘Congratulations on your marriage, Jack,’ Kane said. ‘If I may say, she’s a rare catch. Where did you meet her? Oh, come along, Jack, you can’t bring back such a sweeting and not expect people to be curious, especially as you showed little interest in the fair sex before.’

  ‘I met Alicia while waiting to escort Mr Luke from a house in St James’s Square.’ Jack hoped his flushed cheeks would be blamed on the stifling heat. ‘She was governess to a visiting family. Luck would have it we met again and then again and formed an attachment. She was unhappy in her post and longed to return to the country, but she had no one in all the world. I took courage and offered her marriage. Mr Luke approved of the match, and… well, here we are.’

  Kane slapped the groom’s shoulder. ‘Good for you, Jack. I hope she makes you very happy.’ Then he looked sharply at his brother, whose dark face was now squashed against Colonel Beswetherick’s shoulder. Jack’s explanation sounded just a little too well articulated, as if it had come first from Luke’s mouth.

  The colonel suddenly roused himself and pushed Luke upright. He had noticed Kane looking their way. Why was he acting so familiarly towards the groom, who should be sent about his business? It was curious, the Pengarrons’ penchant for closeness to their servants.

  ‘I say.’ He shook Luke to wakefulness and hissed into his ear. ‘I’ve noticed that your groom’s wife is a comely piece, quite a work of art. She’s a stranger, so I’m informed, and a cut above her husband. Brought back from the capital, I presume. What’s behind the story, eh?’

  ‘There is no story!’ Luke retorted, rubbing at his bleary eyes. ‘And I have no care for servants’ affairs.’

  ‘Hardly the truth, me dear,’ the colonel, of an amiable nature like his father, guffawed loudly. ‘You keep your groom always in close attendance.’

  ‘And what is that to you?’ Luke snarled with a few choice swear words, pushing the colonel away from him so violently that he hit the cobbles in an ungainly heap. ‘Mind your own damned business!’

  The older men joined them at that moment.

  ‘Martin!’ Sir William hurried along on his short thin legs to help his son regain his dignity. ‘That was most uncivil of you, young Pengarron. Apologies are in order, methinks.’

  Luke was up on his feet, staggering to keep his balance. Jack was there in an instant, supporting him.

  ‘Think what you damned well like, I couldn’t give a gipsy’s curse for the lot of you.’ Profanities and blasphemies came fast and ugly. ‘Bastards you are, one and all. God damn it, even the heathen serf Trenchard is here.’

  Clem had walked slightly behind the two baronets all the way, his hands held jauntily behind his back. Once, twice, thrice, Sir Oliver had glared round at him, and each time he had raised his head higher. He took a step backward now and bowed his head, as if in respect, but in reality jubilant at Luke Pengarron’s disgraceful behaviour and the lord of the manor’s discomfort and wrath.

  ‘Jack!’ Oliver exploded. ‘Take Mr Pengarron up to his chamber and stay with him. On no account allow him to leave before I join you.’

  * * *

  The news of her son’s monstrous disrespect flew rapidly through the manor, and Kerensa was discontented when Oliver forbade her to accompany him to confront Luke about its cause. The Beswethericks, thankfully a forgiving family, were ready to forget the whole incident on Luke’s apology, putting his outburst down to illness. Kerensa was grateful for Rachael’s observation, ‘The dear boy hasn’t looked well since his return from the capital.’ It brought Kerensa little comfort. What was ailing Luke? Was it possible for him ever to settle, be content?

  She wanted to apologize to Clem for Luke’s abuse, but Catherine was keeping him at the other end of the great hall, and who could blame her after Rachael’s unfortunate remark. She had hoped all day for the chance to speak to him alone.

  Oliver had stayed in the stable yard long enough to placate the guests – most thought the incident a social hilarity, ripe for repeating at future events. Arriving at Luke’s door via the back stairs, he ordered Jack to leave the room, despite Luke’s protests that he stay.

  Oliver glared at his son and heir. Luke had tidied himself, or Jack had done it for him. He stood with his hands on his hips, as if mocking his father’s often used stance. The expression on his dark face was so insolent, so cruel, that Oliver, who had rarely taken a hand to any of his children, wanted to shake him into sense and submission.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Well, Father?’

  ‘Sit. We shall speak for as long as it takes, for you obviously have something on your mind.’

  Oliver seated himself in one of the armchairs beside the double window, replacing his sternness with an air of one willing to listen and counsel.

  Luke thought to disobey, but this would make him appear a sulky child. He wasn’t willing to own that label – one often thrown at him. And he could no longer keep up his devil-may-care attitude.

  He sat, facing his father. ‘Sir, you have my apologies for disturbing the peace of your house.’

  ‘Good. On that respect I’ll say no more, after you have made equal recompense to my guests.’ If Luke was not so intent on his own miseries, he would have gleaned his father had some of his own, as he added tightly, ‘Including Clem Trenchard.’

  Luke nodded his assent and gazed glumly out of the window, letting his worn-out eyes roam over the panoramic view of the grounds, where a glasshouse for exotic plants and a bowling green had been built in his absence. Always his father planned and improved, leaving less that he might do.

  Oliver waited until he looked at him again. ‘I take it I was included in your spleen just now.’

  ‘Of course not.’ But he could not lie. ‘Yes, I’m sorry.’

  Oliver employed the softest voice of his life. ‘I understand.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘You’re my son, Luke. I’ve foolishly allowed you too much sway all your life and have turned a blind eye to your recklessness, but I’ve always known your mind, and all these years I’ve been hoping you’d purge your sense of despair. I should have spoken to you long before this, I’ve failed you and for that I apologize. I know you’re as desperately unhappy now as when you went away. That you’ve always felt jealous of Kane and I, perhaps even feel you hate us because we’re able to do the things that require two good arms. That you feel you have no challenge of your own.’ Oliver paused, greatly saddened. ‘Perhaps even that you have no f
uture to invest in?’

  Since his return, Luke had planned to hurl all this and more at his father, but his father’s astuteness astounded him. He stumbled for words to describe his desperation but none would come, so he confessed his soul. ‘I wish I was dead.’ Oliver’s eyes misted at the corners. The depths of Luke’s despair meant he had lost the emotion to weep for himself.

  ‘I’ve realized that too. So, have you a notion what to do about it? Throw yourself off Pengarron Point? Drink yourself to death?’

  ‘I might, I really don’t care.’

  ‘Have you never had a dream, Luke? Isn’t there something you’d really like to do?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose.’ His voice was flat, defeated.

  ‘Well, that’s good. What is it?’

  ‘You wouldn’t like it.’

  ‘Try me.’

  ‘I want to get away from here, do something of my own.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with that. Every man wants to make his mark on the world.’

  ‘You wouldn’t object if I didn’t live here? I thought it was expected of me to help manage the estate until I come into it one day.’

  ‘I would prefer that you were here, I won’t deny that, and of course so would your mama, but we’d never seek to frustrate your wishes, Luke. Every man must have a vision to follow or he wilts and dies. What exactly would you do?’

  ‘You’ll think me foolish, you’ll laugh at the very idea.’ Luke shook his head and blew out his feeling of desolation in one deep shaft of breath. He could not bear the thought of his one burning desire being ridiculed, seen as a pathetic secret.

  ‘I might, but that should not be your main consideration.’

  Luke chewed this over. His father understood him completely, he was prepared to listen fully and sympathetically. He’d throw his passion back in his face, of course, but perhaps he’d go away and think about it, even come round to the idea in time.