Pengarron's Children

by Pengarron's Children (retail) (epub)

  Olivia, feeling disturbed, hurried away to her infant brother’s grave. Cordelia, intent on avoiding Philip who had scorned her in the church as though she was suffering from some biblical plague, followed on her heels. They stood together, holding hands, gazing gloomily down at Joseph Pengarron’s small headstone. Jessica had slipped away from Simon Peter Blake and he had immediately left the churchyard in low spirits to await his mother in their carriage.

  Kane, who was fed up with Jessica’s attitude, had urged Luke away as soon as the last word of prayer had been said. And although Clem had greeted Kerensa with a nod, she’d found him somehow defensive. He’d then hurried away to the Parsonage stable to see if Catherine’s pony was being saddled for the journey to Trecath-en Farm, and to avoid Oliver.

  ‘Everybody seems miserable and uncommunicative this morning, Reverend Lanyon,’ Matthias Renfree remarked, watching the retreating backs.

  ‘Yes,’ Timothy said quietly, shaking Matthias’s stocky hand, knowing that he was one of those labelled as miserable. ‘I’m wondering how well my sermon went down.’

  He had mentioned forgiveness in his sermon, hoping Olivia would forgive him for offending her. He could hardly believe he had taken that liberty with her. Was it because he was a member of a large family with many female relatives? It wasn’t an important family; he had three elder brothers with first claim on the small family fortune, and they had not been reared in a sensitive household. Not until the encounter with Olivia had he realised how he had taken women for granted. She had been right about the way he treated women. How could he have slipped into being so unfeeling towards them?

  ‘Your sermon was excellent, Reverend Lanyon,’ said a middle-aged man in an old-fashioned periwig at Matthias’s side. ‘I understand that you preach straight from the Bible and on spiritual matters.’

  ‘Allow me to introduce Mr John Whitehead to you, Reverend,’ Matthias said, smiling broadly. ‘He’s an itinerant preacher and is to preach in the open air at Gunwalloe this evening.’

  ‘Is he indeed?’ Timothy said, putting out his hand. ‘I suppose I should feel it an honour to have him attend my church.’

  ‘I expect all the Methodists I meet on the circuit to be devout in church and sacrament,’ John Whitehead said stoutly.

  ‘Some of your people stay in what I call the uncommitted circle, Whitehead. They play at being Methodists and misuse the parish church,’ Timothy said coolly.

  ‘We don’t approve of folk like that either,’ Matthias said, and taking John Whitehead by the arm he steered him away.

  ‘I thought you said he was an agreeable fellow, Matthias,’ John Whitehead remarked as they crunched down the new covering of gravel chippings Oliver had had laid. ‘He was almost hostile and he certainly showed none of the hospitality I received from the Reverend Ivey when he was parson here.’

  ‘He doesn’t approve of folk round here calling me preacher. He doesn’t approve of the Movement in the way the old Reverend did. He thinks that all monies the Movement receives belong more properly to the Church and I suppose I can sympathise with that from his point of view.’

  ‘All wealth belongs to God,’ John Whitehead said forcefully.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Matthias replied. ‘Did I tell you about the time I spoke to Mr John Wesley at Gwenap?’ he said, changing the subject just as forcefully. Matthias was not going to offend the young parson by allowing the other man to preach in the churchyard.

  Rosina Blake, at least, was eager to seek out someone for an amicable conversation. She considered herself a Methodist but, like Matthias, she felt it proper to take Communion in a church and this Sunday she had returned to her old parish church to do so. She shook hands with Timothy Lanyon and then limped up to Jessica Trenchard who was complaining to her Aunt Rosie. Rosina kept a discreet distance, waiting for their conversation to end.

  ‘I don’t know why Father had to drag us along here today. I prefer to go to the Bible classes. The service was most boring,’ Jessica sulked.

  ‘It wouldn’t have been if you’d paid some attention,’ Rosie Renfree said sharply, smoothing her baby daughter’s wispy hair from her hot face. ‘You have to put something into life to get something out. Don’t let your uncle hear you going on, you know he finds your attitude bewildering at times.’

  ‘But what are we all doing here so suddenly? David comes here occasionally but Father hasn’t gone to church for years and Philip usually refuses to go anywhere.’

  ‘Haven’t you realised yet?’ Rosie said incredulously. ‘It’s something to do with the person your father has invited to dinner today.’

  ‘So that’s what this is all about. Who’s he invited then? He refused to tell me anything.’

  ‘He’s asked me to tell you that. It’s Miss Catherine.’

  ‘What? But why her? We’ve never had someone like her to dinner at the farm before.’

  Rosie thought it better not to tell Jessica the full reason for the invitation. Jessica was jealous of anyone taking her father’s attention and would probably go out of her way to make Miss Catherine Lanyon feel uncomfortable. Clem’s courtship could be brought to an abrupt end. It would be better to let the girl realise it slowly for herself.

  ‘He thought he was rather rude and offhand to Miss Catherine the other day and wants to make it up to her. I hope you will be mindful of your manners and show her the respect a lady deserves.’

  Jessica put a gentle finger on her baby cousin’s button nose, then looked suspiciously at her aunt. ‘No wonder we’ve got a whole hindquarter of lamb roasting on the spit. Sounds all very mysterious to me. What’s going on?’

  Rosie caught sight of Rosina and dropped a curtsey. ‘Mistress Blake. Good day to you. Are you wanting a word with me?’

  ‘Well, actually I’d like to talk to Jessica, if I may,’ Rosina replied softly. ‘But don’t let me bring your conversation to an early end.’ Rosina didn’t want to intrude. She had never taken her position as a gentleman’s wife for granted and saw herself as no better than the kind of folk she had shared her previous fife with.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Rosie smiled warmly. Like all who knew Rosina Blake, she liked and respected her. Rosie looked at her baby. ‘Sarah looks as if she’s about to demand a feed. If you’ll excuse me, I’d better make for our cart.’

  Rosie left and was joined by Matthias and John Whitehead who had mustered the other Renfree children.

  ‘But what’s going on, Aunty Rosie?’ Jessica called after her. With three noisy children all about her and her baby crying in her arms, Rosie didn’t hear Jessica. ‘Damn!’ she muttered crossly.

  ‘Jessica.’ Rosina tapped her arm, seeing she was about to lurch after her aunt.

  ‘Oh, sorry. Sorry, Mistress Blake. I said a bad word, didn’t I? And outside a church too. I wanted to speak to my Aunty Rosie. Something’s going on, you see. Father’s having a whole hindquarter of lamb roasted today and now I’ve heard who’s coming to dinner.’

  ‘Would you like to run after Mrs Renfree and find out more about it?’ Rosina said, looking anxiously at the lychgate in case Simon Peter appeared.

  ‘No, I s’pose I’ll find out soon enough. Is there something wrong? You look worried all of a sudden.’

  ‘Well, I want to talk to you about Simon Peter and I don’t want him to see us together.’

  Jessica started walking back into the churchyard. ‘Why not? Is there something wrong with Simon then?’

  ‘Jessica, did you know that Simon Peter is going away?’

  ‘No! What for? Where’s he going?’ Jessica was genuinely upset and was sorry that she had so recently snubbed him.

  ‘He’s going on the Methodist circuit. Mr Blake and I knew he’d always planned to. We had hoped he’d join either the Cornwall east circuit around the St Austell area or the Cornwall west circuit around Redruth and St Ives, then he wouldn’t have been too far away from us. But he has asked to be taken out of the county. Mr Blake and I, of course, don’t want him to go.
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  ‘Jessica, I know it is a liberty to ask you, but won’t you reconsider your feelings towards Simon Peter? He loves you so very much and I believe it’s because you won’t accept his proposal of marriage that he wants to go so far away. What I want to say to you may make you feel differently. Mr Blake has no objections to you as Simon Peter’s choice. I know that Mr Blake is not… well thought of in Mount’s Bay, or in the county even, but you wouldn’t have to live in our house. My husband will set you and Simon Peter up in your own house, anywhere you like, and he will settle a generous amount on you both, in both your names. Then you will never have to feel dependent on Simon Peter, or us, and if you were to be left a widow you would still have your own means. What do you say, Jessica?’

  Jessica had listened with a heavy heart. ‘How wonderful you are, Mistress Blake, how kind and caring. I know it must have been difficult for you to say all that. It’s a very generous offer, it would be very tempting to another girl.’

  ‘But not to you?’ Rosina sighed.

  ‘Mistress Blake, of all the folk I know, except for Aunty Rosie and Uncle Matthias, you and Mr Blake are the only ones who married for love. I want that sort of love for myself or I don’t want to marry at all. I know love can grow, my father’s did for my mother despite the fact he’ll always have a care for Lady Pengarron. And although Lady Pengarron and Sir Oliver love each other deeply and openly now, their marriage began as a business deal over a scrap of land, which broke my father’s heart. I want to love my husband, if I have one, like you did, from the very first day. I am very fond of Simon Peter but I don’t love him and my wild and reckless ways would only bring him misery. I hope you take that as my answer, Mistress Blake, and will not press me.’

  Rosina had listened quietly. She smiled submissively, took Jessica’s hand and kissed her cheek. ‘Then that is the way things will be. Simon Peter must go away and one day, Jessica, I am sure you will meet a man who will love you for just the way you are, and that you can love too.’

  * * *

  ‘I didn’t know you were interested in salvation, Trenchard, or in the parson’s horses.’

  Clem had Catherine’s pony by the reins and was waiting for her to appear after changing into a riding habit. ‘Are you talking to me?’ he asked Oliver icily.

  ‘Well, I suppose I would rather talk to one of your dogs,’ Oliver replied mockingly. He could not resist the chance to jibe at his old enemy. ‘I would certainly receive better manners in return.’

  ‘Do you want something… sir?’ Clem said sarcastically.

  ‘You can move aside. My family’s horses are stabled here and you are in the way.’

  ‘And you don’t want me to be here when Kerensa and Kelynen come for their mounts?’ Clem said in challenge.

  ‘I object to them sharing the same air you breathe, Trenchard. Be careful with what you are doing with Miss Lanyon’s pony, it’s a good piece of horseflesh.’

  They were too absorbed in their snipes to notice Kelynen had crept up on them and she promptly gave them reason to feel ashamed. ‘Love thy neighbour,’ she murmured and walked up to the pale brown pony Clem was holding and smoothed its white blaze.

  But neither man felt any shame. There were too many years of hate and distrust between them for that.

  ‘Get on your pony, Shelley,’ Oliver said tightly. He hated it when his daughter was close to Clem Trenchard. ‘You can wait for your mother and me at the end of the carriageway.’

  ‘Good day to you, Kelynen,’ Clem said, glancing defiantly at Oliver.

  ‘Good day to you, Clem,’ Kelynen replied brightly, then she hugged her father and went off to do his bidding.

  When she was out of earshot, Oliver said angrily, ‘If you must speak to my daughter, then you will use the prefix Miss, Trenchard!’

  ‘What’s going on here?’ Kerensa asked, coming up to the two men and feeling the tension in the air.

  ‘Despite what some people might think,’ Oliver replied, looking as if he would like to twist a knife in Clem’s heart, ‘absolutely nothing.’

  Kerensa gave Clem a swift ‘must you always annoy each other’ look. She took Oliver’s arm to prise him away but he had seen a lady in a discreet hat and riding clothes coming out of the Parsonage’s back door and he refused to be pulled away.

  The lady hesitated, but realising she had been seen, came forward reluctantly. Oliver was curious now as to the reason why Clem Trenchard was holding Miss Catherine Lanyon’s pony. Surely they weren’t intending to ride somewhere together? And why had Trenchard brought himself and his family to church today anyway?

  Catherine wished anyone other than the beautiful Lady Pengarron was here to witness her intended ride to Trecath-en Farm with Clem. But then, why shouldn’t Clem Trenchard take an interest in another woman? Kerensa Pengarron didn’t own him. Even if Clem did still love her, Kerensa was married to another man, and a woman couldn’t set her sights higher than the wealthy and powerful Lord of the Manor.

  Catherine smiled at Clem but propriety demanded she speak first to the baronet and his wife. ‘Sir Oliver, m’lady, I hope you enjoyed the service.’

  Oliver answered pleasantly, looking as if he intended to stay and converse. ‘We did, Miss Lanyon, thank you.’

  Catherine glanced at Kerensa, then said, ‘Are you ready to go, Clem?’

  Kerensa looked from face to face. Oliver looked as if he couldn’t believe his eyes – so they were going riding together! Clem was blushing and Miss Catherine was looking fierce.

  ‘I’ll help you up,’ Clem said awkwardly, moving so his back was to the Pengarrons.

  Oliver was smirking now. ‘Have you been invited out to luncheon, Miss Lanyon?’

  Kerensa pinched Oliver’s arm. She was worried he would cause some unpleasantness.

  ‘Mr Trenchard has invited me to eat with his family,’ Catherine replied sweetly.

  Oliver looked at Clem then shook his head. ‘Has he indeed? In that case I wish you well, Miss Lanyon.’

  Catherine ignored the jibe at Clem.

  Kerensa tugged on Oliver’s arm and this time she was determined to make him move.

  ‘What kind of a remark was that to make?’ she hissed when she had got him beside their horses which the stable hand was holding ready for them.

  ‘I only wished the lady well, beloved,’ Oliver replied, grinning boyishly at her.

  ‘You were trying to make trouble for Clem and you could have embarrassed Miss Catherine. You had no right to ask her where she was going, it’s none of our business. Help me onto my pony. I want us to go now so they can leave in peace.’

  ‘I love it when you’re angry with me,’ Oliver laughed. He made to kiss Kerensa but she moved away. ‘As for Trenchard, he makes his own trouble. What’s he doing anyway, giving out invitations to a lady? I find it hard to believe that he’s romantically interested in her.’

  ‘Nancy Wills muttered something just now about Jessica getting a new stepmother.’

  ‘Oh, so that’s the reason, is it? Jessica Trenchard is a delightful girl but without a doubt she needs a woman’s influence.’

  Oliver mounted and they trotted up to Kelynen then let her ride on ahead.

  ‘Catherine might be good for Jessica,’ Kerensa replied, brushing away persistent insects from her face.

  ‘That’s not what I meant.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘I’m not jealous of her, if that’s what you mean. I love only you in that way. It would be good for Clem to find happiness again like he had with Alice, but…’

  ‘But Catherine Lanyon is hardly his type of woman?’

  ‘No, she isn’t. But I suppose if anything does come of it, it could work out. She is obviously interested in him.’

  ‘For his good looks presumably.’

  ‘I didn’t expect you ever to pay Clem a compliment, Oliver.’

  ‘Well, it can’t be for his disposition,’ Oliver said dryly. ‘But a farmer needs a wife like Alice wa
s, or Rosie Renfree is, not a refined lady.’

  ‘Perhaps Miss Catherine has qualities we don’t know about.’

  ‘Well, if she does end up as Jessica Trenchard’s stepmother, I hope for her sake that she has. It’s quite a risk to take, marrying the moodiest man in Mount’s Bay just to end the shame of being an unmarried woman.’

  * * *

  Clem had seated Jessica and Catherine in the parlour. He poured out glasses of gooseberry wine and sat with them in the thankfully cool room.

  ‘It is pleasant in here,’ Catherine said, ‘after a hot dusty ride.’ She had placed her purse and fan on a little table put in the middle of the room.

  Jessica eyed the fan. ‘Would you like me to pass you your fan, Miss Catherine?’

  ‘No, thank you, I’m quite comfortable. The cooking smells coming from the kitchen are delicious.’

  ‘’Tis a whole hindquarter of lamb,’ Jessica told her casually, as if they roasted one every Sunday. She had an inkling now what her father was up to. He had brought this fine lady here to show her some good manners. He had been moaning at her a lot lately over her wild behaviour. Jessica decided to play the lady of the house and put on a high-faluting voice which she knew would irritate Clem.

  ‘Kerris is a very good cook. I’m afraid I’m not terribly good at it but we do have excellent meals these days. I hope you like sauces, Miss Catherine. Kerris makes an excellent variety of sauces.’

  Clem looked at Jessica in annoyance. Was she trying to make a fool of herself, or perhaps of him? Catherine didn’t seem disturbed, but was it her lady’s training not to show it?

  ‘I’m looking forward to the meal, Jessica.’

  Jessica met Clem’s look. ‘My father did not tell me he’d invited you here today, Miss Catherine, but it is nice to have some female company.’

  ‘I’m pleased to hear it, Jessica, though you have Kerris here now. How is she? Have you any notion of who she really is yet?’