Kerensa refused to be intimidated. ‘That will cause me no injury. For your information, Clem and I have never been alone on my visits to Kane and Harry. Be sure to keep your own self in order. Just go, Oliver, there’s no last word for you this time.’
He stalked off to his own dressing room, saying over his shoulder, ‘We’ll see!’
Returning to the great bed, she climbed up on it, shaking uncontrollably. She and Oliver had said many things in hurt, frustration and temper. And they had acknowledged a truth that, despite the intensity of the love they shared, someone had always been there like a shadow between them.
Clem.
Thirteen
Catherine Trenchard was having breakfast alone with her brother.
His housekeeper brought a letter into the dining room. Timothy Lanyon held out his hand for it, but Nancy Wills placed the silver salver beside Catherine’s untouched plate.
‘For me? Thank you, Nancy. It must be from someone connected with one of my charities.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Nancy replied, eyeing the abandoned bread and butter.
The writing above the red wax seal, bearing Catherine’s own mark, was barely legible. Only someone home at the farm could have written it. She hid her dismay at what she read.
‘Come along, Mrs Trenchard, you’re eating less than the twins these days,’ Nancy clucked round her. ‘And you, Reverend. You’ve hardly eaten a thing yourself.’
Timothy wasn’t listening, his mind was on Olivia. She was spending more time than ever about her paintings. If she wasn’t upstairs in the studio, which Sir Oliver had arranged to be converted from the attics for her, she was taking her easel and watercolours or oils out to field, wayside, beach or cliff top, sometimes accompanied by an animal or human subject. She was adept in any medium, and he was proud of her achievements, but she was sorely neglecting him and her parish duties. It was receiving comment and he was feeling a fool. If he ever brought up the matter of babies, and as a husband he had the right to, she immediately became unresponsive, eventually breaking into a temper that could out-better the fiercest of her brother Luke’s.
It seemed to Timothy that Olivia had outgrown their marriage within its first year, and he ached inside, thinking she might feel she had made a mistake. She admitted that she found matters of the church and the parish something of an annoyance, getting in the way of her pastime – ambition, as she put it. She longed for wider acknowledgement for her talent, and he couldn’t make her see that she ought to be putting her duties to him, and those under his cure, before her own desires.
‘Once a week is enough for this,’ he had stabbed a finger at the painting gear she carried downstairs an hour ago. ‘You’ve a meeting to attend this luncheon-tide at Tolwithrick, of the Gentlewomen’s Charitable Trust.’
Out of Olivia’s grey-green eyes came a vixenish glare. ‘I intend to do no such thing. I haven’t painted outside for four days owing to the inclement weather. I’m not about to waste this promise of good light by being cooped up with a roomful of gossiping old biddies, who’ll soon twist all the conversation round to my parents’ troubles. And news of that,’ she accused him bitterly, ‘wouldn’t have got abroad if you’d acted in due haste to wipe out the rumours.’
‘Livvy, you are being unfair. I had no idea there was such talk. If Sir Oliver had seen fit to inform me—’
‘Don’t blame my father for your own failures! The old Reverend Ivey would have had my parents reunited by now.’
‘That’s unjust, Olivia, and you know it!’
‘Oh, get out of my way, Timothy, and let me get on. Then I might be back in time for this stupid meeting.’
‘What are you thinking about, Timothy?’ Catherine repeated a third time since Nancy had left the room. He looked up, his brow furrowed. ‘It’s obviously something very serious.’
‘Oh, it’s Olivia. She’s gone out in one of her moods again.’
‘Except for the unfortunate son who bore the brunt of Sir Oliver’s sickening exhibition at Harry’s baptism, the Pengarrons are a most moody, quarrelsome family.’
Catherine rarely gave vent to passion of an irate kind. She willingly forgave others their transgressions towards her, even without being asked, but not on this account. The hurt, the sense of degradation suffered by her family and herself on that dreadful occasion, was like an open wound to her heart. Clem and Flora could also have ended up at the base of those steps and John would have witnessed it. The twins had been fractious and anxious since then, and Clem had shut the greater part of himself off from her again.
‘Aren’t they just.’ Timothy had never before issued a negative word against the lord of the manor, who had been responsible for giving him the living of the parish.
‘They must be handled carefully.’
‘I’ll try to remember that the next time I ask my wife to give heed to her priorities.’
‘Could you not have a word with Sir Oliver? Olivia’s attitudes reflect the nature of his indulgences on the upbringing of his children, but he is strict about the observances of one’s duties.’
It would suit Catherine’s mood if the haughty, crass-mouthed baronet was given a morsel of contention to chew over. He thought his family so perfect.
‘My dear, I wouldn’t ever dare utter a word of the kind to him. And what advice or understanding could be gleaned from a man who spends days at a time, quite unnecessarily, away from wife and home. I can’t go into the details of my recent interview with Miss Kelynen, of course, but he’s refused all her pleadings to him. I’m afraid Sir Oliver follows no one’s direction but his own.’ He sighed in dejection. ‘Olivia does too for that matter. Who is your letter from?’
‘I cannot say, it bids me to secrecy. Timothy, I’m afraid it means that I’ll have to go home, today.’ She gave a sigh similar to his. ‘I must not delay, and I may not be able to return before Clem will leave here.’
She picked up her dish of tea, sipped but didn’t taste it. She kept her gaze low over its delicate gold-trimmed rim. ‘Would you keep an eye on Clem for me? I mean, it will be all right if he stays on here after I’m gone?’
‘Of course it is, Catherine, but I think you meant the implications of your first question.’
Catherine glided over his remark. ‘My presence here has meant Sir Oliver has been keeping away, preferring to see Olivia elsewhere. The instant I leave, I fancy his lordship will order Clem out of your house, perhaps in person, and there will be another terrible clash. I fear that one day he will physically harm Clem.’
‘And you have no other fears about Clem, Catherine?’
‘No. What could there be?’
‘My dear, do you not think Clem will move into Vellanoweth anyway? Jessica will be glad to have more of his company.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Catherine looked down. ‘It will be more convenient.’
Timothy knew what Catherine was thinking: that his deserted mother-in-law might now turn to Clem, and without herself and the twins to come back to every night, Clem would not tarry in seeking her exclusive company. However, Lady Pengarron never went to Vellanoweth without the company of Miss Kelynen or a female servant nowadays, and Clem had taken Catherine there himself, not the act of a man intent on an illicit affair.
He said suddenly, ‘Take heart, Catherine. I have observed Clem’s affection for you. Out of the two of us, it is not you who has made the wrong marriage.’
Comforted a little, for Clem had never lacked in devotion to either branch of his family, she reached round the table and clasped Timothy’s hand. ‘Thank you for that, Timothy. I have a word for you, my dear. Olivia is headstrong and I’ve observed that women such as her need strong men in their lives. Don’t you think it’s time you took control of your marriage?’
* * *
Clem was fetched to the parsonage to see Catherine and the children off for the journey back to Greystone’s Farm.
It had been a long farewell. Catherine, whose customary actions would have been
a gentle kiss or two, had clung to him, kissing his mouth repeatedly. Her reluctance to go was on a par with his reluctance that she should stay.
He climbed the parsonage stairs to collect his own belongings. Timothy Lanyon was out on urgent parish business, his housekeeper in Marazion for the market, the maids nowhere about, and he thought the house was empty. A sudden crash coming from the floor above, followed by thuds and bangs made him fear the house had an intruder.
Investigation told him the noises were coming from Olivia’s painting room. He could hear her crying and uttering violent phrases. He opened the heavy panelled door and yelped as something cut into his cheek. A broad canvas hit the floor at his feet, bounced and fell across his leg, hurting his shin. The bright light from the windows, which took up almost all of the south-facing wall, hurt his eyes and he shaded them against a scene of wanton destruction.
‘Hey! What on earth are you doing?’
Olivia, tear-streaked and distraught, a beguiling spectacle with her red hair in wild disarray, already had another of her works in her hands and was about to send it smashing against the door. Clem hopped aside in case she did just that. She let the painting fall to the floor and, trembling violently, stood where she was and howled like an infant in the direst distress.
‘What’s the matter, sweetheart?’ Clem slipped into fatherly mode with her, as he had done on those occasions when she had played with Jessica as a child and had come to some hurt. Reaching her, he took her into his arms and she fell against him, sobbing in great uncontrollable gasps.
He guided her to the couch, having first to shovel off a heap of ripped-up sketches so they could sit down. Holding her tight, he soothed her with quiet words. She rested her face against his chest until her sobs turned into an unrestrained heavy breathing.
His shirt was soaked with her tears, his skin made hot by her contact. He used a fold of his sleeve to mop her face. ‘What is it, Livvy? What’s brought you to this?’
She looked up at him. Her voice came out as a croak. ‘Timothy’s forbidden me to paint any more. He followed me to Trelynne Cove where I was at work and ordered me home. I refused to go with him and we had a terrible quarrel. He got really angry and shouted at me, something he’s never done before.’
With tender fingers Clem brushed straying hair off her damp face. ‘And this upset you so much you felt you had no choice but to destroy your work? That’s a pity. I’ve been taking a look at it. It’s very good, in fact I’d say you’ve a touch of genius, Livvy.’
‘Really? You’re not just saying that to appease me, Clem?’
He traced a fingertip around her face. ‘I promise you, sweetheart. Thank the saints you haven’t destroyed the lot. That picture of the castle up on the Mount is just wonderful. My wife’s spoken of your talent many times since we’ve been here,’ he lied. Catherine thought Olivia a poor wife and her painting an unjustifiable waste of time. ‘The way I see it, Timothy’s got no right to deny you this pleasure, to stop you using your gift, which he should know is a gift from God.’
Some of the tension left her, but she stayed pressed against him. ‘Others have said that. I gave one of my miniatures to Jack and his wife as a wedding gift, and Mrs Rosevear made some fine, and I thought, informed comments about it. She said she had seen works of the same quality in some of the grand houses she has worked in.’ A thought made her want to cry again. ‘Dare I think I can produce paintings that might be welcomed further abroad than the few I’ve sold locally?
‘Clem, there was something I was going to put before Timothy but it’s out of the question now. There’s a well-known artist, a Mr George Spears, recently come to the county, who is presently staying at the Mount, with Sir John St Aubyn. I thought if I was to meet him, if he agreed to a request to look at my work, I would know then just how well my talent is. I was going to say to Timothy, that, if Mr Spears slighted it in any way, found it laughable, say, or immature, then I’d be content to carry on with it as a relaxation only, as Timothy wants. I should have pleaded with him differently in Trelynne Cove. Now all is ruined. My dream quite gone.’
‘You mustn’t give up, Livvy. Is your brother not busy about his dream that many would see a foolish fancy? And your father,’ how he hated mentioning him, but Clem was appalled at the thought of Kerensa’s daughter being so miserable, ‘has given you his approval. He didn’t build this room specially for you because he believed it was a waste of time, did he?’
‘No.’ Olivia immediately regained her usual confidence, her sense of power. ‘Thank you, Clem. I haven’t been thinking about things from my father’s perspective. He knows a thing or two about art. He’s always encouraged me. Timothy’s opinions and lack of support have been confusing me, making me feel guilty.’
She dried the last tear, knowing she should pull away from Clem, but she liked his soft touches. They were doing astonishing things deep down inside her, giving her sensations of delight she never experienced with Timothy. He never showered her with affection as Clem sometimes did his wife, and in bed he acted as if their intimacy was something he should be apologetic about. She had suffered some anxiety on their wedding night, a legacy from her ordeal of the evil designs of one Captain Hezekiah Solomon, once a friend of her father’s, a barbaric murderer, who had very nearly raped and slashed her to death. Even though the ageing sea captain was dead, by her father’s sword, her terror had remained cruelly fresh in her mind. Timothy had been thoughtful towards her and remained so, but now she was frustrated in every sense that he never tried to make progress with her.
She touched Clem’s cut cheek. ‘I did this to you. I’m very sorry, Clem.’
‘No matter.’ He took her fingers in his hand. And she locked them together tight.
‘Do you feel better now?’
‘Yes, if I could just stay like this for a while.’
Every minute he had been under her roof, Olivia had watched Clem. He seemed to fill any room he was in, moving with an animal ease. He had a way of reclining in a chair in an indolent manner, his long legs stretched out, masterly, inviting somehow. His hands were big and rough, always scrubbed clean yet work-stained. They drew her eyes whatever he’d been doing. His smile, and it was rare to see it at its fullest extent, was beautiful to behold and she had longed to put it on canvas. His eyes were his best feature, at times soulful or secretive, or lazily surveying whatever caught his attention, or laughing with fun when he played with the twins. Sometimes they had alighted on Catherine, transferring messages that he desired her. Aware of this, Olivia had felt jealous and so very lonely.
He was a man of carnal need. He had taken pleasure with Catherine the first moment alone on the day of their arrival, in the daytime too. He would have no one to fill that need now. Olivia pushed aside the belief that he might like nothing more in the world than her own mother to take Catherine’s place. Instead she concentrated on the sinful stirrings her thoughts and his nearness were giving her.
‘What’re you thinking?’ Clem asked.
It was a pleasure to hold this young woman close to him, so similar in mould to Kerensa. Her body shape was sealed against him, she was pleasingly feminine and she smelled delicious. It appealed to him to think how outraged her rotten father would be if he could see them now, the dark-faced monster who had so very nearly killed his flesh and blood. He would never ever forgive Pengarron for that.
‘That I will talk to my father. Timothy wouldn’t dare go against him.’
‘Good for you, Livvy. There’s only one thing ever to be afraid of and that’s not following your dream.’
Still, she wanted to linger close to him.
‘Clem.’ She took a long length of his hair and twisted it around her finger. ‘Why did Catherine have to leave for home so suddenly? I’m afraid I didn’t say goodbye to her.’ Olivia was pleased her duty-conscious sister-in-law was out of the house. So much easier to make Timothy eat a surfeit of humble pie.
‘A problem with Kerris, my brother’s wife, I think. Som
ething only a woman can deal with, by the sounds of it.’
‘I think I’ll ride over to the farm with you. I’d like to talk to Jessica. I know I can’t mention my father to her, but we need each other’s support.’
‘It’ll be good timing. Your mother and sister are there. First, I’ll help you clear up this mess.’
Yes, Kerensa was there. Now he had a better opportunity to pursue what should rightfully be his.
Olivia ran down to the kitchen and fetched a broom. She swept up all the splinters while Clem made a pile of the larger broken pieces, then they disposed of the evidence of her broken-hearted fury.
‘A good job you didn’t start on the paints.’ He grinned, tweaking her hair.
‘Thanks for all your help, Clem. And for what you’ve said, I’ll never forget it.’
‘I’m glad to have helped, Livvy.’
She reached out to him for what he thought was to be one last hug. The feel of her lips on his made his breath lock in his lungs. He kissed her back, meaning to for just a second. She tasted so sweet. The offer of forbidden pleasure was so powerful, and because she was so much a part of Kerensa, he helped himself to more and more. He sensed she had not fully yielded herself, had never reached a full flowering.
Then he remembered that she was Kerensa’s daughter and in no way a substitute for her and he pulled her arms off him, holding her gently at arm’s length. ‘No, Livvy, it’s wrong.’
‘But, Clem—’
‘Don’t say anything else, whatever it is you’ll end up regretting it. I don’t know what your problems with Timothy are, but you need to talk them over with him. Just do whatever it takes for you to be happy and never let go of it.’
Pengarron Dynasty Page 10