‘He brought it back from the Caribbean. Apparently it’s quite harmless. I’m afraid Kane’s experiences abroad have clouded his better judgement, my love. I think this has taught him a lesson, but the sooner he gets that farm he wants so badly under way, the better. Then maybe he’ll settle down. Is Jessica going back to the party?’
‘Oh yes, nothing gets that young lady down for long. I’ve had a number of chats with her to see if I could influence her into being a little less volatile. But it’s probably best to let folk be who they are. I reckon she’ll put Kane in his place. She won’t spare him.’
‘Two lessons in one night,’ Oliver laughed as they climbed the stairs arm in arm. ‘I’m beginning to feel sorry for our son.’
Kerensa thought back a few minutes to Jessica’s distress. Terribly embarrassed, the girl had wanted to go straight home but Kerensa had managed to talk her into staying the rest of the night as planned. She had pointed out that many of the men would have been just as frightened of such a large creature and she had no need to feel ashamed.
At the top of the stairs, as she surrendered to the pleas of Kelynen who had refused to be put back to bed and had waited for her parents to tell her what the commotion had been about, Kerensa was relieved that it hadn’t taken long for Jessica’s fighting spirit to come back. She didn’t like to think about how angry Clem would be if she told him what had happened.
Downstairs, Jessica got up and faced Kane. Her face was pink and a little pinched and Kane wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her as he’d done in Trecath-en farmhouse. But her eyes were shining with hurt and fury.
She flung back her head defiantly. ‘I’m all right, I shouldn’t have made such a fuss.’
Kane put his hands out in a submissive gesture. ‘I am sorry, Jessica. I had no idea that you’d be so scared. I really am sorry, I hope you’ll forgive me.’
Jessica shivered at the awful memory of the spider spread out over his big hand. ‘Sorry for terrifying me or making me look a stupid little fool?’ she asked bitterly.
‘For both, of course.’
‘’Tis a good job Philip went home early or he would have beaten you to a black and blue pulp for what you did,’ Jessica said angrily.
‘And I would have deserved it, although I believe Philip would know I would never deliberately do anything to harm you. I think you’re more angry and upset because you believe I’ve made you look foolish, but I’m the one who’s been made to look a fool. No one will think badly of you, Jessica.’
‘Aye, I think that’s a right and proper description of you,’ she returned sharply.
Kane moved up close and looked down on her. He suddenly wanted to take hold of her head and shake it and make her curls bounce all over the place.
‘Why don’t you like me any more, Jessica? We were friends during our childhood days. Except for those moments you let me hold you at the farm when Kerris hurt your back, you haven’t given me a single kind word since I came home to Cornwall.’
Jessica was unaware that she’d been hurt and felt resentful about Kane’s earlier amusement when she’d hoped to receive a compliment from him. She had thought there was something special between them after the way he’d held her in the farmhouse. But she didn’t want to be treated like a little girl again.
He wasn’t prepared for her sudden wild reaction. ‘We’re not friends! We’ve never been friends. I’ve thought about it since I’ve grown up. You’re a Pengarron, your father is Lord of the Manor and I’m just a working-class maid. And I don’t want to hear any rubbish about your mother being born the same as me and coming from Trelynne Cove. She’s a real lady deep down, your father’s a baronet and you’re a gentleman and we Trenchards don’t really mean anything to you. And one reason I dislike you as much as your stiff-nosed bullying brother is because you’re not your own man, Kane Pengarron, you’re Luke’s yes-man, his lackey.’
Kane was deeply hurt. ‘Well, I haven’t noticed you scowling at Luke tonight. And I’ll have you know that my real father was a violent sailor and my mother a prostitute, Jessica Trenchard. That means I come from a lower background than you do and don’t you dare ever throw that kind of talk at me again! And if I’m obliging to Luke maybe it’s because I feel guilty and responsible for the injury to his arm that stopped him having the army career he had his heart set on.’ He was quaking with anger now and it was Jessica’s turn to feel guilty.
‘Kane, I…’
‘I hope you enjoy the rest of the party. I’ll make my excuses to Olivia so I won’t be there to ruin it for you.’ His voice had gone quiet and his hand went to his side and gripped it as if he was in pain.
‘What is it? Are you hurt there?’
‘It’s nothing,’ Kane said shortly and turned to go, but Jessica grabbed his arm and turned him back. He saw her then for the first time as the other men had seen her tonight. Not as a little tomboyish girl, but as a vibrant young woman, her costume accentuating her fully feminine figure.
There was a feeling of expectancy in the air between them. Kane gave Jessica an intense look. Her blue eyes widened. He seemed to be about to move towards her then he changed his mind.
‘I’ll take you back to the party,’ he said moodily.
‘No, thank you,’ Jessica said coldly. ‘I don’t want you near me. I don’t trust you not to have another beastly creature about you.’
* * *
In the small hours, Jessica, Olivia and Cordelia sat on Olivia’s bed amidst the finery of their discarded costumes.
‘Are you pleased with the night, Livvy?’ Cordelia asked, not bothering to stifle a small yawn. ‘I think it’s the best party I’ve ever been to.’
Olivia looked out of the window and smiled at the round silver globe she saw high in the sky. ‘You might say I’m over the moon about it. I wished the night could have gone on for ever.’
Cordelia tapped Olivia’s arm and drew her attention to Jessica’s sullen face.
‘You’re quiet, Jessie. Are you still upset over the spider?’ Olivia asked gently.
Jessica glanced up as if her thoughts had been far away. ‘I’m fine. It was a wonderful party, Livvy. Thank you for inviting me, I’ll never forget it.’
‘Kane was truly sorry about the way he frightened you. He seemed to have suffered more than you did in the end, he went very quiet and left shortly afterwards.’
Jessica tightened her features and refused to say anything that intimated she had forgiven Kane. She felt at that moment that she never would. Her heart had turned over at the deep look he had given her in the kitchen. But he hadn’t told her she was beautiful like his brother had. Of course he wasn’t for her. She had been right. He was reared a gentleman and would look to his own class for a wife. He would never be interested in a country maid, a tomboy he had grown up with as a playmate. Not that she cared. Let Kane Pengarron obtain his piece of land, and no doubt it would be a very large piece; he would never be anything but a gentleman farmer. She wasn’t the least bit interested in him!
‘I overheard an interesting piece of conversation while I was hovering around the gentlemen tonight,’ Cordelia announced, trying to sound mysterious.
‘Out with it, little cousin,’ Olivia said, laughing and poking her in the side. ‘You know you’re no good at keeping secrets.’
‘They’re planning a smuggling run.’
‘Who are?’ Olivia demanded.
‘Luke of course. Kane’s going to be in on it and your brother Philip, Jessie.’
‘Philip’s doing what?’ Jessica said stupidly. She hadn’t been listening.
‘He’s planning a smuggling run with Luke and Kane and some of the other young men. Philip’s going to contact a sailor he knows who will be able to help them,’ Cordelia explained.
‘So what? We could do that just as easily as them,’ Jessica said haughtily.
‘You aren’t serious, Jessie?’ the other two young women asked together. ‘Are you?’
Chapter 8
; Catherine Lanyon pulled up her pony at Trecath-en Farm and looked about for a suitable place to dismount. She knew the farmyard wouldn’t be too mucky or offensive on a dry summer’s day but her concern wasn’t for her short riding boots but rather that she wouldn’t prove a nuisance to the comings and goings of the Trenchard family. She walked the pony to the barn, slid down gracefully and hitched the reins to a nail.
She wandered about the yard looking for someone to greet, taking pleasure in the sights she saw. Mottled grey ducks bobbing on a pond and others dozing at the edge. White goats munching on anything in their paths, tethered on long ropes to apple trees laden with ripening fruit. A solitary old hawthorn tree where at one end a washing line was tied. Six white pigs sleeping in a sty and fowls hunting for food in the yard. A large hay barn, outbuildings and furze ricks. And Jessica’s conical-shaped hen houses. Cow parsley, stinging nettles and pink campion were springing up everywhere and cuckoo spit was dotted on a large variety of wild plants. In a little garden patch on the sunny side of the house were beautiful cabbage roses with purple-pink heads. She was disappointed there were no dogs about to indicate that the owner was at home.
Seeing no one in the yard, Catherine made for the front door of the whitewashed farmhouse and knocked on it in what she hoped would pass for a casual manner. She expected Jessica to come and answer it, or perhaps the woman the Trenchards had taken in. She presumed she had been seen looking around the yard and someone would quickly answer the door but she stood there for several minutes and nothing happened.
‘Oh dear,’ she murmured, ‘it seems I’ve made a wasted journey.’
She was about to go when she decided to pluck up courage and try the door. The latch lifted easily and she stepped inside into a cool, square hallway. There were four doors leading off it. One to the parlour, one to Kenver Trenchard’s little bedroom-cum-workshop, one to a lean-to built on to the side of the farmhouse, the last presumably to the kitchen from where there would be access to the staircase that sloped above her head. Stretching out a hand, Catherine breathed in and gingerly opened the kitchen door.
Her hopes lifted as she heard someone moving about inside.
‘Hello,’ she called out cautiously. ‘Is that you, Jessica? May I come in?’
She moved through the doorway and there he was, the person she had come here really hoping to see. And to her horror and embarrassment Clem was standing in just his breeches, washing his deeply tanned muscular torso over a tin bowl.
‘Oh! Mr Trenchard!’
He stood, broad-shouldered, the rest of him lean, his long blond hair hanging loose, looking at her in surprise from those clear blue eyes of his and Catherine thought her heart would stop. His three dogs sprang up from their various positions on the stone-flagged floor and Clem commanded them to lie back down.
‘I… I did knock.’ Catherine hastily explained her intrusion, getting flustered and retreating behind the door. ‘I… I’m sorry to have caught you… at… at…’
Clem said blandly, ‘I won’t be a moment.’
He carried on with his ablutions, taking his time. Then throwing the water away down the stone sink, he pulled a clean shirt on over his head, slowly tied back his hair and looked calmly at the door where Catherine’s white-gloved fingers could be seen gripping the frame.
She cried out when he roughly pulled the door open and she was almost swung against him. Clem had done this on purpose. He was certain she had come chasing after him and he didn’t like it. He was going to do nothing at all to make her feel comfortable. But then he heard Kerensa’s voice ringing in his head the day they had gone into the Parsonage and he remembered he owed this woman his gratitude for dressing his hand after the dog bite and an apology for not giving it to her there and then.
‘Come in,’ he said gruffly. He’d been about to move aside and let her step inside the kitchen, but then he remembered her station in life and ushered her into the parlour.
‘I hope I’m not intruding…’
He didn’t reply. Catherine looked around feeling quite bewildered. This was dreadful. Although hoping to see Clem here today was her main motive, she had also called on an errand of genuine Christian concern, but his manner didn’t invite explanations. It seemed he was as sulky as his reputation suggested; his moodiness was said to have seen off many a husband-hunter. Catherine realised that was precisely what she was herself and that it must be obvious to him. She felt sick.
What did she have to offer him that the beautiful Lady Pengarron did not have anyway? How could she possibly have imagined he would ever find her attractive and see her as a replacement for the wife he had also loved. It was all so horrible. She had made a fool of herself at this early stage and she desperately wanted to leave.
‘Tea, coffee or a cold drink?’ Clem said, over her head.
‘I beg your pardon?’ She hadn’t realised he was so close behind her and she started forward a few paces, then tried to look natural when she turned round to him.
‘You must be thirsty after a dusty ride on a hot day. Can I get you some tea, coffee or a cold drink?’ he repeated.
Catherine wasn’t sure if she should accept or just go and get away quickly. ‘Well, I… don’t want to put you to any trouble.’
‘I’ve just come in from a hard morning’s work clearing a leat, tilling flatpole cabbages and drawing new potatoes. I was about to have a drink of wild mint cordial. You’re welcome to join me, ’tis no bother.’
‘Yes, that would be very nice. Thank you, Mr Trenchard. I’ve really come about—’
But he was gone.
Catherine looked about the room. It was very small, no more than eight feet square. There were several touches that could only be a woman’s but she couldn’t tell whether they were Clem’s late wife’s, Jessica’s, or perhaps one of the earlier Trenchard womenfolk. Little paste figurines stood in a small glass-less cabinet, an embroidered firescreen depicted a floral design, the chairbacks on the sofa and two wooden chairs were crocheted, and lace samplers were scattered over the walls and a little square table.
‘Sit down,’ Clem instructed her when he came back holding two dripping glasses of green liquid. He wasn’t bothering to show any niceties. Catherine wondered if he was doing it deliberately and if he would have served the drinks on a tray if she wasn’t the visitor.
When she was seated on the coarse, lumpy sofa, instead of putting the glass down on the table close to her as she’d expected, Clem thrust it into her hand. She thanked him quietly and sipped to cover her discomfiture.
‘It’s very nice,’ she said.
‘My sister makes it. Beatrice, the old woman at the Manor house, taught her. Jessica’s not interested in learning how to make things with herbs.’
Clem kept on his feet and bolted half the contents of his glass straight down. Catherine felt he wanted to gasp vulgarly and say loudly, ‘Ah, that’s better!’ But he just eyed her in what she thought was unfriendliness. She made up her mind to leave as quickly as she could.
‘Where is Jessica, Mr Trenchard?’
‘Out walking with Kerris. She’s trying to get Kerris used to being away from the farmyard.’
‘Actually, it was Kerris, the young woman your daughter stumbled across and in your charity you’ve given a home to that I came—’
‘You’ll have to excuse me, Miss Lanyon. I can hear my brother moving about after his nap, he’ll need some immediate attention. I won’t be gone long.’ He turned at the door and added casually, ‘Call me Clem.’
Catherine was taken aback and she knew that he knew that she was debating whether to ask him to call her by her first name too.
Instead she asked, ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’
‘Nothing a lady would like to do,’ he replied and looked at her with a deepness that made her blush.
Catherine paced the floor while she was kept waiting again, muttering to herself over and over again, ‘This is awful, what on earth made me come here like this?’
&n
bsp; She had first thought of riding over to the farm at the beginning of the month. June was the month when hope flourished, when the long-awaited summer had arrived at last, when one could reach out and feel one could climb the highest mountain peak. Catherine had fixed her sights hopefully on the handsome farmer, although it had taken until the last day of the month to pluck up the courage to ride over to his farm. She should have remembered that while the hedges were bursting with greenery, weeds grew in strength and number in June.
‘I owe you an apology, Miss Lanyon,’ Clem said suddenly from behind her.
She hadn’t heard him coining back and lurched forward. ‘Must you keep creeping up on me?’ she asked despairingly.
‘It seems I owe you two then,’ he said coolly. ‘I forgot to say thank you for treating my hand the day I was bitten by a dog. You have my thanks and full apologies.’
‘I accept both,’ Catherine said hastily. ‘Now I want to get to the reason for my being here today. It’s about Kerris. I thought I might be able to do something for her. Jessica is very young, just eighteen years old, I understand. I thought perhaps an older woman might be of some service—’
‘There’s my sister for that sort of thing.’ Clem interrupted her yet again.
Catherine blushed to the roots of her hair. Her offer of help was clearly unwelcome here. Was there no end to the fool she would make of herself today? Apart from that, what was the matter with this family? Didn’t they care where Kerris came from, that she might have a family somewhere, a husband, children, who were worried about her? And this man, this tall blond creature she’d thought she’d taken a fancy to, was being more difficult than she understood Sir Oliver Pengarron could be.
‘Yes, of course, Mrs Renfree, I quite forgot about her,’ Catherine got out, hiding her hurt. ‘Well, I really must not take up any more of your time. Good day to you, Mr Trenchard. Thank you for the cordial.’
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