Bending over the bed, Luke kissed Kane’s burning cheek. A grim thought made his hand fly to his constantly aching shoulder. ‘Will he be crippled? Please God, not that.’
‘We must pray not.’ Jessica smoothed Kane’s damp hair. ‘But Dr Crebo says he’ll definitely have a limp. It’s infection I’m worried about.’
Pressing his lips together, Luke shook his head. ‘Pray God it gives him no lasting pain. Kane didn’t deserve this, but Jessica, please heed my next words. My father couldn’t feel more wretched about the accident if he tried for all eternity. Won’t you relent and answer his letters?’
Jessica looked away.
‘Very well. Mama will be riding over tomorrow, is there anything you’d like her to bring?’
Jessica shook her head.
‘I’ll go now and leave you in peace, but first may I take a peep at my godson? Livvy’s going to give me the first likeness she paints of Harry. Do you think she’s happy? She seems to have lost her spirit. I suppose this sorry incident has affected her as deeply as the rest of us.’
* * *
Luke rode slowly home. He was about to make a new start but was taking a heavy anxiety with him. He had just received a letter written by Lord Longbourne a short time before his death. In it, Alex had actually compiled a list of all those public figures he’d threatened to expose as members of the Society. What a fool the man had been to imagine he could bargain his way out of paying his enormous debts. He’d told Luke it was the only way he could think of to protect Alicia. How could he not have foreseen that the Society would search for the evidence he’d told them he had secreted away and murder them both anyway? Why, Luke asked himself, had he not begged Alex to take Alicia and flee? But at that point he had not realized just how ruthless the Society could be.
Luke had assumed the Society had found what they’d been looking for before stabbing Alex to death. The names on the list had shocked him. The letter contained meticulously gathered details of over fifty dates of national criminal occurrences, of blackmail in high places and of murders. Evidence that could not be ignored by any seriously minded person, or nobleman of impeccable character. The King qualified for this distinction and Alex had even bandied his name in his threats. He had also stated in his letter that he would be willing to give first-hand evidence in the law courts.
Luke’s immediate reaction was to destroy the letter. It was the safest, the obvious way to protect Jack, Alicia, his family and himself. He had told Jack that the letter contained only goodbyes and Alex’s wishes for Alicia should he be killed. But on second thoughts he decided it might be wiser to keep it, at least for a time.
Unlike Alex, he would hide it very carefully and keep total silence. Wisdom also argued that he should seek his father’s judgement, but he had got into this sorry state of affairs by himself, and if he wanted to go his own way and not have his father put all manner of guard and restrictions on him, he must carry on with it alone.
Twelve
Oliver was sprawled at the desk in his study, scratching at an indentation left on the mellowed wood by a long-dead Pengarron.
Important papers had been left unattended for days. He had cancelled the local court he was due to take today. Let the petty thieves, poachers and drunkards go free! How could he look a miscreant in the face when he had performed such a heartless, offensive act himself?
It was hard not seeing Kane and Harry. If it had been for any other reason he would have ignored Jessica’s prohibition, but she had the right to exclude him from her home and family for what he had done.
He now saw his attempt at hauling Clem Trenchard off his property in the same light as everyone else, mean and unnecessary. And, as certain others did, despicable and unforgivable.
Trenchard had come out on top.
His attempts at humiliating him had not got under the wretched man’s skin, instead Trenchard had succeeded in getting under his: behaving like a saint in church; a loving husband under the manor roof; pretending he wasn’t the slightest bit interested in Kerensa; eating and drinking like a gentleman; speaking with care; unruffled and proud in his fine clothes; comfortable and composed. And watching and waiting: watching Kerensa without seeming to, waiting for the first opportunity to lay claim on her again, to rekindle their former feelings. Trenchard was no longer a fool, a
loser. He was cunning and sly and dangerous. And what had he, himself, now done? Given Trenchard the respect and sympathy of the county. And with his indefinite presence at Vellanoweth and Kerensa’s regular visits there, he had given them the ideal chance to meet, to be alone, to form a new attachment. And there was nothing he could do about it without sounding exactly the same as he had done on that fateful day. A pathetic, jealous husband. If only he had never come across Kerensa’s secret things.
How much of Kerensa’s loyalty and love did he still have?
The morning after the accident the family were in the great hall; no one had gone to bed, they had kept a vigil of prayer. He, Kerensa, Luke, Kelynen, Olivia, Timothy and Cordelia, dotted under the decorated high ceiling, the rafters, banners and hangings. Oliver had stared at the shields and crossed swords of some of his forebears. The sword he had fought with at the battle of Dettingen many years ago was among them. He should take it down, he had lost his honour.
Only Kerensa had stayed on her feet. Pacing up and down all night, wringing her hands. She had seemed not to want to be close to anyone, certainly not him. He had hardly dared speak to her. There was very little talk at all, only those disturbing whispers that seemed so difficult to get past the throat, only to emerge garbled, needing an invasive repeat. The longer the night had worn on, the more a sense of pessimism and misery had pervaded the house. Every stone and timber seemed weighed down with oppression and accusation.
Oliver had been waiting for the accusations to begin. He deserved them, but when they came he wasn’t prepared for the quietness and dignity of the onslaught. Passion and fury he could have dealt with far better.
Suddenly Kerensa had announced, ‘I’m going over to Vellanoweth. I’ll leave instructions with Cherry about Samuel’s care. And, well, you’re here, Cordelia.’
Oliver had got up off the chest he was languishing on. ‘Jessica doesn’t want me there, but I’ll accompany you for the ride, my dear.’
She stayed put. So he had started climbing the stairs to change his clothes. No sound of light footsteps followed him. He turned round.
Kerensa was at the foot of the stairs, looking up as if she were elsewhere, her face marked with horror. He sensed that in her mind she was outside, remembering how it had looked as Kane and Harry came hurtling down the steps. Then she saw him. Her ice-cold expression froze his every fibre.
‘How could you do it?’ Her voice came out low and cracked and full of despair.
‘If only I could roll back time, Kerensa.’
‘Even now our son could die! Our grandson may never get over the fright. You may have ruined his life. I’ll not go to Vellanoweth with you! I’ll ask Polly to ride with me, we’ll take the things Beatrice has prepared for Jessica to nurse Kane with. I’ll only come back when I’m sure our son’s life is out of danger.’
Kerensa had stayed at the farm for three days. It had been an agony of loneliness without her. An agony wondering what might be happening between her and Clem Trenchard.
Recognizing Kelynen’s springy step heading his way, Oliver sprang up and met his younger daughter at the study door. Rex bounded into sight, his heavy pads thudding down on the polished oak of the floor. The big black retriever was always several steps behind her, or did the girl’s matchless energy make her several steps ahead of Rex, and everyone else? Although tomboyish in nature, she had the knack of anticipating the unexpected, saw events with a mellow philosophy. She had pointed out that he must accept that the two families, the Pengarrons and Trenchards, were always going to be connected. If only he had listened to her. Now he was being forced to accept cool attitudes from friends and servants.
The Beswethericks were staying away from the manor, and Beatrice had dared ask him if he wanted ‘a bleddy medal fer what ’ee just done?’
The stony indifference to his feelings from Kerensa was crushing him.
‘Shelley, beloved, do you know where your mother—’
‘Kelynen, will you please keep Rex under control in the house,’ came Kerensa’s vexed voice behind her. ‘Have a care for Beatrice. I don’t want to see another nasty accident.’
‘Sorry, Mama,’ Kelynen said, taking hold of Rex’s collar. ‘I’ll ensure he walks to heel inside the house from now on.’
‘I’d appreciate that, my dear.’
Oliver’s heart plummeted, the chastisement had been aimed at him more than Shelley, and Kerensa was already walking off towards her sitting room.
‘Kerensa, Shelley and I are about to discuss her taking over full responsibility of the charity school. Would you like to sit in with us? I’m sure you’d agree her first action should be to remonstrate with the men over its leaky roof. It was an unforgivable act to use broken slates.’
‘Very well,’ Kerensa replied at once, coming back. ‘I’m sure Kelynen will make a very good job of anything you allow her to do on the estate.’
Oliver felt a little hopeful that she was thawing towards him. To make the discussion less formal he did not sit behind his desk.
Then Kerensa muttered in tones steeped with meaning, ‘Now what was that you said about the builders? An unforgivable act?’
* * *
‘Kerensa.’ Oliver knew she was awake. There was a long silence. ‘Kerensa, please speak to me.’
In the lavish bed, where she had given birth to her children, Kerensa lay with her back to him, as far away as she could without falling over the edge and making the long drop to the floor. Miserably hot, her head aching, she had pushed the light covers off her body long before, in the small hours of the night, but she had kept her hands wrapped round herself in a cutting-off gesture.
Oliver usually rose before this and Kerensa longed for him to leave the room. She felt him move and his hand come to rest on her upper arm. She stiffened.
‘Please, beloved.’ He leaned over her and looked down on her face.
Unwillingly, Kerensa turned round to him.
Oliver was careful not to put his weight near her.
‘We can’t go on like this, Kerensa. Surely it’s not what you want? You’re hurting yourself too. Samuel will suffer if he becomes aware his parents are estranged, and Shelley’s desperately unhappy. I beg you, sit up and talk to me.’
Sir Oliver Pengarron begging? This was a rare occasion, Kerensa wanted to snap at him. She had never thought she could feel this way. The depth of her bitterness over Oliver’s contemptible actions rivalled Jessica’s.
‘I don’t want to speak to you now,’ she replied, unyielding.
‘When then? Just say.’
Another flashback of Kane and Harry plunging down the steps outside, possibly to their deaths, slammed into her mind. Kerensa couldn’t bear it and leapt out of bed. Kane did not deserve to be laid up in terrible pain, possibly crippled, fighting off infection, missing out on so many joys with his new son. Kane might be able to forgive quickly, but she could not.
‘Maybe never. Leave me be. I’ll go over to see Kane early today. I’ll take Samuel with me and stay all day. I might stay all night. In fact I might never come back! Now Luke and Cordelia are leaving, and with Kelynen spending all her time with you, there won’t be any reason for me to be here.’
She thrust her arms into her dressing gown, pulling silk threads in her haste.
Oliver swallowed the bile in his throat that formed at her outburst. ‘You can’t mean that, Kerensa. I know I’ve done a terrible thing, but you’re not going to let it tear us apart, are you? By God, don’t you think I feel just as wretched as you do? Even more so? I know what I nearly did, that Kane or Harry or both of them could have died, that Kane has a long fight yet until he’s hale again. I’d cut off my own leg if it would undo the damage to his. I understand why Jessica can’t forgive me, I insulted and then very nearly harmed her father and half-sister.’
Oliver paused, staring at her unresponsive face. Had he not good reason to be angry too? ‘Why do you feel this strongly? You must know I’d never wish to hurt any of my family, and I only sought to put Trenchard in his place. Does it mean nothing to you, what he said to me in front of our friends?’
‘No, nothing whatsoever. I’ve no care about keeping the right appearance in society,’ Kerensa said, from halfway towards her dressing room.
What did he mean, put Clem in his place? All Clem had ever done was to love her. She had given him her promise to marry him. Was it so unthinkable that he should have been heartbroken? She and Clem had shared a love stolen from them. They had not drifted apart as sweethearts sometimes do. Marriage for them would have been a wonderful, fulfilling success, not something that would have faded or died in the course of time. It was this that stuck in Oliver’s craw! This man, who, for all his excellent ways, sometimes behaved as if all that mattered were his wishes, his desires.
All the emotion and resentment building up inside her burst out in a dam of bitterness. ‘You make me sick!’
Thrusting himself off the bed Oliver strode towards her, his long legs bare beneath the nightshirt he rarely wore. He yanked the dressing-room door from her hand, forbidding her entrance.
‘Get away from me.’
‘I’m sorry to use my strength against you, Kerensa, but before I let you go I will have it out of you, what exactly is on your mind. It’s because it was Clem Trenchard and no other, isn’t it, that you’re so angry with me? Do you still love the man? Is this what it’s all about?’
‘Don’t you dare look at me as if I’ve wronged you. It’s your damned arrogance, your damned pride that’s resurfaced again that’s making me want you nowhere near me. There was enough to endure as it was on the day of the baptism with Luke’s conduct and our worries about him. There was no reason for you to mock Clem or his family. You gave no thought to Jessica’s feelings or Catherine’s and they’ve never, ever, done anything to you. When I pointed out Jessica’s upset, you couldn’t even take it upon yourself to apologize to her. Clem didn’t do a single thing to show you disrespect or to try to humiliate you as you did him. And you gave no thought to my discomfort when you hauled me off with Rachael for that sarcastic introduction.
‘Right from the beginning, when you forced me to marry you over that cruel bargain you made with my grandfather, there was no need for you to cause further distress to Clem. But over the years you’ve never stopped abusing him or making slurs on his character, even when he moved on with his own life and away from Pengarron land.
‘You think you’re a great man, Oliver Pengarron. Lord of all you survey, with a God-given right to proceed exactly how you like. But you’re spiteful, nasty, vindictive and malicious. That makes you very small in my eyes.’
Kerensa had forgotten to breathe throughout her tirade and she nearly fainted for lack of breath. Oliver put out his hands to catch her. She pushed them away, using the door for support.
There was another silence, only the sound of her harsh breathing echoed in the room. The silence grew grim, heavy and charged with acrimony. He was looking at her as if he had never seen her before.
He moved back.
‘Up until a few days ago, when by pure chance I discovered your hoard of keepsakes from Clem Trenchard—’ he stabbed his index finger in the direction of the lowest drawer of her dressing table – ‘I would hardly have been able to believe you’ve said all this, that you’d dare to threaten to leave me! To take my son to live at the same farm where that bastard dirt-farmer’s presently working! And, not only do you refuse to forgive me for our son and grandson’s accident, no matter how much I plead how sorry I am, you now see fit to tell me you’ve never forgiven me for taking you away from your pathetic sweetheart. That was over twenty-four years ago, for God’s sake! I�
��ve thought for many years there was absolutely nothing wedged between us, Kerensa, but again I find you’ve been keeping secrets from me, just as you did for the first eight years of our marriage when you kept it from me that Samuel Drannock was my half-brother, and by the time I found that out the man was dead!
‘And I see, as I’d feared, that the love you’ve professed for me has never been as strong or as exclusive as you’d have me believe. Your words tell me that you do indeed love Clem Trenchard. Well, I don’t want your flawed love, your half-love any more.
‘You’ve had your say, Kerensa, now heed this. It won’t take a foreign trip on my part to bring about a reconciliation between us this time. From now on you can have this room to yourself.’
Kerensa had listened carefully. In their early days together such a strong harangue from him would have unnerved or humiliated her. Even until recently she had hated to receive his disapproval. Now, she couldn’t care less.
‘As usual, nothing’s your fault, is it? Don’t you know that I would have been as upset over your wicked behaviour if it had been any other man standing on the steps with his child? As for Samuel Drannock, you choose to forget he swore me to secrecy, because he despised your wanton, pig-headed ways.
‘Listen to me one more time, husband, and try to take this in. It wasn’t so much that you wished to harm Clem, it was your boorish attitude towards him then and so it is now that angers me so much. So what if I’d kept his love tokens? If you’d have come to me on the day you’d seen them, I would’ve felt guilty about it. I always meant to do away with them, I just kept forgetting to. In fact, I did so the very next day. Now I wish I hadn’t!
‘If you honestly believe my love for you is so fragile, so lacking, then you’re every bit as bad as Samuel Drannock thought you.’
‘Well, we both know where we stand,’ came Oliver’s blistering reply. ‘I ask for mercy and you see fit to taunt me!’ He came towards her. He did not touch her, but nevertheless his bearing pinned her back against the door. ‘You are my wife. Think not that this will give you an opportunity to find more time to be alone with that bastard dirt-farmer, to give him the chance to get what he’s always wanted from you. Whenever you go to Vellanoweth, I shall see to it that an escort goes with you and never leaves your side.’
Pengarron Dynasty Page 9