The other incident also occurred in Hezekiah’s bedroom. Kerensa was putting away freshly laundered shirts in a chest of drawers. Ruth had put other garments in the same drawer shortly before, neatly enough for most people’s standards, but Kerensa was doubtful if it would suit Hezekiah’s fastidious expectations. She pulled all the garments out including a silk-embroidered satin bag, the contents of which spilled out on to the floor.
With a small cry she bent down to retrieve the articles and picked up a rosary made of jet beads and a Bible tract—the gospel of St John.
‘They are not mine,’ Hezekiah said, from behind her shoulder, quite unexpectedly.
‘I’m sorry,’ Kerensa told him, whirling round and looking guilty like one caught in a sinful act. ‘Whose… whose are they?’
‘Someone I knew a long time ago.’ He took the things from her and returned them very carefully to the satin bag. Although he knew Kerensa was hoping to learn more, he was not going to enlighten her further. Instead he put the satin bag inside his toilet box and locked it with slow deliberate actions.
‘Be careful, Kerensa,’ he said, looking at her with his angelic smile, ‘You are innocent of this world. Take care someone like me does not destroy you. There will always be someone who may try, not necessarily an enemy either. Perhaps someone who loves you.’
Kerensa was the same height as Hezekiah and his face was but two inches from hers. She refused to be intimidated and said coolly, ‘I’ll get Ruth to replace the things in the drawer for you.’
‘You don’t understand me, do you, Kerensa?’ Hezekiah moved to bar her exit from the room. ‘But never mind that now. I will never harm you… but I will not go without a kiss either.’
Kerensa was surprised at the soft warmth of his lips on hers the next instant. It was neither the embrace of a friend nor the kiss of a lover and when he raised his head the expression on Hezekiah’s ageless face held no clue to his real feelings. She was not offended by his taking this liberty but from then on was careful not to have occasion to enter his bedroom alone.
When Hezekiah left two days later to sail for the Channel Islands, Kerensa knew she would remember his stay with affection, her curiosity about the mysterious, seemingly effeminate gentleman unresolved. Indeed, considerably increased.
Chapter 20
Rosina met Peter Blake as he had asked on the Friday afternoon after their first meeting on the moorland. He was sitting on the ruins of the holy well as she light-footedly approached him. He rose to greet her.
‘You came then?’ He smiled at her.
‘Did you think I would not?’ she returned.
‘I could think of no reason why you should want to see me again. I just hoped that you would. You look pretty today,’ he added admiringly.
‘It’s this,’ Rosina said, holding out the skirt of a deep blue muslin dress with both hands. ‘Lady Pengarron was kind enough to give it to me.’
‘That was good of her. It matches the colour of your eyes.’
Rosina always seemed to have a glow about her and his remark, which he had quickly regretted for fear she might think it over familiar of him on their short acquaintance, brought a sparkle to her young face.
‘Why do you look so serious, Mr Blake?’ she said.
‘What? Do I?’ He stood up and his smile returned. ‘I was wondering what you would like to do. Stay here, or walk somewhere else perhaps?’
‘People come past from time to time,’ she said. ‘It’s better my brother doesn’t find out I’m here with you. I know a quiet place not too far away.’
She moved over to Blake’s chestnut mare and stroked its smooth forehead, the horse nuzzling its head on her shoulder.
‘Would you like to ride on her, Rosina?’ Blake said, coming to stand beside her.
‘Yes, I would. I’ve never been up on a horse before. Does it have a name, Mr Blake?’
‘She’s called Vanity. Shall I lift you up?’
‘Vanity,’ she repeated. ‘Yes, she does look rather proud of herself. Lift me, you say? But can you lift me? What about your ribs? They haven’t mended yet, it might hurt you.’
‘You look as light as a dandelion clock, Rosina. I’m sure my ribs will cope very well, but how did you know they aren’t mended completely as yet?’ Blake instinctively rubbed one side of his chest.
‘They were sticking out of your chest when Dr Crebo was attending to you. He said it would take longer than usual for you to mend, and I noticed you rubbing yourself there the last time we were here,’ she said, pointing to the area in question. ‘You’re doing it even now.’
‘How observant of you,’ he smiled, ‘but I can lift you all the same. Put your foot in the stirrup and I’ll help you into the saddle.’
‘I won’t be able to manage that,’ she told him. ‘I can’t rest my weight on my foot… my lame foot. You get up first and I’ll stand on the ruins, then you can easily lift me over in front of you.’
Blake looked stunned. ‘You mean, ride Vanity together?’
‘You can’t walk far yet, Mr Blake,’ she said, scrambling up on the low wall of granite still remaining of a long-forgotten hermit’s sacred drinking place, ‘it’s by far the best way.’
‘I’m not sure whether to feel shocked by your suggestion or to wonder if you’re being bossy,’ he said wryly.
‘Not bossy,’ she smiled at him, ‘practical.’
‘Well, as it happens, Rosina, I’ll have to use the ruins to mount myself,’ he informed her.
When he was settled in the saddle Blake stretched out his arms to her. He had touched a great many women in the years since his youth, but felt boyishly reserved as he lifted this girl to sit astride the mare in front of him. Leaning carefully forward he reached for the reins and placed them correctly in her tiny hands. Her hair smelled of herbs and he breathed in the fresh outdoor scent.
‘As you do not mind my calling you Rosina,’ he said, ‘will you call me Peter?’
‘All right,’ she replied, pointing west. ‘We need to ride this way.’
Blake shook his head unbelievingly at her simple trust. He placed his hands on the tops of his legs and pressed his knees into the mare’s sides to urge her on. Blake was not tall, but Rosina reached no more than five feet, and he could look straight over her head as they moved slowly along.
‘I had a fancy you had a secret place on these downs, Rosina,’ he said.
‘I have more than one secret place that I’ve found as I’ve wandered about. I reckon I know every inch of the downs, and I like to be alone sometimes. It looks even more beautiful from here on Vanity, I can see for miles and miles,’ she said, unable to hide the sense of wonder in her voice.
‘I found it a bit too lonely at times when I was searching for you. It was a strange feeling I found hard to shake off even when I got back to my rooms.’
‘Oh, I’ve never found it lonely on the downs, but then I believe we’re never totally alone. I need the quietness… it’s good to be around people, but good also to be away from the noise and bustle of Wheal Ember and the cottages.’
And good to be away from your brother, no doubt, Blake thought. ‘Rosina?’
‘Yes.’
‘I hope you don’t spend a lot of time by the holy well.’
‘Why is that?’ she asked, half turning round to look at him.
‘I’ve heard there are pagan ceremonies, witchcraft, and that sort of thing going on there,’ he explained, ‘I don’t want you getting hurt.’
‘Oh, that.’ She smiled. ‘Nothing like that has gone on by the well for years and years now. If it had the heather would be heavily trampled down. No, I spend a lot of time on the moors and I’ve never seen evidence of the like anywhere.’
‘Well, if you’re sure,’ Blake said doubtfully. ‘There must be something of the kind going on somewhere… I’m rumoured to be involved in it myself, which is quite ridiculous. I’m an atheist, I don’t believe in any god, devil, or spirit, so therefore have no need to worship one.’
‘I have nothing to fear up here,’ Rosina said, gesturing towards the scenery then turning to face forward. Five minutes later, she said, ‘This is as far as we can go on horseback, the track peters out here.’
Pulling the mare to a halt she passed the reins to Blake and slipped nimbly down to land on her good foot. He dismounted with care to stand beside her.
‘Have we far to walk, Rosina?’ he asked, brushing flies away from his face. ‘It’s so hot today,’ he added, pulling at his neckcloth.
‘It’s only about half a mile. A linen shirt would be more suitable than a silk one on a day like this,’ she remarked.
‘I’ll remember that,’ he said, pretending to be chastened. ‘You lead the way, I’ll follow with Vanity.’
They walked through heather and short grass. Blake stumbled on hidden rocks and Rosina slowed down and pointed out a clear path for him to follow. Once, Vanity threatened to bolt as an adder slithered its way across in front of her, and Blake was relieved when Rosina told him they had reached their destination. In front of them was a formation of rocks shaped not unlike the letter ‘N’.
‘There?’ he said.
‘Just round the other side. The ground drops to the side here and the rocks will provide shade from the sun when we go around.’
‘That will be more than welcome,’ he said emphatically. ‘These rocks look as if they’ve been deliberately placed like this,’ he continued, peering up at the granite formation when they had finally stopped. ‘They look like a huge table.’
‘I believe they were put there,’ Rosina said, ‘by human hands long ago. They were even higher once, but you can see they’ve sunk down over the years.’
‘Yes, over the centuries. The whole thing would be quite a landmark otherwise.’
‘It’s a cairn, a stone chamber for the body of an ancient king. It’s strange to think of other people standing here, perhaps in this very spot, hundreds of years ago.’
‘Makes you feel small and insignificant, doesn’t it?’ Blake smiled at her. ‘I’ve brought a flask of water with me, Rosina, would you like some?’
‘I’ll get it,’ she said, ‘you sit down and rest.’
Blake sat down at the foot of the cairn where clumps of dry ferns four feet in height swayed in a light breeze and provided a welcome respite from the heat. Rosina joined him with the water flask she’d taken from the mare’s saddle.
‘Vanity’s a beautiful creature, have you had her long?’
‘Only a few months.’
Her long fair hair rested on his arm and he touched a strand gently between thumb and finger. She looked at him and he met her eyes and they smiled easily at one another. Without a word they acknowledged the rapport growing rapidly between them. They shared water from the flask and both leaned back against the warm stone of the cairn to look up at a sky adorned with only the occasional cloud.
‘It’s pleasant here,’ Blake said. ‘I can see why you like to spend time alone in this spot, Rosina. Your brother is a miner, I know. Do you work at the mine too?’
‘Yes. I sort the tin ore from the rock with the other women and small boys. Can I ask you what you do for a living?’
‘You can ask me anything you like. I have a good income from rents on properties I inherited, and from dues on various seine fishing boats and luggers I own.’
‘Seine boats? They’re the ones that go out to sea with the huge nets for the pilchards, aren’t they?’
‘Yes, I believe you’re right,’ he replied.
‘You can watch them at work from the cliffs under Wheal Ember when the shoals are round that way,’ Rosina said, eyes shining. ‘It’s so exciting to watch.’
Blake smiled at her happy memories, pleased that she at least had some. ‘I must make a point of watching them myself sometime. I also have money in the Wheal Ember mine where you work and one or two other mining ventures. I’ve been fortunate to have had good returns on them. I don’t suppose I am a particularly wealthy man, but then I only have myself to spend money on. An easy life compared to the one you live, Rosina.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed, without envy, ‘but it is what I’m used to.’
‘So, tell me about your Mr Wesley, Rosina. Did you see him?’
‘Yes.’
‘And?’
Rosina sat up straight and put her delicate chin in her hands. ‘It’s hard to explain how you feel on hearing Mr Wesley preach. Crowds and crowds of people turned out to listen to him. He seemed to speak for hours and hours and yet it wasn’t long enough. I could have stood and listened to him for a whole day and night without moving. He’s not very tall, you know, and he stood on a high wall so we could all see him.’
‘I can imagine. Like a big black rook in clerical collars.’
‘He didn’t look well actually. He had the flux so I’ve heard since, and it was very brave of him to stand up for so long in the heat and preach so powerfully.’ Rosina looked towards the mare and watched her long brown tail flick away tiresome flies.
‘I have offended you now. I’m sorry,’ Blake said quickly, worry creasing his handsome face. ‘Please go on. I want to hear, really.’
‘I was offended for myself, Peter,’ she said quietly, using his Christian name for the first time and facing him again. She went on. ‘Although Mr Wesley was not well he looked contented, at peace with himself and the world. The peace of knowing God, Preacher Renfree called it. I had the honour of speaking to Mr Wesley afterwards and he was very polite. I shall never forget what he looked like. He had a high forehead, a long nose, bright eyes… and he wore a long white wig.’
Rosina seemed to glow as she talked and Blake thought if he reached out and held a hand close to her, her small body would radiate a comfortable warmth, like a well-tended hearth on a winter’s night.
‘What did he say to you?’ he asked.
‘Bless you.’
‘Bless you,’ Blake repeated slowly. ‘Do you really believe in all the things he preaches, Rosina? In a God, a creator… all that sort of thing?’
‘Yes.’ She looked at the stone walls of the long forgotten tomb. ‘If I did not,’ she whispered, ‘I could not bear to live.’
* * *
Oliver felt it was better to have the cottage pulled down in Trelynne Cove and have the small area of coastline returned to its natural dignity. He rode there early one morning after an hour of solitude at Pengarron Point to examine the labourers’ work of clearing away all debris. He’d galloped Conomor for several miles across his land and clifftop before reining in at the top of the cove where the silhouette of a big stocky man showed clearly against the lightening sky.
Leaving Conomor to wander at will, Oliver strode over to the other man and joined him as he gazed out over a still-dark restless sea.
‘Good morning, Ted,’ Oliver said quietly to the miner.
‘G’morning, m’lord.’
‘Looks like it will be another scorching hot day.’
‘Aye. Reckon you’ll be right.’
Oliver took a step forward and looked down at the sea where it raged and boiled over the rocks below in the place where Davey Trembath had plunged to his death. He moved back to Ted’s side.
‘It won’t bring him back, Ted.’
‘No, sir, I know that, but it helps… coming up here helps me to set my mind straight. Mother and Will rely on me now, what with Curly gone to his rest too.’
Oliver pulled a large square of cloth out of one pocket. ‘When I know I’m coming over to the cove I bring this with me. I want to return it to its rightful owner.’
Ted looked across to the bright red piece of cloth in Oliver’s outstretched hand. ‘My kerchief,’ he said in surprise. ‘Where did you find it, sir? Begging your pardon, but why are you bothering to return a scrap of cloth to me?’
‘I came across it, Ted, clutched in the dead fingers of Old Tom Trelynne.’
A look of enlightenment slowly appeared on Ted Trembath’s haggard face.
‘You kn
ow it was me who killed him, then?’ he said, without expression.
‘I suspected you might have had something to do with the old scoundrel’s death.’
‘And you said nothing?’
‘As far as I’m concerned, you and your family have suffered enough at that man’s hand. I understand, Ted. It was not so long ago I almost killed a man for hurting someone dear to me…’
Ted took the kerchief from Oliver and passed it back and forth between his fingers, then returned his gaze to the sea.
‘I would like to know what happened, Ted.’
‘I came back here most days,’ he began. ‘I felt compelled to… at least until Davey was found. Like you, sir, I had a strong feeling Old Tom was somewhere hereabouts. It was only a week after Davey went over when I saw someone moving down by the cottage. It was Old Tom, right enough, no mistaking his build. I’m not a light man on my feet but I crept down the path and followed the old man from the cottage and over those smooth rocks on the east side of the beach. He was carrying something from the cottage and was roaring drunk so he didn’t notice me following him. I watched him disappear through a small opening in the rocks. It was too small for me to crawl through but I moved some loose rocks out of the way until the opening was big enough.’
Ted stopped for a moment and licked his dry lips.
‘It didn’t take me long to find the old man on the other side, and when he saw me I d’reckon he became stone cold sober in that same instant. I killed him, Sir Oliver. There and then I choked the life out of that evil little man with my bare hands. I didn’t give him the chance even to finish off a scream. It’s strange though, I don’t mind him pulling off my kerchief. It never occurred to me once after I lost it, it would be there. If anyone but you had come across his body, I might well have been hung for it by now.’
‘It was my wife who found the old man’s body, Ted,’ Oliver said, ‘but I don’t think she noticed the kerchief. Most other people around here would remain silent about it, anyway. No one is going to grieve over Old Tom Trelynne.’
Pengarron Land Page 36
