Pengarron Dynasty

by Pengarron Dynasty (retail) (epub)

  Rachael had offered the cottage to Kerensa soon after the day of the baptism. This was Kerensa’s first time here. The place where she had chosen to meet Clem.

  Unlike Rachael, she could not rest. Pacing up and down, her heart jerking, her stomach churning, she avoided looking at her reflection in the many showy mirrors. When she thought of Oliver she headed towards the door. When she thought of Clem she turned in the opposite direction towards the moulded fireplace.

  ‘What am I doing here?’

  She should go, get away before Clem knocked on the door. It was madness to stay. Could she really turn away from Oliver so much and let the inevitable happen? She should not even be thinking about Clem. They were both married and loved their partners. But they loved each other too and always had. It was an inescapable fact and always, always, circumstances brought them back to it.

  When he arrived she let him inside, cloaking her nervousness behind warm smiles. ‘You had no trouble finding the place, Clem?’

  ‘No, my love. Was quite easy, only had to follow the Withy river like you wrote.’

  He took off his overcoat and hat and the dark blue scarf he had worn to hide his face.

  He wanted so much to kiss Kerensa, but sensed she didn’t want to be rushed. He glanced about.

  ‘I was beginning to lose hope we’d ever be alone. What is this place, Kerensa?’

  She told him about the cottage.

  ‘Does Lady Rachael know you’ve invited me here?’

  ‘I’m sure she suspects, but she’ll say nothing. Where does Jessica think you are tonight?’

  ‘Marazion. Said I wanted to see an old acquaintance.’

  She was wearing a graceful dress with delicate trimmings, no jewels and nothing in her hair. She looked so much like the girl he had fallen in love with in Trelynne Cove.

  ‘I’ve never seen you looking so beautiful, Kerensa.’

  ‘Thank you. You are good to me, Clem.’

  ‘I mean more than that to you, I hope.’

  ‘Yes, you do, much more.’

  He reached out to her.

  She turned away. ‘I’m sorry, I’m feeling strangely shy. I’ve just spent the most nervous time of my whole life waiting for you. I… perhaps…’

  ‘Don’t, Kerensa.’

  He came up behind her and put his arms around her waist. The instant she felt his warmth she leaned against his chest.

  ‘I might sound confident, but my insides are all knotted up,’ he said. ‘I was so afraid you’d change your mind. We were meant to be together. ’Tisn’t wrong. You don’t believe it is, do you?’

  She shifted her head so she could look up at him. ‘No Clem. I want you here.’

  ‘Thank God! Please, Kerensa, turn round to me.’

  Slowly, she did so. He moved his hands up over her arms. She reached up and touched his hair, so fair and silky, a lock of it was hidden in a quiet place in Trelynne Cove. His summer-blue eyes were hunting her face for signs that she loved him. He wanted her to say something tender to him, to say he could stay and love her all night.

  ‘It means more to me than anything in the world to be here like this with you,’ he said.

  ‘Clem, you know we aren’t the same people of our youth, don’t you? We can’t pretend there aren’t others in our lives. We have ties, responsibilities, other people’s feelings to consider. We just can’t step into an affair. We must think very carefully about the price we may have to pay.’

  ‘I know, I know,’ he said softly. ‘I’ve thought about all that as much as I’ve thought about you. And I know about paying the price. It’s all I’ve been doing since the day that man took you away from me. I’m here because I can’t help myself. I have to be with you, Kerensa.’

  Her fingers traced his brow. Clem’s expression was open and honest, revealing simply that all he was doing was loving her. This was how it should have stayed. The years in between the very first time she had touched his face disappeared.

  While he clasped her other hand and kissed its fingertips, she explored his fine cheekbones, his strong jaw and down his neck. She smoothed his hair, loosening it from the ribbon at the back, all the time gazing at him with tenderness. She wanted to discover him all over again and know him completely.

  ‘I can’t help myself wanting you, Clem. I’ve nothing left in me anymore to push you away.’

  ‘I love you so much,’ he whispered.

  ‘I’ve never stopped loving you.’

  He placed a gentle kiss on her cheek, then covered her face with more. Soft kisses on soft skin. Then he brought his mouth down on her lips. Soft and slow and tender, but only for a moment. She opened her mouth to his devotion and they let love turn into want and need.

  Clem glanced around for a comfortable place. ‘Is there another room?’

  ‘Upstairs.’

  Taking her hand, he picked up a three-light candelabra and they climbed the stairs together. She opened the door at the top and they stepped into Lady Rachael’s private bedroom. It was steeped in affectation and smelled strongly of the woman’s extravagant perfume, but they didn’t notice. Kerensa closed the door and Clem put the candelabra on the bedside cabinet.

  ‘This is the wedding night we should have had long ago,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, this is our time, Clem.’

  Kerensa kicked off her shoes, then smiled at Clem when he stumbled pulling off his boots. It released their last feelings of tension. Laughing with undiluted happiness, they closed in on each other and hugged and kissed.

  While kissing her mouth, he unfastened the hooks and laces of her simple dress, sliding it down to the floor. His lips moved down her neck and along the top of her shoulders and she loosened his shirt, her palms gliding up over his skin before pulling it off over his head. She kissed his bare chest and the hard muscles of his stomach. Their breathing grew faster. Their fingers franticly pulled open and pushed down clothes. Their desire now was unstoppable. Lifting Kerensa up off her feet Clem dropped her gently across the bed. Kerensa let out an intense cry of pleasure, a moan of released emotion. Clem wept in absolute bliss, in total joyfulness. His flesh was on her flesh, and inside her flesh, and his heart was over her heart. She was in his arms, clinging to his back, keeping perfect time with his rhythm, matching his passion and his tenderness. At the right moment he lifted her up round the waist to go even deeper into her. Clem took his lips away from hers and looked down at her. She had her eyes shut, her face torn with pleasure, the pleasure he was giving her.

  Their last moan came at the same breathtaking instant, their bodies convulsing, shuddering again and again with rapturous release and completion.

  He lay down beside her, their limbs in a tangled warm embrace, his face next to hers on the bedcover. Panting, swallowing to regain their breath, they smiled and smiled into each other eyes.

  ‘My love,’ Clem gasped, his voice grazing his throat, ‘my precious, dear love, are you all right?’

  She caressed his hot damp face and kissed his moist lips. ‘Oh, yes, my beloved. Are you?’

  He kissed her back. ‘I’ve never been so happy. For the first time in my life I feel I am really alive.’

  He held her close. So this was what it was like to make love to Kerensa. To make love with total self-giving. So many times he had tried to imagine how it would be with her. It was like drinking from the sweetest cup. Knowing the joy of the entire world.

  He moved his head on to her breast. ‘I don’t want this night to end.’

  ‘It never will because we’ll never forget it.’

  She stroked his soft hair, ran delicate fingertips down the centre of his back. She closed her eyes to the immeasurably exquisite sensations of his warm breath as it fanned over her perfectly moulded shape. To have Clem make love to her, who by first right and conscience should have been the man she made holy vows to, felt as right as her claim to put breath in her lungs.

  His hands began to give devotion to her again and she gave herself over to worship him back
.

  Nineteen

  Luke and Jack were down in Porthcarne before first light.

  A spray of purple and pink heather was pinned to their coats, one of the local customs of Midsummer’s Eve.

  The village was alight with torches. Green foliage was tied to the well and draped over every doorway, along every window sill and pushed into every eave and crevice.

  Gathered outside the Crabber’s Port, the fiddlers were ready and the drummers, men and boys, were making the last adjustments to the leather straps or rope that bound their instruments to their bodies. Some players had tied greenery to themselves, others had streaked their faces with green dye. All had bunches of strong-smelling wild garlic pinned to their hats.

  ‘Looks as if you’re all set to see off this pirate, Kinver,’ Luke said eagerly. ‘What was his name?’

  ‘Tobias James, sir,’ Hal replied, twirling his drumsticks in his chunky fingers. ‘Was a nobleman, come over from Ireland, so we believe. Stole from merchant ships and murdered fishermen just for the fun of it. Came ashore and took the women and they was never seen again. Put mortal fear in this part of the coast from 1662 till 1669, then we got the bugger! His ship run aground on the reef just out to sea there on this very day. He and bravish few of his men got ashore but we showed ’em no mercy. Hung Tobias James within the hour, then threw his remains back in the sea. He died cursing and we’ve been drumming him back out ever since. There’s no women about, as you can see. They stay indoors for their own protection till we’ve drummed round all the boundaries.’

  Luke produced a flute out of his coat. ‘Jack’s brought his pipes. I take it we are welcome to join in?’

  ‘We’d be honoured indeed, Mr Pengarron,’ came a different voice. ‘Did you know that safely locked away in the church is a gold ring of Tobias James’s?’

  ‘Oh, it’s you, Reverend Thake,’ Luke returned bitingly, spotting the simpering curate on the periphery of his vision. ‘What do you play?’

  ‘Nothing, nothing, nothing, sir. I’m here to start the proceedings with a prayer on what we often simply call James’s Day.’

  Luke looked up, inland. Light was showing its first beginnings in the eastern skies. He gave the curate a curt nod.

  ‘May God the Father and God the Son and God the Holy Ghost bless this special day in Porthcarne’s calendar.’

  The Reverend Thake had good reason to rattle through the prayer, for Davey Endean, a sharp-faced youth, now in regular work as cowman for Luke’s new herd, drawn by lot for the right to beat the first drum and head the procession, wasn’t going to wait more than a second or two. He walloped wood to animal hide, and to roars and whoops and whistles, marched off towards the seashore.

  As squire, Luke followed next. Jack was going to fall in somewhere within the ranks of the players, but Luke pulled him alongside him.

  ‘We’ll take a day out to enjoy ourselves!’ Luke shouted above the noise. ‘Why isn’t Barbary here?’

  ‘Too pagan for him,’ Jack bawled back.

  ‘It’s just a bit of fun!’

  Once the two friends caught the gist of the catchy tune they joined in.

  Cordelia and Alicia joined the festivities at ten o’clock, wandering through the sideshows and stalls of the fair, watching the street entertainers, avoiding the pedlars and the same unfortunate dancing bear that could be seen on market day in Marazion. A fortune-teller suddenly offered her services to Alicia.

  ‘Get away from me!’ she screamed. She hated being reminded of the actress in London. The woman had forecast that three people connected to her would die. It made her afraid for her baby.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said to Cordelia. ‘My condition sometimes makes me feel out of sorts.’

  ‘You need to sit down in comfort,’ Cordelia counselled. She wondered why Mrs Jack had looked so afraid.

  They found Luke taking a drink at the trestle tables and benches outside the alehouse, where his gift of half a dozen barrels of ale and jars of rum were set up. Jack was drinking water sweetened with honey. Happy faces, grateful from a break in their hard existence, were to be seen everywhere, and the two men were laughing too.

  ‘My dears!’ Luke rose gallantly. ‘The weather has done us proud, although it might become a little too fierce for you, Alicia. Sit down with Jack. Mrs Jewell, bring out something for the ladies!’ he shouted through the shanty’s open window.

  Cordelia sat and sipped a tot of rum, and watched Luke eyeing the females, many of whom were parading up and down for his benefit. The girls were in white or light colours. Wild flowers were braided through their hair. The women had prettied their best wear with ribbons and lace.

  ‘It’s a pity they aren’t in a position to really dress up,’ she said, then deliberately leaned on Luke to whisper, ‘I wish I’d thought of it before, I’ve got some old petticoats which could have been cut up for the little girls.’

  ‘Excellent idea for next year.’ Luke smiled. ‘I’ve decided to start the festivities two days early in future, by introducing a three-day miracle play. I wonder if I could find a band of players among this lot.’

  ‘You’ll have to write something yourself, Luke,’ Jack said.

  ‘I could organize the making of costumes, which could be kept at Polgissey and added to each year,’ Alicia interjected, moving about uncomfortably on the hard bench.

  ‘The people need to be taught new skills,’ Cordelia murmured thoughtfully. ‘Some here even lack the basics in their homes. A school should be set up for the children, perhaps two or three times a week.’

  ‘There you are, Jack, food for thought. We shall all pool our ideas.’ Luke raised his replenished glass. ‘To another year’s casting out of the spirit of Tobias James, and the future of Porthcarne.’

  While Luke joined the squash watching the wrestling matches, Cordelia joined Little Min in her usual place nearby.

  Alicia, somewhat bemused by the day’s events stayed put, a little more comfortable on a makeshift cushion of materials bought off a trader. Jack stayed and held the parasol over her.

  ‘Seem a nice couple,’ Little Min deliberated.

  ‘The Rosevears are devoted to each other,’ Cordelia agreed.

  She envied Jack and Alicia, chatting so naturally together, looking forward to the birth of their baby; although, and she couldn’t work out what exactly, sometimes there was something strange about Mrs Jack. She seemed to cut herself off from everyone with a severe determination, even Jack. She would hug her swollen middle and look tragic. Perhaps she was sad she had no family to present her child to. Luke had erected a small Cornish cross in the churchyard and she often laid flowers at its foot, making it clear she wanted no company as she stood and remembered whoever it was she had lost.

  ‘Good morning, Miss Drannock. Mrs Drew.’

  ‘Good morning, Mr Kinver.’

  ‘Enjoying yourself, boy?’ Little Min chuckled. ‘Made ’nough noise this morning, old Jamesie’ll be too ’fraid to show hisself round here for a whole cent’ry!’

  ‘I think Mr Pengarron’s presence gave us encouragement. It was very good of him, what he did for the children.’

  ‘What did he do?’ Cordelia looked from his fine dark face to old Minnie’s tiny wrinkled face.

  ‘Young master gived each of the childer a shilling piece!’ Little Min slapped her knee, making her tiny dog shuffle awake and yawn widely. ‘Never seen such happy liddle faces. Never had sumthin’ to spend on themselves on James’s Day afore.’

  ‘Mr Pengarron is very kind.’ Cordelia was a little astonished. Now that Luke had a dream and the reality of his own responsibilities, he had become exceedingly generous towards the sort of people who, before, he would have viewed as nuisances, creatures to be taken for granted to wait on him, or at the best, poor unfortunates. Luke had more than a dream, he had those wonderful feelings of being needed and belonging. If only he needed her in the same way she yearned to belong to him.

  ‘He’s some polite,’ Little Min said, when M
organ had excused himself to watch Hal wrestle. ‘I reckon he listened carefully to his father and learnt a thing or two.’

  A group of ragged children crept towards Cordelia, plainly hoping she had brought her basket with her. Her study of them revealed two girls who bore the Kinver black hair and soft grey eyes. Had either or both just seen their father leave?

  At twilight, Luke was at home standing in front of a full-length mirror. He was having the usual difficulty, because of his stiff shoulder, in tying his neckcloth, but, for once, he was not swearing about it. He was in high spirits, even though he had not long ago had strong words with Jack.

  ‘I’ve done with the revels,’ Jack had announced on the ride back to change their clothes for the next round of events. ‘Think I’ll stay home tonight.’

  ‘You’ll do no such thing,’ Luke had said airily. ‘There’s the ceremony of lighting the bonfire and the ox roast still to come. Don’t be so prissy.’

  ‘Alicia needs to take things easy for the rest of the day. You’ve promised the servants they can go to the bonfire, I won’t have her staying on her own.’

  ‘Then one of the maids will have to stay with her. Not another word about it!’

  There were two sharp raps on the bedroom door and someone came in with a soft rustle of skirts.

  ‘Corrie? Mrs Curnow – Amy?’ He swung round. ‘Oh, Alicia. What’s wrong? Why do you look so angry? Do this wretched neckcloth for me, please.’

  Alicia advanced on him then remained quite still. ‘I’m here to take issue with you over the way you spoke to Jack earlier.’

  Luke grinned broadly, letting the two fine embroidered ends of the cloth fall from his hands. ‘Well?’

  ‘It should be Jack’s decision whether he goes out again today.’

  ‘My dear Alicia, Jack is—’

  ‘Your friend,’ she arched her perfectly shaped brows, ‘or so you keep saying.’

  Taking his time, Luke regarded her with pleasure. Resolute, coolly divine, flourishing like a rose at two-thirds through her pregnancy.

  ‘Your loyalty towards Jack is commendable, and how protective you’ve become of him. Do you now allow him all the rights of a husband?’