‘And how dare you interrupt like this, Aunt!’ he snapped.
‘Why should I not visit my brother in his time of need?’
‘He doesn’t need you and never did,’ Ben said harshly. ‘And since we have important matters to discuss, I’d be obliged if you would leave this room until we’ve finished. If Father wishes to see you later, then you may return.’
Her answer was to sit firmly in the window seat, arms folded. Ben glared at her for a minute, then turned back to Charles, ignoring her completely.
‘Have you understood all I’ve said, Father?’ he asked Charles urgently. Charles nodded, his mouth working painfully.
‘Not – an imbecile – yet!’ he managed.
‘Good. Then you’ll know I speak for the good of Killigrew Clay, and not for personal power.’ He heard his aunt snort in the background, and knew his words were not the entire truth. Personal power was suddenly very sweet, but only for the future of Killigrew Clay and its continued prosperity. He went on.
‘Father, I don’t want to wait for my inheritance. I want total control of the works now—’
Hannah jumped to her feet, outraged.
‘What are you saying now? You’ll give the man a seizure, forcing him into these wicked agreements. I’ve been wrong about you all this time! You’re ten times more devious than my Jude—’
‘Aunt, will you please shut up!’ Ben rounded on her wildly. ‘Otherwise, I shall forcibly put you outside this room.’
Her mouth dropped open. This was certainly a different Ben from the one she had always known, the Ben she’d thought so prissy with his college ways compared with Jude’s brashness…
A nervous-looking Mrs Tilley announced the doctor’s arrival, and Ben guessed that the fuss could be heard all over the house. Doctor Pender looked from one flushed face to another, and put his own interpretation on it.
‘You’ll have told your father about the accident, then,’ he said briefly.
‘And that’s another thing,’ Hannah put in angrily. ‘Those awful waggons are a danger to townsfolk. I’ve always said so—’
A strangled roar from the bed made them all pause for a moment as Charles managed a pathetic attempt at his old style.
‘Get – out – woman!’
Doctor Pender took charge. ‘I think it would be best while I examine my patient,’ he told her. ‘I’ll call you when he’s ready to see you again.’
She had no option but to obey, and stamped outside in a fury. Ben guessed that she wouldn’t move far, but he cared little for her movements. There were more pressing problems.
‘Doctor, it’s essential I speak with my father. Can your examination wait a short while? I shall also need a witness, and I would prefer you to my aunt.’
‘Very well,’ the doctor said, a little mystified. ‘You’re paying the bill, young man.’
The words were truer than the doctor knew, and Ben quickly outlined what he had already told his father, seeing the doctor’s eyes widen a little. Had he appeared so lily-livered that none of them expected him to take such action? Ben thought angrily. He turned back to Charles.
‘Father, when I said I didn’t want to wait for my inheritance, I wasn’t asking you to give me everything. I’ve bought out Richard Carrick, and I want to buy you out too.’
Charles sucked in his breath, and once again Ben wiped away the spittle at his mouth. Then, slowly, he drew out the two notes from his pocket, and held them up for Charles to see.
‘This is from Richard Carrick, signing his half of Killigrew Clay over to me on payment of shares to the correct value. This other note is from a gentleman called Jervis Penhaligon, promising to pay me the same amount. I’m offering this second sum to you, Father, to buy your half of Killigrew Clay and put the entire works in my safe keeping.’
‘Dear God!’ Ben heard the doctor exclaim, as Charles struggled to follow all that was being said. ‘Forgive my asking, Ben, but just how did you come by this vast amount of capital? Investment Shares, and promissory notes from gentlemen?’
Ben gave a tight smile.
‘I came by them both in the same way,’ he said dryly. ‘It wasn’t only my education that flourished in London. I also learned how to gamble for high stakes, and there were never higher stakes than this—’
Hannah Pascoe rushed into the room, and had clearly been hovering outside all the while, as Ben had suspected.
‘So this is how low you’ve sunk, Ben Killigrew! You had the gall to censure my son, and you nothing but a common gambler! Your father will never do as you say. He’s got more sense, despite his addled brain—’
A strange new noise was coming from the bed, stopping her flow of words. Ben looked sharply at his father, where Doctor Pender was already bending over him. But it was no new seizure racking the old man. Incredulously, Ben saw that Charles was laughing, his poor twisted face a grotesque mask, but still laughing for all that. His hands waved wildly, gesturing towards the paper and pen beside his bed.
‘Well – done!’ Charles ground out. ‘Boy’s – got – guts! I’ll – sign - paper—’
‘You’re a fool, Charles Killigrew!’ Hannah shouted. ‘You’ll live to regret this—’
Ben smiled sweetly at her. ‘If you’re worried about your continuing allowance, Aunt, it will go on as before – providing, of course, I don’t hear that my name has been blackened by any defamatory tales about me. Do I make myself clear?’
He could see by her face that it was crystal clear. She was as beholden to him now as she had been to Charles. She may hate it, but without their patronage she was penniless. She gave a furious nod before she strode out, speechless for once. Ben spoke to the doctor.
‘I’ll write the note for my father, and I’d be obliged if you would witness his signature, and then I’ll inform Daniel Gorran of the new arrangements, and put everything in the hands of our family solicitors.’
He looked down at Charles, feeling a great lump in his throat now that it was all settled. Charles had founded Killigrew Clay, and built it up from nothing. It had been his dream… Ben squeezed his father’s hand hard, and leaned towards him.
‘You have my pledge that I’ll do my best for Killigrew Clay,’ he said huskily. ‘I’ll make it the best pit in Cornwall!’
Charles’s eyes watered, whether with tears of relief or just the damnable ailment that made him so helpless, Ben wasn’t sure. But he became briskly efficient and saw to the business dealings between them all. Time was running on, and he still had much to do that day. He had had very little sleep, but sleep could come later…
* * *
By the time he’d been to town and back on the necessary errands and was preparing to leave again for the meeting in the market square, Morwen was sitting with his father. He had given her the brief gist of what had been happening, and it still stunned her. She could hardly take it all in, but it appeared that Ben Killigrew was now the owner of Killigrew Clay, and as such, his status had changed. She was pleased for him, of course… but for herself…?
She must have been looking vaguely into space,when she felt the touch of Charles’s hand on her shoulder. She looked up quickly, but he wasn’t in any distress.
‘Go – with – Ben,’ he said in his laboured way. ‘Be – with – him.’
He had talked enough for one day, and the hand fell away from her shoulder as Ben came into the room. Morwen felt her face flush, unsure what Charles meant. But Ben was very sure.
‘I agree with Father, Morwen. I want you with me at the town meeting,’ he said quietly. ‘Mrs Tilley will sit with him for the rest of the day—’
‘The rest of the day?’ Morwen echoed.
‘Once the town meeting’s over, they’ll know I’m the new owner, and the clayworkers must be informed just as quickly. I want to call a meeting at the works, and try to end this damn strike once and for all. Will you come with me, Morwen?’
She felt her throat tighten. ‘Is it my place to be with you now? People will be sure to r
esent it. I’m still Hal Tremayne’s daughter, Ben—’
‘I know exactly who you are. You’re also in my employ now, and I’m ordering your attendance, woman!’ He made an attempt to be jocular, and Morwen gave the ghost of a smile as Charles chuckled. It amused him…. but Ben’s words were enough to turn her stomach all the same. Her chin lifted.
‘Of course I’ll accompany you, sir,’ she said gravely.
‘Then let’s be on our way. It’s nearing noon, and it wouldn’t do for me to be late. Mrs Tilley will be with you directly, Father.’ He spoke briskly.
‘Good – luck—’ Charles croaked.
* * *
Ben realised he needed some luck when he faced the jostling crowd at the town meeting. The day was cold, but it hadn’t stopped everyone turning out to hear what young Killigrew intended doing for poor old Nott, who had suddenly assumed heroic status in their eyes; and for the foolish clayworkers who, after all, hadn’t asked to die…
Ben took a quick look round, and thanked God that he had the wherewithal to make some amends. He had never really appreciated the usefulness of money until now. He had always had an ample allowance from Charles, but now he realised the power it gave him when he had control of his own destiny at last.
He thanked God too, for the presence of the constables, who pressed back the crowd as they surged forward when he and Morwen stood on the stone steps of the market square, and he tried to call for quiet.
‘What’s the girl got to do wi’ this?’ A few angry shouts came from the crowd. ‘’Tain’t her business—’
‘Morwen Tremayne is the daughter of my top pit captain,’ Ben shouted back. ‘She has every right to know what’s to be done for the clayworkers who died—’
‘Your pit captain, is it? Be ’ee taking over now that your Daddy’s lyin’ ill and helpless, Ben Killigrew? Do he know it, I wonder?’
The man was shushed by those nearest him, but the catcalls went on and on… Ben was frequently shouted down by the fierce arguments among the crowd as to the priorities of the meeting.
‘It don’t matter about that! What’s to be done for poor old Nott, eh? He didn’t get no fancy doctorin’ like Charles Killigrew, and who’s to pay for the funeral? We want to see justice done, Killigrew—’
Morwen’s heart hammered at the onslaught on Ben, with every new accusation bringing more angry abuse. She couldn’t guess how he was feeling. He stood tall and proud, and she felt a surge of love for him, facing this angry mob with courage and patience. But his patience wouldn’t last much longer. He had his father’s temper, and it was about to erupt.
‘If you noisy buggers will keep quiet for five minutes, I’ll tell you exactly what I intend to do about the situation!’
Ben’s voice suddenly roared out above the tumult, and to all of them, it was Charles Killigrew’s voice to the life. It was Charles Killigrew’s style and, incredibly to Morwen, they all fell silent, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot in the cold damp afternoon.
‘That’s better!’ Ben’s voice rang with authority. His eyes were cold as steel as he looked around the crowd. ‘Firstly, for the benefit of those who think I’m play-acting here, I am now the sole and legal owner of Killigrew Clay, and for any who doubt that, you may call on Messrs Grey and Boswell, where the legal documents are being drawn up right now.’
There were murmurs among the crowd at this, and Morwen could see that none doubted what they were being told. This was a different Ben from any that even she knew…
‘Secondly, I want justice done every bit as much as the rest of you,’ he went on coldly. ‘And although it was no fault of mine that the accident took place—’ he had to pause for some jeering that was quickly suppressed, ‘I will take full responsibility, since it was a Killigrew clay waggon that was involved. Mr Nott will have a respectable funeral, and so will the clayworkers. The bakery will be rebuilt as soon as possible.’
The mood of the crowd changed. Ben was quickly becoming their champion now. Morwen could see it and feel it, and the relief of it was overwhelming, though how Ben could hope to pay for all this, she didn’t know. His next words made her gasp.
‘I see no need to prolong this meeting much longer, but I want to say one final thing. Now that Killigrew Clay is under my control, I propose to end the twice-yearly movement of clay waggons through the streets of St Austell. As soon as I can make the arrangements, I intend to build rail tracks to take my clay to Charlestown port—’
Anything else he said was drowned out in a great burst of cheering. Hats were tossed in the air, and people pressed forward to shake his hand. Ben Killigrew was the hero of the hour…
* * *
Mingling among the crowd were groups of young kiddley boys from the Killigrew clay works. Sent by the clayworkers to see what was happening about the accident, or just arriving out of plain curiosity to a new bit of excitement to brighten the dull idle days, they had their own views on Ben Killigrew’s words as they raced back over the moors to report on the town meeting to any who would listen.
‘My Daddy says if the boss builds rail tracks, there’ll be even less work—’
‘Ben Killigrew’s a snot-nose, just like his father. We’ll get no wage dues out of un now—’
‘’Twill throw more on us out o’work, ’specially if he’s payin’ for some old fool’s buryin’. What’s it matter to a dead un if he gets a fine buryin’ or not?’
‘’Tis all show, just to keep in well wi’ the townsfolk. Bosses don’t care about we! Old Thomas Penry ’ould rather have a few extra pennies to put food in his belly than a fine box to bury un in!’
‘’Tis too late for un now. My Daddy says he had his fun and his ale in the few weeks he worked at Bult’s and Vine’s—’
‘And look where it got un. Burned to a frazzle and squashed like rotten turnips. They say his brains were all spewing out of his head when they found un, and they couldn’t even see John Penry’s arms and legs, where they was all mixed up wi’ the horses’ guts—’
They panted on over the moors, adding more and more gory scenes to what they knew, and what they had gleaned in the town. When they reached the crown of the hill, they dispersed, each with his own garbled tale to tell, adding even more fuel to the flames of an already incensed striking body of clayworkers.
* * *
If Ben had been aware of this, he would undoubtedly have gone immediately to Killigrew Clay to organise the clayworkers’ meeting. As it was, by the time the constables managed to clear the market square of people, and he’d had his hand shaken so many times that it throbbed, he felt badly in need of a breathing space. So much had happened so fast, and his throat was hoarse from shouting. He spoke quickly.
‘We’ll go round to the solicitor’s chambers before we do anything else, Morwen. I want to be sure everything is going ahead, and Philip Grey will give us a welcome hot drink. I’m so parched I could drink an ocean.’
‘I’m not surprised.’ She spoke almost shyly. People still milled about, and she looked up at him with shining eyes. ‘Ben, you were magnificent. I was so proud—’
She stopped. Should she be saying these things? She was so conscious of his position now, so damnably conscious…
He squeezed her hand, but he was unable to comment, as yet another matron came forward to gushingly compliment him on his diplomacy, and to express pleasure that poor dear Mr Nott wouldn’t be entirely forgotten.
‘Next thing, they’ll be constructing a wooden seat in his memory,’ Ben whispered in her ear as they finally made their way through the busy streets towards Messrs Grey and Boswell’s chambers, aided by the constables.
Morwen felt as though she moved in a dream. None of this seemed real. She was suddenly swept up into a world she didn’t know, of legal negotiations, and the staggering knowledge that Ben had done all this by his own shrewd thinking.
Going to Richard Carrick, and banking on the fact that the Carricks would be glad to be rid of any association with the Killigrews now. A
nd the next, unbelievable step, to her, of risking everything he’d won on a throw of the dice. She had heard the full story by now, and it only underlined the fact that she didn’t really know Ben Killigrew at all.
Had she ever known him? Or was he just a fantasy in her mind? One that she loved so much that she would die for him… he had told her he loved her too, and she had believed him. But that was a different Ben, not this somehow lonely figure who now owned an empire…
Morwen shivered as they entered the solicitors’ chambers, and here again, she was out of her depth as the men spoke of the legal details she could never hope to understand. Everything served to put her at a distance from the Ben she loved. Everything made him seem even further out of reach, as remote as the stars that she could never hope to touch.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Freddie Tremayne hurtled in through the door of the cottage, his legs still running as he was caught up by his father.
‘Be ’ee trying to scare the daylights out on us, boy?’ Hal said shortly. His good humour was not so noticeable of late, as the clay strike was seemingly endless.
Freddie squealed to be put down, his eyes round with excitement as Bess remonstrated with her man to stop being so hard on the child. But Freddie had no time to be affronted. He had news to tell.
‘Some o’ the other kiddley boys be saying Ben Killigrew’s told the town that he’s the new boss o’ Killigrew Clay. Our Morwen were there with un, all fancy-like in the market square, and Ben Killigrew’s saying we’ll get our dues, and he’ll build rail tracks, and there was cheering and clapping—’
He stopped for breath as his brothers leapt to their feet to quiz the boy.
‘You’m fancyin’ again, our Freddie,’ sniggered Jack. ‘Or else the kiddley boys were funnin’ with ’ee —’
‘Our Morwen was with Ben Killigrew in the market square while he gave out such news?’ Bess exclaimed. She frowned, for it was hardly the girl’s place…
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