Pengarron Rivalry

by Pengarron Rivalry (retail) (epub)

  ‘This was where I first saw Rafe,’ she said. ‘Where Livvy painted him.’

  He bit back an impatient sigh. What could he do to get this man out of her head? Kelynen stared up at Rafe Tremayne’s portrait several times a day. If only he could utter what he really thought about the man, make his usually sensible daughter see Tremayne for what he’d been – a philanderer, who thought more of adventure than duty; an opportunist, who didn’t stop at free-trading but had taken part in the slaughter of innocent foreign sailors. Matthias Renfree had reminded him that the Tremayne accounts were long overdue. It was time to demand that Kelynen come home. But Beatrice had warned against it, declaring it would only make the dead man’s hold over her even stronger.

  ‘Your mama and I are hoping to hold a family dinner soon.’

  Kelynen looked at her father and loved him even more for this latest act of loving attention. He was proud and aristocratic, his black hair – silvered at the temples – swept back by the sharp wind coming in off the sea. Rafe had been like him, strong and noble. She had witnessed her mother gripping his hand, fearing, Kelynen thought, how she could never bear to lose him. A world without her father too made Kelynen shudder.

  ‘Beloved, you’re getting cold. I’m taking you inside. I long to take you home. When will you come home, Shelley? If it’s what you want, Gabriel can come too, and stay as long as he likes. I get the impression he doesn’t care for the estate he has inherited.’

  ‘He doesn’t,’ she said, as her father hastened them towards the house. ‘But he feels he must stay, at least for the mourning period, before he departs for Vienna and leaves Chenhalls in Josiah’s care.’

  ‘An unwise decision.’ Oliver did not explain his remark, and Kelynen took it to be in reference to Gabriel’s intended return home; concern had been expressed that he might sink back into a decline when faced with the location of his grief. ‘What do you want to do, sweeting?’

  ‘I know you and Mama are worried about me. But I can’t leave Rafe yet. I can’t! Please try to understand.’

  ‘At least come home for a day. I promise we won’t try to force you to stay. Think about it. Please, Shelley, say you’ll think about it.’

  But she couldn’t even think that far ahead and said nothing in reply.

  * * *

  ‘When is she to take her leave?’ Josiah asked, his tone hard and disapproving. He had joined Gabriel at an upstairs corridor window, where his half-brother was watching Kelynen and Sir Oliver approaching the house.

  Gabriel did not take his gaze from Kelynen’s fair form. Swamped by the imposing figure of her father, she looked lost and pitiful. He ached to find a way to ease her pain. Kelynen was the gentlest, most compassionate person he had met. Even in her anguish she had insisted on riding with him to the mine, farms and villages to offer her sympathy and practical help to the others involved in the tragedy. And she had been a comfort to Aunt Portia, who was taking her brother’s death hard. Kelynen did not deserve this heartbreak. Gabriel found Josiah’s demand offensive. ‘You despise her presence here?’

  ‘Not as such, but we can’t get on with our own lives with her weeping all over the place,’ Josiah whined. ‘It’s hardly doing her good. Her father should take her home. Today. He’s softer than his son, Luke. I couldn’t see him allowing the girl to languish here. She’ll go mad. Throw herself off the tower or something.’

  ‘She will not! Despite what the rest of you think, I know Kelynen is already facing up to life without Uncle Rafe. She is not selfish and she is not a coward. I’m confident that in a little while she’ll come to terms with her loss. You are being too harsh and—’

  Gabriel was forced to stop and reach out a hand to Josiah, who was suddenly sobbing and reaching for a handkerchief in the inside pocket of his fashionable black coat. Josiah blubbered like an infant over their uncle’s death nearly every day. ‘I’m sorry. Forgive me. I forget how close you were to Uncle Rafe.’

  Josiah moved away, head bent over, his shoulders shaking as he wept. ‘I – I don’t feel secure any more.’

  ‘Is there something I should know?’ Gabriel had not considered his half-brother’s character much before, but saw him now as something of a snivelling dandy. The day Josiah had informed him of their uncle’s death he had also complained that life wasn’t fair, that his latest mistress had cruelly thrown him over. As he watched Josiah hastily mopping his face and checking his appearance in a mirror, he wondered how he was coping with the business concerns of Chenhalls. The lawyers had repeatedly requested a reading of his uncle’s will, but Gabriel had been in no mood for that. His new position would be legal and final and he’d feel trapped. ‘You need time to clear your mind. I’ll go to the mine tomorrow. And I must ride over to Marazion to consult with the lawyers. You have your inheritance, Josiah. You may do whatever you wish now.’

  ‘No! Don’t do anything, Gabriel, I beg you. I wouldn’t dream of dispensing with the responsibilities entrusted to me until a more appropriate time.’ Josiah pinched his cheeks and turned round to Gabriel. With a half smile, he added, ‘Put your energies into comforting Miss Pengarron. I beg you also to take of yourself, Brother. You are still very pale.’

  ‘Concern yourself not about me, Josiah. I feel well and strong and indeed I am always inclined towards paleness.’ It could be seen in Gabriel’s firm smile that he was speaking the truth. ‘Now, let us go downstairs and ensure none of the cats are about for the sake of Sir Oliver’s comfort, and preside at our uncle’s table.’ Gabriel did not think of the house as his own yet.

  * * *

  Late at night, unable to sleep, Kelynen stole up to the little library in the attic. Snuffing out the candle, she sat in the darkness and recalled the first kiss shared here with Rafe, and imagined him being with her now. ‘I love you,’ she whispered, hearing his voice deep in her mind, saying it back.

  She dozed and woke to find not Rafe on her mind but, strangely, Luke. She had dreamed of Beatrice, drunk on gin and weeping over and over again, ‘Poor boy, poor boy’. Kelynen felt guilty about the pleasure she had felt over Beatrice’s declaration that Luke was destined to become miserable in his marriage. She prayed for Luke to have a son and heir. And lots more children. Luke would like that, sons and daughters and his adopted daughter, all loving him and looking up to him. She would make amends to Luke for her grouchy behaviour, and make firm friends again with Sophie. And she would support them both. That should help to keep their marriage strong. She hoped Sophie was able to be as loving and giving towards Luke as she, herself, had been with Rafe. She didn’t regret making love with Rafe. She had given all of herself to him and he had given all of himself to her.

  She had a thought that was awesome and wicked, but if it were real, such pleasure it would give her – something to take with her into the future. If only she was having Rafe’s baby. Then she would always have something precious of his, part of him to love, and they would never totally be parted. She made a calculation, then sat up ramrod straight. Nature was late in paying a monthly call on her. And Ruth, just lately, had taken to checking Kelynen’s underclothing in a most odd fashion, followed by expressions grave and worried.

  She laid a hand over her tummy and tears of joy and delight streamed down her face. She left the tears unchecked, and, although it was wicked, she thanked God out loud. ‘Oh, Rafe, part of you still lives, here inside me.’

  A glow appeared under the door and grew stronger and brighter. For one crazy, love-filled moment she thought it was Rafe, or a sign from him, come to share this most special of moments with her. The door was opened. She let out a cry of bliss.

  ‘Kelynen, my dear friend, are you all right?’

  It was Gabriel. She didn’t give him time to put down his candlestick before rushing to hug him. ‘I’m fine. I’m happy. Oh, Gabriel, I’m so happy! I’ll be happy now for the rest of my life.’

  Twenty-One

  As if in a playful mood, fingers of light crept into the little attic room, highlightin
g the gold print on some of the books. Kelynen saw it as pinpricks of promise. The flame of Gabriel’s candle had flickered out long ago. They had stayed up all night talking but neither were the least bit tired.

  ‘Thank you for telling me all about Caterina,’ Kelynen said. Sitting side by side, he was holding her hand and she was resting her face against his upper arm, as she did when seeking comfort or counsel from Beatrice. ‘How long do you think it will be before you finish the ballet?’

  ‘Not long, although…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’ve recently come to the conclusion that I should never finish it. Caterina’s life was suddenly snuffed out. An unfinished ballet to her memory would appeal to her love of drama. She’d have been bound to want – to demand – the end be rewritten several times anyway. Caterina was like that, full of her own ideas, always wanting total control, but not always knowing what she wanted. The end of the ballet could be anything. I feel that it’s not, even for me, to say exactly what it should be.’

  ‘Few people who create something would feel that way. Caterina was a fortunate woman to have known your love. You’re such a selfless man, Gabriel. I couldn’t have got through these last weeks without you.’ Kelynen thought that the fiery Austrian had not deserved his love. Strange to think that if she had not died, then the intense feelings and wild life they had shared would almost certainly have destroyed him, and she hated that thought. Without consideration – for it was as natural to her as breathing – she nestled into him, and he brought his arms round to enfold her.

  He gently stroked her hair. ‘We have much in common, Kelynen.’

  ‘Yes, we do. We have had those whom we loved cruelly ripped away from us. And fate has decreed that we should be available to bring each other through the darkness. I can go home now. You can return to where you long to be; I have held you back long enough. I would not wish to stay away from Chenhalls. I shall call regularly on Lady Portia and write to you of her welfare. I shall ensure that Livvy paints her portrait. And one day my child and I will visit you in Vienna and you can show us all the wonderful places you have spoken of. St Stephen’s Cathedral and all its fine spires and statues; the Lindenallee in the Augarten – and the other park, the Lusthaus in the Prater, where we might see the Emperor in his carriage.’

  Gabriel unwrapped her from his arms and looked directly into her eyes. His expression was serious. ‘Kelynen, my dear, do you not see that neither of us can simply do what you’ve just said. You are having a baby.’

  ‘I know. My parents will be disappointed but they will not disown me. I shall be content with my child. It will prevent a marriage but after Rafe there is none I could ever wish to marry.’

  ‘You are not considering what the life before you and your child will truly be like. Your present happiness will not stay intact. Your child will be shunned, and by all levels of society, and that will make you feel selfish. I could not return to Vienna and leave you in a fix. Indeed, I would not dream of it. There is nothing for it, Kelynen, but for us to marry.’

  ‘What?’ Kelynen’s heart drifted downwards as she acknowledged the dire truths put before her, yet somehow she could not help a weak smile. ‘But, Gabriel, it’s not what you want. I would not dream of asking such a noble gesture of you.’

  ‘You did not ask me, I offered. I know I’ve spoken as if I could not bear to ever marry anyone after Caterina, but if I married at all I could only consider you. Think about it, Kelynen. Uncle Rafe wanted an heir. As my wife, with me taking the child as mine, that’s what it would be. It would have its father’s name. And you love Chenhalls. Sir Oliver, I think, has a liking for me. It’s the perfect solution.’

  She was struck silent for some moments, her gaze growing more and more animated at the prospect. ‘Yes, it would be the perfect solution. And Josiah could go away as he desires. I certainly don’t wish him here. But Gabriel.’ She frowned. ‘Are you sure you could stand living here? You hate Chenhalls. Of course, I would not wish to bind you to my side. You could still go to Vienna at any time you please.’

  ‘I would not do that. I know how disadvantageous it is to grow up without a father. Your child, Uncle Rafe’s child, will know a contented family life. Few people will guess the truth of its paternity – indeed many will not doubt that I am responsible as we have spent much time alone together. Kelynen, if you agree, let us take a hasty breakfast and then ride to Pengarron Manor. I think Sir Oliver and Lady Pengarron will be cautiously pleased to receive us.’

  Twenty-Two

  ‘Lady Portia, may I come in?’ Kelynen waited just inside the old lady’s stuffy darkened bedchamber.

  Although it was a bright summer day, a coal fire burned determinedly in the great serpentine fireplace and all the windows were closed. There was a sickly combined smell of stale flesh, a potent earthy perfume, and dogs. Cosmo and Hartley had just been taken outside by Jayna Hayes, but it was plain they had performed many a ‘naughty-naughty’, as Lady Portia called their constant marking of furniture legs. Kelynen took a long, bracing sniff at the posy of flowers she carried.

  ‘Come closer, child. I can’t see a bit of you.’ If Lady Portia’s voice had been a pen it would have made a wobbly scrawl all over the paper.

  Kelynen went to the bed – a box-shaped affair, hung with brocaded curtains that had perhaps once been a dark purple – which looked older than its incumbent. Struck frail in bereavement, Lady Portia, propped up by a jumble of pillows, in her nightgown, a fluffy wool shawl and sleeping cap, was like an ugly, wrinkled, shrinking child. ‘I’ve brought these roses for you,’ said Kelynen.

  ‘What? Find me my spectacles, girl. Can’t see a damned thing! I’m sure I’m going blind.’

  ‘You’d feel stronger, milady, if you ate a little more.’ Kelynen located the spectacles and placed them on Lady Portia’s long nose.

  ‘How you do like to see people filled up with food. Should follow your own advice! Roses, you say? Hold them up. Let me see. Oh, how pretty. How sweet of you. You’ve even put ribbons round them. You look rather pretty yourself. Why?’ Kelynen received a shaky, accusing pointed finger. ‘Is something going on? Not stopped grieving for Rafe already, have you? I thought there was a growing attraction between you. Fine little wife you’d have made him if he’d had the sense to see it, instead of playing reckless games and getting himself killed.’

  ‘There was an attraction between us, milady, much more than that.’ Kelynen would never hide the truth about whom she had loved. ‘I’ll never stop grieving for Rafe. I’m wearing the gown I was to have worn at my brother’s wedding, and also my mother’s bridal veil. I married Gabriel a short while ago. The roses I carried in the chapel.’

  Lady Portia stared at her. Her baggy eyes flickered and closed, as if her brain was clicking over what she had heard and was trying to understand it. ‘Yes. I remember now. Hold my hand, Kelynen.’ Kelynen put the posy down, sat on the bed and did as she was bid. ‘Can’t tell you, m’dear, how pleased I am to have you permanently in the house. You’ve wed quick because you’re with child, I remember you telling me that too. It’s Rafe child, I suppose?’ Kelynen nodded. ‘I’m glad it’s Rafe’s. I’m not ashamed.’ Lady Portia chuckled and seemed more her usual feisty self. ‘Of course you shouldn’t be ashamed! Any woman should be proud to conceive a Tremayne brat. Rafe would have been tickled. If it’s a male child it might have tamed him at last. A worthy wife you’d have made him, but Gabriel will make a better father. I like Gabriel. He’s a strange boy though, a bit too quiet. He won’t be fun like Rafe was.’ Now she was spilling tears. ‘Oh! How I shall miss bickering with Rafe. We quarrelled nearly every day, but really I adored him. I know Rafe loved me. He loved everyone. But Gabriel will bring stability to Chenhalls. At my age I’ll be grateful for that. And you, little bud, you’ll bring so much more. Chenhalls likes you. It needs you. I need you.’

  ‘I’ll always ensure you’re well cared for, Lady Portia. I don’t want you to worry about anything.’

 
‘You must call me aunt from now on.’ Lady Portia suddenly sat up and muttered in a hushed, almost nervous tone. ‘I want you to take a word of warning. Watch out for Josiah. Rafe doted on him, but I find him a loathsome toad. He’s a wastrel, a whoremonger, not worthy of the Tremayne name. His charm hides a rotten soul. Now, you’ve endured enough of an old woman’s prattling. I take it your family is here. Go down to them, make the most of your wedding day, Kelynen, which has united two great ancient families.’

  Lady Portia had given Kelynen much to think about. She was pleased at some of the things she had heard, delighted at others – concerned too – but pushed it all aside for now, including Josiah’s noticeable resentment of her marriage – he was shunning the quiet reception in the banqueting hall. She rejoined her husband and their guests.

  Disappointed and angry though they were over Sir Rafe’s seduction of their daughter and her pregnancy, Oliver and Kerensa had been persuaded that marriage to Gabriel was preferable to her locking herself and her child away in shame. They watched their younger daughter wend her way smilingly through the guests, mainly Pengarrons and Lanyons, including the children, to her bridegroom. Their new son-in-law, stationed in front of the fireplace, smiled down at Kelynen and she smiled up at him.

  ‘Thank God the time she spent nursing him bred a mutual affection,’ Oliver said drily. He was finding this day hard, losing his favourite child so suddenly. If Rafe Tremayne were not already dead he would have wished it on him – would have given him a thrashing at least.

  ‘I wish she had never met Sir Rafe, and certainly that she was not having his baby,’ Kerensa replied. ‘But it’s not entirely a bad thing. It’s kept Gabriel here. I doubt she would’ve married another and would’ve spent her life mourning her loss. Kelynen is determined to make the best of the situation.’

  ‘I only pray she will be happy, but I fear she’s ruined her life.’