Pengarron Land

by Pengarron Land (retail) (epub)

  ‘How did all this happen?’ she demanded of him. ‘It was no accident from the looks of it. Who were you fighting with?’

  ‘No one of any concern to you,’ he told her quietly.

  The flashpoint was over. Cupping her small oval face in his hands he kissed her fiercely, and with almost the same intensity they made love again.

  Neither slept well that night. A sudden thunderstorm lashed the skies overhead, a counterpoint to their unease. Oliver got out of bed, wrapping a sheet around his waist. He threw a window open to cool the stifling heat of the room and, resting his hands on the sill, watched Nature’s nocturnal entertainment.

  Cries from some of Rachael’s less hardy children soon filled the house, and thankful for the opportunity to slip out of bed Kerensa retrieved her nightgown from its crumpled heap on the floor and left the room to offer comfort to the fearful little ones.

  Seeing the slight form of his mother’s guest heading for the nursery, young Martin Beswetherick knocked and entered the room she had just left.

  ‘Can I come in, Oliver?’ he had to shout above the thunder.

  ‘Yes, Martin. The storm keeping you awake too, is it?’

  The boy joined the man at the window. ‘Father told me once that you and Uncle Arthur would get out of bed and play outside in a storm when you were boys,’ he said.

  ‘We used to get up to all kinds of things,’ Oliver said. ‘We received a lot of thrashings, Martin, but we had a lot of fun.’

  ‘With women too?’

  Oliver gave the boy a sideways glance. ‘Lots of women,’ he said, winking an eye.

  Martin moved closer to his godfather. ‘Did you have your first one by my age?’

  This brought a laugh from the man. ‘No, of course not… but not long afterwards.’

  They watched the sky light up at rapid intervals, their faces illuminated with each flash of lightning.

  ‘I think Kerensa is very beautiful,’ Martin said. ‘Can you get me a wife like her when I’m old enough, Oliver?’

  He pondered on this as a streak of lightning lit the length of the Withy river, turning it from a stretch of darkness into an irregular shimmer like a huge silver fish struggling out of water.

  ‘I doubt it, Martin,’ he said. ‘I know of no other woman quite like Kerensa.’

  ‘Do you think she’s beautiful?’

  There was no hesitation. ‘Kerensa is the most beautiful person I’ve ever known.’

  Chapter 14

  Alice was sitting on the bed in the lean-to built on to Trecath-en Farm. She was taking in everything slowly and with meticulous care, trying to familiarise herself with its shapes and shadows, furniture and fabric, its size and smells, to help give her the feeling of belonging there.

  The narrow bed was only just big enough for two people to share and was covered with a patchwork quilt of green and blue, sewn in squares by Gran Donald. At the side of the bed stood a sturdy round table that Kenver Trenchard had made for her and Clem. A single candlestick and candle rested on its top beside a chipped crock of field campion, honeysuckle, broom, dog roses and yellow turnip flower, a touching tribute of welcome from young Rosie.

  She smiled at the rickety straight-backed chair in the corner. Alice knew it wouldn’t even bear the weight of one of the farmyard cats but supposed it looked better there than an empty space. The floor of stamped earth was covered with mats of woven rush and plaited strips of rag, and she wondered why her own mother had never thought of doing the same to add warmth and comfort to the draughty cottage on Lancavel Downs.

  Her eyes next moved to a solid oak linen chest situated on the other side of the bed. This had been produced from timber supplied by Nathan O’Flynn and cut and carved by Kenver. Getting up, Alice moved around the foot of the bed and, kneeling down, admired the carvings on the outside of the splendid piece of furniture. The sides of the chest displayed the figures of the twelve apostles, on the top were birds of the sea, the moors and the fields. It must have taken several months to plan and complete, Alice thought poignantly, originally meant as a wedding gift for another girl, and now ironically containing a generous quantity of the finest household linen available in Marazion sent over for her and Clem by Kerensa herself.

  Lifting the lid with great care Alice moved aside a pile of the linen in one corner and pulled out a dull wooden box inlaid with damaged pictures of mother-of-pearl fishes and sea creatures. It was the only thing Alice owned that she valued, left to her long ago by a deceased aunt. She opened one of its many compartments and taking out the coins lying inside, let them trickle through her fingers on to her skirt. Ten guinea pieces, given to her by Oliver Pengarron on the day she left the Manor house. He had insisted on her taking them, saying she might well have the need of a sum of money one day. Alice was grateful for the feeling of security it gave her, whilst at the same time knowing she could turn to that quarter if she needed moral support in the future.

  She returned the coins, then the box to its corner, and replaced the linen. Closing the lid of the chest she looked rather crossly at the much smaller article of furniture beside it. It was a baby’s cradle, used last by Rosie Trenchard, and Alice believed it was tasteless for it to be placed in the room on the day of her wedding. But as she tried to imagine the tiny face of her own baby lying there, with the blue eyes and silky hair of the Trenchards, a bright maternal smile lit up her face and she rocked the cradle from side to side. She didn’t hear Florrie Trenchard open the door and come to stand behind her.

  ‘I used to do that,’ Florrie said with understanding, ‘before each of mine were born. I would gaze down in that cradle for ages and wonder what they would look like.’

  ‘I hope my baby will have hair like Clem’s,’ Alice said, rising to her feet. ‘Not these dreadful curls of mine.’

  ‘Oh, don’t say that, Alice,’ Florrie laughed kindly, ‘You’ve got the prettiest hair I’ve seen.’

  Alice didn’t look convinced.

  ‘Well, are you feeling better now?’ asked Florrie, feeling sorry for the girl who had looked uncomfortable all day and then had become faint on top of it. ‘Everyone’s getting ready to leave and I thought you’d like to see them off.’

  ‘Yes, of course. Thanks. I’m feeling much better now.’ Alice placed a hand on her stomach and looked seriously at her mother-in-law. ‘I love Clem, Mrs Trenchard. I’ll do my best to make him a good wife, but farming is new to me, it’s like nothing I’m used to. I’ll need your help.’

  Florrie Trenchard looked pleased and gave Alice a motherly smile. ‘Don’t you worry, maid. You’re a willing worker and Gran and I will make sure you know the difference between milk and manure by the end of the year!’

  The small number of wedding guests had all left to make their way home by twilight, after disposing of a plain but tasty tea made up mainly of farm produce. Owing to the cramped condition of their miner’s cottage, the Fords had readily agreed to hold the wedding tea at Trecath-en. Nothing stronger than tea and coffee was drunk following the quiet ceremony at St Piran’s church, as Methodism preached.

  Ruth and Esther King had sat in the spick-and-span farmhouse parlour with Alice, her mother and three younger sisters, Florrie, Gran Donald and a very excited Rosie. The women had talked about the wedding ceremony, the hot weather, the prices of tea and materials, and childbearing. Although Alice had tried to keep her pregnancy a secret it was common knowledge by the time she stood beside Clem at the altar. As more than half of the local brides were like so on their wedding day, it caused no more than the odd raised eyebrow. But she still had been acutely embarrassed when Gran Donald had informed her that her sickness attacks would stop soon, now she was nearly three months along.

  Although no one had actually suggested it the menfolk had gathered outside in a swilled down part of the farmyard, gossiping every bit as much as the women inside. Clem had fixed up a cart with clean dry straw and blankets and had carried Kenver outside to join them. Except for the occasional friendly word to his
brother, Clem stayed quiet and slightly apart from the rest of the masculine company. His father, Matthias Renfree and Nathan O’Flynn had cast knowing glances at one another from time to time, but Alice’s father and twin ten-year-old brothers were too interested in the farm and the animals to notice the gloominess of their new relative. The conversation of the men included the urgent need for prolonged rainfall, the price of grain and tin ore, and the different aspects of their modes of livelihood. A lot of time was spent admiring the work Clem and Morley had put in on the completion of the lean-to for Alice and Clem to live in.

  Left alone now with her new family as she and Clem waved farewell to the last of the guests, Alice felt shy and rather lonely. Florrie moved behind them and put an arm around each of their waists.

  She said to them, ‘Gran, Rosie and I are going to have a good tidy up. Now why don’t you two go off for a little walk.’

  ‘Oh, but I really should help you…’ Alice began.

  ‘I’ve got the milking to do,’ Clem countered his mother.

  ‘Father can do the milking and we can manage inside.’ Florrie shooed them on their way. ‘Stay out as long as you like.’

  ‘We’d better not go too far,’ Clem said, after only a short time.

  ‘Why not?’ Alice was concerned by this.

  ‘Because you’re pregnant. You might be sick again, and Gran said your ankles swell up in the evenings.’

  ‘Oh, Clem.’ Alice stopped walking and slipped a hand in his.

  ‘What?’ he said, quite puzzled.

  ‘It’s nice of you to care about me, Clem, that’s all.’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I care about you, Alice?’

  She took his other hand and looked up earnestly at him. ‘I won’t pretend you wouldn’t have married me if I wasn’t going to have your baby.’

  ‘Alice—’

  ‘Please, let me finish, Clem. I… I know you’re still in love with Kerensa. You could hardly be expected to feel any different after such a short time. I want you to know, Clem, that I won’t put you under any pressure. I… I’m just happy to be your wife and…’

  ‘Alice, Alice, I know what you’re trying to say.’ He pulled her close to him. ‘I’ll look after you, don’t worry. I know my duty as your husband.’

  * * *

  Morley Trenchard changed into his working clothes and sought out his wife who was by herself clearing away dishes in the parlour. Morley nibbled on a piece of cheese.

  Florrie knew her husband had something to say. ‘What is it, dear?’ she said quietly, continuing with her clearing up.

  ‘Do you reckon they’ll be all right, Mother?’ he asked, after a long pause.

  ‘We can only hope and pray,’ she sighed, ‘but unless the boy gets that other little maid out of his mind, it’s not going to be easy for either of them.’

  * * *

  Oliver had left Tolwithrick immediately after baby Sebastian Beswetherick’s baptism in the family chapel. Kerensa had followed him two days later, taking with her, at Rachael’s suggestion, Polly Berryman as a welcome replacement for Alice. At Kerensa’s wish Polly became the Manor’s housekeeper instead of her personal maid, and quickly struck up a favourable working relationship with Ruth and Esther who were somewhat relieved to have a more experienced woman to help run the huge building.

  Kerensa was glad to be home. With Oliver she lived in an uneasy truce, but it was far better than the stony atmosphere before her two weeks’ absence, and he still spent most of his time elsewhere. It was good to be out in the gardens again with shaggy-bearded Jake Angove, checking on the development of the seeds and plants she had put in and the health of the convalescent wildlife in Oliver’s hut. She raised no objection when Beatrice suddenly appeared, seemingly more sober than drunk, and crushed Kerensa in welcome against her large smelly bosom before shuffling off on her way again.

  For many long hours Kerensa rode around the Estate and the farms and through the bluebell-strewn woodland high above the Manor. Suitably scrubbed clean, and with his long hair licked back, Jack often accompanied her. At times Nathan joined them; at others they met him about his work in forest, dell or river, and Kerensa and Jack watched, amused, as the gamekeeper’s interest in Polly Berryman began to rival his interest in his livestock.

  Kerensa kept herself as busy as possible, mainly to mask her mixed feelings about Alice marrying Clem. She very much missed Alice’s presence in the Manor; she had no one to confide in now, and worst of all no one to cheer her up and make her laugh. Kerensa had had no idea that there was anything going on between Alice and Clem until she’d seen them together on May Day. At first she had felt betrayed by Alice’s secrecy but on thinking it through Kerensa had understood that her friend couldn’t have spoken to her about it. She remembered her maid’s reluctance to talk about Clem, and knowing of Alice’s loyalty to her, Kerensa realised she must have been torn inside about the association she had formed with him. And why shouldn’t another girl set her cap for Clem? He had always attracted a lot of female attention and Kerensa herself had left him unattached. Why shouldn’t he turn to someone else in his loneliness? He must have had many a woman wanting to comfort him, and, in the end, Kerensa was glad it was Alice, who would be good and faithful to him. But now it seemed Alice’s friendship was lost to her and Clem even further away.

  Kerensa was happiest in the company of old Dunstan. They sat together under the trees in the orchard and in her sitting room in the warm, increasingly light evenings. He waited for her to come down each morning for breakfast, to come back from church and her riding excursions. The old dog followed her about the gardens as she worked with Jake or picked armfuls of flowers to fill every vase she could find in the house. He slept at her feet while she ate her meals, or sat with her as she sewed and embroidered, and if Oliver sounded impatient or raised his voice to her, Dunstan would growl at him with distinct menace. And on the day of Clem’s and Alice’s wedding, he had kept her company in her loneliness.

  It was several days after that before Kerensa left the Estate. She rode over to the Parsonage to keep an appointment with the Reverend Ivey, but first took a mixture of wild and garden flowers and filled the granite pot she’d had made in Marazion specially for her mother’s grave. She lingered there awhile in silent thought and prayer, then pulling off her hat, she walked to Mrs Tregonning’s kitchen.

  ‘Ooh, m’lady!’ Mrs Tregonning rushed to greet her. ‘How lovely you look. It seems ages since you were here last. My, you do look well.’

  ‘It’s good to see you too, Mrs Tregonning. The Reverend’s not expecting me till three so I came over early to see you first. I brought some Congo tea over for you, I know the Reverend likes it.’

  Mrs Tregonning wiped flour off her hands. ‘I hope you don’t mind me asking where it came from?’ she said, eyeing the package the girl put on the table with suspicion.

  ‘I brought it back from Tolwithrick with me actually,’ Kerensa smiled, seating herself at the table.

  ‘Humph! Probably came from him up there, all the same. How is he these days? No improvement in his temper or manners, I’ll be bound.’

  ‘Sir Oliver’s well,’ Kerensa told the woman patiently.

  ‘Well, is he?’ said the housekeeper, pouring out the tea. ‘If he had his way, the poor Reverend wouldn’t be. Messing up his garden like that indeed! Disgusting, that’s what I say.’

  Kerensa frowned. ‘I don’t think I know what you’re talking about, Mrs Tregonning.’

  ‘You don’t know about it? That’s typical! He and Clem Trenchard, it was, fighting like tom cats all over the flowerbeds and lawn. Shameful it was, shameful, and right after poor Henry Sampson’s funeral too, rest his soul.’

  ‘I see,’ said Kerensa, not knowing what to think or feel about this revelation. ‘When Sir Oliver came to Tolwithrick, I noticed he had fading cuts and bruises. Now I know why. Was Clem hurt?’

  ‘Came off a bit worse than he up there did, but no, not too badly. Serve they both right if t
hey get aches and pains for the rest of the year because of it, that’s what I say.’

  Holding her cup tightly in her hands, Kerensa asked in a closed voice: ‘Have you any idea why they were fighting?’

  ‘I don’t know for sure, but some do say, not that I know anything about it, you understand,’ Mrs Tregonning said in the tone of one involved in a conspiracy, ‘that Alice Ford was in a delicate condition when she married Clem. Could be something to do with that, I s’pose. Anyway, the poor Reverend was really angry. He was the one what caught them at it. Gave they a proper telling off, I can tell you.’

  ‘Good for him,’ Kerensa said, mainly to herself. She didn’t want to talk about it any more, knowing the Reverend would give her a truthful uncoloured account of the incident later. She asked, ‘Has Jenifer Drannock had her baby yet?’

  ‘A little small maid, she had. Born on… let me see… on the eleventh, I believe. Yes, that’s right, the eleventh. I remember now because it was a Friday, and I always bake a fresh batch of bread on a Friday, and I was up to my elbows in flour when that tiresome boy Bartholomew came running for me to give Elizabeth King a hand. Jack, the baby you brought here that day, wouldn’t stop crying and…’

  Kerensa let the woman prattle on to herself. The eleventh of May. The day before the birth of Sebastian Beswetherick. Guilt welled up inside her. Since her return to the Manor she had checked every thought of Jenifer and Bartholomew and little Jack Drannock. Even now her reason for being in Perranbarvah was only to question the Reverend Ivey about her mother’s death.

  ‘Are they both all right?’ she interrupted Mrs Tregonning’s steady flow of speech. ‘Jenifer and the baby?’

  ‘Jenifer’s better than she was. Had a bad time of it, she did. Won’t pay her to have another, if you ask me. That husband of hers should keep himself to himself, if you get my meaning. Not that he will, mind. You know what men are like now you’re married yourself, don’t you, m’lady?’