Trevallion

by Trevallion (retail) (epub)

  ‘I wouldn’t speak to a dog like that,’ Neville muttered loudly. He recognised spiteful jealousy when he saw it.

  ‘I don’t require your opinion on this, Faull,’ Alex said coldly. ‘Please go into the sitting room. I’ll be with you in a moment.’

  Neville glanced regretfully at Rebecca but did as he was bidden.

  ‘You go on up to your room, Becca,’ Alex said quietly. ‘I want to speak to Mrs Fiennes alone.’

  Rebecca obeyed with a stony face. Alex and Abigail were glaring at each other and neither noticed the box she was carrying. The instant Rebecca cleared the top step of the stairs, Abigail turned on Alex.

  ‘Don’t you dare give me a lecture, Alex Fiennes.’ She made to storm off but he gripped her arm tightly.

  ‘I won’t allow you to speak to Becca like that. She’s not employed here to be at your beck and call. First of all you insisted on trying to turn her into something she isn’t and lately you don’t seem to want her around you at all. As it is she would prefer to work on the farm. You must remember, Abigail, people are not so eager to go into service these days. They can find work in factories, shops and in offices.’

  ‘So servants aren’t so subservient these days. I know that. But that’s not the real reason you’re angry with me. It’s because I shouted at your precious Rebecca, or Becca as you so endearingly call her. It’s you who wants her around all the time and you don’t like it when someone else wants her to attend to her duties.’ Abigail pushed his hand away and added spitefully, ‘You’d drop dead of fright if she left the estate, wouldn’t you, Alex?’

  Alex looked at Abigail with the utter contempt he felt for her. ‘Probably, and that would be too bad for you, Abigail. Ralph gambled away all his money, remember, and I haven’t changed my will in your or Stephen’s favour since his death. I’ve got other relatives and you would be left out in the cold.’

  Abigail gulped and went white. ‘I thought you were going to make arrangements concerning Stephen. Ralph wouldn’t have—’

  ‘Ralph couldn’t stand the boy any more than I can. He wouldn’t have been too worried about Stephen’s future. He’s an evil little sod, your son, Abigail, selfish and arrogant and he’ll almost certainly grow up to be as immoral as you are.’

  ‘But Ralph did have some feelings for Stephen and I’m sure you have too, Alex,’ Abigail cried. ‘It’s because I shouted at Rebecca that you’re saying these things. Just what does Rebecca mean to you?’

  ‘Mind your own damned business!’

  Abigail began to sob. ‘Please, Alex, don’t let’s quarrel like this. I’ll apologise to Rebecca and I won’t ask her to do anything for me ever again. Mrs Wright is quite happy to see to my room and clothes anyway. All I ask is that you provide something for Stephen’s future. You can even cut my allowance if you like but please don’t throw us out.’

  Some of the heat went out of Alex’s face and he sighed. ‘Stop crying, Abigail. We’ll carry on as usual until I’ve made up my mind what to do about the future. Then I’ll decide something definite for you and Stephen. In the meantime I’ll settle a sum of money on you both, just to be on the safe side. I’ll talk to Faull about it while he’s here.’

  Neville had his ear to the sitting room door and heard every word. So Fiennes had a need for Rebecca, did he? He mulled this over.

  ‘Having problems?’ he asked smugly as Alex entered the room.

  Alex glared at him. ‘I’ve got half an hour to spare so let’s talk business. Can I offer you a cup of tea, Faull?’

  Neville shook his head slowly and put on an expression that poked fun at Alex for talking like an old maid. Then he turned on his quiet professional voice. ‘No, thank you, Major. Shall we sit at the table? I have a lot of papers in my briefcase that need your signature.’

  ‘Where’s Mr Drayton today?’ Alex asked stonily.

  ‘I know you prefer to discuss your business affairs with Mr Drayton but he was called away urgently from the office earlier this morning. His mother died suddenly.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.’

  Neville laid out papers and documents on the table. ‘These are the deeds to all the properties Captain Miles Trevallion owned and in due course they will be transferred to your name. There’s not a lot left to the once wealthy and influential name of Trevallion but, as you know, the total amount exceeds the worthy sum of seventy-five thousand pounds. If you wish to sell I could get more than that sum for you, Major Fiennes. I know of parties who would be interested in buying Trevallion House and its grounds for a most handsome amount. The rest of the estate will sell readily in separate compartments. You could make a sizeable profit on your inheritance to take back to Berkshire with you.’

  Alex looked at Neville with distaste. ‘Whatever I decide to do with Trevallion House, Faull, you can rest assured that I won’t allow the house to be sold for the holiday trade.’

  ‘Of course, Major Fiennes, but I have been approached by someone of local standing who would be guaranteed to carry it on in its tradition.’ His words fell on deaf ears. He mentally shrugged his shoulders and pushed some papers towards Alex. ‘These need signing. Perhaps you would be good enough to look them over and let us have them back in the office early next week. They are needed urgently. They entail the house transfer from Mr Drayton, myself and the other trustees to you to manage the estate yourself. The monies you want put into the estate cannot be released without your signature. Now, is there anything you would like to discuss with me before I leave?’

  ‘Yes,’ Alex rejoined in a carefully modulated tone. ‘I want to add a codicil to my will.’

  * * *

  When Neville left he found Abigail waiting by his car and fully expected a roasting for taking Rebecca’s side over her harsh reprimand, but she was subdued.

  ‘I take it you are going back to Truro, Neville. Can I beg a lift?’

  ‘Certainly, Abby. Going to raid the dress shops?’

  As Neville pulled out into the lane, she said in an accusing tone, ‘You gave Rebecca a lift home.’

  ‘She was walking along the lane. I could hardly just drive by and leave her there.’

  ‘I hope you’re not trying to wheedle your way into her affections, Neville.’

  Neville side-tracked that remark. ‘Abigail, do you like Rebecca?’

  Abigail looked ashamed. ‘I know I sometimes behave unforgivably towards her but I ask you, Neville, how could anyone not like the girl? That’s why I don’t want her falling under the spell of a sophisticated man like you. Anybody else and I know she could take care of herself.’

  ‘Of course Alex would make you the ideal husband,’ Neville said thoughtfully. ‘You’re jealous that he likes Rebecca so much. He rarely leaves Trevallion and then never to mix socially, but it still doesn’t leave much room for you to manoeuvre.’

  ‘How shrewd of you, Neville, but even if Rebecca didn’t exist Alex wouldn’t marry me if his life depended upon it. You must have overheard him crying blue murder at me.’

  ‘He strikes me as a strange sort of fellow, your brother-in-law, even without his war experiences.’

  ‘Yes, he was always quiet and moody.’

  Neville became thoughtful again. ‘It’s understandable that he should take to Rebecca. She’s of a similar nature, the sort of woman that plays easy on a man’s mind. Do you think there’s any possibility of something going on there?’

  Abigail snorted. ‘In the bedroom? Absolutely not. Even if Rebecca presented herself naked to him tonight, nothing would happen.’ She added bitterly, ‘Alex doesn’t know what to do with it.’

  As they sped under a canopy of tall trees, Neville glanced at her knowingly. ‘I see. Quite a waste as far as you’re concerned.’

  ‘Well, can you think of anything better in the world to do?’

  He grinned as he watched the road ahead. ‘Any particular place you’d like to be dropped off in Truro, Abby?’

  ‘How about your flat?’

  Neville sm
iled.

  Chapter 25

  Robert Drayton was in the kitchen of his small house halfway up Mitchell Hill in Truro when there was a knock at the front door. He thought it would be another neighbour or acquaintance come to give their condolences on his mother’s death. He quickly wiped his hands, took off the apron round his waist and put on his black coat before answering the door. His face broke out in a mixture of smiles and tearful emotion when he saw who was on the other side.

  ‘Mrs Wright. How kind of you to call. I take it you’ve heard…’ He was more pleased to see this woman on his doorstep than anyone else on earth. Her appearance took some of the sting out of the despair and loneliness he’d been plunged into. Neighbours, friends and colleagues had been kind and sympathetic but none had the genuine personal touch about them that Mrs Wright possessed.

  ‘Yes, Mr Drayton. I heard this morning.’ Loveday shuffled her feet on the paved doorstep. ‘Mr Faull called on Major Fiennes and he told him. I’m so very sorry. I felt I had to come. I hope you don’t mind. I… I thought there might be something I could do.’

  When Alex had conveyed the sad news to her, Loveday’s first thought had been to go to Mr Drayton. Their time together in the tea shop had been most agreeable and Loveday felt they were on friendly terms. She’d immediately asked the Major if he minded if she went into Truro, and without asking any questions he said he’d drive her there himself. Loveday had run along to the creek, made arrangements with Ira Jenkins to cook lunch at the gatehouse and fetch Tamsyn from school, then, after she had changed into a black dress and stockings, the Major had driven her to Mitchell Hill.

  ‘Pass on my condolences to Mr Drayton, Mrs Wright,’ Alex had said kindly as he indicated which house was the solicitor’s. ‘I might as well look around the town while I’m here. I’ll call back here in a couple of hours but if you want to stay longer I’ll send Trease Allen for you.’

  ‘But Major,’ she had faltered. ‘Supposing Mr Drayton doesn’t want me to stay? Supposing he doesn’t want me calling here?’

  ‘If you feel you ought to be here, Mrs Wright, then I’m absolutely certain that Mr Drayton will be pleased to see you.’

  He had been right and she passed on his condolences.

  ‘How thoughtful of Major Fiennes. Well, as it happens I was trying to clear up a few things. Um… yes, well, perhaps you’d care to step inside, Mrs Wright, if you have the time, of course. I could make us a cup of tea.’

  Loveday smiled shyly and stepped into the hall. It was dark, like the whole house; every curtain was pulled over to tell the world of the bereavement.

  ‘Come into the sitting room, Mrs Wright. I’ll just pop along to the kitchen and put the kettle on.’

  After Robert had lit the gaslamps in the semi-darkness, Loveday was left alone in the sitting room. She walked to the piano, a highly polished upright, and took a photograph off the top. An elderly lady with a kind face and a white bun on top of her head smiled back at her.

  Robert returned and Loveday said softly, ‘Your mother?’

  ‘Yes.’ He smiled gently, gazing down at his mother’s face. ‘It was taken only last year, just after Christmas. She’d hardly had a pain in her life up until a few weeks ago. It… it was very sudden… Mother didn’t suffer. She, um, she… had a pain in her chest about three o’clock this morning. I telephoned for the doctor at once. He was here in five minutes and telephoned for the ambulance to take Mother to the infirmary. She…’ A solitary tear crept down Robert’s face. ‘She died at four twenty-four. It was very peaceful. I, um, ah, that’s the kettle. Please excuse me, Mrs Wright, I shall be back in a minute.’

  Loveday looked around the room. There were vases of flowers on every table and shelf, and on the piano. Photographs were prominently displayed on the walls and mantelpiece. Mr and Mrs Drayton with a fat baby, presumably Robert. Mr and Mrs Drayton with Robert as a small boy dressed as if they were attending a wedding. Robert with his school class. Robert in gown and mortarboard receiving his degree at university. Mrs Drayton and Robert, now a man of about twenty, at another wedding. Robert in officer’s uniform with his Duke of Cornwall’s Light Infantry unit. Robert and Mrs Drayton in party hats and raised glasses at a Christmas party not many years ago.

  Mrs Drayton’s knitting basket sat at the foot of what was obviously her favourite chair. On the long needles on top of the basket was the nearly completed back of a jumper in brown wool, a garment she had no doubt been making for Robert. A shawl was put tidily on the back of the chair, in case the old lady felt chilly in the evenings. A cushion was plumped up against the arm, embroidered with the figure of a lady in crinoline in a flower garden.

  The chair on the other side of the fireplace was Robert’s. His cushion had a symmetrical design in blues and greys. His spectacle case was sitting on a neat pile of books and papers on the floor nearby, work brought home from the office last night. Loveday felt a lump rise in her throat as she pictured mother and son sitting in companionable silence as they got on with their respective tasks. They probably listened to the wireless set standing on its own shelf as they worked. There was new linoleum on the floor, patterned in a green and yellow design with a tiny red rose dotted here and there on the corners, a mixture of feminine and masculine design. Mother and son had lived in harmony.

  Loveday left the sitting room and walked quietly along the passageway to the kitchen. Robert was at the draining board wiping up spills from the teapot.

  A little accident,’ he said, blushing with embarrassment. ‘I’m afraid I’m being rather clumsy today.’

  ‘Let me,’ Loveday said soothingly. ‘It’s why I’m here.’

  She took off her coat and Robert gratefully relinquished the responsibility of making the tea. Searching in the cupboards she found a biscuit barrel and put pieces of shortbread on a plate on the table. Robert was standing about, his arms folded, smiling uncertainly.

  ‘Why don’t we drink our tea in here?’ Loveday said. ‘Then we won’t make crumbs in the sitting room.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Wright. It’s so good to have someone here with me.’

  Loveday poured the tea as they sat at the small table. She smoothed down the tablecloth absentmindedly. It was perfectly tidy but she wanted Mr Drayton to feel he was being cared for.

  ‘How did you get here, Mrs Wright? I hope you didn’t have to wait hours for a bus, and of course in the first place you would have had a long walk to the main road.’

  ‘Major Fiennes ran me over in his car. He’s very kindly coming back for me later.’

  ‘That was very thoughtful of him. You must thank him on my behalf but I will be happy to run you back myself… if, if the Major were to find it inconvenient.’

  Robert dunked his biscuit and bit off the wet soggy bit without realising at first that he’d done it. Then he said quickly, ‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Wright. Mother didn’t mind me doing it, you see. She was never a bossy woman.’

  ‘It’s a very great loss for you, Mr Drayton. I can remember all the things you told me about your mother when we had tea together in town. I do understand how you’re feeling.’

  ‘Of course you do, you lost your husband in the war. I feel so numb. I can’t believe Mother’s gone. She was seventy-six years old. She lived for thirty years after my father died. I know some parents are selfish when they lose their spouse and rule the lives of any children still living at home, but Mother was never like that. She used to encourage me to go out and would have been delighted if I had got married and left home. She was a wonderful woman.’

  ‘It’s the right thing to do,’ Loveday said gently, ‘to talk about her.’ She couldn’t help wondering why Mr Drayton had never got married.

  ‘And to keep yourself busy, as one of the neighbours told me. I want to clean and polish the sitting room. Mother will be coming back home later in the day. She’ll lie in her coffin in the sitting room until her funeral.’

  ‘And when’s that, Mr Drayton?’

  ‘Well, the undertaker
will be calling on me later in the day to make the arrangements but I suppose in three or four days’ time. Mother will be buried on top of Father in Kenwyn churchyard, that’s where we’ve always worshipped. I think I’ll order lots of flowers. Mother would have liked that.’

  ‘I’m sure she would. Mr Drayton, will you allow me to see to the sitting room for you?’

  ‘There’s not a lot that needs to be done in there but, Mrs Wright, I wonder if you would be kind enough to…’

  ‘Yes? I’ll do anything I can. Do go on.’

  ‘Would you, um, tidy up Mother’s room for me, please? And… and… look in her wardrobe and find her wedding dress? It was her wish to be buried in it. She was as slim as the day she was married. I just couldn’t…’

  ‘Of course, Mr Drayton. Leave it to me.’

  ‘You’re so kind.’ Robert’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Everyone’s been so kind, friends and neighbours. We haven’t got a lot of relatives, you see. Not in Cornwall. I’ve sent telegrams to those who live in London and Kent. I expect they’ll come down for the funeral. My partners in the practice were here earlier today. Mr Handley and Mr Faull. Strangely it was Mr Faull who was the most comforting. He knew just what to do and what to say. He suggested he and Mr Handley halve the work I was supposed to do today and they took it away. I intended to go with Mr Faull to Trevallion this morning.’ He coloured as he went on, lowering his voice, ‘I was hoping to see you and have a cup of your tea, Mrs Wright. But here you are doing it anyway. Strange, how things work out…’

  Loveday got up from the table to allow Mr Drayton to compose himself. She felt a sudden warmth rush over her as she thought about what he’d said, that he’d hoped to see her. She busied herself looking for duster and wax polish. ‘Do use Mother’s apron,’ Robert said.

  ‘Thank you. There’s two tins of polish and lots of dusters. We’ll make short work of the sitting room and your mother’s bedroom, then I’ll sweep down the stairs and the hall and passageway. Then when we’ve finished, I’ll make a light lunch. You must eat something, Mr Drayton.’