‘She is good at portraying people, the miniature of Luke shows his personality exactly. Is Mr Spears staying on at the Mount?’
‘No. He’s taken a room at Sealey’s Hotel.’
A stillness came upon Oliver. He had not ridden here straightaway after leaving Rosie but had gone to Pengarron Point, the place where he went to think. Was it really possible for him to follow Rosie’s suggestions? Could he dismantle that much pride and allow Kerensa to retain her feelings – the feelings he himself had brought back into focus – for Trenchard? The thought of her having loving relations with Trenchard filled him with horror, disgust and a pain too unbearable to dwell on. If Kerensa was innocent, she would feel something similar if she knew about his affair with Rosie. If she was seeing Trenchard, would she understand that he had needed someone else? Could their marriage survive the unfaithfulness on his part? Unfaithfulness by both of them? He knew that if they were to ever trust each again there must be no more secrets between them. At some point he was going to have to make a confession to Kerensa.
Looking at her now, he knew that, whatever may have happened between her and Clem Trenchard, he couldn’t bear their rift turning into an unbridgeable chasm.
Somehow he got his voice to emerge in a natural tone. ‘Kerensa, I have something to tell you. No, don’t look worried, hear me out, please. Today, I’ve decided to come home for good. I hope that will be agreeable to you. For Livvy’s sake, I thought perhaps, in a day or two, we could invite George Spears here to dine with us.’
Kerensa felt a lift to her heart. With an aching despair, she had been expecting Oliver to leave again soon. Was he coming home for Sam’s sake, or to reassert his claim on his property? Was she involved in his reason? Pray God, she was. Then there was a tightening in her chest as her thoughts flew to Clem. She was due at Rachael’s cottage tomorrow night for her last meeting with him, before he left for home the next day. She was missing him already.
She cleared her throat. ‘This is your house, Oliver. You may please yourself when you come and go. Sam has missed you, and Kelynen the constancy of your company.’
‘I’ve missed them both, and Beatrice. And I’ve missed you most of all, Kerensa.’
Their eyes met. Was he reaching out to her? Their love had once been so strong, she found herself wanting to give way to him, but there were many barriers between them.
‘I’ve missed you, Oliver, but we have – there’s a lot – we’ve both said things, and—’
‘I’ll sleep in the other room, of course.’
Their boundaries set, they talked more about Olivia and George Spears. Samuel was pushing on Oliver’s chest and he allowed him to ease him down flat on the rug. The little boy sat astride him and set about smacking his face and tugging his hair.
Kerensa knelt down and restrained him. ‘No, no, Sam, you’ll hurt Papa.’
Samuel giggled, then grabbing Kerensa in a stranglehold, he pulled her down with them. Wrestling with him brought her into contact with Oliver.
‘Now that’s what I like to see. A really happy family.’
Kerensa looked up at the source of the voice, a tall, dark-skinned young man. Beatrice was with him. Oliver lifted Sam’s sturdy body out of his line of vision.
‘See whom ’tes?’ Beatrice said, watchful of what had appeared a happy scene.
‘Bartholomew!’ Oliver bawled out jovially. He sat up, his face almost touched Kerensa’s and he had the overwhelming desire to kiss her.
She smiled at him, then got up and went towards the newcomer. ‘What brings you here, Bartholomew, after all this time? Welcome home. You look so well, I take it you’ve not brought bad news.’
‘Are you sure you don’t mean I look like a pirate, Aunt Kerensa?’ He flicked his earring and pointed to his tattoo, much amused. ‘It’s what Luke accused me of not too long ago. My sudden appearance to visit Cordelia frightened the other lady residing there, Jack’s wife, and Luke was absolutely furious with me. I’m happy to report I’ve done Mrs Rosevear and her child no lasting harm. Luke’s estate is well kept, is it not? I did not stop long, with the commotion over Mrs Rosevear. She was put to bed with such a fuss. I thought it very strange; a servant’s wife.
‘My dear Aunt, you are more beautiful than ever. Uncle Oliver, are you not the most fortunate man in all Christendom? And who is this? Samuel! My father’s namesake. I had quite forgotten you’d had another son. A true Pengarron there.’
Bartholomew, informed of Cordelia’s new address by his brothers in London, had hoped to stay the night at Polgissey, but he had brought someone with him, and in view of Alicia Rosevear’s condition, he had travelled on to the manor. Luke’s ill humour with Cordelia for not being present with Mrs Rosevear when she had fainted, had caused her to accept Bartholomew’s invitation to accompany him.
Oliver shook his nephew’s hand. ‘Where have your travels taken you? You’re as dark as a native.’
‘As I’ve written you, to the South Seas mostly, over the years. Fairly recently, I’d been running vital provisions for our troops in the Americas – duty to king and country. Very occasionally, I’ve been in London. Apparently, I’d just missed Luke and Jack.’
Cordelia appeared carrying a child of about a year old, wrapped up in shawls. As she came closer it could be seen the baby had the true skin of a native.
‘Whose is this child, Bartholomew?’ Oliver asked, glancing at Kerensa then at his nephew.
‘Meet my daughter, Uncle. This is Tamara Drannock. Her mother is dead, tragically taken by the smallpox some weeks after her birth. I had to smuggle her away on to a ship to Portsmouth with a wet nurse, and have kept her a secret ever since. Don’t worry, there’s no risk of infection. Beautiful, is she not? Well, Uncle and Aunt, how do you feel about taking over the care of another child?’
Twenty-Three
In the depths of the night, there was a loud battering on the back door of Greystone’s Farm.
Philip Trenchard went downstairs in his nightclothes, a gun hanging over his brawny arm, a staff clutched in his other hand. Catherine, who had slept little in the past weeks, rushed out of bed and followed cautiously after him.
‘Who is it?’ Philip demanded gruffly.
‘Open up!’ came the terse reply.
Philip motioned to Catherine to stand back as he unbolted the door.
‘Can the missus come at once?’ a scruffy, haggard female hissed in a hostile tone. ‘The maid’s gone into labour.’
At the sound of this particular voice, Catherine showed herself. ‘Is Mrs Roach on her way?’
‘She won’t come. You’ll ’ave to ’elp ’er. The maid’s terrified. Won’t let me near ’er. Get a bleddy move on, or you an’ ’e will ’ave a death on your ’ands.’
‘Wait there,’ Philip snarled, thrusting the woman off the doorstep and slamming the door in her face.
He and Catherine exchanged worried looks then got dressed quickly. Wrapped up against the thick mist and fretting wind that always seemed to linger on the moors, he held up a lantern to light their way across the yard and along the muddy lanes. He guided Catherine by the hand as they picked a way over hazardous marshy ground to a makeshift dwelling.
It was a hovel, partly a natural cave, no more than scavenged timber and boulders of granite and scraps of furniture and tatters of cloth. Stinking moisture was running down over the stones. All that served as a fireplace was a makeshift grate of moor stone and, with no proper chimney, the peat-burning fire gave some warmth but filled the air with smoke, making them cough.
Catherine looked down in horror at the girl writhing in agony on a filthy sack of straw. They had heard her screams for quite some distance back in the lane. She was just twelve years old, her child conceived before the legal age of consent. A simpleton, a child herself. Yet her body was developed past puberty and it could be seen, even in her anguished and unwashed state, that she was extraordinarily pretty and, to Catherine’s eternal shame, one of her stepson’s conquests.
&n
bsp; ‘I gave you money, Nollie Skewes, to look after your daughter,’ she rounded angrily on the woman who had fetched them here. ‘What did you spend it on? Gin? I was a fool to expect different. There was enough to provide her with bedding and warm clothes and food. Oh God, Philip, why didn’t you let me come here? Why didn’t you tell me it was this bad?’
The girl, and that was how she had always been referred to, so Catherine had no knowledge of her name, howled with pain and blubbered in fear.
‘Hold the lantern up high, Philip. Nollie Skewes, have you no candles? I need more light if I’m going to help her to deliver this baby safely. What on earth is her name?’
‘Ruth, and that’s the truth.’ Nollie Skewes cackled at her joke.
She lurched aside to avoid Philip cracking her across the neck with a blow of his hand. She scrabbled about in the semi-darkness and finding two candles, lit them and placed them on a granite ledge.
Catherine was on her knees, trying to comfort the girl. Ruth had no understanding and fought her off, kicking and punching and scratching, her mouth opening and clamping down as she sought to bite her helper.
‘Ruth, can you hear me? My name is Mrs Trenchard. If you’ll just become still it will lessen the pain. I’m here to help you. The sooner we can get your baby out the sooner the pain will stop.’
‘Waste of bleddy time talkin’ t’ she,’ Nollie Skewes scoffed. ‘She don’t understand a bleddy word what’s said, never ’as. Only good for one thing, an’ Philip Trenchard ’ere knows what that is. I ’ope you’ve brung the money you promised with ’ee, or ’e’s off to prison for rape. Won’t get away with it whatever either of ’ee tries. Everyone round ’ere knows ’e can’t keep ’is breeches up and no one else ’as been round Ruth while ’e’s been ’aving ’er. When the brat’s born you can take it with you like we agreed. Leave it ’ere and I’ll kill the little bastard.’
With a roar of rage Philip flew across the hovel and grabbed the woman by the throat. He began to choke her.
‘Not if I kill you first, you evil bitch.’
‘Philip, stop it,’ Catherine shouted through the struggle and Ruth’s agonized screams. ‘You’ve threatened to kill her so often the whole district is holding its breath waiting for you to do so. Do you want to end up in Bodmin gaol hanging from a rope? Leave her be and help me bring your child into the world, from this poor girl you’ve abused so sinfully.’
Philip let her go, but unable to tolerate her presence pushed her out of the hovel. Another scream brought him to his knees beside his stepmother. He ducked to avoid being kicked by Ruth.
‘How much longer?’
‘Not long, I think. Pass me the parcel of clothes I brought for the baby. When Ruth pushes it out we’ll have to act quickly, for I fear she’ll kill it in her struggles. Hold her still.’
‘God, this is disgusting.’ Philip turned his head from the sight of the bloodied something emerging from between the girl’s thighs. Catherine fought to keep her scrap of dress up out of the way.
‘Not as disgusting as the act that brought this poor girl to this. How could you, Philip? You’ve women enough eager to be with you, why go with a child of simple mind? You disgust me.’
While Catherine accused him she got a grip on the baby’s head. She feared it would be difficult to keep her hold, but Ruth, either worn out, or some instinct warning her she could cost her baby its life if she continued to thrash about, went limp.
Philip looked round. ‘She’s stopped pushing. You’ll have to pull it out like we sometimes do with a calf or a lamb.’
Catherine sent up silent prayers and set to work.
* * *
Dawn came and Philip stepped out from the hovel, holding aside the planking that served as a door for Catherine. She had a bundle in her arms.
Sprawled on a boulder, an empty bottle of liquor beside her, Nollie Skewes took the dirty pipe from between her ragged lips. ‘Is it dead? Save a lot of trouble for ’ee.’
‘No, but your daughter is. I’ve laid her out, and Philip will stay here until I can send for someone to take her away and give her a decent burial, for which I’ll pay. You’ll never be able to exploit that poor child again.’ Catherine threw a purse at the foot of the boulder and the woman scrambled down to get it. ‘There’s your money, enough to buy your grandchild and your silence about my stepson’s paternity. You’d better be on your way, Nollie Skewes.’
‘How’d ya make that out? Why should I go? ’Twas ’im what done the dirty deed.’
‘The locals have turned against Philip for fathering the child, and the law, if his crime was reported, may require him to be brought to account over it, but what will people say if I was to tell them you kept your simple-minded, pregnant daughter starved and covered with bed sores? They have a particular way of showing their contempt, you wouldn’t be the first to suffer under a hail of moor stones.’
‘’Ad enough of this place any’ow. Can live somewhere a mite more comfortable now.’
As she swaggered off Philip shouted at her back, ‘Stinking rotten bitch! I hope you drop dead before you can spend a penny.’
The baby gave a weak mewling sound. Catherine lifted the woollen shawl that had once wrapped one of her twins and gazed down at the tiny puckering face.
‘Is it normal?’ Philip asked as if he had a lump in his throat.
‘Appears to be. I must get back and see about providing it with nourishment.’
‘She didn’t even ask if it’s a boy or cheeil. Think it could be mine?’
‘This little girl, even so newly born, looks very much like young Harry Pengarron.’
‘Well, it’s all worked out in the end,’ Philip said, almost nonchalantly. Nollie Skewes was already out of sight, taking the trouble she could have caused him with her.
‘How do you consider that to be so?’ Catherine snapped.
‘Uncle Kenver and Kerris are going to bring her up as their own. Make them happy.’
‘Your father might have something to say about that, as you see fit to shirk your responsibility. And have you forgotten that you and I have to face him as to why we’ve kept your sordid affair a secret? He will not be pleased that you have dragged our name through the mud. The locals have long memories, we will never live this down.’
Twenty-Four
In the grandiose bed, Clem gave Kerensa a final kiss which turned into many. When he lay down beside her, she touched his face.
‘You watch me when we make love.’
‘You’re so beautiful, I don’t want to waste a single moment.’ His hand traced out her slender contours.
‘Have you not enough memories to last you?’ she whispered softly.
‘You know I’ll never have enough of you.’ He sighed. ‘It’ll seem like forever until we can find a way of being together like this again.’
‘Clem, I’ve got something to tell you.’
‘No, don’t say whatever it is, my precious. You look serious, I don’t want to hear anything serious.’
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to, beloved. Oliver has moved back into the manor.’
‘Oh God, no.’ He wrapped her tightly, possessively, in his arms. A mountain of trepidation and jealousy surged through him, making him shudder. ‘What does that mean?’
‘I don’t know. He’s being very polite and pleasant but he’s not saying much.’
‘Is he back in your bed?’
‘No. He stills sleeps in the other room.’
‘Thank God! You’ll not let him make demands?’
‘Clem, you know I can’t promise that. He’s my husband. If he wants to… and Catherine will expect you to be with her.’
A searing pain entered Clem’s heart as he thought about the other man enjoying himself with Kerensa’s body. ‘But there’s giving way and there’s the giving of one’s self.’
‘Yes, there is.’
To speak about Oliver in this way, as if she could merely lie with him, disassociated from him, in the bed she had shared
with him for so many years, suddenly hurt her more than she could ever have imagined. She felt disloyal. As if she was hurting Oliver in an unforgivable way. She should not have been so hard-hearted with him over the terrible event at Harry’s baptism. If the accident had never happened would she have had this affair with Clem? No, she told herself, most definitely, no. The accident had made her concentrate on Oliver’s faults, taking all the wonderful things about him and her life with him out of focus.
The last thing she wanted to do was to go on punishing him. She pictured his noble face when he had told her he had missed her the most during his absence. Tears welled up in every chamber of her heart.
‘Please, Clem, let’s not talk like this.’
‘I don’t want to, nor even sully my thoughts with him. I’ll not think of you with him and you must not think of me with her,’ Clem said, in a voice that sounded as if he was trying to be brave.
He needed the comfort of Kerensa’s touch, the welcome of her lips, to have her give herself to him again. He trailed kisses from her mouth down over her neck and her body.
She lay still. Clem wanted her again. My dear wonderful Clem. She thought like this every time they shared this closeness.
Clem made love this time with all his power, as if he was trying to stamp himself inside her. Tenderness gave way to passion and went on and on until his terrible need ignited the same need in her. They journeyed together and came together, the exquisite moment exploding in their bodies and splintering fantastically into their souls.
‘Remember this,’ he pleaded with her when at last he could speak.
‘Don’t worry, my dear love.’ Taking his hand she pressed it against her heart. ‘I have you safe in here, forever.’
They dressed slowly, both dreading the moment when they must say goodbye.
At the bottom of the stairs Clem suddenly pulled her to him tightly. For the first time since they had begun their affair he was thinking realistically, suddenly afraid these wonderful times they had spent here were all they were going to get.
Pengarron Dynasty Page 18