Pengarron's Children

by Pengarron's Children (retail) (epub)

  ‘Well, you’ll just have to get Jack to change his mind, won’t you.?’ Jessica challenged them tartly.

  * * *

  As it grew dark, people started to leave. Those remaining sat quietly and pleasantly tired outside in the cool fresh air, and Catherine finally managed to get Clem alone. He’d publicly thanked her for her help and privately congratulated her. She told him how much she had enjoyed the last few weeks, had waved a fan coyly in front of her face and said she felt like taking a little walk. Suddenly reminded of his duty as a lover, he offered his arm and they slipped away, Clem holding a lantern to light their path now the sky was growing dark, the three dogs bounding on before them.

  He didn’t speak, so Catherine took the initiative. ‘Your poor hands,’ she said.

  ‘Eh? I mean, what about them?’ He turned them over and over under the lantern’s light, looking puzzled.

  ‘They look sore and blistered.’

  ‘They don’t hurt a bit,’ he said. ‘I’m proud of these hands, takes years to toughen them up like this.’

  Catherine smiled and looked away.

  ‘What? What have I said?’

  ‘Nothing wrong. You say such unexpected things, that’s all. I like to hear them.’

  Clem waved gnats away from their faces. ‘I don’t suppose I do have the conversation of a gentleman.’ He suddenly came over in a panic and stopped walking. ‘I… I’ve been neglecting you, haven’t I? You wanted to be courted before we got married. You haven’t changed your mind, have you?’

  She almost collapsed with relief that he shared the same worry as she did. ‘Not one little bit,’ she reassured him. ‘These last few weeks have been the happiest of my life. And I like everything about you and your family and Trecath-en Farm, Clem.’

  He held the lantern up, staring at her face as if he hadn’t seen it before. He stepped closer to her. She couldn’t tear her eyes away and thought she would die soon if she didn’t find out what he was thinking.

  ‘Do… do you like me?’

  ‘Yes, I rather think I do.’

  She smiled and blushed, glanced away and looked back at him. She blushed furiously because he was looking her up and down.

  ‘You’ve blossomed like a field of golden corn,’ he said huskily. Then he laughed, ‘I’m not usually given to romantic talk.’

  ‘I hope I hear more of it.’

  ‘Don’t count on it every day but something might just slip out occasionally.’

  Catherine wanted to ask him what he’d seen about her that had made him blurt out the compliment but she was nervous it would embarrass him and he’d clam up for good. It wasn’t important. He hadn’t changed his mind about marrying her and that was all that mattered. She had asked him if he liked her, he had thought about it and admitted he did, and at last he had taken some notice of her.

  He was a man who had lived without the physical benefits of having a wife for over two years. She was a little nervous that now they were quite alone under a darkening sky and their wedding day not far away he might try to anticipate the wedding night. Yet he didn’t seem a man forward in that way and had no reputation as a rake. He’d asked her to become Jessica’s stepmother; perhaps he hadn’t given any thought to the fact that marriage meant a nuptial bed too. He might not want one. If only he would kiss her and give her some indication of how he was feeling in that respect.

  She looked at his wide sensuous mouth and longed to be kissed by him. He put the lantern down, raised her hands and lightly kissed them both. She became hopeful. Then he looked all around as if he was making sure they were unobserved. He did kiss her lips, tenderly and for just a little while, and she didn’t know what reason he had for holding himself back.

  * * *

  The harvesting on Ker-an-Mor Farm had been finished the day before and Kerensa was glad to be back home in the Manor. She had laughed as Olivia had joyfully run upstairs straight to her painting room, imploring her mother to find Shaun O’Flynn and arrange for him to sit for her immediately. Kerensa had been vexed that Hezekiah’s behaviour had forced Olivia to abandon her favourite pastime for so long. But it had given her something to think about to witness her daughter’s deep disappointment at Ker-an-Mor Farm when she had learned that her painting expedition in the cornfields meant she had missed the Reverend Timothy Lanyon’s visit to the farm.

  Oliver was very pleased with the harvesting. His yields were up thirty per cent on last year’s and the whole estate had fared well generally. This was one good year to give hope and optimism against the bad times. He had given the workers and Matthias Renfree a generous bonus and left the Renfrees to the peace of the farmhouse. Matthias had been in a rather stern mood, continually checking on the morals of the harvesters during the latter part of their labours. Oliver supposed he was wanting time alone with Rosie, and perhaps didn’t want others to be getting what he apparently was not, with so many of the Pengarron family packed into the farmhouse this year. Oliver and Kerensa would have been shocked to know that their normally passive steward badly wanted to put his gentle hands round their younger son’s throat and choke the life out of him for trying to seduce his wife.

  The Manor was quiet. Olivia and Cordelia were at Trecath-en, Luke and Kane were out socialising, and Kelynen had gone to bed early. Kerensa stood outside, enjoying the cool evening air. Oliver came to her and slipped his strong arms about her slender waist and Kerensa shivered delightfully when he made the tender skin behind her ears burn with his demanding lips. Passion for him unfolded inside her like a flower to the heat and light at his touch and she leaned back against him for more.

  ‘We’ve got some time to ourselves at last, my love,’ he whispered provocatively.

  His breath on her skin came quickly and she knew his desire for her was building, but she wanted to tease him… just for a little while. ‘Shall we take a stroll round the gardens then?’ she said. He turned her round to look into his formidable black eyes. Then without a word he lifted her up into his arms and swept her upstairs.

  A long time later, when their almost savage fervour had been finally quenched, they lay in a close embrace, his fingertips caressing the marble smoothness of her skin.

  ‘It’s been a wonderful summer,’ Kerensa whispered through the warm silvery darkness.

  Oliver kissed her hot, damp forehead. ‘Kane will probably be harvesting the crops of his own farm next year,’ he said proudly.

  ‘Oh, I hope he doesn’t go too far away. Speak to him, Oliver, and forbid him to go too far. I like my family around me.’

  ‘I don’t think you’ll have much to worry about, my love. Kane’s been casting an eye on a property round the bay and I think he’s quite interested in it. But you can’t keep the children here for ever, you know. You’ll have to accept that one day. One by one they’ll probably leave the nest.’

  Kerensa leaned over him, feeling somewhat annoyed. But Oliver’s eyes looked dreamy in the dim light and she came instantly under his spell again. She kissed him passionately, unfolding his lips to hers once more. Her voice was low and sultry but lashed out like a storm hitting the coast. ‘Then you had better give me more babies, hadn’t you?’

  Chapter 16

  ‘You could have called on me at least once,’ Sir Martin muttered peevishly. ‘I don’t care how busy you were. How would you like to be left lying in a stuffy bedchamber, half starved to death, with no friends bothering to give you even a few minutes of their time? You’ve got labourers to work in your fields. I don’t see why you have to insist on getting your hands dirty! It isn’t the way of a gentleman, and your son, the one with the reddish hair, is going the same way. No one cares about you when you’re old. Just wait till you grow old, see if anyone wants you then!’

  For about the twentieth time in the fifteen minutes since he’d arrived Oliver explained patiently to the other baronet that he had called on him twice during the past six weeks and that both times he had been fast asleep. That despite his servants’ insistence that he was
not to be disturbed, Oliver had entered his bedchamber and stayed at least twenty minutes each time, but ‘You did not stir, Martin, not even when I called you loudly by name.’

  ‘Then why wasn’t I told? Damn me, what’s William and that noisy Rachael thinking of, not telling me when I’ve had a visitor. I should cut them out of my will. I should dismiss all the ruddy servants. They’re all trying to kill me as it is!’

  Oliver was too tactful to suggest to his elderly friend that he probably was told of his visits and had subsequently forgotten. He took something from out of his coat. ‘Here’s a jar of pickled walnuts for you. I brought them on my last two visits but took them away again in case you weren’t allowed to have them. Shall I open the jar for you?’

  ‘Yes, indeed. Brilliant. I shall munch away while I have the opportunity, no one will dare to enter this room with you here keeping me company.’

  When Sir Martin was cheerfully munching his pickled walnuts, with the aid of a fine set of new false teeth, Oliver asked, ‘Would you like me to arrange for you to be taken downstairs and outside in the fresh air, Martin? William’s not here to argue with me and no one else will defy me if I insist upon it, not even Rachael. It’s a hot September day out there.’ He cast a hand at the windows. They were open and not a breath of wind disturbed the curtains. ‘There is no question of you catching a chill.’

  ‘Yes, yes.’ Sir Martin clapped his hands gleefully and his wrinkled face perked up like a child promised a treat. Then his hands flopped down at his sides from the effort. ‘In a little while. I’ll take tea outside with Kerensa. She’s downstairs, I remember you saying so. Brought no offspring with you today then?’

  ‘No. Luke and Kane are at the school today with the Reverend Lanyon, checking on how it’s running. Olivia has taken a sudden interest in it too and insisted on dragging Shelley along with her.’

  ‘The poor aren’t short of a good teacher then, with all your brood making them chant the alphabet, though I can’t see Luke having that much patience. That Renfree fellow teaches there too, doesn’t he? Don’t know why you want to teach girls as well as boys. It’s a waste of time! All they’re interested in is finding a husband as soon as they’re old enough to procreate.’

  ‘All people should be given the chance to learn to read and write, Martin.’

  ‘Huh! Utter poppycock!’ Sir Martin splurted out bits of walnut and followed it with a tight cough. ‘The next thing you’ll be saying is… is, oh, I don’t know. Sometimes I think you are a strange man, Oliver Pengarron.’

  Oliver grinned. ‘There’s many who would agree with you and many more who would call me something quite different.’

  Sir Martin coughed again and thumped his chest to clear it. It made a hollow sound which seemed to echo back. Spittle dribbled down from the corners of his mouth which he wiped away with a trembling hand.

  Oliver frowned and, taking away the jar of walnuts, passed him a handkerchief from a clean pile on the bedside table. ‘Can I get you something to ease that?’

  The elderly gentleman waved an impatient hand at a tray of medicines situated over by the windows and out of his reach. ‘See what’s over there. Damned medics keep calling and leaving all manner of stuff. Nothing helps. My chest is so tight and my heart thumps like a hammer.’

  Oliver went to the tray and glanced at the labels on the many bottles and phials standing there, together with a long list of instructions as to their usage. He continued to chat to Sir Martin as he read the list.

  ‘How are your other children and grandchildren faring nowadays, Martin? Have you heard any interesting news? How about the one hoping to stand for Parliament in the next elections? And young Martin in the Thirty-second Foot? Kane hasn’t heard of him since they were in the Caribbean together.’

  Sir Martin started rambling, seemingly speaking to his late wife again, saying feebly, ‘Yes, Amy. Of course, my dear.’

  Oliver glanced round and saw the old gentleman gazing into space. He turned back to the medicines and went on talking. ‘My sons are tending to be in poor temper these days. I shall have to speak to them. Kane hasn’t settled down since he’s been back in Cornwall and he and Luke both think I’m stupid. They’ve been bringing in smuggled goods, in Trelynne Cove and elsewhere, and think I don’t know about it. Kerensa and I are still concerned that Hezekiah is showing an unhealthy interest in Olivia. He called at the Manor while we were staying at Ker-an-Mor Farm. It made her feel most uncomfortable and she came over to the farm and stayed until the harvesting was over. Apart from that she seems much happier of late. Kerensa thinks she’s falling in love. Goodness knows who with. I hope not, not yet. I don’t want to lose any of my children in a love match or for any other reason for a long time. It’s good having all the family around us again, even if they are moody. At least Shelley is too young for high emotional feelings.’ Oliver looked closer at a bottle and was about to remark on its contents when instinct made him swing round. ‘Martin…’

  He put the bottle down and walked quickly to the bed. Sir Martin was lying with his hands clasped over his fat stomach on the outside of the sheet. He was gazing, without seeing, up at the ceiling. His jaw hung down and there was a hint of a satisfied smile on his raddled face.

  Oliver shook his arm but there was no response. Tears pricked his eyes. ‘Oh, Martin,’ he whispered.

  He closed the old baronet’s eyelids and stayed with him a few moments in silence, sitting on the bed, his mind turning over the good memories that he had shared with Sir Martin Beswetherick.

  * * *

  Kerensa was in the dining room with Lady Rachael who was proudly showing her the new dinner service she had had commissioned, with the family crest painted in gold upon it. Sebastian was lounging on a chair cramming liquorice cakes into his mouth.

  ‘You simply must get a set, Kerensa, with the Pengarron crest, of course. Isn’t it divine? I’m going to invite the sheriff and all the top gentry in the county to a supper party. I can’t wait to use them.’

  ‘They’re lovely,’ Kerensa said, admiring the gold design on a plate, not daring to touch it. She glanced disapprovingly at Sebastian who was making wet chomping noises. ‘Sebastian is very fond of liquorice, isn’t he?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Rachael said indulgently. Sebastian was the favourite of her fourteen offspring. ‘I have them sent straight from the manufacturers for him. Don’t eat too many, dear heart,’ she cooed at her flabby son who only looked up with a grunt. ‘Or you won’t eat your lunch. It’s your favourite, roasted lobster.’

  Kerensa suppressed a shudder at the disgusting exhibition and looked back at the table of fine china. ‘Your dinner service is perfect, Rachael. It would grace even the King’s table.’

  ‘Oh, do you really think so? I wonder if their Majesties would come if I invited them to dine.’ She laughed shrilly. ‘Can you imagine Queen Charlotte sitting just there? We have a lot in common, we both have a large family.’

  A strange watery gagging noise made Kerensa turn round. Sebastian had risen from his chair and was clutching his throat. ‘What’s the matter, Sebastian?’ An instant later, she was crying, ‘Dear God, he’s choking!’

  Rachael shrieked and clasped her hands to her breast. Kerensa rushed to the young gentleman and pummelled his back in an effort to dislodge a gooey mass of liquorice caught in his throat. Sebastian waved his arms about frantically. His face was turning blue and his mother was screaming and shouting for the servants. Kerensa quickly moved round to face Sebastian. She pushed his scrabbling hands away and tried to force her fingers into his mouth. He thrashed his head from side to side, his piggy red eyes bulging with fear.

  ‘Keep still!’ Kerensa shouted. Grabbing his wet, blackened chin she pushed her hand inside his mouth, getting it bitten as she tried to reach the obstruction.

  Oliver had left Sir Martin’s bedchamber to inform the family of his death and had reached the top of the stairway when the screaming and panic from downstairs reached his ears.

  He
was down the stairs in a flash. Young Beswethericks and servants were tearing about the hall, shrieking and crying, and Oliver caught hold of a footman by the collar and shook him until he blurted out the cause of the panic.

  Oliver dived into the dining room, pushing aside Rachael who was wringing her hands in a frenzy. Kerensa was still trying desperately to dislodge the liquorice from Sebastian’s throat. He was now purple-faced, with his eyes rolling back in his head. Blackish dribble ran down his chin onto his coat front and Kerensa’s dress. Oliver pulled her away from the fat youth and bent him double at the waist and thumped his back hard. Horrible choking and gagging noises came from Sebastian’s throat and his arms flailed wildly.

  Kerensa attempted to restrain Rachael as she tried to wrest her son away from Oliver. ‘It’s not working! It’s not working!’ she screamed. Hurling Kerensa aside, she attacked Oliver like a wild animal, scratching his face and kicking him in the shins until one of her other adult sons and a footman managed to force her, shrieking, out of the room.

  Oliver stopped thumping Sebastian’s back and yanked back his head. He thrust his fingers into his mouth and tried to reach the big wedge of liquorice in the same way his wife had done. But it was too late. The grandson who most closely resembled Sir Martin Beswetherick had joined him in death.

  ‘There’s nothing more you can do, Sir Oliver,’ one of Sebastian’s brothers said. ‘He’s dead, Sebastian’s dead.’

  Kerensa stood shaking and ashen-faced. Oliver looked at her in despair then with the brother’s help he laid Sebastian’s limp body on the floor. With trembling hands he tore a handkerchief out of his pocket. ‘Clean him up,’ he ordered Sebastian’s brother. ‘Don’t let your mother see him like this.’

  Kerensa rushed into Oliver’s arms. She stayed there a moment until Rachael’s wails and protests broke through her horror. ‘We’d better tell her, Oliver,’ she whispered with tears streaming down her face.