Killigrew Clay

by Killigrew Clay (retail) (epub)

  Morwen felt the urge to retch at the gleeful words, and forced the feeling down, thankful that Ben hadn’t been recognised by the man. The two of them pushed their way through the gawping townsfolk to where the remnants of the Killigrew Clay waggon was stuck at a ludicrous angle through the shop front, fiercely ablaze.

  The smell was appalling, clogging the nostrils, turning the stomach. The smoke stung the eyes, the heat drying them. Morwen choked and gagged, feeling Ben grip her arm tightly. Workers tried desperately to get near to the flames, but were instantly beaten back. Morwen guessed that the boy’s tale of the horses needing to be slaughtered was quite unnecessary now. Surely nothing could survive in there. She felt the sobs, tight in her chest, and was too horrified to cry.

  ‘Does anyone know who the men were?’ Ben shouted to the crowd. The men would have families, would need to be identified. Morwen couldn’t believe that any of her family were involved, but it was always possible… it made her ragged with fear.

  ‘’Tis the Killigrew boy!’ The shout went up, and a new fear shivered through Morwen as the crowd seemed to turn their fury onto Ben. ‘’Tis all due to the bloody Killigrews that poor old Nott’s a charred crisp!’

  ‘What be ’ee goin’ to do about it, Killigrew?’

  Someone threw a stone, grazing the side of Ben’s cheek.

  ‘I’ve got more sense than to think violence will help matters!’ Ben shouted. ‘I’m here to help, in any way I can—’

  ‘There’s no one can help poor Nott, nor they others in the waggon—’

  ‘Ben, I must know who they were!’ The sobs were suddenly tight in Morwen’s chest. No amount of blame could bring back the clayworkers that were dead. She had to know if any of them belonged to her… Sam or Jack or her Daddy… the thought was unbelievable, but she knew how aroused the men were. They were wild enough to insist on a token delivery of clay, claiming the dues for themselves. She’d heard of it happening before…

  The constables were suddenly thrusting through the crowd, shouting for order and for space to let the doctor through. He had been tending a sick child when told of the accident, and was furious with himself for being so tardy on the scene. Doctor Pender saw Morwen’s white face and beckoned her forward.

  ‘Do you have the stomach to see if we’ve anyone to save in there, girl?’ he asked roughly. ‘A woman thinks she heard cries a while back, and now the worst of the flames have gone, will you assist me if need be? It won’t be pleasant—’

  ‘I’ll help,’ she said at once, her mouth so dry the words would hardly emerge. She saw Ben talking rapidly to the constables, and they managed to get a little quiet among the angry mob, shouting that Ben Killigrew had something to say. She moved towards the charred waggon, steaming from the buckets of water thrown on it. She was near to fainting, but she had to know. She had to know.

  Behind her, she heard Ben roaring well enough to do his father credit that if there was compensation to pay, then Killigrew Clay would pay it, even though the cost of it might well finish them. The strike would have been all for nothing then, for the entire lot of them would be out of work.

  She heard his voice rise above his critics as he said he would call for a town meeting as soon as the damage could be ascertained, and until then, they had best go back to their homes, stop acting like ghouls and let the helpers get on with their task.

  He was authoritative enough to be obeyed. Morwen sensed the dwindle of voices as she and Doctor Pender picked their way through the stinking wreckage, along with the constables, the firefighters, and those who had genuinely come to help. Her breath was tight in her chest, both from the choking smoke and the fear… she clambered through what had once been the frontage of Nott’s bakery into the dusty gloom inside.

  ‘Christ!’ she heard the doctor blaspheme softly. ‘Don’t look here, Morwen. There’s no help for these, nor any chance of telling who they were.’

  ‘Over here, Doctor!’ one of the constables called. ‘I think the man’s dead, but there’s another beneath un who may not be. ’Tis hard to tell—’

  Morwen followed in the doctor’s footsteps, trying not to look at the tangled carnage of men and horses. The acrid stink of burning and the soft sweet lingering smell of old Nott’s loaves were in horrible contrast. And then she stumbled against something soft at her feet, where the constable was kneeling with a lantern. She looked down and screamed.

  ‘Oh God. Oh, dear God—’ the words were torn from her lips, and then she felt Ben’s hands gripping her shoulders.

  Doctor Pender was bending over the two crushed men. One older, one younger, both horribly mutilated, their faces more grotesque than Charles Killigrew’s…

  ‘Both dead,’ the doctor snapped. ‘Nothing to be done. At least someone can identify them—’

  ‘I know them!’ Morwen’s voice shook. ‘Their names are Thomas and John Penry. They used to work at Number One pit. ’Tis Celia’s Daddy and brother. Oh, I can’t bear it, I can’t—’

  Ben’s hand struck her cheek hard as her voice became distracted. First Celia, now Thomas and John… John Penry, who had loved her in his gentle way…

  ‘Take her home, Ben,’ Doctor Penry said harshly. ‘Get her out of this before I have another patient to deal with tomorrow. I was forgetting she would know these people so well.’

  It was so ironic right now… had the doctor thought she was a young lady, like Jane Carrick, because she had been so often in the Killigrew house? Once, she might have preened herself. Once, before this terrible night when poor John Penry was one of the victims of the Killigrew strike. Morwen wept silently, mourning them all.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Somehow they got through the menacing crowd. Ben roared all the way, his arm protectively around Morwen’s shoulders. It was as though the spirit of his father was in him, and Charles Killigrew’s authority was rarely disputed.

  ‘I’ll speak to you at noon tomorrow in the market square,’ he bellowed above the noise. ‘The constables have my word on it. I can do no more until then, and I’d thank you to let us pass.’

  The townsfolk parted to let them through, muttering all the while. Morwen was still numb with shock, unable to think of anything but the poor crushed bodies of the clay men, who had been as familiar to her as her own family. Sobs choked her throat as they hastened away, and she almost fell across the back of her horse as she and Ben reached the tethered animals.

  Before she could get her jumbled thoughts together, Ben had jumped up behind her, holding her fast, and digging his heels into the horse’s side. The two horses had been tied together, and his own followed obediently as they headed for home.

  Morwen leaned against Ben, hardly knowing that she did so, merely grateful for his strength and warmth. Without it, she felt as though she would crumble into a spongy mass, like those others… the thought began a deep silent weeping inside her, racking her body that Ben held close to him. He felt the sorrow in her, and ached for her, even through his fury at the night’s recklessness and needless tragedy.

  ‘I can say nothing to comfort you, my love,’ he said harshly, never feeling so helpless as at that moment. ‘All I can say is that they can’t have suffered long. It would have been over in seconds, long before anyone had a chance to help them—’

  Whether he spoke truly or not, he didn’t know. It was all he could think of to say to her. Her reply was bitter.

  ‘They needn’t have suffered at all! If it wasn’t for this senseless, cruel strike—’

  ‘Are you putting the blame on me for that?’ Ben said, angry at the thought. ‘God knows I’ve tried to calm things at the pit when I could, but I’m ruled by my father as much as anyone. At least, I have been, until now.’

  Morwen jerked her head up to look at him in the gloom of evening. There was a grim note in his voice. She couldn’t see him clearly as they rode, only the outline of his face, strong and handsome and determined, and at any other time, infinitely dear to her. But she couldn’t even think of that
now.

  ‘Until now?’

  Ben gave a short harsh laugh that jarred into her pain.

  ‘I think the time has come for my father and I to have a reckoning over Killigrew Clay. I want you to say as little as possible about tonight’s happenings for the time being, Morwen. The household staff will want to know the details, and you’ll be obliged to tell them, but impress on them that my father mustn’t be distressed by hearing of it yet—’

  She stared at his dark silhouette.

  ‘You talk as though you’ll be elsewhere,’ she said suspiciously.

  ‘So I shall. Don’t ask questions of me right now, Morwen.’ Suddenly she could feel the tension in him, and her anger died. This was Ben, whom she loved, and it was obvious that he was going through hell. The weight of Killigrew Clay was lying very heavily on his shoulders now, and the clayworkers’ reaction to tonight’s disaster was still unknown. It would be very ugly. She swallowed dryly, but he couldn’t leave her like this. They were nearing Killigrew House now, and she clutched at his arms.

  ‘Ben, tell me what you’re going to do, please! And – and don’t do anything foolish. Too much blood has been spilled already. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you—’

  She stopped. It wasn’t the time or the place for themselves. She wondered sorrowfully if there would ever be a time. But now they were inside the gates of Ben’s home, and for a moment they were safe. As though the same thought struck him too, Ben twisted her to him as the horse trotted towards the stables.

  She was warm in his arms, and his mouth was on hers, his fingers tangling in her hair as he held her captive. She felt the rapid beat of his heart against her body, and knew that whatever else happened, this much was theirs. These precious moments, this silent avowal of love. She felt it and knew it, as surely as if old Zillah on the moors had decreed it. Together they were strong. Together they would survive anything.

  ‘I have to fetch something from my wall safe, and then I must leave, Morwen,’ Ben spoke softly against her lips. ‘Trust me, my love. See that my father thinks I’ve gone out early in the morning, for I’ll not be back until then. I mean to speak with him at the first opportunity, and before I go to the town meeting. Don’t alarm him if I don’t see him as early as usual.’

  She pulled slightly away from him. ‘You mean to be out all night? Ben, you’ll be in no condition to face the town—’

  ‘Trust me,’ he said again, with that edge to his voice she knew well by now. The Killigrew edge…

  She bit her lip and stayed silent. She had no idea what he planned, but she believed in him implicitly. Briefly, he held her close once more, and she knew she would trust him with her life. She said no more as they went quietly into the house and he went to his own room.

  He didn’t take long, not even bothering to change his clothes, and she went back to the stables with him until he rode off again into the night. For a few moments, Morwen stood still, breathing in the night air, the saltiness of the distant shore and the damp sweetness of the grasses mingling. It was all so calm and beautiful, ethereally drenched in moonlight… and the scene she had left behind her that evening was so terrible by contrast…

  But Ben was right. There was nothing to be done for those who had died, and if something good could emerge from this tragedy, then it would recompense in some small way. How Ben hoped to achieve anything, she had no idea, but his determination to salvage what he could gave her a strange hope.

  It was all she had for the moment. She squared her shoulders and turned to go inside, prepared to answer all the questions hurled at her with as much dignity as she could. She would follow Ben’s instructions. This much she could do to help.

  * * *

  Ben rode hard for Truro. The plans were only half formed in his mind, but they became clearer with every mile he rode. First, he must see Richard Carrick, inform the man of tonight’s accident and of Ben’s promise to hold the town meeting. Then he had other things to discuss with Carrick, and from their last uncomfortable meeting, Ben prayed that the man would agree to everything he suggested. He was counting on it.

  By the time he arrived at the Carrick house, Jane’s parents were about to go to bed, and he was shown into the drawing-room by a very wary housekeeper, relieved that the loud knocking on the door at this late hour was by the young Killigrew boy and not some vagabond.

  ‘Ben! By all that’s holy, what’s wrong? Is your father worse?’ Richard exclaimed at once, eyeing Ben’s unusually dishevelled appearance with dismay. Ben had completely forgotten how he must look, dirty and smoke-grimed, with the stench of the burning waggon still clinging to him. Mrs Carrick had risen to her feet, alarm in her eyes, putting a delicate hand to her nose.

  ‘It’s nothing to do with my father,’ he said abruptly. ‘At least, only indirectly, which is why I must see you, Carrick, and I apologise for the ungodly hour, but emergencies don’t take account of such things—’

  ‘Emergencies, by God! You’d best take some brandy and tell me what’s to do, Ben.’

  ‘I’ll leave you men to discuss your business—’ his wife said stiffly. She had still not forgiven Jane for eloping with the newspaperman, despite a letter from some titled northern gentleman praising Tom Askhew’s ability, claiming that he had a part in their departure and inviting Mary and Richard to stay at his elegant country home at their convenience.

  Neither had she forgiven Ben for apparently knowing of her daughter’s plans, and ruining her own.

  ‘I’d rather you stayed to listen, Mrs Carrick,’ Ben said, to her surprise. ‘I’ve much to say, and you may as well hear it all at first-hand, since I’m sure Richard will relate it to you later.’ He dispensed with formality, and drank the brandy Carrick handed him at one gulp, needing its fiery sting to his belly.

  ‘Go on, Ben,’ the other man said quickly.

  ‘There’s been a terrible accident in St Austell.’ He spoke bluntly and concisely, refusing to lessen the impact for the lady’s benefit. In fact, he intended to shock, and pausing only for Mary to gasp, he went on ruthlessly.

  ‘Some of the Killigrew clayworkers who left our employ took a Killigrew waggon and loaded it with clay blocks. They were probably drunk, and by all accounts they careered through the town at a furious rate. They crashed through Nott’s bakery, killing the baker, all six clayworkers and the horses. By the time I was informed and reached the scene, it was as though an earthquake had occurred. The waggon and the bakery were in flames, the weight of it all had crushed the horses and the men. The stench of burning animal and human flesh was appalling—’

  Mary Carrick gave a low moan, scrabbling for her smelling-salts and sinking on to a chair, her bosom heaving with distress. Richard’s face was an angry red as he began to fan his wife, and turned on his visitor.

  ‘Just wait a moment, young Ben! Do you have to be so graphic in your description? What you’ve told us is ghastly enough, but you could temper it a little—’

  ‘No, sir, I could not! I meant it to sicken you both to your stomachs, the way it sickened me. You’re part owner of Killigrew Clay, even though you’re content to sit here in your fine house and keep away from the business dealings. But it’s time you knew about the hardships of the clayworkers, and what far-reaching effects this bloody strike is leading us to—’

  Richard leapt to his feet.

  ‘I begin to curse the day I ever went into partnership with your father, Ben! I told you recently I wanted to know as little of it as possible,’ he shouted. ‘The two of you act like gods over the damn works – begging your pardon, my dear – and now that Jane’s no longer part of your plans, I’d dearly like to be rid of any involvement with you!’

  ‘I couldn’t agree more,’ Ben said rapidly. ‘It’s one of the reasons I’ve come here tonight. I intend to buy you out, Carrick.’

  For a minute, Richard Carrick stared at him, and then gave a short laugh.

  ‘Now just you hold on, young fellow. Have you any idea what Killigrew Clay
is worth? It’s one thing for me to want to be rid of you, but you’re still wet behind the ears when it comes to business, and I’ve no intention of letting go of my half for a pittance, however attractive it may sound—’

  Ben smiled pleasantly.

  ‘You forget that I studied business methods at college in London, Richard. You also forget that I acquainted myself very fully with Daniel Gorran’s accountancy of Killigrew Clay when I first came home to Cornwall. I’m not the dullard you seem to think I am. I can tell you the value of the works in exact figures, and I assure you that I also have sufficient investments to more than cover your half of the partnership. Maybe these will convince you.’

  He thrust his hand inside his coat and pulled out a bundle of share certificates, keeping a few of them back. He tossed them onto a table. Richard Carrick picked them up curiously, his expression changing to astonishment as his legal mind saw the value and implication of the investments.

  ‘Does your father have any notion that you’re such a wealthy young man?’ Richard said at last.

  ‘No more than you did. He knew I had a few shares, but he merely thought them trifling, and never bothered to find out if I had a business head on my shoulders or not. I didn’t realise their true value myself until tonight.’ He spoke meaningly. ‘Well, sir? I’m willing to leave these shares in your keeping to buy you out of Killigrew Clay, if you’ll give me a note to that effect to show to my father in the morning. You’ll agree that there are sufficient funds there.’

  ‘More than enough, though not for much else,’ Richard said. He looked keenly at Ben. ‘You’re shrewder than any of us thought, I’ll give you that. So your father knows nothing of this visit here tonight? Nor of the accident, I wager, by the look of you. I presume you’ve ridden straight here?’