Pengarron Rivalry

by Pengarron Rivalry (retail) (epub)

  ‘It’s an honour after all this time, Luke. How fine you look, if I may say so.’ David Trenchard was the epitome of courtesy and good grace, bowing to the newcomers as greetings were exchanged.

  After the meal, Kelynen and Sophie made to leave the farm on their own, Luke having elected to remain behind – to discuss business with Kane, he said. Kelynen assumed Luke was reviewing his crusade. Sophie had either ignored or politely rebuffed him at the dining table.

  ‘Mr Trenchard shares his sister Jessica’s looks but he is quite different to her in personality,’ Sophie remarked while putting on her discreet riding hat in front of the hall mirror. ‘Why did he leave Yorkshire?’

  ‘David was a lay preacher of the Methodist Connection. He had a twin brother. Philip was murdered three years ago. The perpetrator was a cousin of mine, actually. His father feels David should now take his brother’s place on their farm at St Cleer.’

  ‘How terrible for you all!’

  ‘The Trenchard history is closely entwined with my family’s. David’s father, Clem, was once betrothed to my mother. Clem’s first wife, David’s mother, was a friend of my mother’s. My brothers, Livvy and I grew up to be friendly with the Trenchards. Indeed one result was Kane and Jessica’s happy marriage.’

  ‘How fascinating. And Mr Trenchard is visiting his sister just for today?’

  ‘Jessica mentioned he’s not returning home immediately.’

  ‘How long is he to stay?’

  Kelynen fastened the last button on her brown kid gloves and fronted her friend with a gleam in her eyes. ‘Sophie! Are you interested in David Trenchard? I did not think you’d countenance a single thought about someone of his faith.’

  Sophie’s face was on fire and she pushed Kelynen away from her. ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’

  Kelynen rubbed the sore spot on her arm. ‘I apologize for offending you, but there was no need to use such force.’

  Sophie stared at her grimly then dropped her eyes. ‘Forgive me, Kelynen. I get so tired of people trying to link me with a man. We cannot discuss this here but please let me explain on the ride back.’

  ‘I did not mean to upset you, Sophie.’

  ‘I know. We have not seen the silk cloth yet. Before we leave, can we go to the washing line?’

  Moments later, in the back garden, Sophie’s heart quickened and a trickle of perspiration wet her brow, but she was careful not to show her agitation in front of her friend. The piece of pink silk billowing in the fresh breeze on the washing line was shot through with darker pink thread in an exacting design and had come from a particular dress. It looked as if it had been torn off. Sophie had a reason to hope she would recognize the silk, but now she was afraid for its owner.

  Ten

  The following day Kelynen paid her second visit with Livvy to Chenhalls. The fine weather was threatening to break and there would be rain later in the day, but Livvy reckoned she could make useful progress on Sir Rafe’s portrait.

  Out in the quiet arbour, where trailing roses would soon bloom over the high trellises, and while holding and stroking one of the cats – a proud blue-cream Persian – Kelynen enquired about the welfare of Gabriel Tremayne.

  ‘He’s alive, thanks to you, m’dear, but a fearfully rebellious patient. It’s a dangerous, yet simple case of malnutrition,’ Sir Rafe replied. He was as stately and as handsome as before and Kelynen kept her eyes on him. ‘Only time will say if there are to be any lasting ill effects. If you had not come today I would have written to you expressing my profound gratitude at saving the boy’s life, and imploring you to attend his bedside. It’s not known for him to respond to anyone as favourably as he did you. Perhaps you could encourage him to cooperate with the doctor’s instructions, persuade him that he must, if he wants to return to good health.’

  ‘I’d be pleased to, Sir Rafe, although I’m not sure if I’m capable of exerting any influence over him. Mr Tremayne is hardly a boy.’

  ‘I cannot help but think of him as so. I’d not seen him in over twenty years until recently. Now Kelynen,’ Sir Rafe laid his hand near hers and joined in with the coddling of the Persian, ‘we are friends. I am confident we shall become close friends. You must call me Rafe.’

  She answered his handsome long-lasting smile in kind.

  ‘Girl, come here to me. Don’t let my brother monopolize you,’ Lady Portia cut in, pouting and snorting from her usual position. She was wearing red and orange, with a mass of sequins and yellow bows and a ginger wig. She looked like a riot of wallflowers.

  ‘Ignore my sister. She’s bossy,’ Rafe whispered close to Kelynen’s ear but loud enough for Lady Portia to hear. ‘She’s been particularly contentious since breakfast. Anyone would think it was my fault she has arthritis.’

  ‘He’s the one you should ignore!’ Lady Portia shrieked, her crusty eyes blinking rapidly. ‘There’s not a decent manner to be found in him. I wish I’d died before my husband, then I’d never have returned here to live.’

  Kelynen suppressed a giggle, knowing the old lady cared deeply for her brother. Why else spend so much time with him?

  ‘She adores me really,’ Sir Rafe declared.

  ‘My brother Luke believed everyone adored him. Now he knows differently.’

  ‘That sounds intriguing. You must tell me about it sometime.’

  ‘Rafe, if you please,’ Livvy said, impatient to begin.

  Still smiling, Kelynen handed over the cat and joined Lady Portia. Jayna Hayes got up off her stool and Kelynen took it over, petting Cosmo and Hartley, feeling the softer difference in their coats to Rex’s smooth curly mane. Rex had long ago chased off with Digory.

  ‘Do you know what he calls that loathsome creature you’ve just passed to him?’ Lady Portia scoffed. ‘Octavia. Another goes by the name of Julius, another Caesar. Stupid, eh? Brought ’em all back from his various jaunts. I’ll be glad when he takes himself off again. I’ve asked him to go to China and bring me back a Pekinese dog. I heard about ’em from a sea captain. Apparently, they’re so tiny the Mandarins carry ’em about in the wide ends of their sleeves.’ Next, she demanded from Livvy, ‘When’re you going to start on my portrait?’

  ‘As soon as I possibly can, milady,’ Livvy replied tonelessly, without looking up from her work.

  ‘Are you well?’ Lady Portia studied Livvy with her spectacles on, then off and finally on again. ‘Not starting another child, are you?’

  ‘My dear, you are being personal,’ Rafe chided.

  ‘If I appear flushed it’s because it was something of a rush in getting away.’ Livvy had suffered another sleepless night. She had finally dozed off, then found it hard to stir herself when the maid had come to help her dress.

  ‘Would you like me to send for some cordial, Livvy?’ Rafe spoke with tender concern and Kelynen wondered how measured his affection was for Livvy. He had given her a thumping great kiss again, had held her far longer than he should have. But then his lips had found their way on to hers also and she had received a prolonged hug. It had felt good – very good indeed.

  ‘I’d welcome some elderberry, Rafe. Thank you.’

  The companion went to fetch the refreshment. Kelynen asked if she could hold the little terriers.

  Soon Kelynen became more interested in the young man fast approaching Rafe. Tall and clean-limbed, dark, elegant and stylish, poised yet casually at ease, he was exceedingly handsome. This could be none other than Mr Josiah Tremayne. Kelynen straightened her posture and wished she were wearing a prettier dress, and that she had allowed Livvy’s maid to style her hair instead of grappling it herself into the muslin cap she was wearing underneath her milkmaid hat. Her heart gave a queer flip. Now she understood how Luke had felt when he first saw Sophie.

  Livvy sighed in annoyance but allowed the interruption.

  Josiah Tremayne bent over Livvy’s hand and kissed it lightly. ‘An enormous pleasure once more, Mrs Lanyon.’ His voice was deep and pleasantly cultured.

  Giving Kelynen a
gallant greeting, his eyes lingered on hers a moment. ‘I’m delighted to meet you, Miss Pengarron. My uncle and my brother have spoken glowingly of you. Sir Oliver must be deservingly proud of creating two such beautiful daughters.’

  ‘You know my father well, Mr Tremayne?’ She wanted to hold his attention, delighted that he possessed Rafe’s charm.

  ‘Indeed, we met in Marazion to discuss business not many days before he left for the spa town. He said he would miss you particularly. May I ask if you have had the opportunity of taking a turn around the gardens?’

  He was close enough for her to smell the appealing mix of light cologne, scented tobacco and the masculine freshness of him. To walk anywhere with him would be a pleasure. ‘No. Not yet. I am much looking forward to that delight.’ She was pleased with herself. She had sounded polite and intelligent without being coquettish and projecting too much enthusiasm for his company.

  ‘I would very much like to have that honour now, but I am vexed to need a few urgent words with my uncle, and Gabriel is asking for you. He is quite insistent.’

  Just for a moment Kelynen wished Gabriel Tremayne locked in the tower in the woods. She would have gladly waited any length of time for Josiah Tremayne to finish his business with Sir Rafe.

  * * *

  She lost her bearings on the way to the sick room. With no other soul about, she peeped into chambers and behind long, heavy drapes that blocked off draughts or concealed alcoves and passages. Denied the pleasure of strolling with Josiah Tremayne, she wanted to explore but moved on quickly until she located his half-brother’s bedchamber.

  She went straight in. The curtains were drawn only enough to allow in a crack of light; candles provided a dim illumination. The fire was lit and the room was stuffy and smelled of wood smoke and the mild staleness of an ailing human. The patient was propped up against the pillows, his eyes closed. Her curiosity and compassion for Gabriel Tremayne came flooding back.

  Jacob Glynn was occupied at the washstand and crept across to her. He whispered, ‘Morning, Miss Pengarron. I’ve just finished washing and shaving Mr Tremayne. He’s had his medicines. He should be comfortable for some time.’

  Kelynen examined the array of medicines on a corner cabinet. Long botanical Latin names were written on the small brown pots and bottles. It appeared the physician-surgeon was also an accomplished herbalist. ‘Is he eating now?’

  ‘He’ll take a few spoons of broth but with much protest. Got in a terrible state just now because Mr Josiah wouldn’t permit his musical instruments brought up. He keeps asking for them. And for you, miss.’

  ‘I’ll sit with him awhile. If he wakes I’ll coax him to take some water. Ask the chef to make up some egg and cinnamon custards and syllabubs. Perhaps something sweet will tempt him.’

  Kelynen waited until Jacob Glynn had quietly closed the door. She had a different idea on some aspects of what was good for the patient. She drew the curtains back halfway and opened all the windows. Daylight and fresh salt-laden air streamed in, dispelling some of the bleakness. The wash of the sea, hundreds of yards away and eighty feet below the cliff edge, could be heard more clearly, along with the bright chirping of birds in the gardens and the raucous screaming of gulls. There was a magnificent view of the two sheltering headlands, and miles and miles of blue-grey sky and the English Channel. The dark clouds that would bring rain before evening were beginning to gather on the horizon. She and Livvy would have to leave earlier today.

  ‘Please, I cannot bear the light.’

  She turned to see Gabriel Tremayne shielding his eyes with a shaking hand. She closed the curtains but not quite as far as before, then poured out a glass of water. ‘You must drink as much as you can.’

  Close to the bed she saw he was not as grotesque as before. His hair had been cut to shoulder length. ‘I’ll hold the glass for you.’

  ‘No. I shall feel sick.’ His voice was weak and hoarse.

  ‘That is of no matter, Mr Tremayne. You’ll certainly feel no improvement until you’re eating and drinking something a little more substantial.’

  ‘Are you to be a bully to me then, Miss Pengarron?’ He fashioned a smile but that too sapped his energy.

  ‘I shall be if you do not make an effort. My only intention is to see you restored to vigour.’

  ‘I shall endeavour then to repay your kindness as you would have it.’

  He sipped, his long fingers clasped over hers. She did not allow him to push the glass away until half the water was gone. He was panting, needing sleep again. She dabbed at his mouth with a napkin, then sat at his bedside. His breathing came oddly, but then she realized it was in one particular rhythm, and then another, as if he was composing some piece of unquiet music in his subconscious.

  ‘Hush now, Gabriel.’ She leaned over and smoothed back his hair and felt his brow. He was unwholesomely hot. There was a long scratch down his cheek. How had that come about? Then she noticed his fingernails were long and sharp, harmful to him and those attending him. She went to the washstand and then the dressing table, where she found what she wanted. She carried a small pair of scissors back to the bed.

  Gabriel opened his eyes and they widened in panic. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she soothed, pointing to his hands. ‘You’ll be more comfortable if your nails are shorter.’ He lifted his fingers and studied the tiny daggers on the tips. ‘I have neglected myself for so long, Kelynen. Forgive me, I must seem a monster to you.’

  ‘You do not. Not at all.’ She smiled down on him. There was something so appealing, so anxious in his expression.

  ‘You are kind enough to lie.’ He managed a stronger smile and for an instant Kelynen glimpsed what he really looked like, and although it was gone before she got a clear picture, it pointed to him being good-natured, shy and private. ‘Kelynen, might I ask you to fetch my instruments up from the music room?’

  ‘No, you may not. You have no strength to play.’

  ‘I’ll settle for my violin.’

  ‘Perhaps in a day or two, but only if you make progress.’

  ‘Does this mean you are staying?’ He gripped her arm with a startling strength as he had in the tower. He had reserves of passion too. ‘I would like that so much.’

  ‘I am here for the day with my sister, as before. Be still, Gabriel. I wish to employ the scissors.’

  ‘Stay,’ he said as she snipped the first nail. ‘My uncle would be as pleased as I to have you here. Think about it.’ Staying at Chenhalls was a pleasing thought. She had been asked to do something worthwhile. She could look over the house and, hopefully, stroll with Josiah through the gardens. Thoughts of him took her mind to those outside involved with the portrait, and then on to Rex. Wherever he was she hoped he was not making a pest of himself. To stay here in the company of the generous Sir Rafe and the dear old Lady Portia was more than appealing. And she felt a responsibility for Gabriel. She cared that he recovered and was curious to see how he would be then.

  ‘Stay,’ he repeated. ‘Please. I give you my word I will make an agreeable patient.’

  ‘My parents are out of the county. I would have to seek my brother’s permission.’

  ‘Is he likely to raise an objection?’

  ‘None that I can think of.’ It would be too bad if Luke did.

  ‘Then come back tomorrow. Promise me that you will.’

  She gently squeezed his hand. ‘I promise, Gabriel.’

  Eleven

  ‘I forbid this stay at Chenhalls, Kelynen,’ Luke said firmly.

  ‘Why?’ she challenged.

  ‘Because I don’t think Father would approve of it in his absence.’

  ‘You mean you don’t approve, and that’s only out of spite. Sir Rafe is an old friend of Timothy’s. Timothy has no reservations about the family. I only asked you out of politeness. I shall go anyway. Ruth is packing my things and she’s coming with me as my maid, so I shall be properly chaperoned.’ Kelynen would never have considere
d disobeying the head of the family before – even if Luke was only substitute head – but she turned on her toes and strode out of the drawing room, where, to her mind, Luke was languishing in selfish pity and she was unmoved by it.

  He sprang up and went after her. ‘Kelynen, wait! I’ll give you my blessing if you do something for me.’

  ‘And what might that be?’ She narrowed her eyes, comparing Luke’s self-centred qualities to the natural courtesy of three Tremayne men.

  ‘Tell me how I might win Sophie. You know her very well. What can I do?’ He threw out helpless hands.

  Kelynen surveyed him for some moments. Luke seemed to be diminishing in size. It was as if all the strength, the very gist of him, was draining away. He had been vanquished. No longer was he the heartless lover, insensitive to the hopes he bred in hapless females. There was a torment in him which she could not ignore.

  ‘Your heart is truly set on her, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, yes. Please help me.’

  Kelynen chewed her lower lip. ‘It’s a week before I’m to see her again, but I may be required to stay longer than that at Chenhalls and I’m about to write to her to that effect. I could ask her to consider you among her acquaintances, but I fear that is the best you could ever be to her.’

  ‘Why? I know I was brash at the start, but if she saw a different side of my character would she not look more kindly on me?’

  ‘No, Luke, I am afraid she would not.’

  ‘Am I such a terrible fellow then?’

  ‘It is not you in particular. Sophie never befriends men. She’s told me she has a particular reason not to consider remarriage for several years, if at all.’

  ‘Did she tell you the reason?’

  ‘She did not confide that much to me.’

  Sophie had said the mysterious reason would soon become apparent. From her friend’s worried face, Kelynen had sensed it was something demeaning that would need courage to face.