Pengarron Rivalry

by Pengarron Rivalry (retail) (epub)

  ‘You can only hope that I never take stronger issue with you, Tremayne!’

  ‘Now, please, Mr Pengarron, Luke, I plead with you and Mrs Carew for your forgiveness,’ Rafe appealed with upraised hands. ‘Josiah has owned up to the paternity of the child. The way he went about things was foolish and inept. You and Mrs Carew are to adopt the child. Miss Trevingey has started a new life. Surely no more need be said on the unfortunate matter?’

  ‘I agree, for now at least, but I cannot go on accepting your hospitality, Sir Rafe, nor allow my sister to remain under your roof with such a bluff rake.’

  ‘I shall remove myself from the house immediately,’ Josiah said, holding his burning head and glancing red-faced at his uncle.

  Luke ignored Kelynen’s horrified expression. He would not change his mind, not with the way Sophie was trembling against him. She had suffered enough, first at the supper table and now in this room. It would have been a shock as much as a relief to her to learn of Adelaide’s fate. ‘Kelynen, go at once and order Ruth to pack your things. Sir Rafe, I ask you one favour, that you permit us a runner to light the way ahead for our carriage. We shall leave within the hour.’

  ‘No, Luke!’ Kelynen cried. ‘Leave with Sophie if you feel you must, but allow me to stay. Mr Gabriel Tremayne needs my presence here. He may have a relapse.’

  ‘He is not your responsibility, Kelynen. Do as I say, at once. Livvy, go with her. I’m only doing what I’m sure Father would order if he were here to do so.’

  Transferring her anguished gaze to Rafe, she received a quiet nod from him. He was unperturbed. His words of a little earlier returned to her. We shall prevail.

  Indeed, they would. Even a command from her beloved father would not tear her away permanently from Rafe.

  Seventeen

  ‘Would you like to take a rest, sir?’

  ‘It’s only a few miles ride along the bay, Jacob.’ Gabriel looked across from his mount to his manservant, who was riding beside him. Digory was with them, enthusiastically sniffing and marking new territory. ‘And you’ve just said that we’ve reached Pengarron land and will soon be at our destination.’

  ‘Aye, that I did, Mr Gabriel, but I promised Sir Rafe I’d take good care of you.’ Jacob Glynn studied his young master’s face, searching, taking his time, pleased to see no signs of exhaustion yet in the pale, marble-like skin. He liked Mr Gabriel, who made few demands and didn’t fuss over trifling things or easily lose his temper or behave in a superior manner, and who wasn’t above sharing a bottle or two of spirits with him. Jacob hoped to keep his present position. It involved little skivvying, but he was artful at pretending it did. He hoped to be given the opportunity to travel overseas – Mr Gabriel would need a manservant on the long journey to Vienna – so he was trying to prove he was loyal, caring and indispensable.

  ‘You’d make an excellent nursemaid.’ Gabriel twisted his face wryly, and then grinned. He was wearing Caterina’s shawl under his riding coat but still he was cold. The clouds were low and grey and the wind was keen. It was not a good day to pick to make his first excursion from Chenhalls. ‘I’m sorry I disappointed you by refusing to pause for refreshment at Marazion. I’d never enter a busy tavern. Perhaps this would be a good place to stop and take a swallow of my uncle’s untaxed rum. I’ve noticed how often your eyes stray to the flask.’

  After they reined in, Jacob poured rum from the leather-covered flask into a small silver cup and passed it to Gabriel. Gabriel quaffed it in one toss, handed the cup back to Jacob to help himself, and then he gazed over the small divisions of land that made up the Pengarron tenant farms. The fields were ploughed and planted, many down to the cliff edge, some crops showing green shoots. They looked healthy. As they had journeyed, Jacob had told him some of the names of the towns and little fishing villages of Mount’s Bay, quizzically strange names some of them had, inventive and charming: Newlyn, Mousehole – pronounced Mouzel – and Penzance, meaning holy head. All steeped in history and legend, Jacob assured him, from the torching of property by landing parties from the Spanish Armada and the routing of that enemy two centuries ago, to giants and the ‘small people’.

  Looking back the way they had travelled, Gabriel’s attention was captured mostly by St Michael’s Mount. It was a marvellous, beguiling sight with the castle on its summit, its church and village below. A three-masted ship was heading towards the little harbour to join two others already moored there. Rowing boats bobbed inside the harbour while, with the tide in and covering the pedestrian causeway, another boat was making for the shore, perhaps to fetch supplies for the St Aubyns, the titled family who owned the Mount.

  ‘The castle is a pleasing prospect from any angle. I suppose it’s haunted; a great many places in this county are reputed to be.’

  ‘Bound to be. ’Twas a giant what built the Mount. Cormoran was his name, and evil he was too, and he was bravely slain by a local boy named Jack. Jack dug a deep pit about halfway up the Mount and when the sun came up he blew a horn. Woke Cormoran up, he did, and Jack stood where the sun would be in the giant’s eyes, so into the pit Cormoran fell. The pit’s a well now. We belong round here,’ Jacob ended proudly. ‘You beginning to like it here, sir? I mean, Cornwall?’

  ‘I can see it has its charms.’ Quietness was one of them. Gabriel wondered now why he had chosen to live in a busy foreign city, where he had found it necessary to shut himself away much of the time. ‘I like the sea. It’s soothing.’

  ‘You should spend some time closer to it. I can show you some easy places to get down on the shore. Reckon it’d be a good place to write music.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re right, Jacob.’ Gabriel suddenly massaged his brow.

  ‘You all right, sir? You look to me like you’re getting a headache.’

  Gabriel continued to press at the tightness there. ‘I am getting a little weary and it is foolish to linger. I haven’t ridden for months. I shall ache in all places after I dismount.’ Man and servant journeyed on, shortly to trot on to the manor parkland. Longing now to rest, Gabriel was looking forward to seeing Kelynen again after nearly a week. He was hoping Luke Pengarron would not be there. Pengarron had replied to a letter from his uncle, stating he was too preoccupied with his forthcoming nuptials to attend on Sir Rafe, as requested, at the Sealeys Hotel in Marazion. On hearing of Gabriel’s intended visit to Kelynen, Rafe had charged him to discover the date of Sir Oliver’s return home. His uncle intended to speak to Sir Oliver direct.

  * * *

  Kelynen stretched her arms out for the dressmaker and obediently, although not patiently, allowed the final adjustments to the dress she was to wear as Sophie’s maid of honour. ‘How much longer, Miss Gluyas?’

  ‘Pray, just one more minute, Miss Pengarron.’ Eulaliah Gluyas’s fingers worked nimbly with the final pins. She stood back and surveyed her work, a subdued creation at Sophie’s request. ‘Perfect. This oyster pink suits you well.’

  ‘Don’t you like it, Kelynen?’ Sophie asked bluntly. Her own gown was to be more lavish, in deference to her bridegroom’s position, the tight bodice encrusted with pearls. They were in Lady Pengarron’s sitting room instead of an upstairs dressing room, so that Beatrice could view the fitting. ‘I’m beginning to get the impression you have little interest in the wedding. Are you sulking still because Luke ordered you away from Chenhalls?’

  ‘I am not sulking!’ Kelynen pulled at the skirt, causing Eulaliah Gluyas to gasp over escaping pins. ‘I never sulk.’

  ‘Ahem.’ Beatrice cleared her phlegm-coated throat and gave Kelynen a look of warning.

  Kelynen was immediately sorry over her pique. ‘Forgive me, Sophie. I adore the dress, honestly I do. And yours is truly beautiful. It’s a pity the wedding is to be quiet. The whole county should have the opportunity to witness how gorgeous you’ll look. Miss Gluyas’ mother created my mother’s wedding gown, did you know?’

  ‘Miss Gluyas mentioned it during the first fitting. Thank you, Miss Gluyas. I think we ar
e finished for the day.’ Sophie’s soft, superior tone made Kelynen, to her annoyance, sound as if she had been deliberately difficult. Could no one understand how upset she was to have been ripped away from Chenhalls? She was not a juvenile. She was not stupid and incapable of looking after herself. Why were her feelings so unimportant? Luke’s love for Sophie was making him overlook everyone else’s needs.

  Eulaliah Gluyas helped Kelynen to change before taking her leave. She had left a collection of accessories for Sophie to choose from, for herself and her maid of honour. Sophie rang for tea and then looked over the gloves, fans, garters, hose and silk flowers. A milliner had also called that morning and left an array of hats – as a widow, Sophie did not intend to wear a veil. ‘I’m sorry you are feeling stifled to be kept at home, Kelynen, but Luke is right in his belief that it’s wise for young Elizabeth and me to reside here to avoid unwanted intrusion before the wedding. And, of course, it would be inappropriate without your presence until after the ceremony.’

  ‘I don’t mind being requested to do something, Sophie. I object to being ordered about and then not being listened to.’ Kelynen retreated to Beatrice’s side. Beatrice was as smelly as ever, but Kelynen, like all the Pengarrons, seemed immune to it. She was humming and hawing, as always, but apart from admiring the dresses, was staying unusually passive.

  Sophie surveyed Kelynen coolly. ‘I’d have thought your brother’s wedding, his happiness, would be your priority.’

  Kelynen stared back into her sharp eyes. Since her betrothal, Sophie’s future status seemed to have swelled her head. She behaved as if she was the lady of the manor. She sought to discuss the menus with Esther King. Yesterday she had sat in on the interviews for a new housemaid with Polly O’Flynn. The lady’s maid she had acquired for herself and the nursery maid for Elizabeth rivalled Elgan for efficiency and snobbish aloofness. Elizabeth was under a strict regime and was rarely brought downstairs. Things in the manor were running smoothly, as usual, but there was much less laughter and sometimes a boring hush. Kelynen felt the sense of anxiety in the servants to perform their tasks well and on time. Polgissey would be run like clockwork. Kelynen couldn’t see herself visiting there often. It was as if she and Sophie had never been close friends. Well, no matter, when she was Rafe’s wife she’d have her own household to occupy her.

  ‘Luke could have agreed to speak to Rafe,’ Kelynen said severely.

  ‘Ah, here’s the tea.’

  How dare you ignore me! Kelynen’s eyes constricted as Sophie sat down in her mother’s chair. How dare you disapprove of Rafe’s and my desire to marry!

  Kelynen had exchanged angry words with Luke on the way home from Chenhalls, the confines of the carriage a crush with the addition of herself and Ruth King. ‘You’ve no right to take this high-handed attitude with Rafe. It wasn’t him who upset Sophie. He had something of the utmost importance to speak to you about and it didn’t involve business.’

  ‘I make no apologies for my actions. The matter is closed,’ he had bit back, squeezed in beside her.

  ‘No, it isn’t!’

  ‘What is this matter of great concern then?’

  A hush had fallen inside the rocking, creaking, lantern-lit conveyance, the others all straining to hear her explanation. ‘Rafe and I are in love. He wanted to talk to you, to ask you to recommend him to Father.’

  Astonished looks had been passed back and forth. Sophie had given a little cry, as if the news distressed her, then she had let out a snort of derision.

  ‘That’s ridiculous,’ Luke had cried. ‘You’re just a child. You don’t know anything about love.’

  ‘A child, am I? You were ordering me to find myself a husband not many weeks ago. Sir Rafe is eminently suitable, no one can deny that.’

  ‘Whether this would make a good marriage for you or not, it can wait. Father and Mama will decide. Trouble me not with it again.’

  And Luke had resolutely ensured she did not trouble him about it again, offending and infuriating her by declaring she was merely infatuated with Sir Rafe Tremayne. Doubtless, Sophie’s renewed bitterness against the family was holding his mind closed. In a couple of days her parents were due home and she was longing to set up a meeting between them and Rafe so he could put their case to them.

  The tea was drunk in a frosty atmosphere, and then Sophie excused herself. Unsurprisingly, Luke was waiting for her beyond the door. Kelynen glanced out of the windows. The weather was growing increasingly miserable and so was the mood inside the house. She rested her head on Beatrice’s fat shoulder, and as on every day since her return home, she appealed to the old nursemaid. ‘I do love him, Bea. I think of Rafe every minute of the day and night.’

  Beatrice patted her hand. ‘I d’know, cheeil.’

  ‘Luke and Sophie are being beastly.’

  ‘They’ll soon have nothin’ to crow about.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Kelynen gazed into Beatrice’s piggy eyes.

  ‘That there woman’s not for Luke. She’s as cold as mine water. Poor boy, he’s happy now but it won’t last.’

  ‘But he’s in love with her. He’ll be happy for the rest of his life just knowing she’s his wife.’

  ‘Think about it, my handsome. Luke’s been adored all his life. He’ll not be long in wanting she to treat him the same. It’ll matter to him that she won’t. Oh, she’ll be a good wife, I’ll give ’ee that, but he’ll grow to resent her lack of love and start looking for what he wants elsewhere, and she’ll resent it and grow colder. If they’m as unlucky as I fear, they’ll end up hating one another.’

  Kelynen buried her face into Beatrice’s shoulder again. ‘That would never happen to Rafe and me.’

  ‘No, don’t s’pose it would, if you’re as willing to honour him always and he’s as kind as you reckon he is. But, cheeil…’

  ‘But what?’ Kelynen looked up at Beatrice, for her last words had been delivered mournfully.

  ‘Oh, nothing.’ Beatrice stared into her eyes and stroked her chin. ‘Just remember I’m always here for ’ee, Kelynen.’ After escorting Beatrice to her room, Kelynen decided to put on her cape and take a walk with Rex. He was restless after being cooped up away from the dress fittings. She’d find a solitary spot and think of Rafe. Read again the note he had placed into her hand last week before she had been hurried out of his house. Meet me at Tinner’s Leap, the day after tomorrow. She had told Rafe about all her regular haunts on her father’s property. How clever of Rafe to arrange a meeting where they could easily and secretly meet.

  She had met him there, a little place on the cliff close to Trelynne Cove, where a broken-hearted young tin miner was said to have leapt to his death. There was a huddle of tall rocks, similar to those on Rafe’s land where they had made love.

  She had found him waiting for her and she drew her pony alongside his proud aristocratic mount. At once he leaned across and kissed her lips. ‘I don’t like us having to meet like this, beloved.’ The regret was clear in his strong voice. ‘But I wasn’t prepared to wait until I’ve spoken to Sir Oliver. I’ve missed you dreadfully. How are you?’

  ‘Missing you too, Rafe, so very much,’ she replied, eager to be in his arms. ‘It is romantic, meeting secretly like this.’

  ‘Yes, it is, but in this case it’s unnecessary. Come.’

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘To a quiet little place I know.’

  They rode away from Tinner’s Leap until they reached the main thoroughfare leading towards Marazion. Rafe led the way across it and headed inland along a narrow rough track until he stopped at a tiny cottage. It was well kept, with tidy gardens at the back and front inside low granite walls. There was a little wooden gate and at either side of the front door were stone benches. Hens were pecking at the ground and a large pink-and-grey pig was snuffling contentedly in a sty at the back. A white cat dozed on the wall on one side. Pretty patterned curtains were up at the windows. While Rex shot off to examine the surroundings, Kelynen took pleasure
in all that she saw.

  ‘I don’t know this place. Who lives here?’

  ‘One of my former servants; he was a gamekeeper. I call on him occasionally.’

  ‘And he will be discreet about us being here together?’

  ‘Kelynen.’ Rafe gave her a long meaningful look. ‘He’s not here presently and he won’t be home for some time.’

  Inside the two-up two-down cottage, two small tankards and a flagon half-filled with porter were set on a small square table. Kelynen liked the surroundings. ‘He’s very tidy, this old gamekeeper. He must spend hours cleaning his brasses.’

  ‘Before he worked for me, Joel Jackson was a soldier. He likes order and precision. Shall we take a drink?’

  ‘I’ll pour it.’

  Before Kelynen reached the table Rafe encompassed her in his arms and kissed her as though feasting on her. ‘It’s been hard waiting to be with you again.’

  Pressing into him, holding on to him tightly, she was happy, and thought she could never become happier. ‘I know. I’ve prayed every minute that we’ll soon be able to be together forever.’

  ‘You take the tankards, beloved, and I’ll carry the flagon.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Upstairs.’ He smiled blatantly into her eyes. Once more he was melting her into him but she had resolved not to risk intimacy with him again.

  ‘But Rafe, can’t we simply spend time together? I don’t think we should… go so far again, not until we’re married.’

  ‘Kelynen, darling.’ He clasped her hands, kissed them, and gazed into her eyes. ‘You’re not going to be cruel to me, are you?’