Davey screamed out to her to help him as he desperately clung to the black granite, only his fingertips in sight.
Her grandfather disappeared but his maniacal shrill laughter could be heard, together with the wailing winds and angry sea and Davey’s desperate cries.
She began to run towards him but each step was painfully slow, forced and heavy… could she reach him in time… she must reach him… Davey must not die! Her arms reached out to stop the terrified boy’s death plunge into the churning sea below him. If only she could run faster. She must not let Davey die.
She kept her eyes riveted on the boy’s hands… she must not lose sight of them… she must reach him soon… soon… soon…
‘Davey! Hold on, I’ll save you!’
Her own cries echoed with his inside her head, but new sounds were rushing up behind her, the ghostly thundering hoof beats of shrieking, snorting spirit ponies pounding towards her.
They were almost on top of her now… she must not let them reach the boy… she must keep them away from Davey.
Davey cried and screamed. ‘Stop them! Stop them! Help me… Ted… Ted!’
She wanted to turn, to see what was bearing down on her, but she must keep her eyes on Davey’s hands. She must or the boy would be swept away by the ponies, swept to his death.
Nearly there now… she must reach Davey before the spirit ponies. Nearly there. She must not let him die. One more painful step…
She got a grip on one bloodstained hand and then the other. She must pull him to safety, pull him up before they reached him and snatched him away from her.
Screaming his name, she pulled and pulled. She must save him… must pull him up.
Suddenly the boy’s head shot up in front of her.
‘Davey!’
But it wasn’t Davey. It was the wilful mocking face of Bartholomew Drannock, scowling and spitting blood in her face. His hands were burning into hers… burning her flesh… his eyes, dark, dark eyes, burning into her very soul.
She fought to release herself from his painful grip, screaming at the child to let her go.
Suddenly he was gone. She was alone in the howling lamenting winds on the clifftop… alone and frightened, and so very lonely.
Desperately, she looked about for a shawl to cover her thin nightgown and trembling body and hide her impropriety. The usually familiar main street of Marazion now threatened and intimidated her as the crowd of people following her grew larger. There was laughter and jeering, faces pressing in on her from all directions. More people were up ahead, standing feet astride with hands on hips, laughing at her with their heads thrown back.
One by one they looked directly at her, each face holding a contemptuous expression, arms extended and pointing at her.
Her head spun as wildly she looked from face to face… Oliver… Sir Martin… Hezekiah Solomon… Sarah Cole… Peter Blake… Josephine Courtis.
Oliver again… then Bartholomew Drannock.
There was laughter, peals of mocking laughter. The faces whirled around her. She clutched her hands over her ears to drown out their derision, and ran. She must get away!
But where to?
More faces… more people to mock her?
No, it was Clem. Someone was with him. It was Clem and her mother.
She ran towards them, aching to reach the comfort of their arms.
But why were they receding further and further away from her?
‘No! Come back. I need you…’
She screamed in anguish as their images faded.
‘Come back! Oh, please, come back. Come back…’
* * *
Kerensa woke with a start, perspiration trickling down her face, her nightdress sticking to her body where she lay. She breathed heavily, relieved to see the dawn’s light seeping in through the window where a curtain had been thrown back. She found Oliver had gone, the place where he had lain still warm.
The events of the past few months had crowded in on her, mocking and terrifying her in her sleep. Bartholomew Drannock’s existence had placed a barrier between her and Oliver. In her dreams he had been an evil child, and with the nightmare still fresh in her mind she feared for the nature of any offspring she might have with Oliver. It seemed ironic that he wanted an heir when he knew he already had a son, one he had apparently spurned – but then, the result of a few minutes of pleasure with a lesser mortal meant nothing to the gentry, even the mighty Sir Oliver Pengarron who prided himself on his honour.
She had dreamt of Clem, of him disappearing, not able to help her. She’d needed him then and felt a strong need for him now, but there was nothing she could do about that. He had been with her mother and she felt the loss of them both in her life acutely. She had not mentioned her mother’s death to the Reverend Ivey since that fateful, shameful day of the finding of Davey Trembath’s body, not wanting to be reminded of that terrible event. But it haunted her still, like Oliver’s memories of his friend Arthur Beswetherick’s death. When she arrived back from Tolwithrick speaking to the Reverend would be the first thing she would do. But for now she lay back on her pillows and tried to empty her mind.
She lay awake until full daylight filled the room, trying hard not to think as she rose, dressing quickly before Alice made an appearance, and picking miserably at her breakfast.
‘So there you are,’ Alice said, entering the smaller of the dining rooms as Kerensa was feeding Dunstan with titbits of bacon.
‘Good morning, Alice. I couldn’t sleep so I got up early.’
‘You spoil that dog,’ her maid said reprovingly. Not satisfied with Kerensa’s explanation she made no bones about scrutinising the other girl’s face. ‘Are you feeling all right?’ she asked.
‘Of course I am,’ Kerensa replied shortly. ‘Why?’
‘Mmmm… you look a bit peaky to me. You’re not with child, are you?’ Alice rarely spoke with any sense of delicacy and the blunt question brought a wry smile to Kerensa’s face.
‘No, Alice, I am not going to have a baby. I have got some other news for you, though. After the May Day fairs we’re going to stay with the Beswethericks at Tolwithrick. That is, you and I are. You should get on well with Lady Rachael… you’re both outspoken.’
‘Really?’ Alice pouted. ‘When will we be coming back?’ She felt a little excited at the thought of staying at another grand house but at the same time disappointed at not being able to see Clem.
‘We’ll be leaving here on May Day evening and I don’t know when we’ll be coming back,’ Kerensa said briskly.
‘I see. Be glad to get away from him for a while, will you?’
‘You mean Oliver?’
‘Well, I didn’t mean that daft old dog there,’ Alice said, popping a bread crust into her mouth.
Dunstan seemed to understand the insult and growled under his breath. Alice fed him chunks of bread and butter.
‘Like your master, aren’t you, my old handsome?’
‘Are you hinting at something, Alice?’ Kerensa asked, smoothing a hand along Dunstan’s back, while looking rather crossly at her maid.
‘Oh… only that I heard his lordship went off in a huff this morning.’
‘We’ve got packing to do, Alice.’
Kerensa led the way upstairs to her dressing room. ‘Who told you Oliver was in a huff?’ she asked.
‘Jack. Poor little soul got a cuff round his ear, for no good reason too according to Nathan. And he played merry Hell with Barney over the state of the stableyard.’
‘You shouldn’t listen to gossip, Alice,’ Kerensa said, pulling stockings out of a drawer.
‘I was listening to something more about his lordship last night,’ the maid said petulantly, ‘but of course you won’t want to hear about that now.’
‘Hear what?’ Kerensa looked up. ‘Tell me, Alice.’
She made a show of being busy. ‘Which gowns will you take, Kerensa? Tell you what?’
‘You can be infuriating at times, Alice Ford!’ exclaimed K
erensa, placing her hands on her hips.
‘Sorry.’ Alice smiled brightly. She knew she and Kerensa would always be friends and they often playfully teased one another. ‘Well, Matthew King told Esther and Ruth that Oliver has taken to riding down to Trelynne Cove and spends ages just looking around.’
‘And does Matthew think this unusual or something?’ said Kerensa, looking puzzled. ‘The Cove belongs to Oliver now… perhaps he has plans for it.’
Alice moved in close and spoke a good deal softer. ‘The saying is that his lordship has a belief your grandfather could still be living somewhere around there.’
Kerensa’s expression changed from interest to excitement. ‘You pack anything that you think I’ll need, Alice. Don’t you drag heavy trunks about though, get Jack or one of the gardeners to do it. I need some fresh air. I’m going for a long ride.’
Quickly changing into her riding habit Kerensa waited impatiently for Jack to saddle Kernick, wondering why she hadn’t had the good sense to ask him before she’d changed her clothes. She felt guilty about Jack’s bright red ear, feeling it was her fault Oliver had been bad-tempered enough to hit the boy so hard. As it was, Jack was unusually quiet and while she waited she popped into the kitchen and brought him back a handful of freshly baked biscuits. By the time she left the stableyard he was his old cheerful self again, whistling between bites of biscuit.
Keeping Kernick at a steady gallop Kerensa quickly neared Trelynne Cove. All thoughts of her suspicions as to the paternity of Bartholomew Drannock were forgotten in the hope of seeing her grandfather again. If anyone could find out if Old Tom was living undetected in the cove, she could.
There were many nooks and crannies, in amongst the rocks, large enough for a small man to shelter in. She knew of many herself; some she had discovered in her natural explorations as a child, others Old Tom himself had shown her, and were unknown to even the oldest of the locals.
Kerensa pulled Kernick back to a trot as they closed in on the pathway leading down to the cottage. She jumped down from the pony to lead him down the winding path, not possessing the confidence to ride the rocky descent as Oliver did.
A movement on the cliff edge several hundred feet away captured her attention. Standing motionless was an unmistakable figure. Ted Trembath had his back to her and Kerensa knew he could hear no other sound save the roar of the waves where his brother had died fifty feet below.
Her heart pounding in her chest Kerensa hurriedly remounted, praying that Ted Trembath would not turn round until she was out of sight. She kept looking back but he remained motionless and she let out an enormous sigh of relief when she felt the danger of being seen was past.
If she had come across Old Tom with Ted Trembath about, what would have been the consequences? She would have to find out when Ted would be on core at the mine during the daytime and come back to the cove then, hoping that the next time, Oliver would not be there either.
* * *
Much later in the morning Oliver pulled up Conomor in the stableyard to find Jack chattering to Alice Ford over a stall door. He jumped guiltily to attention and bolted out of the stable to take Conomor from the master. Oliver was feeling contrite at having cuffed him around the ear for no other reason than his own ill-humour. He did not reprimand Jack for idling away his time but was offended at the way Alice flounced off without acknowledging his presence. She had already rounded a corner of the yard by the time Oliver had dismounted and he quickly went after her.
‘Just a minute!’ his voice boomed out across the cobbles, bringing Alice to an immediate standstill.
She walked back and bobbed him a curtsey but her face showed no respect. ‘You want me, m’lord?’ she said pertly.
‘Just where do you think you’re going?’ Oliver asked angrily.
‘I’m on me way to the closet,’ she answered, nodding at the relevant small building behind her, adding in an impatient tone that Oliver found outrageous, ‘If that’s all right with you, m’lord?’
‘It is not! Whatever you may be doing or wherever you may be going, when you find yourself in my presence there is something you must do first, and at once!’ Oliver’s eyes narrowed and he bent his head level with Alice’s. ‘As you very well know.’
She pretended to look puzzled.
‘You are not in the least bit stupid, girl. But,’ Oliver warned, ‘you would be very stupid indeed to deliberately cross me!’
Alice blinked but held her ground. She had her hands clasped in front of her but unlinked them and put them in the same manner behind her back. ‘I’m very sorry, sir,’ she said with false humility, then raised an eyebrow as if something important had just occurred to her, ‘I think I forgot to show me manners when you rode into the stableyard?’
‘You did it on purpose,’ he said icily. ‘Are you going to add to your misconduct by denying it?’
Alice shivered and finally flushed under his anger. ‘No, sir.’
‘Then explain yourself, girl,’ Oliver ordered, his eyes on her like a bird of prey’s.
Alice had been deliberately uncivil because of his treatment of Kerensa and unjust anger with Jack. She was nervous of her master now and she was not going to risk an explanation that would betray her feelings or bring more wrath upon her friend or the stable boy. She said, as jauntily as she could, ‘I’m sorry, sir. I’m just as common as muck, sir. Don’t know me manners, sir.’
‘Then you had better learn some very quickly, hadn’t you!’ Oliver roared in a voice that threatened to shake the foundations of the Manor house.
Alice jumped back, her arms shooting straight down at her sides. It took all of her nerve not to turn and flee. Oliver’s face was red with fury and she knew she had gone too far this time. ‘Y-yes, sir,’ she stammered weakly.
Oliver could cheerfully have put his hands around her neck and thoroughly wrung it. ‘I’m not convinced that your explanation is a truthful one. But let me tell you this – if you ever act like that again, just once, I can promise you that you’ll be out of the Manor and removed from your position without a reference. I will not tolerate any form of rudeness from my servants. Do you understand me?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Alice whispered, trembling and looking down at her feet.
‘Look at me as you answer,’ Oliver ordered, but his voice had dropped several decibels now. ‘Is your mistress in the house?’
‘No, sir. She went riding,’ Alice replied meekly.
‘Did she say where she was going?’
‘Yes, sir. Trelynne Cove.’
‘How long ago did she leave?’
‘A while ago, sir. I reckon she will be back any minute now.’
‘I see. If she wants to know where I’m spending the day, tell her I will be at Ker-an-Mor Farm.’ With each succeeding sentence Oliver’s voice had steadily dropped until he said quietly, ‘Go about your business now.’
Alice stared at him for a moment; it was the first time he had left information on his whereabouts for Kerensa. Then she turned and hastened towards the refuge of the servant’s closet.
‘Alice.’
She turned back fearfully. ‘Yes, sir?’
‘Her Ladyship depends on you. It would be a shame if she were to lose you, don’t you agree?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Alice nodded with a lump in her throat.
Chapter 11
The coolness between Kerensa and Oliver continued for the next few days, causing a feeling of tension to permeate the Manor house. Beatrice, who had managed an unusually long period of sobriety, drank two bottles of gin on the second day and clutched a third to her dropping bosom. Grumbling that she’d rather stay at Painted Bessie’s with ‘they blamed disgustin’ drunkards than be in such a miserable place’, she promptly took herself off.
Everyone was relieved when a warm cloudless morning heralded the first day of May. Kerensa and Alice completed their packing for the stay at Tolwithrick, ensuring that they were ready with the whole household and outdoor staff at eight o’clock for the j
ourney to Ker-an-Mor Farm for the crowning of the parish May Queen. Oliver appeared promptly at the specified time, smartly dressed in comparison to his usual casual manner.
All those not riding on horseback piled into the back of a farm wagon. The subdued mood they had held for the last few days quickly changed to laughter and light-hearted banter as Oliver and Kerensa rode on ahead. Nathan O’Flynn on Derowen stayed close to the wagon, chatting to Jake Angove and the two undergardeners. Jack sat squeezed between Esther and Ruth, proudly showing them yet again the scrap of paper where he had written his name as Kerensa had taught him. The two women ruffled his hair and teased him about the names of the young maids he had his eye on for the Maypole dances.
‘How about Alice here? Will she do?’
‘If I find one as beautiful as her ladyship,’ Jack said sheepishly, ‘then I’ll ask her to dance with me.’
This brought hoots of affectionate laughter and more teasing from the others in the wagon, particularly Alice.
‘You’ll have a hard job to find one as beautiful as her, I d’reckon,’ said Jake Angove.
‘Or as kind,’ said Esther.
‘Or as gentle,’ added her sister.
‘Aye,’ agreed Nathan, ‘or as sad as these past few days.’
The company fell silent and the farm hand driving the wagon looked round in surprise.
‘Come on, you lot, what’s the matter with ’ee? Tes May Day and there’s fun ’n’ games ahead of ’ee.’
‘Perhaps things will be better when she comes back from Tolwithrick,’ said Jack, ignoring the farm hand and instinctively nestling in against Ruth’s arm.
Jake turned his head, and taking his pipe out of his mouth, spat on to the dusty ground. ‘Wonder what he did to her?’ he murmured to himself.
Oliver crowned Moriah Andrew, a pretty fifteen year old from Barvah Farm, as the year’s May Queen, a traditional task for the Lord of the Manor that stretched back more than two hundred and fifty years. Moriah blushed fiercely as Oliver placed the crown of may blossom and other wild flowers on her head and lightly kissed both her hands.
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