‘Hello, Kerensa,’ Rosina smiled sweetly. ‘I’m sorry about that, and I’ll have to ask your forgiveness for not inviting you inside.’
‘I understand, Rosina,’ Kerensa said, smiling back, relieved that Rosina was treating her in the same way as she’d always done. The two girls had become acquainted at the Bible classes on the occasions Rosina had been able to attend because her brother, Colly, was on his core down the mine. Everyone knew Colly Pearce for a cruel man who constantly ill-treated his younger sister, getting himself into fights and drinking away all their wages. Kerensa had suggested Rosina to the Reverend Ivey as her maid and he had been pleased at the prospect of getting her away from the wretched life she led.
Kerensa knew Rosina was fiercely loyal to her brother, she defended him every time someone sympathised with her or criticised Colly, but Kerensa was nursing the hope that nevertheless Rosina would agree to leave him and become her maid at the Manor house. Kerensa knew Rosina better than the King sisters and felt she would make a familiar ally in her new life, but knew it might take some persuasion to get her away from this bleak unfriendly place.
Rosina was shivering and Kerensa felt guilty for taking her out of the cottage.
‘I won’t keep you long, I can see that you’re cold.’
‘It’s quite sheltered by the Hunkens’ chicken coop,’ Rosina said, pointing to a large hen house not far away.
When they were huddled close together beside Hunk Hunken’s chickens Kerensa threw the edges of the voluminous cloak that Mrs Tregonning had loaned her about Rosina’s small frame. They giggled while agreeing there was room for at least half a dozen girls of their size within its confines.
Then Kerensa said, ‘I suppose you know about my new… the changes in my life, Rosina?’
‘Yes,’ she replied simply. ‘I was sorry to hear about your trouble.’
‘Thank you. Well, rather than sit about feeling sorry for myself I’ve been given an unexpected chance to make things a little more bearable for myself in the future. A new staff is being taken on at the Manor, and Sir Oliver has given me permission to make the arrangements, so I’m trying to surround myself with people I know and trust. Ruth and Esther King have agreed to be the new cook and housemaid and have already started work. He says, Sir Oliver, that I’m to have a maid. I’ve come up here Rosina because I’m hoping you will consider taking the position.’
Her deep blue eyes widened in surprise. ‘I can’t. It’s very good of you to ask me, Kerensa, but Colly couldn’t manage without me to look after him, and I have my work at the mine. Thank you for taking the trouble to come and see me, though, for thinking of me.’
‘Oh, please don’t say no straight away, Rosina,’ Kerensa implored. ‘Think about it. The work will be so much easier than dressing ore at a cold mine surface.’
‘There’s nothing to think about, I will never leave Colly. My duty lies here with him,’ Rosina returned firmly, but sadly.
Kerensa was very disappointed but felt she had no right to add to the strain Rosina already lived under. She marvelled at the other girl’s serenity, despite all she had to cope with, and hoped she would have the strength to face her own future in much the same way.
‘I’m sorry you can’t accept, Rosina,’ she said. ‘I wanted you to be the first person I asked. Please go back inside and warm yourself again.’
‘I’m sorry too, Kerensa, I hope you find someone else to suit you.’
Kerensa sadly watched the slight form of Rosina Pearce as she limped back to her cottage, her long corn-coloured hair swaying below her tiny waist. It was said Colly Pearce was responsible for that limp and Rosina had had it ever since Kerensa had known her. Kerensa would have been pleased, despite not being able to marry the man she loved, if she could at least have managed to get Rosina Pearce away from her bullying brother. It would have been some small comfort.
With this hope dashed, she sought out the home of another Wheal Ember bal-maiden, Alice Ford, the only girl of her own age she had had the opportunity of becoming friendly with after spending so much of her life in the cove.
Alice, an infectiously happy but outspoken girl, readily accepted the job. ‘I can hardly believe it!’ she said, jumping about excitedly and shaking her hazel curls. She grabbed Kerensa’s hand and dragged her along to her family’s cottage.
‘Just wait until I tell Mother, and Father when he comes off his core. They’ll be some proud of having a daughter as a lady’s maid instead of one fit only for cobbing. No more having my ears deafened, eh?’
The few people who were about looked on curiously as Alice, chattering all the way, finally pulled Kerensa through the door of her home. ‘Sit down,’ she said, still excited. ‘I’ll fetch Mother and we can have a good natter.’
Kerensa sat down on what amounted to no more than a couple of old sacks stuffed with straw, but it was comfortable. She grinned at the thought of Alice with her runaway tongue telling her mother the news, and resolved to stay as long as she could in the company of the Ford women before she had to go back to the Parsonage. She would send word to Jack to find himself a sheltered spot.
The Fords lived in one of the numerous hovels thrown up a half mile from the workings of the Wheal Ember mine. They had moved there eight months ago having always moved about the county, living on the fortunes of the lodes underground, moving on when the tin or copper ran out and the mine closed down. Now Alice would have a more permanent job, less arduous than hammering rocks into suitable size for the stamping machine, working in grand surroundings, much cleaner, dry and warm in the winter. Her two pennies a day, invaluable to her family’s poor income, would be impressively increased and her father would not have to rely so much on smuggling to supplement their harsh existence. Alice would no longer have to suffer the regular sight of mangled bodies being brought up from accidents below, be there at first hand worrying about her father and younger brothers. Best of all she wouldn’t be living among some of the hardest, coarsest men in Cornwall, made so by their hopeless way of life. Truly, the offer was the answer to her prayers.
She kept telling Kerensa that over and over again with her mother present as they drank mugs of smuggled tea and chewed on coarse barley bread. Despite the rigours of her life Alice maintained a refreshing sense of humour, and despite Kerensa’s breaking heart made her laugh. Kerensa left the Fords’ cottage feeling that Alice would offset some of the gloom and despair she felt about her future.
‘Some funny goings on in this parish, if you d’ask me,’ said Mrs Ford, as she and Alice stood at their doorway and watched Kerensa riding away with Jack.
‘Who cares about that?’ said Alice dreamily. ‘It’s brought me and the rest of us good fortune. Who knows what else’ll come out of it.’
Mrs Ford shook her head. ‘I don’t know, tedn’t right, tedn’t natural for an ordinary young maid to marry into the gentry. Kerensa’ll be plunged into a life she don’t know nothing about. Don’t you feel sorry for her, Alice?’
‘What for! Oh, because she can’t marry Clem you mean? I suppose that’s a bit sad for her – but, Mother, what more could a maid want than to be married to a handsome, powerful, wealthy man? Talk about dreams coming true!’
‘But tes said Sir Oliver Pengarron’s a wicked man. You might not like working at the Manor, my girl, when he’s around. You’ll have to watch that mouth of yours. Wouldn’t do to get on the wrong side of him.’
‘I know, I know.’ But Alice was too elated to be worried about her new master for long. ‘And whatever happens at the Manor, it means Clem Trenchard is up for grabs now!’
It was arranged for Alice to begin work at the end of the week, her first job cleaning through the entirety of Pengarron Manor with Ruth and Esther King. Like the King sisters, part of her wages would be sent home to her needy family. All three were to live in at the Manor proper from the day of the marriage.
* * *
Mrs Tregonning joined Kerensa and the King sisters occasionally at the Manor. Having
worked there in Sir Daniel’s heyday she was invaluable at helping in the arduous task of making the huge house fit to be lived in again. She remembered how things had been and knew how they should be. She taught the others the correct way to clean the porcelain, china, crystal and cut glass, the things made of precious metals, and the dark oak furniture and panelling.
‘Couldn’t keep nothing clean and tidy when Sir Oliver was a boy,’ she said one afternoon as they all sat, with Kerensa, round the huge wooden kitchen table tackling the collection of large pewter plates and tankards taken down from shelves in the hallway. Jack was there too, having slipped in for a mug of tea, and Mrs Tregonning was in her element having such an eager audience. They all longed to learn more about the powerful baronet; Kerensa, something of what her bridegroom was like, the others, more about their new master. Kerensa listened and worked moodily, feeling that nothing she touched in the huge house would ever mean anything to her. It was all a thankless task, not like the things she had made so lovingly for her marriage to Clem.
‘How’s that then?’ Jack asked Mrs Tregonning, grinning impishly, while munching on one of her oat and apple biscuits. He was content; he adored Kerensa already, felt that not only was he getting a beautiful new mistress but that he had never eaten so well, and this was only the beginning.
‘Yes, go on, Mrs Tregonning,’ Alice urged chirpily. ‘I’ve only been in the parish a few months and I don’t know much about Sir Oliver.’ She shot a guilty look at Kerensa, knowing that she did not share the same feelings at having her life so suddenly changed, but the girl had her head bent over a pewter tankard.
‘Well, he’d run in and out of the house all day long,’ Mrs Tregonning explained authoritatively, handing out cleaning cloths. ‘His boots full of mud, clothes ripped, covered in scratches and bruises. He used to give poor Lady Caroline, God rest her soul, nightmares – getting into fights, climbing trees, riding his pony at breakneck speed. And his nursery, heavens above! You’d be lucky to see an inch of floor under the heaps of clothes and all his toys and his paintings. How he liked to paint in them days.’
‘Really?’ said Esther. ‘Wonder if he does it now.’
‘I don’t know – give that plate plenty of elbow grease, Alice – gave it up for dallying with wanton women, I shouldn’t wonder. And there was plenty—’
‘I don’t think we want to hear about that,’ Ruth interrupted quickly, sensitive to Kerensa’s feelings; there was no need to make matters worse for the girl by referring to that side of life and the probability that the baronet wouldn’t be keeping strictly to the marriage bed.
It hit Alice hard at that point just how distressed Kerensa must be feeling deep down inside, and how much it must be costing to hide it from the others. She passed her another clean cloth and smiled sympathetically.
Kerensa smiled back faintly and pushed the plate of biscuits towards Jack. ‘Have as many as you like.’ Then she turned the tankard upside down and rubbed vigorously at its bottom. She listened carefully to Mrs Tregonning’s prattling but never asked a question, just storing up the knowledge in case it was useful in the future. She was not going to allow the others to try and read her muddled mind.
At the end of their first day there she had left a note on Oliver’s desk asking if all the doors could be unlocked. Four days later she’d gone into his study to find a huge bunch of keys lying on top of her note. Picking up the keys, she was outraged to see he had dashed heavy lines through all her misspelt words and placed the correct spellings over the top of them in his bold handwriting.
Alice had come running at her cry of indignation. ‘What’s up, are you hurt?’
‘It’s this!’ Kerensa waved the note in the air and told Alice about Oliver Pengarron’s gall. ‘Does he suppose I’ve had the same education as him?’
‘Ruddy cheek,’ Alice agreed. ‘He should be impressed you can read and write at all.’
‘Oh, I don’t want this life, Alice,’ Kerensa sobbed, crumpling on to a nearby chair. ‘I just want Clem.’
Alice wrapped her arms around her and Kerensa held on to her source of comfort and let the floodgates open to release some of her wretchedness.
Alice smoothed her hair and patted her arm and stayed quiet until the tears stopped. ‘Better now, m’dear?’ she said, using the tone her mother employed for comforting her and her brothers.
‘Yes,’ Kerensa whispered, raising her head and pushing away wet strands of hair from her face, then nestling her head against Alice’s shoulder. Alice was a much bigger girl; her life of hardship out in the world that Kerensa had not known had given her a maturity that Kerensa found comfort in. ‘Isn’t it bad enough that I have to marry the beastly man, am expected to supervise the cleaning up of his filthy house, and then he has to be spiteful about my efforts to do it! Oh, I’m so glad I’ve got you, Alice.’
‘Well I’ll always be here, won’t I? Don’t let him get you down, Kerensa. But if he does, you just come and tell me. We’ll soon think of a way to get our own back on him.’
Kerensa was alarmed at this. Alice had already shown in some of the outrageous things she said to Mrs Tregonning and Beatrice that she spoke first and thought afterwards. ‘We’d better not do anything like that, Alice. We could end up in all sorts of trouble.’
‘Pah! We can have a ruddy good time making plots against his Bigheadship even if we don’t do anything. He won’t know what’s going on against him in our heads!’
‘Oh, Alice,’ Kerensa couldn’t help smiling. ‘The things you say.’
‘And I’ll always be here saying them, won’t I, m’dear?’ Alice planted a kiss on the top of Kerensa’s head.
She took Alice’s hand in her own. ‘One thing’s for sure, Alice, if he ever reduces me to tears again I won’t let him see them,’ she said, rallying defiantly.
As the days went on the Manor house began to show a dramatic change. The furniture was highly polished and the silver, bronze and brass painstakingly returned to their original condition. Glassware and window panes sparkled, all the household linen was washed, pressed and aired, the carpets and heavy drapes beaten free of layers of dust. The floors were swept, polished and scrubbed clean, while the ornaments were carefully cleaned and dusted. It was necessary for craftsmen to be sent for from Marazion and further afield to do the delicate tasks like cleaning the portraits and miniatures, to make certain repairs, and reach ordinarily inaccessible places.
As the Manor house was transformed, Kerensa took to wondering why Sir Oliver had allowed it to become so rundown. She could see he was unconventional in some of his attitudes but she was sure he took pride in his position and family name. She dismissed the thought that he might care more for people than possessions; she had heard of his apparent kindness but had yet to see it for herself. She surmised that the previous condition of the house spoke clearly of an earlier desire to deprive it of a mistress—but why did he have to change his mind now and agree to take her!
Despite her resistance to the place, and all it stood for, Kerensa was captivated by some aspects of the Manor. She took to wandering through its many rooms and was fascinated by some of the things she found. There were interesting caskets, carved or painted or inlaid with parchment, mother of pearl or tortoiseshell. Some contained aged documents, others, personal effects of Oliver’s forebears, like writing materials and toilet requisites. While some were graced with their own stand, all were ingeniously fitted inside with drawers and compartments. Still more were locked, sending Kerensa on flights of fancy as she tried to imagine the secrets they held. What were their owners like? Had they lived a happy life here? Had any of them, like her, had their hearts torn apart by a scheme that stopped them from being with the one they loved more than anything in the world. Perhaps one or two had met a gruesome death… Kerensa smiled grimly. She could almost wish ill-fortune on the house’s present owner.
In a corridor on the second floor she found an arming chest. This too was divided into compartments of varying sizes and
contained breastplate, chainmail, swords, and a complete suit of armour. She conjured up an amusing picture of Sir Oliver in the armour and for the first time in weeks laughed out loud. The armour had been made for a much shorter ancestor and he would be squashed up in it. Perhaps if Sir Oliver had been there he would have looked down at her disdainfully from his great height and proudly told her the armour was of Greenwich vintage, fashioned in the royal workshop of King Henry VIII no less.
Kerensa often slipped into the large rectangular ballroom to gaze for lengthy periods at the creatures from myth and legend carved on an old oak cabinet there. Rubbing a finger gingerly over the raised figures as if she expected them to come to life, she wondered with the burning curiosity of a child how the stories ran. She was intrigued to discover in the library a clothbound book containing colourful pictures of the very same creatures. Drawn and painted in a child’s hand, each picture was signed ‘O.P.’
So Mrs Tregonning was right about Oliver Pengarron’s penchant for painting. He had filled the book prolifically and, even to Kerensa’s inexpert eye, well. She had been in every room of the house now and had detected no evidence that he still painted, but then thankfully he spent so little time there. Kerensa had a picture in her mind of Sir Oliver as a child sitting in front of the cabinet in the ballroom, studiously painting a likeness of the mythological creatures and leaving the inevitable mess behind him. She closed her eyes tightly to shut out the vision. She did not want to think overmuch of that hateful man who was ruining her life. She blamed him entirely now for her predicament. She had still not seen or had word from her grandfather, and missed him terribly. She thought of him only with affection now, believing that Sir Oliver with his superior birth and intelligence had no right to have allowed an ignorant old man to outsmart him.
Pengarron Land Page 10
