Joe was next in line and he gave Rebecca a hearty hug. ‘I’m heartbroken for you, Becca. With Trease gone there’s not many of us left from Captain Miles’s command now.’
The people who crowded into Trevallion to comfort Rebecca were also interested in seeing the inside of the big house. Abigail played the perfect hostess. When the last mourner had been shown out of the huge oak doors, she tried to insist that Rebecca go and lie down and rest.
Rebecca shook her head. ‘I’d rather keep busy, Mrs Fiennes.’
Alex and Abigail had been kind and understanding since Trease’s death and had given her a room in the house to use. She thought she’d prefer to stay in Allen Cottage but after lying in Alex’s arms on the lumpy settee on the night after Trease’s death she couldn’t bear to stay there alone. The Kennickers took their close friendship for granted now but Alex could hardly stay there every night.
‘Perhaps you’d like to spend an hour or so in the study,’ Alex suggested.
‘Yes, I’d like to catch up on some work, find out how things are going on the estate.’
‘The parts for Frank Kellow’s tractor engine will be delivered early next week,’ Alex said as he shut the door of the study against the rest of the world.
‘He’ll be glad of that,’ Rebecca said, leafing through the day’s post, which Alex had not opened. ‘Frank’s tractor is an old bone-shaker. I know, I’ve driven it many times.’
‘Have you?’ Alex raised his eyebrows. ‘You’re very modern.’
Rebecca made a wry face. ‘Women have been driving vehicles for years. I reckon I could drive any of the Trevallion cars. Oh, don’t look so horrified, Alex. I’m not going to ask you if I can drive the Mercedes.’ Then her face fell.
‘What’s the matter, my love,’ he said softly, putting his hands comfortingly on her shoulders. ‘Why have you gone quiet? You can drive any of the cars whenever you like.’
‘I’ve just realised something. With Dad gone you’ll be needing a new chauffeur. It’ll be strange seeing someone else working with the cars.’ She hadn’t cried much before today but now tears burned her lashes and she leaned her forehead against him. ‘The new man will need a home. I’d better move out of Allen Cottage.’
‘Becca.’ He lifted her chin. ‘You can stay in the cottage for the rest of your life if you want to. I will have to employ a new chauffeur to ferry Abigail and Stephen about but if he needs a home I’ll make other arrangements.’
‘I… I might as well move out. Too many sad memories. My mother left us there…’
Alex rested his chin on her head. ‘You aren’t planning on leaving here, are you?’
‘I… I don’t know.’
He spoke next as if he could hardly get the words out past his throat. ‘Whatever you do, Becca, don’t do it in haste. You may live to regret it.’
She knew that he was afraid she’d do something rash when Neville Faull got back from London. She didn’t want to think about that now. She moved away and wiped her eyes dry and returned to the letters.
‘You have a letter from Susannah Bosanko.’
‘Oh no, doesn’t that damned woman ever give up? I thought I’d heard the last of her as she didn’t immediately respond to my letter telling her to stay away.’
Alex read the letter quickly with a look of distaste on his face.
‘What does she say?’
He handed her the letter. ‘Read it for yourself.’
Rebecca read it out loud. ‘“Alexander, dearest. I was most distressed to receive your letter. I do apologise for my behaviour. Please forgive an old woman’s moods. I have few visitors and I was so disappointed to have to wait for your return that day I called at Trevallion. Bring Mrs Fiennes and Rebecca here to me and I will apologise to them personally. What more can I say? Relent and forgive me, I beg you. Yours affectionately, S.B.” If there’s any affection in that old woman’s body I’ve yet to see it,’ Rebecca said sourly, dropping the letter on the desk. ‘I can’t see Mrs Fiennes agreeing to go to her house and I hope you don’t expect me to.’
‘Of course not. I’ll ignore her for a little while and hope that works. If not I’ll go by myself and explain to her again that our association is over. It’s a pity that Susannah is as horrid as her last letters to Roland Trevallion suggested. I should have left well alone.’
They talked for twenty minutes about estate business that Rebecca had become involved in as Alex’s personal assistant then he noticed how tired she was looking.
‘Right, that’s enough work for one day. I’m going to get you a good stiff drink.’
‘Just a sherry,’ she said, stifling a yawn. ‘I’m not going to lie down though. A walk round the creek in the fresh air will do me more good.’
They went to the drawing room and realised the house was quiet.
‘Not even the ghost is stirring,’ Alex commented, passing her the sherry.
‘Do you ever find this place creepy, Alex?’
‘No, but then I’ve had a rather morbid outlook on life for many years. I suppose I’ve sought out gloomy atmospheres.’
Her next question was delivered carefully. ‘Do you still get nightmares?’
He stroked his chin thoughtfully. ‘Just bad dreams you could call them now. It’s strange, but with you and the others needing me these last few days I feel I’ve grown stronger, more sure of myself. Left my own problems behind. I feel able to cope with life again after all these years since the war. You needed me in the old mine workings, then Tamsyn to get her to hospital. Stephen needed someone to lean on. Then you again, my love, when Trease died. But, even so, I mainly owe this new strength to your friendship and support, Becca. I’ll always be grateful to you. Meeting you has been the best thing that’s happened in my life.’
Rebecca sipped her sherry and recalled the time, only a few days ago, when she had drunk sherry in the company of another man, one she had nearly let make love to her. She had felt a strong attraction for Neville, not because she had needed him over Tamsyn’s accident, but physically, for the man himself. She had needed Alex since her father had died. And she felt a strong physical attraction for him too. He was a very handsome man, different to Neville, his face still clinging to the gauntness that was part of him, his body tall and straight and wide-shouldered but his frame spare of flesh because he hadn’t eaten properly in years.
Looking into his eyes, she breathed, ‘That was a nice thing to say, Alex.’
‘It’s the truth, Becca.’
He finished his Scotch and put the glass down. He came close to her and she followed suit with the sherry glass. She hoped he would take her into his arms. He’d done so many times to comfort her in the last few days but this time she would feel differently about it. She wanted him to kiss her. He had forced a kiss on her out of panic in her bedroom in the gatehouse but she wanted to know what it would be like when he was gentle or passionate. She felt half-ashamed of her eagerness because she had never given him any cause to believe she looked on him in any way other than as employer and friend.
‘I’ve promised Stephen I’ll drive him into Truro,’ he said. ‘He wants to buy Tamsyn a present before I take him back to school. Would you like to come with me or stay here? Abigail said she would stay around in case you needed her.’
Rebecca swallowed back her disappointment and scolded herself for thinking like a fool. Alex hadn’t been in his right mind when he’d forced that kiss on her and, no matter how he complimented her and valued her friendship, he was, after all, a gentleman and her employer.
She tried to sound impersonal as she replied, ‘I think I’ll change and take that walk round the creek and perhaps have a chat to Mrs Fiennes later.’
‘You’ve been through an awful time lately, Becca. I was wondering if you’d like a day out tomorrow. We could take the Iseult and sail on the river, stop somewhere and have a picnic. A whole day of fresh air and relaxation would do you the world of good.’
He was being kind to her again and she wa
s grateful. ‘That would be lovely, Alex.’
‘It’ll be just the two of us. I’m not bothered about what people might think about us being alone together all day. Are you?’
‘No. I suppose most people find nothing unusual about it now.’
‘Good. First thing tomorrow it is then.’
* * *
Jossy Jenkins raised an eyebrow when Alex told him the Iseult, which he’d been asked to get ready for the trip, was for just himself and Rebecca.
‘Jossy looks disappointed,’ Rebecca remarked as they pulled out of the creek. ‘He hates to see one of the big boats going out without him on board.’
‘Too bad,’ Alex grinned as he headed the boat downriver. ‘This is your special day, Becca, and I’m only concerned about you.’
They chugged past the King Harry Ferry, down the full length of Carrick Roads, rounded St Mawes and headed up the Percuil River which divided a part of the Roseland peninsula. The oysterdredgers which worked the river here were rewarded with fine oysters. Percuil itself was a fairly busy little port and, apart from its small fishing industry, the vessels calling at it handled timber, coal, roadstone, manure, grain and farm produce.
The Iseult and her crew of two glided past a great variety of vessels about their business, including the rowing-boat ferry that provided a link with St Mawes and the steam ferry that ran to Falmouth. Running alongside on shore were fish cellars, storerooms for manure and roadstone, a lime-kiln works and, of most interest to Alex, a boatbuilding yard.
Rebecca enjoyed the bustle of the river, but she was content when Alex steered the motor boat into the peace and quiet of a tiny unnamed creek. He slowed the engine and Rebecca leant over the side and let her hand drift in the cool green water. She spoke to a family of ducks. They took no notice of her and tipped their tails skywards to search for food beneath the surface. The creek became narrower as they progressed, the trees on its banks beginning to meet. Alex skilfully avoided overhanging branches until they came to the tiny inlet’s natural end. He jumped out and tied the hawser to a strong tree. He helped Rebecca to alight and lifted off the picnic hamper.
They didn’t speak. There was no need to. The day was still young and there was time to dawdle and explore and unwind. The water would leave the creek’s banks with the tide and they would be stranded for a few hours until it returned. They strolled along, twisting in and out of the trees, stopping at their leisure to gaze at the water, the wildlife and wild flowers. When they came to a grassy spot, sheltered and surrounded by an overhang of trees, Alex put the picnic hamper down and they walked on, squeezing through the trees where they grew at their thickest until they came out on the other side and were looking up at a meadow. A few sheep were grazing nonchalantly and Alex broke the silence to ask Rebecca if she wanted to climb to the top of the meadow.
‘Let’s not disturb the sheep,’ she replied. ‘They look in the same mood as us today, wanting only to be left alone.’ They returned to the picnic hamper and laid out the blanket. After they’d eaten and shared most of the contents of a bottle of white wine they relaxed and chatted. Alex rested his back against a tree and Rebecca leaned against his arm like she used to do with Joe. It was a time to be quiet, one day taken out of their lives and snatched from the future where there were going to be many changes. Rebecca couldn’t help wondering how those changes would affect her life.
‘You told me once that you weren’t going to stay at Trevallion,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Have you decided what you’re going to do, Alex?’
His eyes were closed and he opened them to look at the little bit of muddy water left in the basin. ‘Well, I’m definitely going to stay in Cornwall. I shall sell my business and property in Berkshire and put my money into this county. I’ll start a boatbuilding yard on the river like Miles had planned to do. I’m going to have a new house built on the same spot as Aristotle Trevallion’s at Perranporth. I love that part of the coast. Its ruggedness soothes my soul.’
‘That sounds wonderful.’ Rebecca was relieved that he wasn’t going far away, but she had a feeling the answers to her probings would eventually make her heart sink. ‘And the estate and Trevallion House?’
‘I know what I’m going to do about them. I was about to announce my decision to Abigail, but when Tamsyn was hurt and then with Trease’s death, I decided to wait a while longer. Rest assured that those who live and work on the estate have safe jobs and homes just as Miles wanted.’
Rebecca tilted her head back to look up at him. ‘You really believe that Captain Miles appeared to you, don’t you, Alex?’
‘I know it was nightmares and with my mind being in such a bad state everything was warped and ugly, but somehow I can’t help feeling that Miles was trying to tell me something.’
‘What sort of something?’
‘Something to do with the will we found under the chest in the study.’
She turned completely round to him. ‘I’d forgotten all about it.’
‘You could have read it and known what was in it but you would insist on it being none of your business. You can be a stubborn woman, Becca.’
‘Never mind that now. Whose was it?’
‘It was written by Roland Trevallion, not long after his American wife Arabella died. Apparently Roland was trying to finish his affair with Susannah Bosanko because he had fallen in love with a girl from the creek, Rowena Carlyon. Joe’s great-aunt.’
Rebecca was astounded. ‘Rowena Carlyon? She drowned in the creek. Joe never mentions it but everybody knows about it. So Roland lost his wife and then Rowena soon afterwards? There was a mining slump then and everyone blamed his suicide on that but it looks more likely he died of a broken heart.’
‘It’s a possibility but that’s not all. Roland also left some writings. Rowena was pregnant and Roland was going to arrange for a special licence so they could marry. He wanted his second child to be legitimate like Vyvyan, Miles’s father. Roland wrote that he didn’t care much for Vyvyan, he thought him weak and spoiled, and in his secret will he left half of everything he still owned to Rowena and their baby. I think Miles must have found the will and felt that since his grandfather had been involved with a girl from the creek, the estate should be kept on for the workers. He’d made provisions to keep it going in the event of his death or incapacitation, and when I questioned Mr Drayton it transpired that Miles had named Joe in particular as one person who was to be kept in employment at Trevallion for as long as he desired it. Becca, I believe that Joe has a real stake in Trevallion.’
‘What are you going to do about it?’
‘Well, I have Abigail and Stephen to consider too. I’ll be putting a proposition to Abigail and Joe shortly.’
‘I see, presumably because of their association. It sounds like you have the future all mapped out.’
Alex looked wistful. ‘Not everything will be as I’d like it, but at least I know in what direction I’m heading.’
Rebecca became quiet. He had said nothing about keeping her on as his personal assistant when he moved to Perranporth, but then she had told him yesterday that she didn’t know what she wanted to do with her future. Starting a new life for herself seemed the most obvious answer now. The estate was safe, she had helped make that happen by supporting Alexander Fiennes in his time of need. Kennick Creek had always been her home but Trease was dead now and Loveday and Tamsyn would be moving out as soon as the little girl was well enough to attend her mother as bridesmaid when she married Robert. It would be best to go and live with Uncle Bert in Truro and get a job there. Neville would help and he probably still wanted to see her – at least for a while.
Her mouth had gone dry and she sat up straight to drink from the bottle of wine. Alex slid down and laid himself out on the blanket, clasping his hands on his firm stomach. He had gone quiet too. Both of them were facing an uncertain, and perhaps lonely future.
She studied Alex’s face. His eyes were shut, his expression slightly melancholy but, unlike most people whe
n they weren’t happy, he looked more handsome. He had become tanned by his outdoor life and it gave a healthy tint to his dark looks. His mouth was clamped in a tight line. It was nearly always like that; he’d smiled little over the years but it held a great attraction. Rebecca mentally traced the outline of his full lips, wondering what they would feel like under her fingertips.
‘It’s peaceful here,’ she said.
‘Mmmm.’
She felt he was aloof from her and lay down beside him. She put her face against his shoulder. He didn’t move or speak, but then this wasn’t an unusual occurrence, them lying down beside each other. Rebecca put her hand on top of his. He smiled lightly and that was all. Neville would have rolled over and started kissing her. Rebecca suddenly didn’t like this ‘just good friends’ relationship she had with Alex. She had a burning desire to get closer to him. She had wanted Alex to kiss her yesterday, then thought herself a fool, but now she wanted to kiss him. It struck her then that she had never kissed Neville unless it was to respond to. As far as she understood, a woman didn’t usually kiss a man first or he would think she was ‘fast’. At this moment Rebecca didn’t care about that.
She leaned on one arm and picking a long piece of grass ran it over Alex’s brow and round his cheeks. He didn’t move so she tickled it under his chin and down his neck. Alex grinned and without opening his eyes took the grass from her and tossed it away. He clasped his hands together again.
Rebecca felt like the sirens in the moving pictures but was determined not to give up. She pulled Alex’s hands apart and laid her head on his chest. He put his arms round her, but nothing more. He didn’t even stroke her hair as he usually did when they were this close. She lay still for a while listening to his heart beating. He smelled good, he always did, and she breathed him in, so much more aware of his strength and masculinity than before.
Getting impatient, she raised herself and looked down on his lips. He opened his eyes and she smiled into them, then he closed his eyes again and seemed to be settling down to doze. Rebecca ran out of patience. She pressed her lips firmly to his.
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