Kane smiled. ‘I have no affair of the heart I want to lament about. I need information.’
‘Ah, in my profession it is not unusual for a gentleman to take a liking to one of the girls and wish to set her up for his own exclusive convenience. I take it you are enquiring about one before my time?’
‘That is correct but it is not for the reasons you are thinking. I shall come straight to the point again, Frances, for I feel you will be discreet and understanding. The lady I am interested in worked her about twenty-four years ago. She died, unfortunately, of one of the illnesses that is occasionally acquired by a lady of your profession. The lady was my mother – my real mother.’
Frances gaped at him for a moment. ‘I knew, of course, that you were not the natural son of Sir Oliver and the beautiful Lady Pengarron. You have reason to believe your real mother worked here?’
‘I know for certain she did. I knew from an early age that I was adopted. It was common knowledge, and my parents, knowing the truth could not be withheld from me, wisely told me the moment I could understand. When I reached manhood I asked my father for the details. He told me that my real father was a sailor, a rather horrible individual from all accounts, and that my real mother used to work here. I will have you know, Frances, that I consider myself a Pengarron and am content with that aspect of my life. But, for various reasons, I am curious about my origins. I believe that if I can find out something about my mother then I might learn something of my father also. This establishment was not as you have it now, it was utterly degrading. I do not expect to find out anything that will be a comfort to me, but…’
‘But you have to know.’ Frances patted Kane’s hand, clenched on his thigh. ‘You have just left your regiment, have you not? About to start a new life. It is a good idea to put the past behind you before starting a new one.’
‘I knew you would understand. I have plans for the future but feel at this moment I cannot proceed with them.’
‘My dear Kane, leave it with me. I can probably find out what you want to know quicker than if you asked for yourself. Some of the girls have been here a long time and may know where to find those who worked here in your mother’s time. I shall ask the necessary questions.’ She took his teacup and put it down, adding before making for his lips, ‘I will tell you what I’ve learned when you come again.’
* * *
Clem Trenchard also had something pressing to do. The harvesting would soon begin in earnest and he had to get this out of the way first before he got too busy in the fields. He spruced himself up in his Sunday-best clothes, which he hated wearing, took some time combing and tying back his hair and even made sure his nails were clean. Then, leaving his dogs behind, he rode over to Perranbarvah’s Parsonage to court the parson’s sister.
He didn’t want to. He’d argued with himself that it wasn’t really necessary to give Jessica a stepmother, but since the Pengarron girl’s birthday party, her behaviour had become even more unruly. She was barely civil to Kane when he called, and Kerensa had sent a note to inform him that she had been most rude to Oliver and if it occurred again she could be told not to visit the Manor house. Clem’s first reaction had been to say ‘Good!’ but he didn’t want Jessica to lose her self-esteem and her friendship with Olivia and Cordelia. Come to that, Clem thought, she must have offended Cordelia too because she hadn’t come over to Trecath-en Farm for some time.
Clem had wanted to ask Kerensa if she would mind if he married again. Not that she had any real cause to object. True, she had been forced to marry Sir Oliver Pengarron twenty-two years ago, leaving Clem distraught and bitter, but she had later fallen in love with her husband. She was hardly likely to mind. But he had never stopped loving her and her opinion meant a lot to him. He knew that she would wish to see him happy, and because he did not intend to ask Catherine Lanyon to marry him for love, he was afraid Kerensa would talk him out of it. He did not want that. A stepmother for Jessica seemed the only way to ensure that the girl did not become totally unmanageable.
Clem didn’t have a lot to offer Miss Catherine Lanyon. But she was past the age of being choosy about her marriage prospects and she had shown more than a passing interest in him.
Clem had sounded out the Reverend Timothy Lanyon on his feelings about his paying court to his sister. The young parson must have shared Clem’s thoughts on his sister’s eligibility, because after coming to terms with the shock and after much humming and hawing he said he had only one big objection. While he tolerated the Methodist movement, he would not see his sister married to a dissenter. Clem said he was willing to come back fully to the Church; he would rather risk David’s and Matthias Renfree’s disappointment by the change than Jessica’s reputation if she was not soon tamed. Timothy then intimated that if his sister found the marriage proposal agreeable, he would not stand in their way.
Clem had chosen today to make his first approach because he knew that Timothy had been called away to a meeting with the Archdeacon of Cornwall.
Nancy Wills answered the door to him and didn’t bother to hide her shock as he swept off his plain tricorn hat. ‘What on earth are you doing here all dressed up, Clem? There isn’t no wedding in the church.’
Kenver, who was artistic and learned, had prepared a calling card. Clem kept a serious face as he passed it to Nancy. ‘Please present this to your mistress.’
‘Mistress… Please step inside, Mr Trenchard,’ Nancy said, awed. ‘I’ll see if Miss Catherine is receiving visitors. She has someone with her at present.’
‘Oh!’
Nancy’s face was flushed with the prospect of what she hoped was Clem’s reason for this sudden call and she gave him a confidential look. ‘’Tis a child, her sister’s boy, Miss Catherine’s little nephew. Lives at Falmouth. He’s spending the day and night here while his parents are up-along at Lanhydrock House,’ she informed him before heading for the parlour.
Catherine stared in disbelief at the card she’d taken off the silver tray. ‘Clem Trenchard! What is he doing here? Are you sure he doesn’t want to see Timothy?’
‘Timothy. No. “Please present this to your mistress,” he said as bold as brass. ’Tis you he’s come to see and he’s all dressed up and looking some handsome, enough to melt a maiden’s heart.’
‘I cannot possibly see him,’ Catherine said haughtily. ‘Besides, I’m busy entertaining Thomas.’
Nancy glanced fondly at a curly-headed child who was sleeping peacefully on a sofa. ‘Young Thomas’ll be asleep a while longer yet and anyway he’s no trouble when he’s up playing. I’ll show Clem in then.’
Catherine’s humiliation at Trecath-en Farm was still fresh in her mind. ‘No! Don’t you dare! I… I… I don’t want to see him. Send him away, tell him I already have a visitor and, if he asks, tell him I’ll be tied up with charity work into the distant future.’
‘What’s the matter with you? I thought you liked him. He looks a real treat, you’d have to be mazed not to—’
‘Nancy, do as you’re told!’
‘Very well, if that’s the way you want it,’ Nancy muttered, shaking her head as she left the room. ‘But you’ll regret it.’
Clem wasn’t going to be put off. He hadn’t preened himself up only to be sent packing at the first hurdle. Nancy told him that the child would wake soon from a nap and a suggestion would be made to her mistress that he might like to play outside in the gardens.
Nancy Wills was true to her word. Twenty minutes later Catherine appeared in a wide straw sunhat accompanied by a robust boy of about four years who ran ahead of her tossing a patchwork ball. The ball hit the solitary apple tree in the middle of the lawn, landed heavily on the grass and rolled in Clem’s direction. Clem stepped out from an overhang of foliage on the Parsonage wall and swept up the ball.
He smiled widely at Catherine, ignoring her flush of anger. To the boy who ran up for his ball he said, ‘One of my favourite games is playing ball.’
‘We must go back inside, Thomas,’
Catherine said stiffly. ‘I’m afraid the sun is too fierce to stay out any longer.’
‘But we’ve only just left the house, Aunt Catherine,’ Thomas protested.
Clem lowered himself down and spoke to the boy. ‘I have a daughter who has fair curls just like yours, Master Thomas.’
‘Is she the same age as me?’ Thomas asked, and Catherine was horrified when he allowed Clem to lift him into his arms.
‘Oh, she’s a little older than you are but she’s still a little girl to me. Her name is Jessica.’ Clem turned to Catherine. ‘I like children.’
‘Put my nephew down this instant, Mr Trenchard, and take your leave,’ Catherine demanded, shaking in anger.
Thomas pulled on Clem’s neckcloth which thankfully loosened the restriction on his windpipe. Catherine marched up to them and pulled Thomas into her own arms.
‘Miss Catherine, I—’
Catherine whirled round and stalked away with Thomas who looked curiously at Clem over her shoulder.
‘I will not give up,’ Clem said loudly.
Catherine kept walking.
Nancy appeared, holding her arms out to the boy. ‘You come with me, my handsome. I’ve got a nice ginger biscuit and glass of milk waiting for you in the kitchen.’
Catherine tried to restrain Thomas but he wriggled free and Nancy ushered him round the side of the house. Catherine stood rigid, her face trembling, her feelings hurt and buffeted. She refused to look Clem in the eye when he came up and faced her.
‘Thank you for allowing me to speak to you,’ he said softly.
‘You are taking liberties and I find them offensive,’ Catherine retorted.
‘You have my humble apologies and I have had so many to give you of late. I was extremely rude to you the day you rode over to the farm and you had come on an errand of mercy. I am a foolish, stubborn man, Miss Catherine. I resented what I saw as interference. I wish only to make it up to you now. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I would like to invite you to come over to the farm to dine with me and my family.’
‘You are asking me…?’ Catherine was astonished.
‘Will you at least consider it?’
‘Well, I… I…’ She spread her hands.
‘On Sunday, after the service. The Reverend Lanyon has told me he is dining with Mr Ralph Harrt, the local coroner. I understand you don’t care for his or his wife’s company and have declined their invitation.’
‘You know a lot about my plans, Mr Trenchard,’ Catherine said, disapprovingly. She walked to the edge of a rose tree plot where he could not gain the advantage of gazing down on her face. Her heart beat so fast she thought it must be apparent to him, there was a catch in her throat and her palms had become damp.
Not very long ago she had made an utter fool of herself at his farm, his home territory. He had seen her off quite ruthlessly then, but now here he was, making it plain he had spoken to her brother and had gone to the trouble of ascertaining her future movements. Her mind was in turmoil. Why had he suddenly changed his mind about the way he felt about her? What precisely were his intentions towards her? Did she want to go and eat a meal at his farmhouse?
‘I hope I have not offended you further, Miss Lanyon,’ Clem said earnestly. ‘I admit I have been underhanded but I really want to repair the rift I’ve caused between us and I would like you to see my family as they really are. Will you come? Please. You could meet Kerris, it would be useful to have your opinion about her plight. You might even know her.’
Catherine was so distressed she thought she would faint. If this man had from the start shown her the respect due to her from his lower class, and this invitation had been a natural progress in the relationship she had been hoping to form, she would have been delighted, nervous but delighted. But he had cruelly abused her tentative approaches and now had sprung himself on her like a thoughtless, selfish rake. How dare he? He was a working-class farmer, rough and ready, who worked the earth with his bare hands and his shirt off. He made a poor income compared to the small allowance she had for her own use. But… he was tall and handsome, he possessed those wonderful, soulful, summer-blue eyes and a moody spirit that was both arresting and challenging.
Did she want to go to his wretched little farm and dine with him and his family?
‘I… I suppose it is possible I might know Kerris…’
‘The family will be as delighted as I am,’ Clem said with finality.
* * *
That night Oliver was stealthily occupied in Trelynne Cove taking in goods at the end of a smuggling run. One of the men he employed in the operation was Matthew King. The following night, unknown to Oliver, Matthew King’s younger brother Paul was in the same place, doing the same thing with Oliver’s two sons.
Luke, Kane and Paul had all had experience of smuggling before and the operation, a small trial run at Zack Maynard’s behest, was completed quickly and without trouble. Twenty workmen were employed to help. Luke, who had felt useful at making the contacts to hide and buy the goods, felt emasculated at not being able to carry the heavier goods up the cliffs due to his useless arm. He felt Philip Trenchard was mocking him as he put his muscles to work almost effortlessly. Luke sulked and put his spite on display by bullying the hired men. Much later in the night he hid his feelings of inadequacy by becoming rapidly drunk.
He and Kane, together with Philip, Paul King, Sebastian Beswetherick and Zack Maynard, had gathered in Painted Bessie’s kiddleywink and were watched suspiciously by the woman from behind her thick mask of powder and rouge.
Kane, who was an expert at figures, estimated that the landers’ end of the run would make in excess of two hundred pounds on this trial run. ‘I think we can all agree the night has been a great success,’ he remarked, lifting his glass to Painted Bessie and receiving a raddled smile back.
‘I think we’ll be able to have a long and prosperous partnership, gentlemen,’ Zack Maynard said, saluting them all with his tankard. ‘When would you like to be doing the next run? I’m easy to get hold of. My ship is only a small local concern, delivering cargo around the county’s ports. It’s regularly tied up at St Michael’s Mount.’
‘It will have to be after the harvesting,’ Kane replied vaguely.
Luke guffawed and Kane put out a hand to stop him falling off his chair. Luke pushed it moodily aside. ‘Just because you don’t mind getting your hands dirtied like a peasant in the fields, brother, it doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t slip in and out of the coves and creeks at any time we choose.’
‘I’m afraid I won’t have a minute to spare for at least a month or so after this weekend,’ Philip said.
‘I’m not particularly interested in your plans, Trenchard!’ Luke blasted.
‘Have a care, Luke,’ Kane cautioned. ‘We need Philip’s broad back and if the pilchards come in in plenty, we won’t have the likes of Paul either. We must also plan carefully so as not to clash in the same place on the same night as Father’s next operation.’
‘Aye, I hope to be kept busy at harvesting time. ’Tes been a good summer for fleas so should be a good summer for fish,’ Paul King said. ‘And I always help out on Trecath-en Farm if I can for the harvesting.’
‘What wages do you get for working on a harvest, Trenchard?’ Zack asked Philip, who Kane had noticed was as moody as Luke these days. ‘P’raps I’ll turn up on your father’s farm looking to earn an extra crust.’
‘A few shillings at the most. Won’t be worth the boot leather for you to walk over compared to what can be earned free-trading,’ Philip answered.
‘A pity,’ Zack said. A pity, he thought. It would have been a good opportunity to get close to your delicious little sister.
Zack was impatient to put his kidnap plan into action but first he had to build up a good working relationship with these young men in order to provide a cover. The ransom for the Pengarron and Drannock women would ensure him a quick fortune and a new life elsewhere. And during the time they were held pr
isoner, kept completely unharmed to lessen Sir Oliver Pengarron’s wrath, sweet Jessica Trenchard would be his…
Kane, too, was thinking of Jessica. When he was a boy and his father had been out of the country, Kerensa and Alice Trenchard had agreed that their children should be allowed to mix and play together and he had enjoyed the time spent on Trecath-en Farm. He got on well with the twins and Clem had already been his friend. Jessica had been a cherubic-looking child with a wild spirit and he had liked her joining in with their games, not seeing her as a nuisance as her brothers did. She had been his friend too. Now he could not understand her continuing hostility towards him.
He had apologised for his cruel trick with the spider. Surely she need not be so unforgiving. When Kerris had hurt Jessica’s back, she had leaned yieldingly into his arms, seeking comfort. She had felt good. No longer a little girl but a woman. A woman innocent of man had a different quality about her than one who cheapened herself, and he had enjoyed holding her. Kane fancied she kept herself respectable to remain fiercely in control of her own life. How would the man feel who could get Jessica Trenchard to yield? If she would ever yield. That man would have to be someone special, someone who would allow her a good measure of freedom.
Kane’s eyes met Zack’s and Zack gave him his lazy smile but shuffled in his seat. At that moment Kane knew the smuggling sailor could not be trusted.
Chapter 11
There were several people lingering about Perranbarvah’s churchyard after the Sunday service, and despite the Reverend Lanyon’s much-praised sermon on the theme of ‘Love thy neighbour’, many had attended were set on ignoring others.
Timothy himself was in a subdued mood and had not waved his arms about during the service. He gave Olivia a friendly ‘Good morning’ afterwards as he received his congregation at the door, but she returned only a cool reply.
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