‘Is there anything I can do for you?’ Kelynen had offered.
Sophie’s indomitable spirit had instantly returned, her expression closed, final. ‘Thank you, no. I’ve a little thinking to do. You will be one of the first to know when I have something to tell. It will be necessary for me to live an even quieter life,’ she had said.
‘Forget about her, Luke. You can never find happiness with Sophie.’
He sagged and put both hands to his face. ‘I’ve written of lost love in my plays. Love stories as tragic as I could make them. I never thought to have my heart broken, to feel this wretched. I am quite undone, Kelynen. I cannot eat or sleep. I cannot put a word to my latest script. I cannot even think properly.’
‘I am sorry, Luke.’ Kelynen went to him, and he threw his arms around her and clung to her tight. She held on to him. Then disappointment settled inside her like a rock. ‘I’ll write to Chenhalls and say I cannot go. My first duty is to be with you.’
‘No.’ He pulled away, wiping moisture from his eyes. ‘You must go, sweeting. There’s nothing to be gained by you being miserable also. I can see how excited you are about this event.’
‘Will you be all right? I don’t like leaving you like this.’
He nodded. ‘I’d prefer to be on my own. I shall get through. I suppose it serves me right. I’ve been a vain pleasure seeker for most of my life and now I’ve been brought down. Go to Chenhalls, Kelynen. Write, keep me informed how it goes with you. However, let me bid you this one caution. You have spoken enthusiastically of Josiah Tremayne. Beware. Take care of your own heart. Matthias Renfree has written to him again requesting that he settles the Tremayne accounts with us. And Timothy says he regularly changes his mistresses and doesn’t appear to be seeking marriage.’
Kelynen thought about this. Many businesses were not prompt at paying their accounts, and Luke had been of the same mind as Josiah concerning women until he had fallen in love; so love and devotion in such a character was possible. ‘Do not worry about me, Luke. My main concern is to aid the recovery of Gabriel Tremayne. And Livvy will be there for some of the time.’
‘Enjoy yourself then.’ He kissed her and turned away. The image of his dejection stayed with Kelynen for hours.
* * *
In the parsonage, Livvy bathed and changed into a new dinner gown – bought with money of her own – and then went to the nursery to ask for a report on the children.
‘The children are well, Mrs Lanyon. And safely asleep for the night.’ The nurse used formal tones. Phylida Bevan was highly experienced in her post. Livvy had been impressed by her references and confident attitude during the interview, but now found her frosty and strict.
Livvy stayed fifteen minutes, sitting between Hugh’s cot and Julia’s muslin-draped cradle. She reached out and caressed each child. She softly sang a lullaby and said a short prayer over them. At regular intervals the nurse pulled in a long disapproving breath.
‘Is there something amiss with your sinuses, Mrs Bevan?’ Livvy hissed when she was ready to leave.
‘No, ma’am.’ Phylida Bevan’s long severe face was tight and uncompromising while she unnecessarily refolded a pile of linen.
‘Then pray do not breathe in that offensive manner. I shall return at ten of the clock in the morning. Please have the children ready for an airing in the garden.’
Bitch! Livvy fumed on the landing. How dare you show such impudence towards me?
Before going downstairs she went to Timothy’s room, the master bedchamber. He was not there.
She found the dinner table set for one. ‘Where’s the Reverend Lanyon?’ she asked Mrs Wills, the housekeeper.
‘He’s eaten already, ma’am.’ Nancy Wills had been housekeeper to Timothy long before he had taken over the parish. A small woman, normally agreeable, she took little pains these days to hide her condemnation of her mistress.
‘Where is he now?’
‘I’ve no idea, ma’am.’
‘He never goes out without leaving a message about his destination.’ Losing patience, Livvy snapped, ‘Where is he?’
Mrs Wills picked up the soup tureen and approached the table. ‘He might have ridden over to the manor.’
‘Well! Did he?’
Leek and potato soup was ladled expertly into the bowl in front of Livvy. ‘I’m not sure, ma’am.’
Livvy banged her hand on the table, making cutlery leap and glasses ching. ‘You are refusing to tell me where my husband has gone. I shall not let this rest. I don’t want anything to eat. Clear the table. From now on go about your work in an entirely respectful manner or I shall put you out of the house!’
Livvy went to the parlour. Her insides were trembling, her hands too. She was thoroughly miserable. Gaining the measure of freedom she had desired for so long – or rather, having it thrust upon her – was an empty victory. She had spent a wasted day at Chenhalls, unable to apply her brushes with pleasing results, unable to get the colour compositions right. And she had suddenly missed the children and had been glad to leave early to outpace the impending bad weather.
While the rain beat hostile flurries against the window-panes she huddled over the fire, deflated, discouraged. She had got what she wanted but it had come at a high price. There was no loyalty for her among the servants, and she had no right to expect there to be. She had treated Timothy appallingly, trampled on his feelings and demeaned him in every way. And now she was lonely, horribly lonely. She missed her parents. They had always lent a willing ear. If only she had not dismissed their advice and concerns over her marriage. Tonight Kelynen was not here, but her younger sister had too much on her mind to have given her the companionship she needed. Luke was closer geographically than usual, but he would be of little use.
The front door banged and she sat up straight. She heard Timothy’s voice as he handed over his wet outdoor things. He stopped outside the parlour door and she wished him, willed him, to come in but he strode off. Damn Nancy Wills! She had informed him the parlour was occupied.
After several long lonely minutes Livvy ventured to the den.
‘Hello, Timothy.’ She put on a pleasant smile.
He rose from his desk and gave a formal bow. ‘Mrs Lanyon.’
‘Don’t call me that, please!’ She was tapping her fingertips together, on edge. ‘Timothy, I… Have you just come back from the manor?’
‘I have, for my weekly duty call. Your brother was uncommonly melancholy.’
‘Oh?’ Livvy was hopeful this snatch of communication meant Timothy was thawing towards her. ‘Why was that?’
‘That is between Luke and me.’
‘He confided in you on a spiritual matter?’
‘He did. Now, have you finished? I have much to do.’ He sat down and resumed his activity with quill and ecclesiastical register.
‘Does he have need of me, do you think? Timothy, please! Give me heed. I have the right to be concerned about Luke.’
Timothy trawled a long, lingering look over her. ‘I suppose it is just possible you might be of use to him now Kelynen is to abide at Chenhalls.’
Livvy wanted to smack his face for his insolence. She detested him for insulting her – her station was higher than his and he was seeing fit to forget it. Yet she had treated him wrongly. And she hated no longer being the centre of his life. She hated being the subject of his loathing.
‘I’ll make my way to see him tomorrow and offer my comfort. Kelynen has hopes of Josiah Tremayne. What do you think? He is not the heir to Chenhalls, of course, but it is thought he has money of his own. As younger children of two great families they are on the same level in every way.’
‘Josiah Tremayne would be unsuitable for Kelynen for many reasons.’
‘What reasons? I find that worrying.’
‘It need not. I trust Kelynen’s good sense to see her right. I’m confident she will not make a mistake in cleaving to a man who is wrong for her.’
His insinuation slashed through Livvy bu
t she was too proud to let it show. ‘Before I leave can I get you anything?’
His answer was postponed by Nancy Wills’ arrival with a tray of steaming hot food. ‘Here you are, Reverend. A hearty bowl of beef and vegetable broth, just the way you like it. And hot herb bread and spiced tea. Now, don’t you be letting any of it get cold. The rain’s being carried on a south-west wind and you’ll need something to set you up if you’re working again long into the night.’
‘Mrs Wills, you do me proud. How is the sexton’s sore leg? It took quite a knock with the spade this afternoon. It was kind of you to dress it for him. The widow of the late Mr Cantor need not worry over his burial tomorrow. The grave is dug strong and true, as always.’
Ignored, belittled, bruised to her soul, Livvy quietly withdrew. She raged to herself for some time, then wept throughout the remaining hours of the night.
Twelve
‘At last!’ Gabriel stretched out his hands for his violin.
‘You were cruel to keep it from me for so long, Kelynen.’
He was dressed and reclining on a chaise longue, his laundered shawl – which he refused to part with – around his shoulders, for he complained always of feeling cold. Kelynen wondered about the shawl. With no explanation over his near starvation, she had decided a broken heart must be the cause of his troubles and the shawl had belonged to his lost love. And troubled he often was, slipping away into a trance-like state when he would hum and sing and his fingers would appear to be writing down the peculiar haunted sounds. Sir Rafe had brought his things up from the tower but locked the score sheets away, declaring his fervent composing unhealthy.
‘It was only for a week, Gabriel. You may play for ten minutes, as agreed, and then, as you’ve also agreed, you will allow Jacob Glynn to help you downstairs. I’ve arranged a couch for you beside a window in the drawing room.’
‘You are rushing my recuperation.’ Gabriel caressed the violin strings, making a sweet, mournful sound. He kissed the polished woodwork. ‘I have missed you, old friend.’
Kelynen watched and smiled. Gabriel had not been complaining, he was grateful for her every consideration, but he was a determined recluse and it had taken a lot of persuasion to get him to agree to the physician’s orders that he must not languish in his room. His appetite was still absent and he had to be constantly reminded to eat. He would avow he was full after only two or three mouthfuls and needed to be cajoled to finish off each meal. The first day of her stay, Kelynen had fed him with a spoon. When he had the strength to employ the cutlery himself she had watched over every plate. For two days now he had been strong enough to leave the bed. Always, persistently, he had pleaded for his musical instruments.
The physician’s opinion was that Gabriel was in the grip of an addiction, which would hopefully ease as he recovered. Kelynen liked Dr Menheniott. He was young and jolly and open to suggestions. She had brought herbal medicines with her from home, having consulted Beatrice, who was an authority on natural remedies, on Gabriel’s condition. Dr Menheniott was interested in the ingredients of the ointment Beatrice had given her to apply to Gabriel’s dry skin, and she had told him it was buttercup and lavender. When she had attempted to rub the ointment on Gabriel’s hands he had protested it was too much to expect of her, and Jacob Glynn, who was now attending as his personal manservant, had taken over.
‘Must I go downstairs today? I’d prefer to stay here and look out at the sea.’ Gabriel put the violin under his chin and used his fingers to feather out a few chords of an overture by Haydn. ‘Why not tomorrow?’
‘You need a change of environment and the sooner the better. My sister Livvy will be here today to put the finishing touches to Sir Rafe’s portrait. You’ll have a good view of them down over the gardens.’
‘And I suppose all the windows and doors will be flung open.’ He put the bow to the violin.
Kelynen knew she was facing a minor battle of wills to pry the violin out of his hands. ‘You will benefit from the air. Tomorrow I’ll have you sitting outside.’
‘I will not be looked upon as if I’m some specimen in a surgeon’s jar.’
‘Who do you suppose would do that?’
‘My uncle. He sits for hours beside my bed when he thinks I’m asleep.’
‘You should be grateful that he cares for you so deeply, while you in turn give him much concern.’
‘I am grateful to him, and I take into consideration that he hardly knows me.’ Gabriel frowned, plucking strings. ‘But I prefer to be alone.’
‘I know you do, Gabriel, but it’s your desire for solitude that has led to your current condition.’ Her tone was steeped in understanding but it was also firm and authoritative.
‘Not total solitude, Kelynen. I like a little company from time to time. I like yours. I’m looking forward to returning to my friends in Vienna when I’m well enough to travel.’
‘I rather think your uncle is hoping you will remain here, or at least not quickly flee his side.’
Gabriel was thoughtful. ‘Why do you say that?’
Kelynen did not have to think about it; she absorbed everything Sir Rafe did or said. ‘It’s what I’ve observed about him.’
‘He knew where I lived as a boy. He did not call on me there. I cannot see any point in us forming a closer relationship now.’
She sat still while Gabriel played, filling the room with tranquil soothing notes, then sad ones; evocative of lost love, she mused. It made her heart want to weep.
She was gradually piecing together Gabriel’s history. Josiah Tremayne had been one source. To her pleasure, it had been he who had shown her and Ruth King to their rooms.
‘As you’ve been so charitable to give heed to my brother’s pleas, Miss Pengarron, I feel you should know something about him. After his mother’s death he was taken by his grandmother for a few months’ stay in her quiet country house, on the outskirts of London. She never got round to returning him home, despite numerous requests from our father. When our father married my mother, Gabriel’s return was somewhat overlooked. Then my mother died giving birth to me and shortly afterward our father had a fatal hunting accident. Sir Rafe returned from the Caribbean and wanted to rear us both, but Gabriel’s grandmother pleaded that he was content and settled residing with her. A few months passed, and, unknown to my uncle, the old lady suffered a stroke and was bed-bound for the remaining years of her life. Gabriel was taught all his lessons at home. You must have concluded yourself that he’d had an inspiring music master. The servants left him much to his own devices. Apart from the many public performances he’d give – including, I’m proud to say, at Court – he lived in virtual seclusion and, I’m afraid to say, he has little concept of family life.
‘He lived in Vienna for three years. I found him languishing in his apartment; fine quarters, but he had reduced them to barely habitable. It was the first time I had met him. Our blood gave us a bond and he agreed to come with me. I’ve learned to respect his desire for solitude. I’d hoped to learn much about him, but he slept during most of the journey here and then locked himself away. I would not say he is difficult but sometimes he is hard to understand.’ Josiah had smiled and made a resigned gesture. ‘I think you know the rest of the tale, Miss Pengarron.’
She knew what she had witnessed but this new information made Gabriel seem more mysterious.
They had arrived at the room next to Gabriel’s. ‘My uncle thought it best to put you in here, for your convenience in attending the patient. There’s a comfortable bed for your maid in the dressing room.’
Kelynen had swept her eyes appreciatively round the spacious room, its many tall windows looking out over the sea and Mearnon Point. The dominant feature was an elaborate Chippendale bed with an overhead Chinese-style canopy with flowing rich silk, gold-coloured fringed falls. Oriental cloisonné censers, vases and ornaments and jade and ivory figures were set everywhere. The dressing table was crowded with cosmetics and perfumes in bottles shaped in the like she had
never seen before: tall twisting flowers; animal tusks; the female form.
‘It’s so beautiful in here!’ she had said.
‘I’m pleased you like it.’ Josiah had fluttered his pale, well-kept hands in a circle. ‘Sir Rafe saw personally to the little additions. He was anxious to create a pleasing ambience for you.’
‘It certainly has that.’
Ruth had declared the whole effect as decadent, yet Kelynen knew she was fascinated by it too. Kelynen loved the overriding feel of femininity and sensuality. She felt honoured and cherished, and it gave her confidence to look forward to the promised walk round the gardens with Josiah. She had ordered Ruth to bring her loveliest dresses, and she daily endured the rigours of having her hair dressed up with horizontal side curls. She would apply a little rouge and Ruth would make a face, but Kelynen caught her maid smiling knowingly, and although she had not spoken of her hopes for Josiah, Kelynen knew the staid, religious Ruth shared them for her.
Kelynen had been kept busy with the patient the first day, and Josiah had not been at home for dinner that evening. During a later talk about Gabriel with Josiah, before he had left Chenhalls for business at Penzance, she had asked, ‘Do you have any idea what brought him so low? Jacob Glynn mentioned the possibility of a broken heart.’
Josiah had smiled so strikingly that Kelynen’s hopes of a romance with him had climbed. ‘I rather think that was the cause. Is it not said that love will do strange and tormenting things to one’s heart?’
But to her dismay it seemed love was not prodding Josiah Tremayne in her direction. He had so far stayed formally polite. She now only saw him when he enquired about Gabriel’s health from Jacob Glynn, in confidential whispers in a corner of the room. It had left her feeling slighted and a little foolish at his lack of interest. Was she so plain and undesirable? Apparently not according to Sir Rafe, who plied her with endearments and compliments.
Josiah had mentioned that Sir Rafe had always been most kind to him, and that after the tragic loss of his last little daughter they had grown close. This made Kelynen wonder if, although Josiah appeared to bear an affection for his half-brother, he secretly resented the fact that Gabriel – who showed no interest at all in Chenhalls, or the mines that brought the estate its wealth – would one day inherit everything. Of course, Sir Rafe could change his will if he so desired. Perhaps he already had.
Pengarron Rivalry Page 8