‘Excellent. May I say how pleased I am that many of those murderous ruffians will in the not too distant future make acquaintance with the hangman’s rope?’
‘You may. The ringleaders have apparently fled the county and are unlikely to meet their just punishment, but that is all too often the case.’
‘Sadly, I’m afraid it is.’
Cost sheets and profit ledgers were brought and a long, stifling hour passed. As Gabriel had expected there was little good news and some of it made him angry, not least with himself for delaying in acquiring this knowledge.
‘So my brother has, in effect, already come into his inheritance, siphoning it off in large sums by drawing bills from the bank on the strength of his expected seventy-five thousand. He’s sold shares in many of my uncle’s concerns – the East India Company, sugar plantations, merchandise. He has been systematically cheating Chenhalls. My wife thought as much. He has recently removed a lot of paperwork from the house. Was my uncle never suspicious?’
‘Mr Josiah gave me to understand that all he did was under Sir Rafe’s instigation. When I did endeavour to inform Sir Rafe of the volume and gravity of various transactions, I’m afraid Sir Rafe was not altogether concerned. He kept promising to call on me but he did not. The bank may well tell a similar story. I’m afraid your uncle’s wealth, as substantial as it is, has been greatly reduced. What will you do, sir? Bring Mr Josiah to book?’
Gabriel had considered all options after Kelynen’s speech. ‘Most definitely not, Mr Leggo. My brother is sly and shallow, but I will never forget I owe him my life in bringing me to Cornwall from Vienna, and we have a certain bond. Much of his felony would be hard to prove, I should think, and he has not gone as far as raising a loan on the estate, so he has not left me in debt. Josiah’s punishment will be his fall from grace. I shall remove him this day from all his duties and permit him a small allowance. It seems to me he spends as wantonly as the Prince of Wales. If he needs more funds he must either seek work or live off the proceeds of the sale of his house. If he’s occurred debts he must pay them off himself. Place a sum of a thousand per annum on him, Mr Leggo.’
Mr Leggo’s wrinkles gathered in a certain delight round his eyes and mouth. He did not like Josiah Tremayne. A thousand pounds was a meagre sum to settle on such an irresponsible spendthrift. ‘In the circumstances, it’s most generous of you, Sir Gabriel.’
Gabriel studied the mine ledgers, leafing back through yellowing pages and fading ink before returning to the latest jottings placed in the lawyer’s care. ‘These figures reflect the current slump in copper prices. My uncle mentioned his concerns but perhaps they did not trouble him enough. A new level has not long been sunk in the Wheal Lowen, and hopefully there will be a reversal of fortunes. I shall speak to the mine captains, use their knowledge and wisdom, and see if investment needs to be made.’
‘I wish you every success. May I offer belated congratulations on your marriage? Miss Kelynen Pengarron is a particularly fine young lady, if I may take the liberty of saying so. I am sure she will be a gratifying support to you in your aims.’ Mr Penwood Leggo was certain he would enjoy advising this particular client. He poured more port.
‘You are correct on both scores, Mr Leggo.’ Gabriel winked. ‘I propose a toast – in fact two: to never-empty cellars and to my dear, delightful wife.’
* * *
Livvy was in her dressmaker’s in a quiet side street at Marazion, ordering new clothes to be made up for her children. ‘I sent to London for these details,’ she told Eulaliah Gluyas. ‘I’ve made illustrations. Do you think you can follow them? I’ve noted the materials required and added a colour chart.’
Miss Gluyas carefully shuffled through the numerous sketches put before her on the table in her little private room, above the shop. Sounds of industry came from the cutting and sewing room, also on the first floor, and dust from cloth and sewing threads clogged the air. ‘How very different, Mrs Lanyon.’
‘It’s now the fashion for children to be clad in simpler styles rather than as miniature adults. Their clothes are becoming more practical for freer movement. So I want plain linen coats with curved fronts and narrow tails, white lawn shirts and cotton trousers for my son, and light muslin, high-waisted dresses for my daughter. You may add a variety of coloured sashes for Hugh and mob caps for Julia.’ Livvy was in a jubilant mood. She had dismissed the miserable Phylida Bevan, who would have disapproved and even fought against her intentions, and now employed a more amiable nursemaid.
‘I’ll have no trouble following your instructions, Mrs Lanyon. You have them down in admirable detail. How exciting, to be first in the district with the new fashion. I’m sure others will soon follow your lead in regard to their own offspring. May I ask, are these the likenesses of your children?’
‘They are. The background incorporates the new friezes that I designed and painted myself in their nursery.’
‘They are very well done – and so real-looking. The dear children almost look as if they’re actually moving. I’ll be most careful with them. Would you like them back when I’ve finished with them?’
‘I hadn’t thought about that. Yes, I would. They will be a record of how the children looked at their present ages. More personal than the usual formal poses.’
‘I say!’ A raucous nasal voice arrived from the doorway. ‘I’ve overheard all that the two of you said. Think it impertinent of me, would you, Livvy, to order similar clothes for my grandchildren? We could be forerunners locally in the new trend.’
Livvy and Eulaliah looked up at another of the establishment’s exalted customers. Lady Rachael Beswetherick, whose husband owned neighbouring property to the Pengarrons. The two families were close friends. The aging lady, who was inclined towards extravagant wigs, overpowdering, over-dressing, too many face patches and too much rouge – despite Eulaliah’s efforts to persuade her to be more discreet – had innumerable grandchildren and the dressmaker was delighted at a possible large commission.
Livvy liked Lady Rachael because she was fun, witty and kind. ‘I wouldn’t mind at all. I’m sure Jessica would be interested too. She allows Harry and Charlie to run wild on the farm anyway, so she’d appreciate the looser clothes. She’s with child again. I expect Mama has told you.’
‘She has.’ Lady Rachael put on her spectacles, picked up one of the illustrations and brought her sharp nose down close to it. ‘The boy is like Timothy, the girl like you, another red-haired beauty. I do like the way you’ve portrayed the children. You have a gift, dearheart. You should paint more of them, and I mean other children too. Why don’t you? Could open up a whole new avenue. Now, tell me how young Kelynen fares. When is she expected to deliver? I really must go over to Chenhalls to see her. I haven’t set foot in the strange old place for many a year, and Kelynen is becoming quite a stranger. Is her husband as fascinating as he sounds? He’s surely a lot different to the risque Sir Rafe. Now he was an adorable fellow, such a sad loss to womanhood.’
Livvy spent the next half-hour fielding off questions about Kelynen from both women in case they got too personal. She left, saying she would see herself out, wanting to sink into her thoughts. Lady Rachael’s suggestion that she draw more of her children and others was a welcome one. She had nothing arranged after Lady Portia’s portrait was finished. She pictured herself down on the beach below the parsonage, sketching and painting the antics of the fishermen’s brats, and at Vellanoweth, capturing the scampering Harry and Charlie in the farmyard and fields. And Luke’s ward… but no, Sophie would insist of formal portrayals of Elizabeth. Livvy smirked as she imagined Sophie’s condemnation of the new fashions for children. Poor Elizabeth was destined to stay in restrictive laces, flowing skirts and too many shawls.
The dressmaker’s had a small outside landing and stairs and Livvy was preparing to descend to the street below. A gentleman was about to come up but he waited politely for her. Livvy sighed. It was Josiah Tremayne. No doubt he was here to visit his tailor; E
ulaliah Gluyas’ brother was set up in an annexe and kept a few select customers.
Josiah offered a gloved hand when she reached the bottom pair of steps and she allowed him to help her alight. ‘A very good day to you, Mrs Lanyon.’ He smiled deeply.
‘Mr Tremayne,’ she replied loftily. Kelynen had told her of her concerns about this man. And Livvy hadn’t forgotten his deplorable actions towards Sophie.
‘May I enquire how goes my aunt’s portrait?’ Josiah was there in the hope of procuring something of his latest wardrobe, despite a heavy mounting bill. But he always had time for this delectable young woman.
‘There is some work left yet to do. Your aunt is an excellent subject.’ Livvy had no wish to remain in Josiah Tremayne’s company, but if she could establish any of his intentions it might be useful to Kelynen. She stared back blatantly into his beautiful brown eyes. ‘I trust you are settled in your new abode?’
‘How kind of you to ask. I am, indeed. My temporary lodgings are quite comfortable.’
Livvy could see he was eager to keep her engaged. She knew why – he was always on the hunt for conquests. ‘I understand you are to leave Cornwall soon.’
‘I am, indeed.’ He edged nearer her.
‘May I enquire to anywhere in particular?’
‘I haven’t made up my mind yet. I don’t intend to settle for some years. Have you had the opportunity to travel much, ma’am?’
‘I’m afraid I haven’t. I would very much like to.’ Livvy knew she should stop. The prolonged conversation could now only be considered as flirtatious. Josiah Tremayne was smiling confidently and leaning a little towards her.
‘I was on my way for a fitting with Mr Gluyas, but would it be presumptuous of me to enquire if you would care to take refreshment somewhere?’ He raised a beguiling curve to one eyebrow.
‘I’m afraid I am occupied today, Mr Tremayne,’ Livvy replied briskly, and she walked past him and went on along the narrow cobbled street. She was sure if she glanced round she would find him gazing after her. To do so would give him unnecessary encouragement. But as she reached the corner to turn into the main street she could not help herself. Despite his detestable character, flirting with him – a young man of matchless good looks and immense, although counterfeit, charm – had given her a power she had never experienced before. He was smiling after her, his hat dangling jauntily from his fingers. He was a handsome sight and she made the look she returned last too long, for he raised a hand in a small wave and nodded, as if an understanding had passed between them.
Livvy went on her way with her heart pounding. She had behaved wantonly, her speech and actions untrue to Timothy. If she ever saw Josiah Tremayne again she must make it plain that she wasn’t at all interested in him.
Josiah went after her. This was too promising to leave to the vagaries of another chance meeting. Olivia Lanyon was too succulent – he was drooling. He rounded the corner and very nearly collided with someone. ‘Oh! Gabriel! How odd to meet you in town. Would you excuse me, I have—’
‘I’ve been searching for you at your regular haunts. I will not excuse you, Josiah. Come with me to the coffee house. At once!’
* * *
‘Luke! What on earth do you think you’re doing? It isn’t good for Elizabeth to be out here like this.’
He ignored his wife’s chastisement and carried on showing his ward the beauties of the coast. ‘Don’t fuss so, Sophie. We are not far from the house and she’s covered up against the sun, which is gentle enough today. What isn’t good for Elizabeth is to be cooped up inside all day long. Children need lots of fresh air to be healthy.’
‘But she’s too young to understand where she is.’
‘I’ve told her,’ Luke said simply, ‘that nearby is the village of Porthcarne. I’ve pointed out St Agnes Beacon, not far inland, and that how up-coast we can see Trevose Head, and down-coast Navax Point. Did you know St Ives is hidden by the point, Sophie?’
‘Yes,’ she replied, uninterested. ‘At least take her back to the garden. You may stumble in a rabbit hole, Luke.’ Sophie watched, angry over the opposition to her views, and jealous as the four-month-old baby smiled up at Luke and chuckled while he tickled her. Elizabeth did not respond to her like that.
‘You like the cliffs and you like the sea, don’t you, sweeting?’ Luke kissed the tiny face, which bore a close resemblance to her mother and aunt’s. ‘I’ll teach you all the names of the wild flowers, the thrift and squills, the primroses and foxgloves. But let us away to the garden, or your Aunt Sophie will nag us further.’
He was hoping Sophie would ask to carry the baby but it seemed she had no maternal feelings. She avoided the nursery while the wet nurse was feeding Elizabeth. It was as if she found this most natural procedure disgusting. Luke hoped his own child would not be relegated to the wet nurse. Sophie was certain she was with child. She had all the usual signs, but so far had refused to be examined by the doctor. He longed to take Sophie for a walk along the cliff top, to climb with her down into Doble’s Cove, one of his favourite places to write outdoors, and to make love to her in the glorious fresh air, but she would be horrified at the very thought. He sighed.
‘Is something wrong?’ Sophie asked sharply.
‘No. Nothing.’
‘Why did you sigh?’ she demanded.
‘I was just taking a deep cleansing breath of air, my dear. Don’t be critical.’
‘I was not!’
Luke glared at her. He had learned it was the only way to stop Sophie from complaining. The fright she had suffered at Josiah Tremayne’s behest had unsettled her and she was jumpy and argumentative. And she was boring. What had happened to the beguilingly haughty woman he had fallen in love with? She had pleaded with him not to take Tremayne to task, not wanting to be embarrassed. He had intended to thoroughly thrash the unspeakable swine. If he got his hands on him now, nothing would prevent him from doing so.
‘Would you like to go out somewhere today?’ he said amiably.
‘I’m happy to do whatever you wish to do.’
Luke wasn’t happy with this answer. Sophie also now tended to hide herself away. He didn’t want to visit any of his family. It was fine for a while but he soon got bored. He had no wish to get on with his play. He had no heart in it with things so dull in his marriage. What he needed was fun. Something new. He glanced at Sophie. She was plodding along beside him instead of stepping aloof and proud. Perhaps she needed new horizons too.
‘Change for travelling, my dear! Order your maid to pack your best gowns. We will go to Truro, stay at the Red Lion Inn, for a few nights at least. I think it’s time we had a honeymoon.’ If a whirl of social activity in the county’s foremost town didn’t cheer her, make her more sociable and, hopefully, properly eager in bed at last, then nothing would.
Twenty-Six
Kelynen worked tirelessly to improve the living conditions of all those who relied on Gabriel for their livelihood. She started by inspecting the servants’ living quarters. Many lived in tiny cottages. Their homes were without luxury but she felt Rafe had served them well. Each had proper flooring and sound roofs and access to an outdoor privy. Nonetheless, she supplied them with practical items like pots and pans, buckets and tools. Those who lived-in had draught-free rooms in the servants’ hall. Men and boys were segregated from the women and girls, but she fancied a lot of clandestine mixing went on – indeed, one of the kitchen maids was with child, and she had arranged a hasty marriage with one of the stable grooms. She handed out new bedding and Sunday best clothes for all.
The miners and their wives were at first nonplussed by the considerations shown them. Some welcomed it. Some regretted the time it took to make the encouraged improvements to their homes, especially those who had previously not bothered to clear land for garden patches. They were pleased about the monthly doctor’s clinic, to be held in the office, but nearly all baulked at mention of a school. In their opinion it was a waste of time and gave the children false hop
e; too much was against them to obtain a better life, unless it was the eternal kind, and they thought girls didn’t need schooling anyway. The tenant farmers and household servants held this same view almost to the individual, and Kelynen knew she’d have to persevere to get a reasonable half-day attendance when the school was built, on the outskirts of Trewarras.
Gabriel remained concerned about her contracting a disease, for she had insisted on visiting every home, but she politely refused to eat or drink anything and never stayed for any length of time.
She worried about Gabriel’s persistence in going underground at the mine. Josiah’s fury at being dismissed had led to him threatening to sabotage the mine, but Gabriel had passed it off as childish spleen. Josiah had actually burst into violent tears in the coffee house and beaten his fists on the table, causing him to be further humiliated by the curious stares and derisory remarks at his ungentlemanly conduct. Since then he had lurked in bitter mortification at his lodgings. Gabriel had called on him, and Josiah, while at the door but refusing him entrance, had hurled accusations.
‘What right have you got to throw me off? You’ve lived only a short time at Chenhalls. You care nothing for it. You’ve never waited upon our uncle. He wouldn’t have taken such a cruel outrageous stance. You are unfair. An interloper. You are not morally entitled to a penny of Tremayne money. I only took what was rightfully mine. You are loathesome. I shall pay a gipsy to ill wish you. I shall find a witch to cast a spell over you and that selfrighteous minnie you’ve wed. She has no right to Chenhalls either.’
Pengarron Rivalry Page 22