Pengarron's Children

by Pengarron's Children (retail) (epub)

  Last night she had begged her father to put an end to his marriage plans. She’d promised she’d try hard not to let him down, that she’d dress and behave more ladylike without a genteel stepmother to show her how to do it. But for the first time in her life he had refused to give in to her pleadings, saying the last straw had come in her direct rudeness to Kane Pengarron in front of everybody in the fields. That man again! Why did he have to come home and make things so much worse for her?

  She sat down on the granite slab where her father had proposed to his bride-to-be. Gracie stood beside her, looking at her sorrowfully from huge dark eyes.

  ‘Why did he have to come back, Gracie? Why is everything so complicated now? If I must have a stepmother why couldn’t it be someone I could talk to and ask about how I feel?’

  Her feelings about Kane were so confusing. She had been very fond of him as a little girl. He had been kind to her and let her join in the games when Luke and the twins wanted her and the other two girls left out. It had annoyed her that he allowed Luke to get away with so many bad tempers and tantrums and spoil their games. When she’d got older she saw it as a sign of weakness and resented him for it. It had not occurred to her until his outburst after the spider incident at Olivia’s birthday party that it was because he felt guilty about Luke’s disability. She had then felt angry with him for making her feel guilty at being insensitive. And she was oddly resentful that he hadn’t complimented her in the way Luke had.

  She tried not to admit that while she found Luke attractive, it was Kane who, ever since the time he had held her close against him in the farmhouse kitchen, made her feel weak-kneed in a silly female way merely by his presence. She hated feeling this vulnerable and she was afraid of inadvertently revealing her emotions to him. It was all round the parish how much female interest he was arousing. There was no talk of his reciprocating the interest in either a romantic or a carnal way. But he would never be interested in her; she may have been a childhood friend but she was only the daughter of one of the estate’s farm tenants.

  She wished, though, she had put things right with him that day in the field. She told her father she had, to stop him from insisting she go over to the Manor and apologise again. She couldn’t eat that much humble pie. He hadn’t come again to help at Trecath-en and she was very disappointed. She could have seized the opportunity to put things right then but now it looked as if she’d have to do it at some stage at the Manor and she dreaded that.

  ‘Oh Gracie, everything seems to be in a mess and most of it seems to be my fault,’ she said mournfully, winding her arms round the dog’s strong neck.

  But at least she had the excitement of a smuggling run to look forward to. The minute she could leave the farm she would seek out Zack Maynard or, as it seemed, allow him to find her, and press him for a definite date.

  * * *

  Timothy Lanyon had only seen his intended brother-in-law at church since his betrothal to his sister and he chose today to arrive at the farm for a friendly visit. Clem, the twins and Ricketty Jim were about to leave the yard when he rode up.

  ‘I’ve not come to stop your work, Clem,’ he called out gaily. He was back to his usual animated self now that he was on good terms with Olivia. ‘I’ll stable my horse and come with you. I’ve got old clothes on and I’m not afraid to put my back into a bit of hard work. It will give me an excellent opportunity to meet many of my parishioners. Catherine will be over later to help with the food for the feast you’ve got planned for tonight. She says you’re reaping the last field today. I’ll lead a prayer of thanks after the last handful has been cut.’

  ‘We’ll be glad to have you with us,’ Clem said truthfully. Like most people in the parish, he had taken to the young parson.

  The harvesters were in high spirits all day. They sang as they worked and watched excitedly as the last field was gradually reduced to nothing but stubble, with the last few handfuls of corn standing in the middle. Towards evening the harvesters gathered there and divided into three bands. Clem severed the last swathe and held it high above his head.

  The first group of people cried out in one noisy voice, ‘We ’ave it! We ’ave it!’

  The second group demanded joyfully, ‘What ’ave ’ee? What ’ave ’ee?’

  The third replied, ‘A neck! A neck! A neck!’

  Then the whole gathering, holding on to each other, shouted, ‘Hip! Hip! Hip! Hurrah for the neck! Hurrah for Farmer Trenchard!’

  Clem hugged Jessica and Philip and David. Timothy came up, hot, dusty and sweaty but looking very content, and slapped Clem on the back. ‘Well done, man! You must have worked hard this year to yield such a crop.’

  ‘You can load up your tithe and take it with you, Reverend,’ Clem grinned.

  ‘Well, I don’t know if I can take it if you’re going to be one of my family and my sister one of yours!’ he laughed. ‘There must be other good yields in the parish. It’s a sight I like to see and “crying the neck” is a sound I like to hear. It’s a pity Catherine’s not here to have witnessed it. You must insist on it next year, man!’

  He hugged Jessica just as heartily and shook the hand of every harvester, patted the head of every child. All went silent as he said a prayer of thanks and then at last the jugs of cider were lifted and parched throats were satisfied.

  Jessica and the younger women took the neck of corn from Clem. They plaited it and dressed it with cornflowers and poppies and ran off laughing to the farmhouse to install it in its place of honour over the kitchen chimneypiece. Catherine, who had taken the trouble to find out about the harvest customs, delighted the maidens by curtseying to the ‘neck’ and escorting it to its appointed place. It would stay there until the following year when the ‘corn spirit’ would be dug into the earth to ensure a bountiful harvest next year.

  After washing at the well in the yard, the young women disappeared into the barn to change into their best dresses for the celebration. Later they would help set up bales of hay round the yard to provide seating and extra tables to hold the food and drink. When Jessica had changed in her tiny room, she returned to the kitchen and joined Catherine and Kerris.

  ‘I expect you could do with a strong cup of tea,’ Catherine said, studying her to see if the ancient ceremony of cutting the neck had left the girl in the same happy mood as her friends. ‘Will the others be here soon?’

  ‘Father and the men will be a little while yet. They’ll set up as many shocks as they can till evening draws in. The older women and those with young’uns will start drifting in though.’

  Jessica sipped her tea and gazed at the table. There wasn’t a speck of wooden table, white-scrubbed with age, to be seen under the plates stacked high with food. ‘You’ve done us proud,’ she said, nodding at Catherine and Kerris. ‘You must’ve worked for hours.’

  Kerris just smiled shyly but seemed to gain height when Miss Catherine put her arm round her shoulders. ‘We’ve done roasted beef, broiled pork and potatoes, oat and ginger biscuits, apple pies and scalded cream, custards, and there’s fresh bread and cheese and lots of fuggan cake of course. We planned it all on the first day of the harvesting. Kenver helped us to prepare the food, in fact he has every day. Everyone has worked so hard, you deserve a feast fit for a king.’

  ‘Well, it’s certainly going to be that. You’ve both been a good help this year.’

  Catherine blushed and glanced at her feet. Jessica knew her efforts were out of kindness as much as trying to make her bridegroom see she was indispensable. She wondered if her father would ever notice that she was also a rather attractive woman.

  ‘Your friends are coming over to join us this evening, Jessica,’ Catherine said, making herself busy at the table. ‘Miss Olivia and Miss Cordelia have sent word from the Manor. You’ll be glad to see them again, I daresay.’

  ‘It seems ages since I’ve seen them!’ Jessica exclaimed. ‘It’s even longer since Cordelia was over here. I think Philip proposed to her and she took exception to it
.’

  ‘Really?’ Catherine asked, hoping she could keep Jessica engaged in this sort of ‘mother and daughter’ chat. It would please Clem; she was fearful that if Jessica seemed unable to get along with her he might cancel the wedding. She had thoroughly enjoyed these last six weeks. They had brought her closer to Clem emotionally and she loved him deeply now. It would break her heart if she lost him.

  ‘You think Miss Cordelia has been too embarrassed to come over?’ she asked delicately.

  ‘No, not embarrassed. She’s always been a little afraid of Philip, and he don’t like it when he can’t get his own way. I reckon he was horrible to her.’

  ‘That’s a shame. Philip has always been very nice to me.’ Catherine took a china teapot, which she had brought over from the Parsonage, to Jessica and refilled her cup. She looked straight into Jessica’s deep blue eyes and asked in a forthright manner, ‘Do you think he might resent me living here as his stepmother?’

  ‘You have no need to worry about Philip, he thoroughly approves of you. So does David.’

  ‘David’s very gentle. As is your Uncle Kenver.’

  ‘Aye, p’raps if it was David who was interested in Cordelia things might have been different. But then…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Cordelia loves living at the Manor. If she married she’d want her husband to live there with her, not her with his family. Funny though, if she married one of the twins, there’d be two ladies living under this roof.’

  ‘How would you feel about that, Jessica?’

  ‘One’s enough to be going on with!’

  Catherine flinched; it was just the merest change in her serene features but Jessica knew she was hurt deep inside.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that unkindly. I’m just all mixed up in my own mind about the way I feel, without a…’

  Catherine put the teapot down. ‘A mother?’

  Jessica raised her eyebrows and sighed. ‘Yes, without having a mother to confide in I don’t know how to sort out my mixed-up feelings.’

  ‘We both know that I can never replace your mother totally, Jessica. But if I can be of any help, if you ever want someone to talk to confidentially, I shall be happy to listen.’

  Jessica got up and made for the door. ‘I’d better help they outside, mustn’t get lazy.’ Then she stopped to say, ‘I don’t think it’s the right thing for you and my father to marry but only because I don’t think you’re right for one another. I made up my mind to be horrible to you. But when a person gets to know you, that’s quite impossible. Whatever happens, I wish you well, and I’ll never let anyone else be horrible to you.’

  Catherine would have liked to have gained Jessica’s wholehearted support but she felt she had won a great victory. She smiled happily. ‘It’s made me very glad to hear you say that.’

  ‘Catherine. It’s all right if I call you Catherine, is it?’

  ‘Yes, certainly it is, my dear.’

  ‘Do you happen to know if anyone else is coming over with Olivia and Cordelia?’

  ‘I understand it’s just them. Were you expecting someone else?’

  ‘No,’ Jessica sighed, ‘no one.’

  * * *

  The food was carried outside, looked over with amazed eyes and awaited eagerly by hungry bellies, blessed by Timothy, and rapidly demolished. Two fiddlers and a drummer provided music for the dancing and Philip, Matthew King and some other men provided entertainment by wrestling. So that no one’s day would be spoilt by going home with an empty pocket, Clem banned all betting and many men queued up to take part in the friendly matches despite their hard day’s work.

  Timothy wanted to wrestle but was afraid Olivia would think it unseemly for a man of his station and refuse to speak to him again. He wanted to ask her to dance with him but thought that a lady who had honoured a humble farmer’s yard with her presence might balk at dancing in it. He was frustrated at not being able to snatch a few minutes’ private conversation with her, but her cousin stayed close and there seemed to be a secretive conversation going on between them and Jessica. He supposed it was what young ladies did, especially if they were close friends and hadn’t seen much of each other of late. Olivia would be going home soon, he noticed miserably. Her escort, Jack, and the stable boy who’d driven Miss Cordelia over had already gone to get their horses ready.

  He’d been disappointed at not seeing Olivia again before now. He’d called at the Manor on some pretext but Polly had told him that the episode with Captain Solomon had unnerved Miss Olivia so much she was staying at Ker-an-Mor Farm until Sir Oliver and Lady Pengarron came home. Timothy had dashed straight off to the farm but Olivia had gone out with Cordelia to paint a harvest scene. Kerensa had been there with Kelynen and he had spent a pleasant half-hour talking to them. He had suggested it must be a bit of a squeeze, all the family staying at the farm with the Renfrees. But Kerensa had happily stated that Luke and Kane weren’t sleeping there and the three young ladies didn’t mind sharing a room. He hadn’t been able to go back to Ker-an-Mor Farm because there had been a fatal accident at the Roscawen mine involving several miners and he’d had to spend a lot of time burying the dead and comforting the bereaved.

  He’d just have to call at the Manor again and see how things would progress, see if there was any prospect of laying a claim on Olivia Pengarron’s heart. But this would be under Sir Oliver’s watchful paternal eye, Timothy thought with a sinking heart. The baronet might approve of him as parson but he was probably looking much higher up for a son-in-law.

  Timothy shuddered as he thought of something Peter Blake had told him today. There had been another vicious murder at Penzance, with the victim being cruelly hacked to death. There was a chilling similarity between the victim and Olivia, a young woman of the same height and build, with red hair. It made Timothy fear for Olivia’s safety. He wanted to warn her to take extra care although he was sure that Sir Oliver had heard the news and had warned all his family accordingly. Peter Blake had also said an acquaintance of his had been one of the killer’s victims and he was making enquiries about all the deceased to see if there was a link. He was putting up a substantial reward for information but so far there had been none. It convinced Blake that the killer was no ordinary man; he was intelligent and terrifyingly cunning. I hope you learn something to catch him soon, Timothy said to Blake’s image in his mind, then looked at Olivia again.

  ‘You’re being stared at,’ Jessica whispered into Olivia’s ear as they sat side by side on bales of straw.

  ‘I know,’ Olivia replied airily.

  ‘Don’t you mind?’

  ‘Why should I?’ Olivia asked. She was in fact very pleased about it.

  Jessica reached round Olivia’s back and touched Cordelia’s arm. ‘What’s been going on? She’s obviously changed her mind about the good-looking parson and you haven’t as much as hinted to me.’

  Cordelia made an impatient face. ‘She’s been keeping secrets from me too, Jessie. As far as I knew she still hated him.’

  ‘Out with it,’ Jessica demanded. ‘Cordelia and I want to know what’s happened to bring about this sudden change of attitude.’

  ‘There’s nothing to tell you. The Reverend Timothy Lanyon is not quite as ill-mannered as I first thought, that’s all.’

  ‘That’s all! I’m having none of that, Livvy Pengarron. I bet you’ve been passing him furtive looks all evening. Are you meeting him secretly?’ Jessica twisted her friend’s face round to hers.

  ‘I have not and I am not,’ Olivia said brightly, gently pushing Jessica’s hand away.

  Now Cordelia pulled her round by the chin to face her. ‘Something has obviously happened and we won’t stop hounding you until you tell us all about it. You’ve been going to church alone while the rest of us have been preoccupied with the harvesting. Did he say something you particularly liked in one of his sermons or something?’

  ‘He happened to come over to the Manor—’

  ‘Without Uncle Oliver an
d Aunt Kerensa there? What on earth did he want?’

  ‘It was all quite proper. He was told that Beatrice was very ill and came to give her succour.’

  ‘And?’ Jessica prompted impatiently.

  ‘I didn’t know Beatrice had been ill,’ Cordelia said. ‘What was the matter with her? She’s fully recovered now, thank God.’

  ‘I was able to tell the Reverend Lanyon that she was not very ill but very drunk. That was all there was to it,’ Olivia answered, as if she was talking to two stupid children.

  Jessica eyed her suspiciously. ‘And you want us simply to believe that you found him not as bad-mannered as you thought?’

  ‘Yes.’ And that was all Olivia would say on the matter. She had wondered since the day the grey-eyed parson had called at the Manor whether she had seen him in a better light than he really was owing to the fright the vile Hezekiah Solomon had given her. Would he have been so kind and thoughtful, and flattering, if he had not found her and little Shaun O’Flynn in a state of fear? She didn’t object to the way he was stealing glances at her now and she’d noticed he was restraining his usual exuberant manner. Was that for her benefit? Or because he didn’t want her to give her father a bad report of him? She’d heard he liked to wrestle. She’d like to see him join in with the other men. She thought he’d cut a fine figure in wrestling garb.

  ‘Keep an eye on them,’ Jessica said to Cordelia. And the subject was closed as she brought up the matter of the smuggling run. ‘Are either of you having second thoughts?’

  ‘No,’ Olivia answered. ‘If my brothers and your brother can do it, I don’t see why we cannot. We all know the coast well and have made all the right contacts. The only problem is Jack. He thinks our plans could be dangerous and he’s flatly refused to help us.’

  ‘We need at least one man, Jessie,’ Cordelia said, ‘and we don’t think we can trust the stable boys or any of the gardeners in the way we do Jack.’