He left Gorran’s office, oddly light-headed, and was glad to find his father away from home. A light meal and a headache powder was what he needed right now, before the inevitable arguments when Ben put his spoke in the wheel. He retired to his room with the curtains drawn to think things out, snapping at Cook when she brought him his food that it was freezing in his room and he wanted a fire lit at once.
‘Freezing, sir?’ she asked in amazement. The day had been warm, and the sunlight still lingered.
‘Are you deaf, woman?’ Ben ranted. ‘I want a fire in my room, and quick!’
Cook sped away, storming at the kitchen maids at the young sir’s unusual behaviour. And instructing Fanny to fetch some more pepper to put in the rabbit stew for Mr Ben. If it was warming he wanted, then he was going to get it!
* * *
Charles was doing his rounds of the clayworks, inspecting, assessing and approving, complaining where necessary. He’d watched Morwen Tremayne for a while without her being aware of it. He’d watched the slowness of her hands in the scraping and cleaning of the clay, and how she moved with heavy steps instead of with the light tripping walk he remembered. Her eyes were still shadowed.
He’d tracked down Hal Tremayne in his pit captain’s hut and asked about Morwen’s reaction to being Charles’s housekeeper. It had been four days since he’d made the offer. Hal looked at him squarely.
‘Fact is, our Morwen’s refused absolutely, sir. Near tore my head off when I mentioned it. I’m sorry, Mr Killigrew. Our Morwen’s still mazed by the Penry girl’s death, and can’t seem to get over it.’
He was uneasy at his daughter’s refusal, seeing it as a slight to the generosity of a good boss. It would suit the family too. Sam was wanting to be wed soon, and they needed the room… he said as much to Charles.
‘Sam’s a good worker, Hal,’ Charles commented. ‘Does he have ambitions to better himself?’
Hal smiled, on safer ground. ‘He aims to be a pit captain, same as me!’
‘Good!’ Charles said briskly. ‘You’ve no objection if I speak to Morwen myself, Hal?’
He changed the topic so smoothly, Hal blinked.
‘I’ll send for her, sir—’
‘Don’t do that. She has a will of her own, and may well turn turtle if she thinks it’s me she has to see. Send your young Freddie to say you want to see her in your hut, and I’ll await her here, Hal.’
The man obeyed, while Charles was asking himself impatiently why he seemed so obsessed in helping the Tremayne girl, when she didn’t seem to want to be helped! He was as concerned for her as if she was his own daughter, he thought, to his surprise.
He heard Hal instruct his youngest son to go and fetch Morwen for him, and the boy scampered off in the direction of the linhay, full of importance.
‘Daddy wants you in his hut, our Morwen. You’m not to dawdle, ’cos ’tis urgent.’ Freddie told her.
The other bal maidens glanced at one another. All were struck by the way poor Morwen was taking her friend’s death so badly.
‘If yon Killigrew’s been saying you’ve been idling, girl, just tell un ’tis not every day you bury a friend!’ one said sharply. ‘Got no feelings, some on ’em—’
‘I’m coming, Freddie,’ Morwen said swiftly, not wanting to dwell on the subject. She knew she wasn’t working a quarter as well as the others any more, but God, it hurt to know how much she missed Celia.
She left the linhay’s chalk-dry atmosphere. She hated passing the clay pool, hurrying across the squelching ground to the pit captain’s hut. She wouldn’t look at the milky green water, but her imagination tormented her. She almost burst inside the hut, slamming the door behind her, catching her breath in the gloom of it.
‘Sit down, Morwen,’ Charles Killigrew said gravely.
She flinched at his voice.
‘Where’s my Daddy?’ she demanded.
‘It was I who wanted you, Morwen. I’m not a man to mince words. I want you to work for me at Killigrew House. Why are you refusing me?’
‘Why me?’ she countered at once, her blue eyes distant. ‘Anyone could do the job, and would be glad to—’
‘It’s you I want,’ he said bluntly. ‘I’m being selfish, Morwen, because I can’t forget how you helped me last week. If such an attack occurred again – which it may well do – I’d like to know you were about the place.’
He didn’t see the faintest flicker in her eyes. God dammit, didn’t she care if he lived or died! So be it. He could be shameless in his methods when he chose. He spoke crisply.
‘I’m told your brother wants to be wed soon. Your cottage is far too small to hold all of you. I hear Sam has ambitions to be a pit captain, like your father. It’s possible it could happen much earlier than with your father if a vacancy arises, and of course he’ll be wanting to raise a family of his own. How would they all manage in that cottage, Morwen?’
Morwen’s eyes burned with angry suspicion. Her mouth tightened, but still she said nothing.
‘Work for me, Morwen,’ Charles said abruptly. ‘When you do, I’ll move your folks into a small house I own, between here and St Austell. Your mother could do her sewing in comfort. Your brother Sam and his new wife could live in your present cottage, and a lot of people would be very much happier. Think of your day off, with your mother so near. You and she could stroll about the town like the rest of the St Austell ladies. Does it begin to sound more attractive?’
‘It begins to sound like blackmail, Mr Killigrew!’ Morwen blazed at him. Yet she was tempted… she hated herself for being tempted by the bait he dangled in front of her. A far juicier bait than the mere advantages he outlined. He would lift her status and that of her family in a trice, if she said the word.
‘That’s another name for it,’ Charles agreed dryly.
‘Why should you do this for us? We’re nothing to you—’
He caught hold of her cold hands, gripping them tightly.
‘Morwen, I’ve taken an interest in you, and I’ve no wish to see you sliding downhill into a complete nervous collapse. Any fool can see that you should get away from this place with its unhappy memories, and I’m offering you the chance. I want your sunny smile around me, and it’s sadly missing. A new environment can sometimes work miracles, my dear, so why not accept one when it’s offered?’
A sudden shine blurred her eyes. Celia had so wanted a miracle to happen for her. She knew what Celia would say if Morwen was daft enough to refuse this chance! She wouldn’t think of anything else but the benefits to her family. She wouldn’t think of seeing Ben Killigrew every single day…
‘I accept.’ She spoke quickly. ‘If you’ll do all you’ve said, Mr Killigrew—’
‘I never break a promise, girl,’ he growled, resisting the urge to hug her. Reminding himself that she was Hal Tremayne’s daughter, not his. But he was not one to let the grass grow, and he spoke as quickly as she.
‘I’d like you to start at once. You’ll be given proper clothes, of course. A plain dress for working, and a better one when you act as hostess at my table, as my sister did—’
Morwen was overcome with fright at his words.
‘I know nothing of such things! I’ll let you down—’
‘No, you won’t! Good God, a clever girl like you can check that linen’s clean and aired. You can consult with Cook on the daily menus and tell the skivvies when they’ve left dust on the mantels. You can use the library at Killigrew House if you’re flummoxed. There’s a whole section of books with simple pictures to instruct you on how a house is run! Now, does it all seem so difficult?’
‘Not if ’tis as straightforward as you make it sound,’ Morwen said grudgingly, but unconsciously her chin lifted, and Charles Killigrew saw it. Her pride was at stake, and here was a chance to make her Daddy proud of her too. Housekeeper at Killigrew House. The words had a ring to them.
‘We’ll collect your belongings, and you can return with me this afternoon. We’ll inform your father at o
nce,’ Charles wouldn’t let her delay the moment. ‘I’ll not leave this pit without you, Morwen.’
His eyes challenged her, and she smothered the sudden fright. She’d made her decision, and she wouldn’t go back on it. She’d have to cope with all the other things… seeing Ben… but thankfully not seeing the hated Jude Pascoe too. In her ignorance, she assumed that he would have left the Killigrew house with his mother, and was blessedly unaware of her mistake.
By the time Charles’s horse and trap clattered towards Killigrew House, Morwen Tremayne was sitting tensely by his side, her few chattels stowed beneath the hard wooden seat. She was beginning to think this day wasn’t happening, that she hadn’t just bid her Mammie and Daddy and brothers a tearful farewell, as though she was never going to see them again. As though the few miles between them were as vast as an ocean.
If Morwen felt disorientated, then so did Ben. His head swam, feeling several sizes too big for his skin. He shivered and burned simultaneously, and he didn’t need a doctor to tell him he’d contracted the influenza that was rife in the town. His brain felt like wool, Cook’s stew had scalded his throat so that he drank gallons of water to counteract it. He wasn’t sure if it was still day or night, and he staggered to his window to push the curtains aside for some air.
Then he really thought he must be hallucinating. Charles’s trap had just arrived, and beside his father, wraithlike and nervous, was Morwen Tremayne. She stepped down from the trap, her travelling bag in her hands. What in God’s name was she doing here? He tried to call out, but he staggered against the window with a great crash, and then the floor came up and met him.
Charles rushed through the house much faster than he should, with Morwen hurrying after him, her heart thumping at seeing Ben apparently falling in an upstairs room. Charles took the stairs two at a time, bawling at her to follow, and hollering for someone to appear. Cook scuttled out from the kitchen, her eyes round and frightened at the commotion.
‘Where’s that goddamned nephew of mine, woman? Send him for the doctor—’
‘He’s gone out, sir, not wanting any dinner nor anything,’ she stuttered.
‘Shall I go for the doctor, sir?’ Morwen said at once. ‘If you’ll tell me where to go—’
‘No! One of the skivvies can go,’ he barked out. ‘See to it, Mrs Horn. Morwen Tremayne’s the new housekeeper, so you may as well inform everybody to that effect, and tell one of them to be sharp and get the doctor here.’
Cook’s astonished eyes turned to Morwen, then she turned abruptly to do Killigrew’s bidding. Morwen felt sick at his clumsiness, and at the knowledge that Jude Pascoe was clearly still part of the household. But there was no time to think of it now. She followed Charles into Ben’s room, her fingers untying her bonnet, her heart leaping to see him lying insensible on the floor.
‘We’d best not move him, in case any bones are broken,’ Charles said harshly.
He crouched beside his son, and without thinking, Morwen did the same, putting her cool hand on Ben’s brow. She could feel that it was furnace-hot. Beads of sweat studded his forehead and lips, and he was delirious. She felt fearful for him, and knew her fears were echoed in Charles’s mind. Whatever else she felt about Ben Killigrew, she could pity him now.
Any unintentional ill-wishing on Celia’s account that Morwen might have done had been directed at Jude Pascoe, not at Ben. She knew it now, when his body was shaking with fever, and she felt so helpless… his restless hands seemed to be seeking comfort, and it was Morwen’s hands that he grasped.
She murmured softly, hoping to calm him, while his eyes burned vacantly, and he didn’t see her. She was aware of Charles getting to his feet and prowling about the room, frustrated and blaspheming at the time it took a skivvy to fetch the doctor when his son might be dying…
His words made Morwen shiver. She had seen enough of death. She willed Ben to hold on… kneeling nearer to him, her dark hair swinging across his face. As though aware of her presence through his mumblings, he reached up and caught a handful of her hair in his grasp, holding her captive by it, as he’d done once before. Morwen felt embarrassed in his strong grip, held close to his face, while his father seemed unaware of what was happening between the two of them.
At last Charles said the doctor had arrived, and somehow Ben seemed to know what was happening, and released his hold on Morwen.
‘We must get the boy into bed,’ the doctor snapped, annoyed at being disturbed from a good dinner, despite the fee he could expect from Charles Killigrew.
‘I thought it best not to move him,’ Charles said resentfully. ‘He might have broken bones—’
‘I never had an influenza patient yet with broken bones as a symptom,’ the doctor grunted. ‘With all the germs flying about, it’s not surprising that Ben’s got it. I’ve been at Daniel Gorran’s bedside earlier tonight, and I gather Ben’s been seeing him today. Fool of a man should have been in bed a week ago. It’s a good thing this young man’s fit and strong. They’ve had a bad epidemic of the illness over at Bodmin. They’ve buried a dozen or so there already.’
Chapter Twelve
Ben thought he must be still dreaming. He’d heard Morwen Tremayne’s voice so often while he’d threshed about in his bed, he knew his mind must be rambling. He’d felt her soft hand on his brow, smelled the warm, musky, familiar scent of her. He’d been calmed in his nightmares, merely by her presence. Yet he’d never believed that she was real until now, when he opened his eyes for the first time without the fever of delirium clouding them.
He turned his head a fraction, and saw Morwen’s slender figure as she gazed out of his window at the rain sliding down the panes. The September rains could change from damp gentle warmth to the angry lashings of coastal gales and change the beautiful rugged landscape to a spectacular holocaust of grey seas and storm-washed cliffs… his thoughts shifted direction, becoming more lucid now the fever had left him.
He wanted to feel Morwen’s hand soothe his brow again… a dark shadow leaned over him. Ben registered the portly shape of Doctor Pender and felt a brief resentment that it was the doctor and not Morwen who held his wrist and peered into his eyes. What in God’s name was Morwen doing here, anyway? He couldn’t think that clearly yet.
‘So you’re back with us at last, are you, Ben?’ Doctor Pender commented. ‘You’ve your pretty nurse here to thank for pandering to you this last week, which probably saved your father from putting more strain on that dicky heart of his.’
Ben looked at him sharply. In one blunt sentence, the doctor had told Ben what he had a right to know. That Charles Killigrew wasn’t invincible…
‘Must he continue to stay in bed, Doctor?’ Morwen said, moving towards them.
Ben tried to ignore her surprising, delightful presence, and looked directly at Doctor Pender.
‘Is my father ill? How bad is his heart?’
‘No worse than it should be for a man who roars like a lion and sends his blood pressure soaring at the slightest provocation,’ the doctor said dryly. ‘He’ll outlast me if he behaves himself. Installing this young woman in the house in place of that caustic aunt of yours is a step in the right direction. A pretty face is a tonic in itself.’
Morwen’s cheeks warmed as Ben glanced at her. Installed in Killigrew House, was she! Surely his father hadn’t gone mad and taken himself a mistress… and if he had, then not Morwen Tremayne… Ben felt his blood surge furiously at the thought. He’d best keep calm or his temperature would be rising again. But by God, it was rising now, at the mere thought of his father and Morwen…
‘I’m the new housekeeper, sir,’ she said primly, her eyes daring him to think otherwise. Just as if she could read every bloody suspicious thought in his head! Ben took in the plain brown dress she wore, and knew it was so. His relief made his voice curt.
‘I see. Presumably it amused my father to keep this news to himself—’
‘There was no time to tell you. It was all arranged suddenly—’ her
cheeks burned, as she made it sound worse. She turned to the doctor, her nose in the air.
‘I think I’d best leave you with your patient, Doctor.’
‘And tell his father the boy’s well enough to receive visitors, please, nurse. I gather a young lady’s been enquiring after him,’ Doctor Pender said jovially.
Morwen walked from the sick room, head held high. She knew very well how many times Jane Carrick had sent messages this past week. When all risk of infection was gone, it would be Jane sitting here with him to tease his appetite with fruit and sweets. Miss finelady… Morwen had not waited for the influenza to pass…
She bumped into a shadowy figure in the passage outside, and recoiled as usual as she encountered Jude Pascoe.
‘Don’t fret, I won’t touch you,’ Jude growled. He remembered the way she had flown at him when he’d first seen her here last week. He remembered her wildcat ways… ‘I’m sent for any message to deliver to the Carricks, since I’m off to Truro on an errand.’
He scowled, thinking himself nothing but a bloody errand-boy now, while Ben languished upstairs, waited on hand and foot. It was raining too, and no one would give a tinker’s cuss whether he got the bloody influenza or not… he glared at Morwen, putting on airs and graces, and her the daughter of a clayworker…
‘Ask your uncle and cousin about that,’ Morwen said icily, as she swept by him.
Never could she forget what a bastard he was. She hated him more, since coming here to live. He’d got away with it, and was free to do it all again, with any gullible girl like Celia. Morwen remembered her first night in Killigrew House too. Once Ben was safely settled, she heard the doctor’s strict orders that no visitors must be allowed until risk of infection was past. The influenza epidemic was virulent in the county, and the rule was strictly enforced.
Killigrew Clay Page 14
