‘If you will keep quiet too,’ she explained impatiently.
‘Oh, I’ll do that, miss, never fear.’
She raced away to her room to read the letter, ignoring the call for supper, praying as she ran that it was from Timothy. He called more regularly at the Manor and was very gracious to her. She was sure he was romantically interested in her and had the feeling he was trying to get her father to see him as other than the parish parson before he made any direct approach to her. He spoke to her as often and as long as he could without breaching propriety.
She pulled open the letter with trembling fingers. It was in Timothy’s handwriting which she had seen many times on documents on her father’s desk.
My Dear Miss Olivia,
Forgive me taking this Liberty but I would like to see You Alone. It may be a Presumption but I Feel that you Share the same Feelings for Me as I Have for You. I would like to Speak to Sir Oliver, but first I want to ask you for your Permission. I shall be in Penzance tomorrow. There is an empty house, in good repair, that I have rented for a short time. Please, I Beg You, My Dearest,
Meet me there at the Address below at Eleven of the clock Tomorrow.
Your Faithful Servant,
Timothy Lanyon
Olivia had no qualms about meeting the young parson alone. She didn’t doubt for a moment that he would behave honourably towards her at all times. Timothy was in her thoughts constantly. He was always at the Manor. Oliver had raised his eyebrows at the sudden amount of ‘parish business’ Timothy had found to discuss. Kerensa invited him to stay for meals during which he talked a lot about the forthcoming painting exhibition and Olivia knew she could count on his support. Twice Timothy managed to persuade Olivia to walk round the gardens with him, just the two of them. On the last occasion he’d held her hand for much longer than her father would have approved of. Timothy had made her quite forget her assertions earlier this year that she was not interested in getting married. She could hardly wait for the time to pass when she could set out for the short ride around the bay to Penzance.
* * *
Kane left the Manor before Olivia did, riding over to Ker-an-Mor Farm in the company of Luke and Cordelia who had become a confident rider. He then rode on to Trecath-en Farm and was amazed to find no one there but Ricketty Jim.
‘Where’s everybody gone, Jim?’ he asked, looking around the yard as if he believed the absentees would materialise.
‘They’m all gone over to Penzanns, sir, ’cept for Philip and David who’re out cutting furze,’ Ricketty Jim said. ‘Surprised the life out of me, all of ’em going off like that in Mr Blake’s coach with his lovely wife in it.’
‘Peter and Rosina Blake? What on earth for? What’s going on?’
‘Dunno, sir, ’cept it’s something to do with Kerris. Jessie told me her real name’s Amy so they must’ve found out who she is at last. The maid said Kerris wouldn’t go without she and Kenver, and even Miss Catherine’s going.’
‘But what’s Peter Blake got to do with Kerris?’
‘Dunno that either. But he wus here yesterday an’ from all accounts she was some glad to see him.’
Kane thought hard for a few minutes and then the truth hit him. ‘Peter Blake’s mistress was murdered back in the spring and her maidservant went missing. That’s who Kerris must be, the maidservant, and her real name is Amy.’
‘Thought it might be something like that,’ Jim said, shaking his head.
Kane grinned. ‘You could have said so at the beginning, Jim. If they’re going over to Penzance, they must be taking Kerris back to her old surroundings for some reason. Perhaps she doesn’t remember everything about herself yet.’
‘Or who killed her mistress.’
‘I don’t like the sound of that. It could spell danger for her and Jessica. Dear God!’
‘Getting partial to young Jessie, are ’ee?’
‘I might be,’ Kane said offhandedly, but his eyes were shining and Jim knew he was right. ‘I might ride over to Penzance later. I know it’s really none of my business…’
‘’Tis if you’re partial to the little maid, and Clem wouldn’t mind. He would be if ’twas your brother but he’s got a fondness for you. Be some proud if something happened between you two I do reckon.’ Ricketty Jim put his head on one side like an attentive sparrow. He’d noticed Kane had been looking closely at him since they’d been talking. ‘I’m just as curious as to why you’re staring at me as to why they’ve gone off to Penzanns,’ he said.
‘I didn’t come over to see Clem today, or even Jessica – well, not yet. I wanted to speak to you first and when you weren’t to be found at your shack, I rode down here.’
‘Want me to tell a few stories at a party, do ’ee?’
‘No, I want to tell you about my childhood.’
Ricketty Jim lifted his thick brows. ‘Well, I’m a good listener, come inside.’ He led the way into the farmhouse. He’d promised to make the weekly bread and he set to work kneading the dough he’d had proving next to the brick oven. Kane watched his strong-handed movements, leaning against the dresser.
‘Go on,’ Jim said, as he threw a handful of flour lightly on the oven, which burned with a blaze of sparks, informing him it had reached the required heat. Next he sprinkled flour on a well-used marble slab that had been in the Trenchard family for generations. He broke off a lump of dough and thumped it down on the cold marble. ‘I’ve always got a ready ear for listening though most folk do think I’m only wanting to talk.’
Kane cleared his throat and began. This wasn’t going to be easy. ‘You know that Sir Oliver and Lady Pengarron are not my real parents?’
‘Aye.’
‘When I left the army this year, I decided to find out about my past.’
‘Understandable,’ Jim said, stretching the dough and thumping the ends back to the centre.
‘I started life in a local brothel. It was thought my mother was a prostitute working there and my father a rather unsavoury sailor. I found out yesterday that my mother was in fact the prostitute’s sister, not a prostitute herself, and the man who fathered me was not the sailor and he was the only man she’d known in that way.’
‘That must be a comfort to you, though ’tis a sad tale whichever way you look at it. Would ’ee mind passing me they tin trays there beside ’ee, sir? This is nearly ready and the oven’s nice and hot, the stones have changed to the proper red colour. I’ll make some round loaves next, I make a nice tasty bit of bread, if I do say so myself. A man’s hand is stronger for the kneading, you see.’
Kane passed the trays and held them still as Jim tossed smaller lumps of dough on them.
‘Go on,’ Jim said again, pushing the bread with his knuckles until he’d got the desired shapes. ‘Your mother was this prostitute’s sister. What happened to her then?’
‘She died… in an accident.’
‘That was a shame.’
Kane went silent and Jim looked up at him. ‘Next bit hard to say, is it?’
‘Yes, especially to you, Jim.’
‘To me? How’s that then?’
‘I’ve been told that my mother used to say that my father, the only information I have about him, was a rover with large brown eyes.’
Ricketty Jim dropped a bread tray on the table with a clatter. ‘A rover with… Upon my soul, young Kane, you don’t think it was me? That I’m your father?’
Kane raised his dark brows over his wonderfully sad, large brown eyes. ‘You fit the description. Your eyes are the same colour as mine and it hasn’t been many years since you’ve settled down.’
‘Oh, Kane.’ Jim staggered back to the three-legged stool that Kerris liked to sit on and fell down on it. ‘It’s not possible!’
‘Why not? Don’t you think you could have ever met my mother? She was a sixteen-year-old girl when she became with child, she had red hair like mine and was called Peggy Wearne. Isn’t it possible you could have met her and fathered me without knowing it? She was s
ure my father would come back to these parts one day, and… here you are, Jim.’
‘It is true that I was a rover, that over many years I wandered in and out of Mount’s Bay, but it is impossible for me to be your father.’
Kane didn’t look convinced.
‘I’d be honoured to think I was your father,’ Ricketty Jim said slowly, ‘but, you see, I’ve never known a woman in my life, not ever. I’ve never felt the need and have been content to keep myself to myself all my life.’
Kane felt a choking feeling creeping up his chest, which came out in an embarrassed cough. ‘I’m sorry, Jim. I feel such a fool.’
‘There’s no need for that, ’twas only natural for you to ask. Tis a pity it wasn’t me… or is that not what you wanted?’
‘I suppose a part of me did hope it wasn’t you,’ Kane admitted. ‘I would have known for sure without any more searching but I admit I have mixed feelings about the man who fathered me. He must have seduced Peggy and then gone off on his travels again without a backward thought. It’s a terrible way to treat any girl. Yet I want to know him, to know that basically he’s a good and decent man, and you’re certainly that, Jim. If you had turned out to be my father though, it would have made things very difficult for Sir Oliver, with you living so close. At least that’s one thing I don’t have to worry about.’
‘And at least you won’t inherit my bowed legs,’ Jim smiled. ‘You’re a tall, well-built man, any man anywhere would be proud to think he was your father. Sometimes ’tis something I regret, not getting married and raising a family.’
‘It’s not too late.’
‘Tush! Some things aren’t meant to be and that’s the way of it. I couldn’t have changed in my younger days, I had to get the wanderlust out of my system. And who knows if I won’t suddenly take off again some day. That’s why I like my little shack, ’tis sort of semi-permanent. Will you go on searching for your real father, sir?’
Kane thought about it. ‘Call me Kane, all of the time, Jim. It never feels right when you call me sir. As for your question, I don’t know. I’ll sleep on it, perhaps for several years, though it will probably be too late by then. Maybe I’m never meant to know who my real father was.’ Kane smiled softly. ‘Sir Oliver is such a powerful character, he is more than enough as my father and he’s always treated me like his own son.’ He gazed at the settle where he’d held Jessica in her pain and remembered Kerensa’s usual concern over him at breakfast that day. ‘And it will take a very special woman to take my mother’s place as the most important woman in my heart.’
‘Well, I reckon you already know her.’ Jim put his first batch of bread into the oven and sealed it down, then said, ‘I know ’tis a woman’s drink but would you like to take a dish of tea with me? I know I could do with one. Won’t take a minute.’
‘Just one quickly. I’ve a notion to ride over to Penzance.’
‘Kane,’ Jim said, as he poured boiling water on the leaves, ‘have you told Sir Oliver and her ladyship what you’ve found out?’
‘Not yet. I will if I feel the time is right.’
‘’Tis best to keep our conversation to ourselves then, don’t you think?’
‘Yes, I do.’ Kane looked at the settle again. ‘I’ve got other things to keep my mind occupied now.’
* * *
Jessica felt excited to be riding in a carriage for the first time in her life, travelling over the gravel chippings that the Pengarrons had had put down, making the roads much easier to ride over. It wasn’t as big or as grand as any of the Pengarron conveyances but it was a real gentleman’s coach and one of the few in Cornwall; it was Peter Blake’s proudest acquisition. She would have put her head out of the window to announce her presence in it to passers-by but the name of Peter Blake bore too much shame for that. She wondered what Kane would think of her being here. He probably wouldn’t approve, but it was her father’s doing. She had hoped Kane would turn up at the farm last night so she could tell him of this excursion. She hadn’t seen him since they’d sheltered in Ricketty Jim’s shack and she was looking forward to the time he would ride over to the farm and tell her where they could meet quietly. That would be any day now by his reckoning and she was getting impatient.
She sat next to Rosina Blake who, despite being slight of figure, was jammed in between her and Catherine. The two older women were politely conversing about the forthcoming wedding.
‘You must be getting very excited about it, Jessica,’ Rosina said, turning to her as they lurched over the rougher roads.
Catherine glanced round Rosina, anxious as to what Jessica’s answer would be. Jessica knew Catherine’s smile was one of relief when she said, quite truthfully now that she was getting used to the idea, ‘Aye, specially as it’s going to be a double wedding with Uncle Kenver marrying Kerris.’
Rosina and Catherine looked at the couple sitting close together opposite. They were holding hands and Kerris looked down at their entwined fingers, blushing shyly.
‘Oh really? Congratulations to you both,’ Rosina said, smiling serenely at them.
‘Thank you, Mistress Blake,’ Kenver said, looking proudly at his bride-to-be. ‘Trecath-en Farm’s never seen so many happy changes in one year.’
‘I hope you won’t find the experience of going home too harrowing, Kerris,’ Rosina said.
No one called Kerris by her rightful name of Amy. It had been decided the day before that she would leave her old life behind and from now on be known as Kerris Trenchard. Now the greater part of her memory had come back, she no longer looked haunted or was quite as easily scared. Her true nature was to say, very carefully, what was on her mind.
‘I’ll be glad when it’s over, Mistress Blake,’ she said now. ‘But it can’t be easy for you either. You probably haven’t known about me for very long and didn’t want to meet me.’
‘My husband is most distressed over Dinah Tredinnick’s death and I feel a sympathy for her for the dreadful way she died. I wish only to see Mr Blake returned to his usual contented self, and I should be pleased if you too can settle down to a new and happy life.’
‘You are the most charitable of ladies,’ Kenver said.
Rosina bowed her head and Catherine thought it prudent to change the subject. She spoke to her future brother-in-law. ‘I understand this is the very first time you have left the farm, Kenver?’
‘Aye, it is, Catherine. I’m enjoying the sights I can see out of the window.’
‘There will be plenty to see at Penzance.’
‘Have you heard from Simon Peter?’ Jessica asked Rosina.
‘Yes, I have,’ she answered, her face brightening.
As Rosina told Jessica about her son’s life as an itinerant preacher in Yorkshire, Catherine looked out at Clem’s back as he rode ahead in front of the coach. She had been thrilled when David had arrived at the Parsonage last night with a note from Clem. He had not bothered to learn to write well when Matthias Renfree had taught the family years ago and David explained the scrappy writing in more detail. It had warmed her heart that Clem wanted her along on this family excursion and she felt nothing could now prevent their marriage from taking place. She felt like a married woman already, that she had first claim on the blond-haired man she spied from the erratically moving coach. Catherine hoped she would get the opportunity to parade about Penzance on his arm and receive envious looks from other woman at her handsome, masculine escort – her man. She had his letter in her purse. It was headed ‘Dear Catherine’ and signed simply in spidery handwriting ‘Clem’, but to her it was the most intimate love letter ever sent and received.
‘So you’re confident Simon Peter is enjoying his work on the Yorkshire circuit,’ Jessica was saying.
‘Well, he seems to have settled down but Mr Blake and I won’t be truly happy until he’s back in Cornwall. We’re hoping he might come home for a few days soon.’
‘It will be lovely to see him again,’ Jessica agreed.
It took nearly two hour
s to complete the journey from the time the coach left Trecath-en Farm, collected Catherine at the Parsonage, journeyed through Marazion then Long Rock, to reach the outskirts of Penzance. They had started out at a sedate pace but were held up by a fracas in the street in Marazion and an overturned cart on the road after leaving Long Rock. Peter Blake was impatient to carry on with the journey but Clem insisted on helping the carter right his conveyance and reload the tin ore he was taking to Penzance to be stamped.
As they travelled alongside Eastern Green, Rosina, who was feeling as nervous as Kerris was, said, ‘We’re almost there.’
Kerris gripped Kenver’s strong hand painfully tight, her square face paled and she let out a frightened gulp. Jessica leaned forward and pressed a comforting hand on her knee. ‘You’ll be all right, Kerris. We’re here to help you.’
‘And to protect you no matter what,’ Kenver promised, his face set hard and grim.
* * *
Oliver had finished his business with the mayor of Penzance sooner than he’d anticipated and he joined Kerensa on her third shopping port of call, the same haberdasher’s that Clem had been in the week before. They were strolling arm in arm now up Market Jew Street, talking about their expected baby as excitedly as if it was their first.
‘I thought Beatrice would have said something by now, she’s usually the first to know,’ Oliver laughed, moving aside to allow two elderly ladies in wide-hooped gowns an easy passage. He gave them his striking smile and bowed graciously, and they went on their way greatly flattered and tittering behind their fans.
‘They’ll make me jealous,’ Kerensa laughed gaily. ‘You can smile at me like that now.’
He gladly obeyed and she stood on tiptoe to receive a gentle kiss on her cheek. They bought a few things at the Market House then made for Chapel Street to dine at a friend’s house. Oliver was the first to see the Blake/Trenchard entourage coming towards them and he stopped and stared.
‘What is it?’ Kerensa asked, following his amazed dark eyes.
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