Pengarron Dynasty

by Pengarron Dynasty (retail) (epub)

  ‘Do you wish to know about my and Jack’s private life as titillation because you have no one better at present in your bed than Amy Curnow? Granted, the cook is reasonable of face but she is, to say the least, most second rate. You need to grow up, Luke.’ She stepped forward swiftly and saw to his neckcloth, her eyes following his angry ones.

  ‘Now I understand some of Alex’s downcast moods. Until now, I thought your attributes to be only benevolent. You have a particular way of humiliating a man. So, Jack is not to accompany me. Quite right, if it’s what he wants. Don’t wait up for Cordelia and I, I’ll ensure she gets home safely.’

  Alicia was holding out his dress coat and helped him shrug into it. ‘I didn’t come here to hurt your feelings, Luke. There are times when things need to be said, that’s all.’

  Luke allowed her to arrange the lace-edged overflow of his handkerchief in a side pocket.

  ‘It’s also no wonder to me why Alex loved you and needed you so much. The most foolish of the things he did was his way of trying to protect you. When I took Jack to London with me, I had no idea he’d be bringing back such a treasure. Please allow me to envy him. I suppose you and he have had very little time to yourselves. Enjoy a quiet night together.’ Jack was waiting gloomily for Luke and Cordelia at the foot of the stairs. Alicia floated down to him and he guided her the last few steps.

  ‘Come with me,’ she said and led him into the dining room.

  The table, an oval-shaped walnut piece, once belonging to the Dobles, was laid at one end for two people, food upon it.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he asked.

  ‘This is for us. You don’t have to go out.’

  Careful to avoid her bulging middle, Jack hugged her, then grew sombre. ‘You’ve spoken to him? What’ll Luke think of me, not standing up for myself?’

  ‘Oh, you men.’ Alicia raised her eyes mockingly while taking his hands. ‘Just enjoy the quiet meal we’re going to have. We won’t have to listen to Luke rambling on about his plays or watch Cordelia making doe eyes at him. We can play master and mistress of this grand house.’

  ‘I wish it was our house, Alicia. I’d give anything to set you up in a place like this, just the two of us, and the baby.’

  ‘Well, she’s going to enjoy living here.’

  ‘You’ve made up your mind it’s a little maid then?’ Jack’s expression showed he was impressed and proud of her. He looked at the table. ‘You were sure you’d talk Luke round, weren’t you?’

  ‘Luke’s still a boy.’ Quite easy for her to manipulate. ‘One day, when he’s finally a man I hope he’ll see that Cordelia would make a good wife for him.’

  She poured cordial for them both, raised her glass. ‘A toast to the baby, the success of Luke’s first play, and success for Cordelia in getting him to the altar.’

  ‘Aye,’ Jack agreed, then ventured, ‘And to us.’

  Alicia met his steady gaze. ‘Yes, and to us, Jack.’

  She played the charming hostess and attentive wife all evening.

  When they were lying in bed, Jack, emboldened by her affection, kissed her goodnight on the cheek as he always did, then he kissed her lips and whispered in her ear, ‘Please Alicia, I’ll be gentle. We can arrange the pillows, I’ll be careful with my weight…’

  Running a light finger down his face, she let him become aroused and allowed him to touch her and kiss her.

  When he made his move, she restrained him with a hand pressed to his shoulder.

  ‘I want us to be a proper husband and wife, Jack,’ she whispered in the moonlit room, which showed her his face, ‘but there must be no secrets between us. Tell me, what has Luke done with the list of names of the Society members that Alex threatened to give to the authorities?’

  * * *

  This was the best evening of Cordelia’s entire life. How important she felt to be at Luke’s side on the top of Polgissey cliff where the towering bonfire was about to be lit.

  Glancing at her, he took a burning rag from a youth, who had been swinging it in a circle over his head to emulate the sun’s passage through the skies. Luke threw the rag into the base of the bonfire, the twigs crackled then flames burst up through the timbers and dried furze.

  Cordelia clapped her hands and cheered as loudly as the villagers. If Jack and Alicia were watching from a principal window they would see the flames in the near distance.

  As the bonfire settled there was much leaping over it and when the fire was lower still, a token cow from Luke’s herd was driven, practically unscathed, through it, as acts of purification against crop blight infertility, diseases and witchcraft. Cordelia held her breath as, for their protection against disease and other ills, the children were swished over the embers. This was done so skilfully that only a singeing or two of clothing resulted. Alicia had donated the material she’d bought for the cushion to the children, and all were decked out in something from it.

  Luke kept Cordelia close, threading her arm through his, making sure she had enough to eat and drink. She declined all calls for her to join in the dancing – it was rather unseemly – wanting only to rest her face against Luke’s arm and for the world to see that she belonged to him.

  ‘’Scuse me, sir,’ Hal Kinver was suddenly there, chewing on a mouthful of hot meat. ‘Can ’ee spare a minute? Little matter of…’ and he silently mouthed the rest of the sentence.

  ‘Oh, yes. Stay here, Cordelia, I’ll be gone but a minute. You’ll be safe close by the spit, and the Reverend Thake is just over there if you want someone to talk to.’

  Cordelia most definitely did not want to pass the time with the obnoxious parson, now gorging himself at the spit as if he was eating his last meal. She turned from his direction lest he try to pursue her company. He had done so before in his ingratiating manner. How dare he see her as a possible bride!

  Hoping to find someone she was well acquainted with in the village, she found herself face to face with Morgan Kinver.

  He gave a perfect bow. ‘Miss Drannock, I hope you’ll not find this an imposition, I’d like to collect some ashes for you from the bonfire. It will act as a talisman against the evil eye.’

  ‘I thank you – Oh!’ She shuddered. A live rat and another small animal had been thrown on the fire. Others would follow, a necessary sacrifice if the ashes were to have full power. She was horrified to see and hear the animals suffering, but she was as superstitious as most of the county’s breed. ‘It’s very kind of you, Mr Kinver.’

  ‘It’ll be my pleasure.’

  She could make out his pleasant smile in the glow. Every time she saw him she was struck by his rich voice, smart appearance and quiet manner.

  Someone threw an arm round her waist and she shrieked in fright.

  ‘It’s only me.’ Luke laughed in her ear. He stared at Morgan Kinver. ‘I’ve just done the necessary transaction with your brother. Good night, Kinver.’

  Morgan watched as Cordelia was swept back into the festivities, then he went off by himself to wait for the bonfire to turn into ashes.

  * * *

  It was two o’clock in the morning when Luke and Cordelia crept back into Polgissey House.

  Giggling and shushing each other, for they were certain the servants were all back and the household was in slumber, they decided on a nightcap before going up to bed.

  ‘Happy Midsummer’s Day,’ Luke blurted out, quite drunk.

  ‘I forgot to ask, what did Hal Kinver want with you?’ she whispered in the hallway.

  ‘It was only about a wager. The villagers can’t afford heavy sums. I won five pounds on Hal winning the wrestling tournament, but lost ten on the quaint tradition of who could sit longest on a greasy pole, but no matter. Nothing can spoil what was a wonderful day.’

  Luke was holding her hand, and Cordelia had high hopes that he would turn their relationship on to a different footing. She would share his bed this night if it turned out that was what he desired. All she needed now was a little courage to encourage him
.

  Luke opened the drawing-room door and Cordelia almost let out a scream at seeing a figure blocking their entrance.

  It was Jack and he was furious. ‘I want a word with you, Luke, and another time will not do!’

  Twenty

  There was a Midsummer Night’s ball at Penzance’s assembly rooms.

  Olivia, lovely in a gown featuring a ruched, fan-shaped bodice, whispered to her father, ‘That’s him over there, Mr George Spears. I recognize him from a self-drawing in a broadsheet.’

  ‘He’s talking to Sir John, this will lead to an easy introduction, my love,’ Oliver said, his dark eyes homing in on the gentleman like a bird of prey’s. ‘Are you ready, Timothy?’

  ‘Of course, sir. This will be Livvy’s night of triumph.’ After a frank discussion with his father-in-law, in which Sir Oliver had pointed out the foolishness of denying Olivia’s wishes in respect of her painting, and in light of her renewed interest in the marriage bed and their compromise that she refer to her duties in the parish no less than three times a week, the young parson was a happy man. Ecstatically happy, for this morning the wife he adored had announced she was with child.

  Oliver conveyed his elder daughter to join Sir John St Aubyn and the man he had invited to his castle home to appreciate its collection of famous paintings.

  ‘My dear Pengarron, Reverend Lanyon and Mrs Lanyon, this is a pleasure. And now it is my honour to introduce you to the artist, Mr George Spears.’

  The gentleman bowed with a flourish, and Olivia returned a sweeping curtsey smiling with all her charm. Mr George Spears was perhaps about forty, and his looks and his voice fully masculine. She found him forthright and fascinating.

  The talk consisted entirely of the world of art, the artist expounding his approach to this and his attitude towards that, what he held in high estimation and what he scorned. He was well-informed and sound, and from the fluid motions of his hands one could almost see the subject he was talking about appear as a brilliant masterpiece. Next came a long catalogue of the wealthy, the noble and the famous who had sat for him.

  In any other circumstances Oliver would have found George Spears, as an individual, inconsequential and boring. The artist’s facial lines seemed set a little too high and Oliver felt there was a lot about him that needed dragging down. In his current mood, dejected and morose, he would have liked to set about the task with unequal ruthlessness.

  ‘My daughter is gifted on canvas and on any other medium, Mr Spears,’ Oliver interrupted the monologue.

  ‘You paint, Mrs Lanyon? Well, how splendid for you.’

  Olivia was so engrossed in Mr Spears that she missed the next announcement of who was entering the hall. The master of ceremony was intoning, ‘Sir William and Lady Rachael Beswetherick.’

  Rachael strode straight up to Oliver, rudely ignoring the rest of the group. ‘Oliver, I wish to speak to you.’

  Oliver surveyed the matron who had been shunning him as he would a fly who had landed on his person. ‘I’m presently engaged, ma’am. It will have to do another time.’

  ‘It must do now!’ Rachael risked her extravagantly decorated wig by tugging on him until his ear was on the same level with her lips.

  When Oliver righted his head he looked grave. ‘Will you all please excuse me? I shall hope to continue with our fascinating discussion in a short while, Mr Spears.’

  Oliver went into a small anteroom in the vestibule, undecided if he was furious or delighted to be summoned here by Kerensa. To walk back in with her on his arm, as she had requested via Rachael, would silence one line of gossip and open up another. Many people would see it as a sign of reconciliation. It’s what he wanted more than anything – when all was resolved. Could that ever be with a certain detestable individual still skulking within her easy reach? A reach she may have closed up entirely. He knew he could not reasonably expect her to stay away from Vellanoweth, yet saw her continuing visits there as disloyalty to him, and uncaring and selfish. She had shifted a lot of ground away from him, a distance which might never be re-established.

  ‘Thank you for coming out to me,’ Kerensa said. She was nervous but set proud, and she found herself moving several steps closer to him. ‘I can hardly go in without you, Oliver. I would like to be at the ball for Livvy’s sake.’

  ‘Perhaps for her sake it would be better if you had stayed away.’ He kept his gaze severe, yet was admiring her. She was wearing a fur-trimmed cloak, pearls were threaded through her hair. Strong yet delicate, fine and lovely, and somehow elusive, she looked as if she had stepped out of a legend.

  Kerensa took a moment to calm her thudding heart. ‘I know there will be tittle-tattle, but she’s my daughter and I want to give her my support. If you send me away I’ll simply go. I wouldn’t dream of disgracing you by entering alone.’

  The sound of his harsh breathing filled the small room.

  ‘Please, Oliver…’

  The option of her leaving was one he did not want. Enter the gathering and damn the county! It’s what he would have thought at any other time, but it wasn’t his priority. To send her away would be to broaden their rift and that scared him. ‘And I would not dream of denying your request.’

  They left the privacy of the small room and he waited for her to remove her cloak, greeting more arrivals with cool politeness.

  ‘On your own, eh, Pengarron? Eh?’ Ralph Harrt enquired with underlying sarcasm, while his silly, petulant wife giggled behind her fan.

  Oliver fixed the coroner and his spouse with a hard stare. ‘Most definitely not.’

  When Kerensa rejoined him, he saw her in the full light of the chandeliers, in all her excellence. Her gown was of russet-coloured watered silk and gold lace, the colours which suited her so well. A ruby necklace sat enchantingly round her throat. The Harrts too saw her exquisite beauty, judging from their gasps and mutterings.

  It wasn’t just to save face that Oliver put his lips close to Kerensa’s ear. ‘I have never seen you looking so beautiful, Kerensa.’

  ‘Thank you, Oliver.’ He looked statesmanlike and handsome and appealingly vulnerable. She thought about the women who must surely be vying to take her place. A horrible, undesirable thought.

  She felt the familiar firmness of his hand. Strong his fingers were as they folded around hers, but not warm and not affectionate. She missed that so much it took her breath away. Tonight he was unyielding, indifferent. Or was he, like her, feeling the loss of their usual intimacy and crying deep inside, while keeping restrained? This was difficult for him and it would be difficult for her. She must think only of Olivia.

  He heard her nervous intake of breath. ‘Are you up to this?’

  ‘Yes. Shall we go in? Livvy will be wondering where you are.’

  ‘We have been introduced to this George Spears fellow,’ he said conversationally, ‘but were making little headway with him when I left.’

  ‘If necessary then we must make a fresh address,’ she answered, determination for Olivia giving her courage to see this night through.

  Olivia was angling for an invitation to join Sir John’s supper table, to give her more opportunity to talk to Mr Spears. Mr Spears was relentless at talking only about himself and his works.

  Timothy had been unsuccessful at bringing the subject back to Olivia’s art. He felt that the artist, who was sending suggestive glances at a lady who was fervently giving similar reply, had not the slightest interest in Olivia’s pastime. The chap probably gets this sort of thing thrust on him all the time, is sure it’s only infantile dabblings or something, Timothy thought, galled on Olivia’s behalf. He sent up a quick prayer. Help was urgently needed or Livvy wouldn’t be worth getting near to when they got home.

  ‘I get a lot of inspiration from the great da Vinci,’ Olivia pursued Mr Spears, trying to get him to look her way again. ‘I—’

  ‘Upon all that’s holy, who is this?’ George Spears suddenly broke away to stand alone and stare towards the entrance.

 
Olivia was struck immobile as her mother was announced. As her parents progressed towards her, looking to all the world a perfectly happy couple, she was aware of the lowered fans, the stage whispers, the titters, the embarrassed fidgeting and the smirking.

  ‘Mama, I’m delighted you could come.’ Olivia dashed forward to kiss her mother then, linking her arm through Kerensa’s, introduced her to her quarry.

  ‘Captivated, ma’am.’ George Spears gazed blatantly into Kerensa’s eyes. ‘Well, Sir Oliver, fortune rains on you indeed. May I say that you have two of the most beautiful ladies in this superlative and mysterious county. May I ask if you and your good ladies and Mr Lanyon will do me the honour of joining me at supper?’

  ‘You’ve saved the day, Mama,’ Olivia said, not for the first time, as the evening wore on. ‘Mr Spears is besotted with you. Dance with him one more time and arrange a definite time for him to come to the parsonage and view my paintings. Don’t promise to be there unless he absolutely insists. Your presence would be too distracting.’

  ‘I’m full of food, Livvy, and my feet are aching,’ Kerensa protested. She was also a little lightheaded. For the purposes of the occasion, she had forsaken her Methodist origins and had drunk the two glasses of wine George Spears had pressed on her.

  Kerensa was sitting with Rachael. She had retreated to her side during the moments she had been able to tear herself away from George Spears.

  ‘Don’t make such faces, Olivia, dear. You’ll give yourself wrinkles,’ Rachael chastised.

  ‘You should take a rest yourself, Livvy,’ Kerensa said, peering through the dancers for a sign of Oliver. After supper he had excused himself to go to the games room. She wasn’t sure what his mood was, he had put on a starkly contrasting choice of them all evening. ‘The first few weeks are the most likely for anything unfortunate to happen.’

  ‘If you mean miscarriage then why not just say so,’ Olivia returned airily, thinking such a happening would prove a blessing in disguise. When her mother still made no move in George Spears’s direction, she went on tetchily, ‘Are you going home with Father?’