Kerensa clutched Clem’s arm. ‘Kane? What’s he doing home?’ She hurtled out of the kitchen and rushed out of the front door. Kane threw himself off his horse and swept her off her feet.
‘We saw him coming towards us on the outskirts of Marazion, my dear,’ Oliver said, dismounting and joining them. Kelynen followed and hugged her brother.
Kerensa lifted her head away from Kane’s chest and sought his eyes. ‘What’s the matter, Kane? Are you well? Why are you home so suddenly? You didn’t write to say you were coming.’
Kane kissed her cheeks and laughed. ‘Why do mothers always assume something is wrong with their children?’
But Kerensa had seen the dark shadows under his eyes. ‘There is something wrong, isn’t there? You don’t look at all well and you’ve become so thin!’
‘I agree with your mother, Kane,’ Oliver said firmly. ‘What’s happened to you?’
Kane sighed light-heartedly in submission. ‘I was badly hurt in the Caribbean.’
‘Oh, Kane, you never told us!’ Kerensa gasped. ‘You’ve been back in England for months. Why didn’t you send word to us when it happened?’
‘I didn’t want you to worry, Mama. I was incapable of writing for a long time and I forbade anyone else to write with the news. When I got back to England, there didn’t seem any point in mentioning it.’
‘Well, that explains one of your long silences,’ Oliver said.
Kane grimaced at the slight reprimand. ‘I’ve spent a long time thinking over the future. I decided not to go to Ireland with the regiment and resigned my commission. I’ve been in the regiment for five years now and I want to set up my own farm, to see how things work out in my life.’
‘You mean you’re home for good? That’s wonderful! But where were you hurt, Kane? Has it left you with lasting effects?’ Kerensa next wanted to know.
Kane looked across to the doorway where a group of people had gathered. ‘I’ll tell you everything there is to know later,’ he said. ‘I’d like to say hello to Nancy and Clem and it seems I have a new parson and wife to meet.’
‘Miss Catherine is the Reverend Timothy Lanyon’s sister,’ Kerensa said, reluctantly letting her eldest child go.
‘What’s he doing here?’ Oliver demanded, his face as black as thunder as he glared at Clem.
‘He was visiting Alice’s grave,’ Kerensa said soothingly, her eyes still on Kane. ‘He was bitten by a dog and Miss Catherine bathed it for him.’
‘I hope the dog recovers,’ Oliver said acidly, under his breath. He caught Clem’s eye and they glared at each other in mutual despite.
‘Oliver,’ Kerensa said chidingly, but she was too happy to let her husband’s chagrin upset her now.
Oliver was pleased that Kelynen had stayed beside him and was holding his arm. He wanted to show Clem Trenchard that his daughter was totally his and nothing of her belonged to the other man just because he happened to have delivered her. He had wished often over the years that he could have put a stop to their wives’ idea of their children mixing and playing together, then the rapport Kane and his other daughter, Olivia, had with the Trenchards would never have occurred.
Kane had made his introductions to the Lanyons, delighted Nancy Wills by kissing her fondly and turned to Clem when his parents and sister joined the group on the doorstep.
‘I saw Philip, David and Jessica in Marazion, Clem,’ Kane said, shaking the farmer’s hand. ‘I watched Philip’s wrestling match with Matthew King.’
‘Who won?’ Clem asked eagerly. ‘I had to leave to get back to the farm – in fact I should be home now.’
‘Then don’t let us keep you, Trenchard,’ Oliver interrupted.
Clem ignored him and Kane looked slightly shocked. The animosity Clem and his father shared over the love they had for his mother obviously hadn’t lessened. He knew his father felt it was wrong that Clem Trenchard should be sharing in their reunion.
‘I’m afraid the Barvah Giant won. He pinned Philip down with one of his famous forehips,’ Kane said quickly, hoping Clem would take his leave and they could resume their friendship at some later date.
Clem had no wish to stay. He knew Kane would call at Trecath-en Farm sooner or later and as he had now left his regiment, there was no hurry. ‘I didn’t expect Philip to win,’ he said. ‘I’ll be off now.’ He bade Timothy goodbye and wanted to do the same to Kerensa and rectify his bad manners with Miss Catherine, but Oliver put himself in the way. Clem would never ask this man to do anything for him, even a little thing like excusing him so he could pass by. He hardened his fair features and walked away to his horse.
Kane watched Clem thoughtfully. He was back home for good and had seen most of his family today. But the thing he would remember most was Jessica Trenchard’s hostility.
Chapter 3
Several days later Simon Peter Blake was sitting at breakfast with his parents in their small but grandly built house at Trevenner on the outskirts of Marazion. The family were close and enjoyed spending mealtimes together. Despite the fact that Simon Peter knew the reason why his father was despised and shunned by the county’s gentry, namely his dishonourable discharge from the 32nd Foot and his underhand business transactions, he loved him as much as he did his gentle mother. But this morning a secret part of his father’s behaviour was giving Simon Peter much pain.
‘You’re quiet this morning, my dear,’ Rosina Blake said softly to him. ‘You haven’t touched your oysters and they’re your favourite. Is something wrong?’
‘Oh…’ Simon Peter sighed, and his father, Peter, looked up expectantly from the newspaper he was reading. Simon Peter had to think of something quickly to say. ‘It’s Jessica, I asked her to marry me again and she refused… again.’ He didn’t like to talk about his love and heartbreak over Jessica Trenchard but he had to ward off his mother’s interest in his low spirits.
Because Rosina had come from working-class mining people, and knowing that despite his wealth few of the gentry would consider his son for their daughters, Peter Blake did not disapprove too much of Simon Peter’s interest in Jessica Trenchard. If his son wanted the wayward beauty then that was what Blake wanted for him too. Jessica Trenchard could be tamed and dressed up and would provide agreeable company for Rosina.
‘Faint heart never won fair lady,’ he said, turning the pages of the latest London gossip. ‘I had to fight for your mother’s hand.’ He smiled at Rosina, the faithful wife he loved as much as ever after twenty-two years of marriage.
‘Why don’t you invite Jessica over to tea, Simon Peter?’ Rosina said, rubbing his hand affectionately.
‘She wouldn’t come, Mother.’ Simon Peter squirmed inside and wished he’d thought of another reason for his tenseness this morning. ‘Jessica’s made it quite clear she sees me only as a friend.’
Peter Blake folded his newspaper and put it down on the table. ‘It can’t be that difficult to get the girl to take an interest in you, my son. You have much to offer her.’
‘I haven’t got your good looks,’ Simon Peter said sulkily, looking into his father’s face, who in his early forties was considered by women to be still beautiful. Then into the pale, ethereal quality of his mother’s face, noting again her cornflower-blue eyes the same as his father’s, and wishing his own weren’t a wishy-washy sky colour. ‘Or the height or broad shoulders of the Trenchard and Pengarron menfolk. I wish you both didn’t think it was so easy.’
‘Nevertheless, you are a most attractive young man,’ Rosina said. ‘You have a lot to offer a future wife. You really must stop putting yourself down all the time, Simon Peter.’
Rosina felt for her son. She knew he’d found his childhood lonely, not having received the many brothers and sisters she and her husband had hoped to give him. Now he was finding his youth difficult. He wasn’t accepted by the gentry, except for Olivia and Kane Pengarron, and although he had a mother of humble beginnings, he didn’t feel comfortable with his working-class peers either.
‘
You will inherit this house and my property at Marazion one day, and my business interests, the renting of fishing boats and the mining speculations. You have an exceedingly generous allowance now and you are respectable and intelligent. The Trenchard girl will come to her senses, you’ll see. You even follow the same faith as her.’ To Peter Blake it was beyond belief that any girl of Jessica Trenchard’s background and expectations would continue to spurn his son.
‘I’ll have another try,’ Simon Peter said, brightening up his face for his parents’ sake. ‘I’m hoping to see Jessica later in the day. Olivia Pengarron has been allowed to plan her own twenty-first birthday party and I’m to be included in those plans. I’m hoping Jessica will be with Olivia.’
‘You can always try a prayer, son. I don’t believe in them but you do. One just might work,’ Peter Blake said, rising from the table.
‘Are you well enough to go out today, my dear?’ Rosina said, tilting her face so her husband could kiss her. ‘You’re only just over that stomach fever.’
‘As much as I’d like to spend another day under your tender care, my beloved, I must see what has been happening out in the big wide world.’
As Blake asked her what she intended to do with her day, Simon Peter got up and tried to think of a reason to ask to speak to his father alone; his was a family that shared most things with each other and his mother would be curious.
The clatter of a falling tray, a loud shriek followed by hysterical wailing in the passageway outside hastened Rosina’s departure from the room. ‘I wish Mrs Blight would admit she’s too old to work and take things easy in her room,’ she said mildly and limped out on her one good and one lame foot to the aid of their highly strung, ageing servant.
As Blake made to follow her, Simon Peter took his arm. ‘May I have a word, Father?’
‘Yes, of course, Simon. I think I know what this is about,’ Blake said smiling knowingly. ‘Shall we sit down again?’
‘I don’t think you have any idea of what I’m about to say,’ and Simon Peter stood his ground.
‘You want some advice on how to treat the gentler sex, do you not?’
‘I do not. I don’t want any advice, Father. I’m afraid I have something to tell you, something really terrible, and now that Mother’s out of the room…’ He stopped to listen to Rosina’s soothing voice as she led a wailing Mrs Blight upstairs.
‘We ought to get rid of that damned woman,’ Blake said under his breath, low enough for Simon Peter not to hear. Louder, he said, ‘You have me concerned. You haven’t been with a woman and caught something, have you?’
‘This concerns you, not me, Father.’ Simon Peter blushed and looked away. ‘It wasn’t easy to face your father with the sort of news he was about to impart. This is difficult for me to say. Normally I’d never have mentioned it… but I think you ought to know that… that…’
‘Spit it out, for goodness’ sake, son, or you’ll give me an attack of the vapours like that hysterical woman.’
‘Last night I was over at the Assembly Rooms at Penzance. There was talk, the whole place was buzzing with it, of a woman being brutally murdered in the next street… Father, her name was Dinah Tredinnick.’
Peter Blake paled to a ghastly white, a gurgling noise came from his throat, then he choked and gagged. His knees buckled under him and Simon Peter caught him and led him to a winged chair next to a tall window.
‘Dinah…’ Blake gasped and choked again. ‘Dead? Murdered?’ His mouth fell open and saliva dribbled onto his tasteful clothes.
‘I’ll get you some brandy,’ Simon Peter said softly.
‘No! No, stay with me, son… How did you know that I…?’
‘That you had an interest in Dinah Tredinnick? I’ve known about your association with Dinah for many years. You took me there once, when I was about two and a half. You probably thought I’d forget all about it, but when I got older and walked past the house, I realised it was familiar to me. Then I saw you going in there… and people do talk. Your name was mentioned last night. I expect you’ll be questioned, Father.’
Blake wiped at his chin and ran his shaking hands down his coat front. He looked anxiously at the door, fearful that Rosina was returning or one of the servants would come in and see his distress.
‘I’ll close the door,’ Simon Peter said, ‘and we can tell Mother we’re having a man-to-man talk, like you thought we were going to.’ He fetched his father a glass of water from the table.
Blake sipped from it then gasped out, ‘Simon, you’ve known about Dinah and me all this time. Don’t you hate me?’
‘I may be religious and prefer to keep myself chaste but in every other respect I am a man of the world. I am aware that a lot of gentlemen keep a mistress, Father.’
‘But they are usually men who don’t love their wives. But you know that I worship the ground your mother walks on. Doesn’t that make you feel differently, Simon Peter?’
‘I prefer not to know your reasons, Father. And I’m sorry about Dinah. I know… well, I’m sure she was the only one you… went with.’
‘She was, I swear to you, Simon.’ Blake was more himself now. He drank down the water and handed Simon Peter the glass. ‘Is it known who did it? Who murdered Dinah? How she died?’
It was Simon Peter’s turn to gulp and become shaken. He squeezed the glass between his palms and took his time putting it down on a side table. ‘It seems that from the condition of the body she had been dead for about a week. She was… she was mutilated. I’m sorry.’
‘Like all those other people? Oh God,’ Blake moaned. ‘These murders have been going on for years… and now poor Dinah. They say whoever does it likes to kill slowly…’
‘Don’t, Father,’ Simon Peter said, putting his arm round his father’s shoulders. ‘Don’t torture yourself. Look, you are not fit to go out today. I’ll tell Mother you’ve come over with the stomach cramps again, that you need to lie down quietly.’
‘I’ll be grateful to you if you would do that,’ Blake said vacantly, his senses numb. ‘What about Amy?’ he asked, gazing into Simon Peter’s eyes.
‘Who’s Amy?’
‘Dinah’s maid. She’s been with her for years, she’s a sweet girl, kind and totally loyal.’
‘I heard the maid has disappeared but there was no sign of her being hurt.’
‘He may have taken her away,’ Blake moaned. ‘People disappear and they’re found days later hacked to pieces.’
‘Try not to think about it,’ Simon Peter counselled, but he knew that would be impossible. He could hear his mother coming back. ‘Mother’s coming. Will you be all right?’
‘Yes, yes, I think so. I’m sorry that you knew about Dinah, Simon.’
‘We all have our weaknesses, Father, and I’d rather this awful news came from me than someone else.’
* * *
That afternoon Jessica Trenchard was sitting at the bottom of the valley of Ker-an-Mor Farm, the Pengarrons’ home farm. She was sharing a picnic with Olivia Pengarron and Cordelia Drannock and because Ker-an-Mor bordered Trecath-en farmland, she’d only had to climb over a hawthorn hedge to reach her friends. She sat with her back against the hedge watching the river a few inches away sparkle under the sunlight. The sun was strong today and the three young women wore protective hats and light dresses with floral patterns. Jessica’s was faded through constant wear. They were sitting on a blanket discussing Olivia’s forthcoming birthday.
‘’Tis a pity your birthday’s on the twenty-sixth of June and not on midsummer’s eve,’ Jessica said, nibbling on a juicy green apple and studying her teeth marks. ‘Just think of the fun we could have – we could build an extra big bonfire.’
‘Yes, but this means we can have the fun of midsummer night’s eve and of celebrating my birthday,’ Olivia replied, picking at the blanket she lay sprawled on.
‘Aye, that’s a point,’ Jessica said brightly, tossing the flame-haired Olivia an apple. ‘Two lots of fun within a few days. Wha
t do you think, Cordelia?’
Cordelia was sitting with her back against the picnic hamper, daydreaming, as she often did. With the dark hair and eyes of her male Pengarron relatives, Cordelia made a perfect contrast to Olivia and the fair-haired Jessica. Olivia was slender, Jessica had a shapely figure and Cordelia was small and finely-boned and, despite being twenty-two years old, was considered ‘a wisp of a girl’. She brought out the protective feelings of her family and friends.
Jessica carefully threw an apple to land on Cordelia’s lap. ‘Hey, I was talking to you, Dolly Daydream. Are you thinking about Philip again?’
Philip Trenchard had been showing a lot of interest in Cordelia. She was flattered but he made her nervous. Her little sparrow face turned an embarrassed pink and she was annoyed because she had actually been thinking about Ricketty Jim, a one-time rover who seemed to have made a permanent home in a shack at the top of Trecath-en’s valley.
‘I was thinking about Ricketty Jim,’ she said. Because she had started life as a poor fisherman’s daughter, until Sir Oliver had found out that he and her father, Samuel Drannock, were half-brothers and shared the same father, her accent was nearly the same as Jessica’s. ‘I was just wondering if he is going to stay living in his little hut on your father’s land for good now, Jessica, that’s all.’
‘Why were you thinking about him?’ Olivia asked, completely puzzled. ‘He’s got nothing to do with my birthday party and we agreed to make up our minds exactly how it would be celebrated today.’
‘You said just now that you’d like to invite no one but unusual people and I thought about Ricketty Jim. Would you invite him?’
‘Well, that’s an idea,’ Jessica said thoughtfully. ‘He tells some wonderful stories. What do you think, Livvy?’
‘Mmmm, I’ll think about it,’ Olivia answered, brushing away a fly intent on sharing her apple. ‘It will definitely be a costume affair. Nymphs, elves, that kind of thing. What do you two think? Will you be all right at getting a costume, Jessie? We haven’t got much time left.’
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