* * *
Kerensa gave the greater part of Oliver’s gambling winnings to the Reverend Ivey to distribute among the parish’s poor and needy. She had listened to too many harsh warnings from the likes of Matthias Renfree, and indeed in the Reverend’s sermons, on the evils of gambling to feel it right to spend the money on herself or on things for the Manor. With the remaining money she paid a visit to Mistress Gluyas’ dressmaking shop to buy a wealth of materials, sewing silks and threads to make baby clothes.
In the daytime she took her needlework out into the gardens, either to sit under the cherry, apple and pear trees of the orchards, or on the steps of the large fountain with its naked cherub at the front of the house. At other times she sought out the company of Jake Angove in the potting shed or beside the flower beds where he would be giving attention to clumps of daffodils, tulips, grape hyacinths and the many other flowers and shrubs that grew in abundance under his care. Jake was always pleased to see her and have her chat happily to him as she sewed, Dunstan sleeping peacefully at her feet.
Alone in the evenings, when the daylight began to fade, Kerensa stitched and embroidered by the light of a myriad candle. She felt it prudent to keep the growing bundle of baby’s clothes she was making away from Oliver lest he think they were for use at the Manor. Many times she held out a little garment to view her work critically then clutched it in her lap and wished it was for herself and not another woman. She would feel melancholy for a short time, then picking up her needle with a smile would resume her work. At least she could make new clothes for a baby who otherwise would wear nothing but ragged pass downs – and surely the day would come…
She chose a clear morning in late April to take a dozen of the completed garments over to Perranbarvah. On this occasion she rode on her own pony, Kernick, a sleek chestnut chosen for her by Oliver from the Ker-an-Mor stud quite recently. Kernick was solid and dependable and Kerensa held him at a slow trot as she rode to the little fishing village. The sun shone brightly in competition with the golden blaze of the gorse bushes. More gold came from the wide splash of celandines and dandelions. In sharp contrast, the purple heads of wild violets stood out against the subdued shades of yellow, pink and white sweetly scented primroses.
Under the patient instruction of Jack and Nathan, Kerensa had quickly become an able rider. She was in a light-hearted mood, and listened with joy to the caw of the rooks and carrion crows, the songs of the swallows and the soaring songflight of a skylark, gloried in the impressive aerobatic displays of a lapwing, as she trotted along. As she closed in on Perranbarvah her eye was caught by the flight of an elegant kittiwake and a fulmar gliding on stiff wings on soaring air currents.
As she arrived at the small stable of the Parsonage, Ben Rosevidney, the Reverend Ivey’s only manservant, hurried forward to help her dismount. Ben, a shy bent-over man of fifty, deaf and dumb from birth, trebled up as a groom, gardener and sexton. He took his cap off to Kerensa and with his widest grin pointed up to the sun to remark on the day’s warm weather.
‘Yes, Ben,’ she agreed, speaking clearly for him to read her lips. ‘It’s a really fine day. Is the Reverend at home?’
Ben shook his head.
‘Is Mrs Tregonning in her kitchen?’
Ben pointed to the church which Mrs Tregonning had entered only a short time before to do her cleaning.
‘I’m going down to the village, Ben,’ Kerensa said, pointing down to the cottages. ‘I’ll be back quite soon.’
He nodded emphatically and handed her the parcel from Kernick’s back. She thanked him heartily, and still grinning Ben led Kernick away.
Kerensa walked quickly down to the village with light springy steps. She’d decided against wearing her riding habit, dressing in simple clothes so as not to stand out amongst the fishermen’s wives and daughters.
Arriving unexpectedly at the Drannock cottage she sent Jenifer into a whirl of agitated activity. She invited Kerensa inside at once. Despite the warm weather the inside of the cottage was dark, damp and chilled. The furniture was sparse and the building consisted of no more than two cramped rooms, which at night would be lit by cheap, ill-smelling candles.
Jenifer hastily tried to gather up discarded clothes and dirty dishes.
‘I had no idea you would pay me a visit, my lady. I have been unwell of late and as you can see, I am rather behind with my housework,’ she said, moving heavily about.
‘Please don’t worry on my account,’ Kerensa said quickly. ‘It was wrong of me not to ask you if I could call on you first, but I’ve made these things for little Jack and the coming baby, and wanted to bring them over straight away.’
Jenifer wiped her hands up and down her skirt. She hadn’t noticed the parcel Kerensa was holding and eyed it with disbelief and anticipation.
‘Well, I’m sure that’s very kind of you, my lady. I… I don’t know what to say.’
‘You don’t have to say anything. Please, just take them,’ Kerensa said, as embarrassed as Jenifer was. ‘I was always used to being busy… before… it’s been good for me to be occupied.’
It felt strange to the girl to be giving charity to a woman who had once held a higher station in life than she herself, a criminal’s granddaughter. Mrs Tregonning had told Kerensa that Jenifer Drannock was the daughter of Joshua Mildern, a ship’s chandler at Marazion. When Jenifer, a once beautiful girl of whom Joshua had nursed high hopes, had fallen pregnant to Samuel Drannock, a poor fisherman, Joshua had turned his back on her for good. It was a sad story, but one Mrs Tregonning told with relish.
Kerensa held her breath. Jenifer had not spoken a word or moved for several moments, and she was afraid she had given offence. Then with a gracious smile Jenifer stepped forward and accepted the parcel.
‘Please sit yourself down, my lady, if you have the time to stay. I’ll call Bartholomew, my eldest son, to fetch fresh water to make tea. That is, if you’d care for some?’
Kerensa could not hide her delight. Td like to stay very much. Thank you for inviting me, Mrs Drannock.’
‘It’s you that deserves thanks for your kindness. And, please, if you’d like to, call me Jenifer.’
Cautiously shooing a scruffy tabby cat from the chair nearest to her, Kerensa sat down. Shouting loudly at the door to summon her eldest son, Jenifer woke her youngest. Jack Drannock bawled from his wooden-box crib. Kerensa had not noticed him before, lying in the fresh air under the open window.
‘Can I pick him up?’ she asked hopefully.
Jenifer nodded, coming back from the door. ‘He can be such a bad-tempered little mite. You are the only one I’ve known him to be good with.’
‘Hello, Jack,’ Kerensa said when she had the baby in her arms. ‘Remember me?’
He stopped crying at once. He rubbed his eyes with tight fists and stared at her for a moment before a sunny smile spread across his thin puckered face in answer to her question.
While cooing to Jack, Kerensa looked ruefully at her hand.
‘I’m afraid he’s more than a bit wet.’
‘He always is when he wakes up,’ Jenifer smiled. ‘Give him to me for a moment and I’ll change him.’
‘I’ll do it for you,’ Kerensa volunteered eagerly.
Jenifer smiled again. ‘Have you done it before?’
‘No, but I think I will manage all right.’
‘There’s some clean napkins there by your chair,’ Jenifer said, sitting her heavy body gratefully down. Putting the parcel on her knees she unwrapped it, giving the clothes her full attention as she lifted them up one by one, so as not to embarrass the girl in her efforts to make the wriggling baby clean and dry.
Kerensa had laid Jack very carefully on the wide table. After a struggle to keep the active baby still she successfully replaced a clean tattered square of rough cloth for the soaking wet one between his thin white legs. Jack kicked and tugged at her hair throughout, at one time scattering items off the table on to the floor, before Kerensa triumphantly picked hi
m up and settled him comfortably on her lap.
Jenifer glanced up and saw the happiness in the girl’s face as Kerensa cuddled Jack closely against her and kissed both his cheeks.
‘Well, that’s your first napkin change,’ she said kindly. ‘I can’t remember how many I’ve done.’
Kerensa’s face was aglow. ‘I’m hoping to put the practice to good use for myself,’ she admitted.
Jenifer felt she had no right to ask the question burning in her mind. Instead she said, ‘These clothes are lovely, and so well made. Did you sew them yourself?’
Kerensa nodded. ‘I did most of the work on them. You aren’t offended, are you? I mean, I didn’t…’
‘It’s quite all right,’ Jenifer answered kindly, ‘I think it’s very kind of you and I’m grateful. Some of the clothes will be big enough to fit Charles too. He and Jack, and my daughters, Naomi and Hannah, are all on the small side. Only Bartholomew is tall and broad-shouldered, like his father.’ She frowned at the door. ‘Now where has that boy got to?’
Rather unsteadily Jenifer got to her feet to peer out of the door.
‘Bartholomew is being rather tiresome today. With my time being so near, his father makes him stay close to home in the event I need someone to run for Elizabeth King. She acts as midwife for all this area.’
‘She’s a good woman,’ remarked Kerensa. ‘She delivered me.’ Kerensa had relaxed, finding Jenifer Drannock easy to talk to. ‘I wonder who delivers the Pengarron babies? Doctor Crebo from Marazion, I suppose. I’ve met him at church, he seems a nice enough man.’
Jenifer looked at her thoughtfully. ‘It was Beatrice who delivered all of Lady Caroline’s babies, including Sir Oliver, so I’ve been told.’
‘Of course.’ This made Kerensa frown. ‘I remember her telling me the first time I went up to the Manor house.’ Jack jumped up and down on her lap, digging in hard with his tiny bare feet. ‘Jack is certainly strong enough anyway.’
A beaming smile brought a hint to Jenifer’s face of the once beautiful girl she had been before the weight of drudgery and constant childbearing had taken its toll.
‘I lost two babies before I had Jack, and he more than makes up for them. Ah, here comes Bartholomew at last.’
Bartholomew Drannock pushed the door roughly aside on his way through it.
‘So there you are, my son,’ Jenifer said. ‘You took your time as usual. See, we have a visitor, Lady Pengarron. Say good morning to her then be a good boy and fetch me a kettle of water, please.’
Not as tall as Paul King, but taller than the average nine year old in the village, Bartholomew Drannock was as his mother had described him, broad-shouldered, with dark eyes set in a deeply tanned face.
He viewed Kerensa with suspicion for several moments, then, ‘G’mornin’, lady,’ he said sulkily. He turned abruptly to his mother before Kerensa could reply. ‘Fetchin’ water is girl’s work,’ he grumbled.
‘I’ll not have any of your tempers, Bartholomew. You know the girls are playing with Charles, and it won’t do you any harm to do some work for me. Now off you go, quickly now.’
Bartholomew stood with grubby hands resting on his hips and looked as if he was about to argue further. He changed his mind, and snatching up the kettle he stamped outside.
Kerensa felt as though she had been struck by lightning. There had been something uniquely familiar in the last defiant stance Bartholomew Drannock had held. Coupled with the flash in his dark eyes she knew why he had reminded her of someone when he’d first pushed his way into the cottage.
‘I am sorry,’ his mother was saying. ‘He has terrible manners and gets a bit out of hand at times. Bartholomew must get these moods from his father.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Kerensa, hiding her flushed shaken face behind Jack’s little body. ‘I’m sure he does.’
Chapter 10
Before marrying Kerensa, Oliver had spent a varying number of his days away from the Manor. This he still did. He did not volunteer information on his whereabouts and Kerensa did not ask him where he was going or how long he planned to stay away each time. When he did unexpectedly arrive home again it was usually evident with whom he had shared his company and time; Sir Martin, Hezekiah Solomon, or Adam Renfree on Ker-an-Mor Farm.
On this occasion he had been gone two days when he surprised her by his sudden appearance in their bedroom. Her hand flew to her mouth to stifle a scream.
‘No need to be frightened, my love,’ he said teasingly, holding his arms wide for her to come to him.
Kerensa remained still, her lovely face frozen.
‘What is wrong?’ he asked, dropping his arms and moving towards her.
‘Nothing,’ she replied, and nimbly side stepped away from him.
He watched dumbfounded as she pulled back the covers, climbed into the huge bed and turned on her side without further words. Sitting on the edge of her dressing table, he folded his arms.
‘What have you been doing these past two days, Kerensa?’
‘I rode over to Perranbarvah.’
‘When was this?’
‘Today.’
‘To see the Reverend Ivey?’
‘No.’
With nothing more forthcoming from her Oliver shrugged his shoulders and moved off to his dressing room. He pulled off his shirt, and not troubling to call for hot water, washed in the cold left in the pitcher beside the bowl. He would never be able to tolerate the stultifying life of an idle gentleman and had spent two satisfying days helping Rudd Richards and his family on Rose Farm to catch up with their tilling and hoeing. He had been looking forward to being with his wife again. Many reasons for Kerensa’s strange behaviour passed through his mind as he prepared to retire.
She did not turn round. At the touch of his hand on the top of her arm he felt her body stiffen. Never a man to tolerate for long inexplicable moods in others, Oliver turned her rigid body round to face him.
‘Just what on earth is the matter with you tonight!’ he demanded.
Kerensa blinked at his sudden harshness, but she was angry too. Angry at this man who had fathered a child and abandoned the young mother to marry someone else and live in virtual poverty.
‘There’s no need to shout at me,’ she retorted back.
‘I wasn’t shouting. I just do not understand why you are so cold towards me.’
Kerensa kept her mouth tightly closed and stared back at him.
Softening for a moment, Oliver smoothed her hair back from her face. ‘Are you indisposed, is that what it is?’
‘No.’ Her answer was as blunt as her previous ones.
Oliver let out a sigh of exasperation as he took her in his arms. Kerensa didn’t try to stop him making love to her, but for him the whole act was as unloving and uninteresting as it seemed Kerensa found it.
Later she said, ‘I would like to go to Tolwithrick to take up Rachael’s invitation.’
‘You can’t go anywhere until after the May Day celebrations. Pengarrons have a long tradition of attending the fairs.’
Kerensa sat up and appealed to his stern face. ‘I would like to go straight away, Oliver.’
‘You’ll do what you’re damned well told to, girl!’ he snarled. ‘Then you can stay at Tolwithrick for as long as you like.’
He turned sharply away. Kerensa’s hand hovered over his shoulder for an instant, then she too turned away, tears welling up in her eyes.
* * *
Rising at first light Oliver rode Conomor long and hard across the cliffs in a vain attempt to dispel some of his black mood. He stared out to sea at Pengarron Point for a long time, the waters mirroring his restless feelings, and uncertain about what to do next. How could she do this to him? He’d never expected her to care for him. He’d never expected her to return his love in the way she had done that night at Sir Martin’s house. But then, it wasn’t love, was it? There had been no talk of love. It was only his right. Her duty. The joining together of any man and his wife.
‘Jus
t like a woman to use that to delight or injure a man!’ he shouted at the black-backed gull circling out at sea. But you’re hardly a woman, are you, Kerensa? he thought, while tapping his riding crop against his leg. Not you… not yet.
He moved closer to the cliff edge, kicking at the long damp springy tufts of coarse grass. She must be angry because I don’t tell her where I go for several days at a time. But I can’t… I won’t be chained down to a life of routine, not for anyone.
Now it was full light the shapes and contours of the cliffs were clearly visible as far as the eye could see. He kicked a tuft of grass viciously. I should have wrung the truth out of her! He whirled around as if he sensed someone was watching him, reading his thoughts. Only me up here… and God… God and me… and my thoughts. Flinging his arms wide he looked upwards. All right, I suppose it is thoughtless of me not to tell her where I go…
Oliver sank down on the grass as in defeat. She might worry about me… perhaps she does care for me, after all? Pulling out his pipe and tobacco he was surprised to see how unsteady his hands were as he lit it. He put the pipe between his lips and held up his hands, studying them carefully.
All the things I’ve done, all the people I’ve known, he laughed to himself ironically, and it takes a slip of a girl to do this to me.
* * *
‘Grandfather!’
The winds were raging all around her, tearing at her hair and clothes and chilling her flesh to the bone where she stood on the clifftop overlooking Trelynne Cove.
‘Grandfather,’ she repeated.
Old Tom was not alone. There was a boy with him…
‘Davey!’
She started jubilantly towards them. Davey was not dead after all, and it was so good to see her grandfather again. But her joy quickly turned to horror and her agonising screams were lost in the howling of the wind.
‘No! Please God! No!’
With hysterical laughter her grandfather had pushed Davey Trembath over the edge of the cliff…
Pengarron Land Page 20
