‘I wasn’t concerned, Mr Blake. It’s not far from here to the Manor.’
As they entered the stableyard Jack ran over to meet them. ‘What ’appened, m’lady?’ The boy held out his hand to help Kerensa down. So did Peter Blake. Kerensa accepted Jack’s hand.
‘Kernick has only thrown a shoe, it’s nothing to worry about, Jack,’ she told the boy, giving him a warm smile. ‘This is Mr Blake. He was kind enough to offer me his horse to ride home on.’
Jack ran his hand down the chestnut mare from neck to belly. ‘What a beautiful piece of ’orseflesh, ’is lordship ’imself would be proud to ’ave ’er in ’is stable. Shall I give ’er a drink, sir?’
‘Thank you, boy, she could well do with one. I’ve had her out most of the afternoon.’ Blake tossed the boy a sixpence which Jack deftly caught and put inside a grubby waistcoat pocket.
Blake was perfectly relaxed as he looked about the stableyard and Kerensa knew she had no choice but to offer him some refreshment, but for once she wished she had Oliver’s lack of manners when the occasion suited. Blake accepted with an element of feigned surprise, saying he would be most honoured. Kerensa led the way inside, giving her hat and gloves to Polly and after explaining the reason for Peter Blake’s presence in the Manor, asked for tea to be brought to the drawing room.
* * *
Polly entered the kitchen in a flurry. The King sisters looked up curiously from the vegetables they were preparing for the late evening meal.
‘You should see the gentleman with her ladyship,’ Polly said in a confidential tone. ‘He’s really quite handsome, and his clothes look as if they’ve been made in France. He’s not tall like his lordship, and is a few years younger, but he’s really nice-looking in a different sort of way.’
‘Here, I’ll tell Nathan about this,’ teased Esther.
‘And what is this really nice-looking gentleman doing with her ladyship?’ Ruth wanted to know. ‘Is he a friend of Sir Oliver’s?’
‘I don’t know who he is,’ answered Polly as she poured boiling water into a white, bone china crested tea pot. ‘Her ladyship’s pony threw a shoe on the way home and this gentleman, a Mr Peter Blake, came across her walking back and offered assistance.’
‘Peter Blake!’ gasped Esther and Ruth together.
‘You know him then?’ asked Polly, holding a saucer in mid air.
‘We certainly know of him,’ said Ruth. ‘His lordship would never have invited him into the house for a start.’
‘He lives in Marazion,’ said Esther, taking up the tale, ‘owns some of the shops there and is half-brother to a dreadful wealthy widow called Josephine Courtis who’s had designs on Sir Oliver ever since her husband died.’
‘Yes, she even came over to the Manor twice while her ladyship was away at Tolwithrick and I’m glad to say both times he wasn’t here,’ went on Ruth.
‘So why doesn’t Sir Oliver like this Peter Blake, then?’ asked Polly, anxious now to learn more.
Esther carried on. ‘Rumour has it he was dishonourably discharged from his regiment, the same one as what his lordship was in. It must be true too, because he returned to Marazion all of a sudden and after a while no one called him captain anymore.’
‘And he’s an atheist,’ put in Ruth. ‘Some do say he’s involved in witchcraft even.’
Polly grinned a little wryly at Ruth.
‘Well, there’s been some funny goings on around the holy well up on Lancavel Downs these past years.’
* * *
Blake looked across the drawing room, his expression one of kindly concern. ‘You look a little better now, ma’am,’ he said.
‘I am really very well, Mr Blake,’ Kerensa said emphatically. She was hoping she would soon be rid of this man. Then she would change out of her riding habit and go out into the gardens before dark and try to recapture the feeling of calm that had grown inside her before his unwelcome appearance.
‘This is a most pleasant room, very tastefully decorated and furnished,’ Blake commented, but keeping his eyes on Kerensa’s face rather than looking around the room as he spoke. ‘Are you responsible for any of it, ma’am?’
‘No, Mr Blake. I believe Sir Oliver’s late mother was.’ Kerensa was relieved to hear footsteps. ‘Here comes Polly with the tea,’ she said with a suppressed sigh.
When the housekeeper had left the room Kerensa poured the tea. Blake rose from his chair to take his cup and saucer from her and brushed her hand as he did so. He remained standing, staying close by her chair.
‘Shall I have the pleasure of meeting your husband before I leave, do you think, ma’am?’
‘I shouldn’t think so. He has business at Penzance—’ She stopped abruptly, cross with herself for telling Blake even that much.
‘Indeed? I wasn’t aware Sir Oliver’s business interests stretched that far.’
She was spared having to find an answer to the question by an urgent scratching at the door. Blake looked at it with something akin to anger. ‘It’s only Dunstan, Sir Oliver’s old dog,’ Kerensa explained. ‘He likes to keep me company.’
‘Would you like me to let him in?’
‘Yes please, if you will.’
Blake opened one of the double oak doors but ignored the old black dog who plodded into the room and flopped down heavily at Kerensa’s feet. Dunstan placed his head on her lap, looking at her with reproachful watery eyes, softly growling a complaint at not being invited in sooner. Kerensa laughed at him and stroked his head as she fed him a placatory biscuit.
Blake did not return to his former place. He moved about the room, looking at anything that caught his interest, but only for a moment at a time. Reaching a section of wall upon which several miniature enamel portraits were mounted, he stopped and pointed to one in particular.
‘May I ask who the lady is in this portrait?’ he said. ‘I’ve a fancy I’ve seen her somewhere before.’
He was blocking all but the top row of miniatures from her view, so Kerensa crossed the room to look where he was pointing. ‘It’s likely you may have seen that lady before, Mr Blake. She is Sir Oliver’s mother. She died many years ago.’
‘I remember now. Lady Caroline. She used to attend feast days and the fairs at Marazion when I was a child. Well, that is, I barely remember her, I was only an infant at the time. She was very beautiful.’
‘Yes, she was,’ Kerensa agreed. ‘I’d like to have known her myself.’ She bent forward a little to study the enamel of her long dead mother-in-law closely for a moment. When she moved back Blake had moved in closer to her than was comfortable.
‘Seems to me the Pengarrons have a fondness for beautiful women,’ he said, his softly spoken voice lower than before. ‘In your case though… a beautiful girl.’
The way Peter Blake was looking at her was not unlike the way her husband had done the day he’d arrived at Trelynne Cove to bargain with her grandfather. It was a look no decent woman found welcome on a man’s face and it whipped up a fury within her.
‘If you’ll excuse me, Mr Blake, there are some things I have to attend to,’ she said acidly.
‘You’re asking me to leave?’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Are you sure you want me to go?’
‘What do you mean?’ Kerensa said angrily. She took several steps away from him but he matched every one with a movement forward.
‘You can’t tell me you’re happy in this arranged marriage of yours with a man twice your age, even if he doesn’t look it. If you’ll allow me to, my lovely, I could provide some… light relief in your lonelier moments.’
Pure rage flashed in her grey-green eyes. ‘Get out! Get out of here at once!’ She edged away until her back hit a heavy bureau and she was trapped as Blake swiftly placed an arm either side of her.
‘Come now, my lovely. Don’t tell me you’re as innocent as you look. Even if Pengarron was the first, I’ll warrant I know a thing or two that he doesn’t.’
He closed in on her like a pr
edatory cat, muffling the scream in her throat with his mouth pressed over hers. He sought to hold down her arms with one hand while with the other he tightly gripped the hair at the back of her neck.
Kerensa felt she was suffocating. Reaching wildly behind, her hand searched about and found a pewter tankard. She snatched it up by the rim and swinging the tankard round, smashed it viciously on the side of Blake’s head. He staggered back from her, and from somewhere deep inside Kerensa let out a high-pitched scream.
Although he had little hearing it was enough to alert Dunstan. He snarled menacingly at Blake who held a hand up to his head where drops of blood were trickling through his fingers over his ear and spattering on to his smart buff-coloured dresscoat. His face reflected not handsomeness now, but evilness and lust.
‘You spiteful little cat,’ he said in a low inhuman voice. ‘I can play rough, too, if that’s what you want.’
As he took a step forward the dog bared his remaining teeth. Blake took another step and cried out in pain as Dunstan sank his teeth deep into his ankle.
‘Call off this animal or it will be the worse for him!’ Blake threatened.
‘Leave Dunstan alone!’ Kerensa hurled herself across the room, wielding the bloodstained tankard at Blake.
He savagely kicked Dunstan in the ribs before she reached him. She managed a blow to his shoulder but Blake delivered a violent slap across her face, sending her reeling backwards and knocking over a small table and a vase of flowers with a crash. He turned back to the old dog and Kerensa screamed out at every kick he sank into the dog’s body and head until his ankle was free at last. Dunstan’s yelps had turned to whimpers when Blake looked again at Kerensa.
‘Keep away from me!’ she cried, picking up a piece of broken pottery from the vase.
‘Oh, I can’t do that, my lovely,’ he said, with a salacious smile.
Kerensa was shaking with anger and fear. It wasn’t his violence that frightened her, however, but the quietness of his voice. She felt the piece of vase cut into her hand as her grip automatically tightened as he moved towards her.
The doors suddenly crashed open. It was Jack and Polly. The boy was visibly shaking as he held out one of Oliver’s firearms in his small dirty hands.
‘Get away from her,’ Jack uttered nervously, ‘move right away from them both.’
‘You wouldn’t dare fire that gun, boy. You’d be tried and hanged for murder,’ Blake mocked him.
Jack gulped. The firearm wavered as he tried to fix his eyes on Blake’s face. ‘I will… if I have to. Now get away!’
‘Very well,’ Blake said, moving away from his victims and advancing quickly on Jack. ‘Now just put that gun down, boy, if you don’t want to get yourself into trouble. It wouldn’t do, you know, to shoot a member of the gentry.’
‘Stop! I’ll use this… stay where you are.’ Jack’s hand shook, and wildly he looked about for help.
‘Put the gun down, boy,’ Blake mocked in his low soft voice, ‘or you’ll have your neck stretched to twice its length.’
‘Polly!’ Tears sprang in the boy’s eyes. ‘Don’t listen to him, Jack—’
Polly didn’t get to finish her sentence. Another person rushed into the room and snatching the firearm from Jack, trained it squarely on the middle of Blake’s forehead.
‘You won’t get the better of me, you swine,’ Clem Trenchard muttered between gritted teeth. ‘I’ll give you ten seconds to get out of here.’ Fear mixed with anger played on Blake’s face for a fleeting moment, then he turned to look at Kerensa, still sprawled on the floor. He smiled pleasantly at her and gave a small bow as though he was saying goodbye on any normal occasion. Running his tongue slowly across his lower lip he shook his head and said, ‘Pity.’
Pushing his way roughly past Clem and Jack, despite the injury to his ankle, Blake passed quickly by Polly who jumped back out of his way. She scurried over to Kerensa and with Jack’s help they got her to her feet, but she shook them off and knelt down beside Dunstan.
Clem put a gentle hand on her shoulder. ‘Kerensa,’ he said softly, ‘are you hurt?’
She shook her head, her eyes on the whimpering dog.
‘I have to make sure Blake has gone, Kerensa,’ he went on. ‘I won’t be gone long. Will you be all right?’
This time she nodded and he wanted to stay with her but it was more important at that moment to be certain her attacker had left the grounds.
‘Come with me, Jack.’ He turned to the boy and put his hand on Jack’s bony arm in a comforting gesture.
A shiver ran the length of the boy’s body before he followed Clem outside to the stableyard. They were just in time to watch Peter Blake ride out of the yard at a gallop. Jack took the sixpence out of his waistcoat pocket and hurled it after the disappearing figure.
The King sisters moved tentatively into the drawing room. Polly snapped orders at them. ‘One of you go and fetch a blanket, the other fetch hot water and clean linen. Go on. Run!’
Esther and Ruth rushed off as though springing to life from a daydream. Polly knelt down beside Kerensa and looked at Dunstan. ‘My lady,’ she said gently, ‘he’s very badly hurt. He’ll have to be…’
Kerensa looked up sharply. ‘No,’ she murmured, ‘no!’ Her body rocked in shock and grief as she looked back at the pitifully whimpering, blood-streaked animal. ‘No… no… no…’ It went on and on.
Polly tried to pull the girl close in a bid to comfort her, but Kerensa held her body rigid and wouldn’t be moved.
Esther returned first with the blanket which Polly took and wrapped around Kerensa’s shivering body. When Ruth rushed into the room with the hot water and linen, Polly motioned to her to place them on a table.
‘Wring out a cloth,’ she whispered to Ruth, ‘we’ll wrap it around her hand.’
Nathan O’Flynn was with Clem and Jack on their return. ‘Has he gone?’ Polly asked.
‘Aye,’ Clem answered her. ‘Blake’s gone.’
Polly glanced anxiously at Nathan and he knelt down beside her and Kerensa. Pulling the girl’s stone cold hands away from the dog’s head, he clasped them in his. Now was not the time for social niceties.
‘Kerensa, my dear. Dunstan is badly hurt. He’s suffering.’ Nat turned her frozen young face to his and forced her to meet his eyes. ‘I’ll have to take him outside and… and put him out of his misery. Do you understand?’
It seemed an age before she answered. ‘Do it quickly, please, Nat.’
Clem had moved around behind the pathetic kneeling trio. He pulled Kerensa to her feet to lean against his chest. Polly had watched keenly. So this was the fair-haired young farmer’s son whose heart had been broken by the girl’s marriage to Sir Oliver? She wondered what he was doing at the Manor, but other things demanded her attention now.
‘Ruth, Esther,’ she said. ‘Take Jack to the kitchen and make yourselves some tea.’
All his young life Jack had taken care of himself and was competent and near self-sufficient, but never before had he faced such acts of brutality and evil in one afternoon. The two sisters took his arms and the white-faced boy let them lead him out of the room.
‘I’ll help you with the dog, Nat,’ Polly said when they had gone.
Nathan met her eyes, and they silently agreed that, for now, Kerensa would be best left alone with Clem. As gently as they were able, they lifted up the old dog, Polly supporting his head. Dunstan yelped once and Clem held Kerensa tighter to him.
They stayed still until the shot rang out. Kerensa groaned and turned swiftly to be in Clem’s arms.
‘Not Dunstan… not Dunstan,’ she cried painfully, ‘how will I bear it?’
Clem held her as tightly as he could without hurting her. He caressed her cheek and placed his own against it, feeling the wetness of her tears.
‘You will bear it, my dearest love,’ he said very softly, ‘because I’ll always be here for you… always.’
* * *
A woman with long straggling hai
r left the Star Inn in Marazion holding on tightly to the arm of Peter Blake. She shrieked as the suddenness of a hard shower of rain stung her face and the full bosom that was barely contained by the stuff of her dress.
‘C’mon, m’dear, we’ll be darned drowned in this ’fore I get ’ee back to my place,’ she squealed.
Blake nuzzled her neck and directed his eyes down to the escaping white flesh. Pulling the dress off her shoulder he ran his tongue round and round in circles on the uncovered skin. ‘You were going to take this off anyway,’ he said lewdly.
Farmers, hawkers and shoppers in town for the market scurried for shelter as the shower gained momentum, ignoring the couple hanging on to one another as they ran laughing down the muddy street and turned off into an alleyway. Out of sight of pedestrians and travellers Blake yanked the woman towards him and kissed her with abandon. The woman was pleased. She’d been hoping to get this well-heeled, good-looking gentleman as a customer for many weeks. If she satisfied him she’d heard he would pay well. A lot more than the few pennies the odd farmer, fisherman or miner could spare, and more than the most generous sailor moored up on the Mount.
Blake too was pleased. He could tell she was well experienced in her profession and judging by her eager response to his kiss would perhaps allow more than just a quick outlet of his pent up lust on her, and be willing to indulge in some of the things he’d learnt with his military acquaintances from the more dedicated harlots of London and France. He pulled her close.
‘Blake!’
The shout roused him from his amours. The sight of the tall man standing, feet astride, at the other end of the alley cleared the look of anticipation from his face.
‘Who the ’ell’s ’e?’ squawked the prostitute, indignant at the untimely interruption.
Blake threw the woman aside so roughly her body hit the wall, painfully winding her. ‘Get out of here,’ he hissed, not even giving her a look. ‘What… what do you want?’ he blurted out nervously to the man who had called his name, his hand straying down to the small pistol he carried hidden in the waistband of his breeches.
Pengarron Land Page 29
