Taken to Heart

by Jane Jackson

  She was acutely aware of him behind her in the short passage leading to a scullery with a square wooden sink and copper in the corner, and then to the cool dairy with its wide slate shelves and stone trough. He gestured for her to precede him as they retraced their steps.

  Between kitchen and scullery, she opened the back door onto a paved yard containing a well and two lean-to shelters still half full of furze and dried turf squares. ‘So?’ he said. ‘What is your opinion?’

  This time her smile was genuine. ‘It is very well appointed. I think with good staff you will be extremely comfortable.’

  ‘That’s settled then. If Mr Rollason is acting as agent for the owner I shall close with him directly.’

  They returned to the hall and she walked out into the sunshine, her heartbeat quickening as she silently practised inviting him to dinner.

  He locked the door then strode briskly to join her as she started towards the gate. ‘Miss Trevanion?’ She turned. ‘Would you do me the honour of dining with me?’

  Taken aback, she hesitated. ‘Oh – that is most kind of you, but—’ Before she had time to explain he had withdrawn.

  ‘Forgive me,’ he made a brief bow, aloof and unapproachable. ‘I have already taken too much of your time.’

  ‘No,’ she interrupted quickly. ‘You misunderstand. My hesitation was because you had taken the words from my mouth. I was about to invite you to join me for dinner.’

  Quick pleasure warmed his gaze and softened his features as they started down the hill. ‘I have no wish to cause you any inconvenience.’

  She smiled. ‘You won’t. When you went to collect the key, Lizzie informed she was making extra.’

  ‘So it was your neighbour’s idea that we dine together?’

  She saw amusement behind his bland enquiry. ‘No, I had already decided to ask you.’ She did not feel it necessary to tell him of her doubts. ‘She suggested it before I had a chance to tell her. She was concerned that you might feel uncomfortable about eating at The Standard.’

  Bemusement deepened the crease between his brows. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you would need your food cut up for you?’ As he glanced down at the sling cradling his bandaged hand, she wondered if she had been tactless.

  The corners of his mouth tilted briefly. ‘Ah. I see.’ As he looked at her, she was aware once more of his reserve. He used it to keep people at a distance. She knew that because she did the same. This recognition of shared experience was part of her attraction to him. She knew only too well the reasons for her wariness. But what had caused his?

  ‘So your motive was pity?’ he challenged.

  She lifted her chin. ‘Certainly not. Was it yours for accepting?’

  ‘No.’ He frowned and she realized she had surprised him. ‘Why on earth would I pity you?’

  His bewilderment was so obviously genuine she had to bite back laughter. Relief lightened her mood as she cocked an ironic brow at him.

  ‘I am not belittling the grievous loss of your father or your home,’ he said. ‘But others who have found themselves in your position usually seek a governess’s post, or throw themselves upon the mercy of relatives. Your response was far less – prosaic.’

  ‘You talk as though I had choices.’

  ‘Did you not?’ he challenged. ‘I’ll wager you could have left the village and gone to live as companion to some elderly female relative.’

  ‘I could. But such an arrangement would swiftly have proved intolerable to both of us.’

  ‘My point exactly.’

  ‘In any case I didn’t want to leave Porthinnis. So I simply did what made most sense. I am familiar with accounts, and several businesses in the village needed a bookkeeper.’ She shrugged, knowing he was astute enough to realize that her journey from then to now had been considerably more difficult than her words suggested. But she had never sought pity and definitely did not want his.

  ‘I don’t know any other woman who could, or would, have done what you did.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ she offered, poker-faced, ‘you do not know many women?’

  ‘Enough, believe me.’

  ‘Then maybe the ladies of your acquaintance possess a greater sense of decorum.’

  ‘Less courage, certainly.’

  ‘Are you flattering me, Mr Polgray?’

  ‘We have not known each other long, Miss Trevanion. But I believe you have as little regard for flattery as I do. I merely state facts as I see them.’

  His words comforted. She glanced up at him. ‘Being unable to use your hand must be most inconvenient. But I cannot imagine you being the least bit reluctant to ask Esther or one of the girls to cut your meat for you. So, in answer to your question: I invited you to dine with me because—’ her throat dried. But she had come this far and would not fail now. Besides, she thought wryly, had he not just praised her courage? ‘Because I rarely have company, and I enjoy yours.’

  His gaze held hers: enfolding her in warmth. But conditioned to hearing what was not said, she sensed conflict in him and wondered at its cause. Then he smiled, and made a formal bow. ‘Thank you, Miss Trevanion. It would give me great pleasure to dine with you.’

  They parted at the mouth of the alley. While he continued on to see Mr Rollason, she hurried down the yard past her own cottage to Lizzie’s. Savoury smells wafting out of the open door made her stomach gurgle. What had she done? Tapping on the door she leaned in.

  ‘Lizzie? He’s accepted my invitation.’

  Turning from the stove, Lizzie wiped her hands on her apron. ‘’Course he has. I knew he would. Where’s he to now?’

  ‘Gone to tell Mr Rollason he wishes to take the house. He’ll be back shortly.’

  ‘Everything’s ready, bird. You go on in and soon as I hear’n come, I’ll dish up and bring it round.’

  Jenefer took off her hat, gloves and jacket, tidied her hair and washed her hands. She set out cutlery and napkins. When she heard his boots on the cobbles her heart leapt. Adjusting the folds of her kerchief she pressed one hand to her fluttering stomach as he tapped on the door. She went to greet him.

  ‘Come in, Mr Polgray. Let me take your hat.’ She set it on one corner of the dresser. ‘Would you care for a tankard of ale? I keep a keg so I have something to offer my fishermen clients to make them feel more comfortable.’

  ‘I should enjoy that very much, thank you.’

  Handing him the pewter tankard, hoping he would not notice the slight tremor in her hand, she was pouring elderflower cordial into a glass when Lizzie appeared on the threshold carrying a tray.

  ‘All right?’ she beamed. Her cheeks were rosy, but whether this was due to heat from the stove or the fact she was serving a gentleman guest, Jenefer couldn’t be sure. ‘You’ll be ready for your dinner after that long walk.’ Placing the tray on the table, she set the covered plates between each set of cutlery, and a small bowl in the middle.

  Removing the tray, Lizzie went to the door. ‘Anything you want, just shout. I’ll bring your afters d’rectly. Mind that horseradish. He’s a bit fiery.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Jenefer smiled at her.

  With a brisk nod Lizzie hurried out.

  Jenefer lifted off a covering plate and saw that thick slices of roast beef, roast potatoes, carrots and cabbage had been carefully cut into bite-sized pieces. She bit her lip as their eyes met.

  ‘Mine, I think,’ Charles said, and remained standing until she had taken her seat opposite. ‘So, Miss Trevanion,’ he smiled. ‘I have a house.’

  Jenefer looked at him. ‘But what of the lease?’

  ‘Mr Trembath had it drawn up before he left. Apparently all that is necessary is for my name to be inserted and the notary to witness my signature. Mr Rollason has agreed to accompany me to Mr Penkivell’s office later this afternoon.’

  ‘Heavens, Mr Polgray. You are certainly decisive.’

  ‘It was not difficult. The house …’ He stopped.

  ‘Felt right?’ she suggested quietly.
As he nodded, she said. ‘I know what you mean. It was the same for me. This cottage offered a safe haven when I badly needed one. I have been – am – very happy here.’

  ‘You mentioned staff?’ he said. ‘Whom do you recommend?’

  Jenefer spooned a little of the sauce onto the side of her plate, then pushed the bowl across to him. ‘If you are looking for a housekeeper, Cora Eustace is an excellent cook, utterly trustworthy, and does not gossip. She’s a widow and looked after her father until his recent death. So she has no ties.’

  ‘She sounds ideal. Who else?’

  ‘A housemaid. I’m sure Cora will know a suitable girl.’ She cut into her beef and found it tender and delicious. But the sauce’s bite made her cough. ‘Goodness, Lizzie wasn’t joking.’ Dabbing her eyes with her napkin, she pressed it to her mouth to hide laughter as he she watched him swallowed hastily and blow out a breath.

  ‘That is powerful indeed.’

  Jenefer sipped her cordial. ‘I imagine you would prefer to choose your own valet? ‘When he nodded, his head bent over his plate, she went on, ‘Perhaps your man might combine his duties with those of a groom? You’ll also need a gardener. I can recommend Harry Tozer. He lives two doors down on the other side of the Clemmows. My neighbours and I have all turned over our gardens to him. He grows delicious fruit and a great variety of vegetables. And for laundry I suggest Lucy Tallack. She lives along Back Row. But neither of those need be full time positions.’

  ‘I’m relieved to hear you say so. It was beginning to sound very crowded.’

  Smiling, Jenefer shrugged. ‘It’s entirely your choice. But good staff will make your life very much easier and allow you to concentrate on your work.’

  ‘You’re right of course. Might I trespass even further on your good nature and ask you to speak to them on my behalf? Find out if they would be interested? They might feel more comfortable talking to you rather than me. I am, after all, a stranger.’

  ‘Of course. And if they are interested?’

  ‘I will see them at the house later in the week.’ They continued eating in silence. Just as Jenefer was casting about for a topic of conversation that would sound neither banal nor desperate, Charles spoke. ‘Apart from your bookkeeping, I believe you also lend money to local businesses?’

  How had he found out? Branoc Casvellan? Not that it was a secret. ‘Yes, I do, and consider it a privilege.’ She wondered why he was asking. Then it dawned on her. She dabbed her lips and still holding the crumpled napkin, rested her forearm on the table. ‘May I enquire how you intend to finance the harbour expansion?’

  Laying his fork on his empty plate he wiped his mouth and sat back. ‘I have already obtained a proportion of the funding from Kerrow & Polgray and opened a new account in the name of the Porthinnis Harbour Company. But I’m going to need considerably more. Mr Casvellan has expressed an interest in buying shares.’

  Jenefer leaned forward, her fingers tightening on the crumpled damask. ‘Would you be willing to sell me some?’

  ‘Of course I would, but—’

  ‘I don’t suppose the amount I can spare will make much difference—’

  Reaching across the table he covered her hand with his. ‘No, that wasn’t what I—’

  As she raised startled eyes to his, he withdrew his hand.

  ‘I beg your pardon. I – forgive me.’

  ‘Please don’t,’ she interrupted, acutely aware of the heat that had rushed to her face. Her heart thudded against her ribs. She could still feel the warm weight of his palm, the supple strength in the fingers that had gripped hers. ‘No offence was intended and none is taken.’

  But a line had been crossed. She saw now that since their unexpected meeting at Trescowe, every moment they had spent together had been leading inexorably to this one. His touch had stirred her, left her wanting more. But memories of Martin’s betrayal loomed, dark and threatening as thunderheads. Her throat painfully dry, she lifted her cordial. As she sipped, the glass rattled against her teeth. She heard Lizzie singing.

  The singing grew louder. Then there was a knock on the door. ‘How’re you getting on? Finished have you?’

  As Lizzie waited on the threshold, Jenefer caught Charles’s gaze and awareness arced between them. She glimpsed impatience at the interruption then saw it soften to amusement. ‘Come in, Lizzie,’ she called over her shoulder.

  ‘All right, was it?’ Placing the tray on the table, Lizzie removed two dishes of golden-crusted apple pie and a small bowl of clotted cream, then gathered up the dirty plates.

  ‘Delicious, Mrs Clemmow,’ Charles smiled at her. ‘As I’m sure you know.’

  ‘What about the horseradish?’ Anxiety edged her smile.

  ‘It’s in a class of its own.’

  Lizzie beamed. ‘Right, I’ll leave you get on.’ She bustled to the door.

  As soon as she heard Lizzie’s door shut Jenefer turned to Charles. ‘That was well done,’ she said softly. ‘A class of its own.’ Laughter trembled in her voice. ‘Indeed it was, bless her.’

  ‘She had gone to considerable trouble.’

  ‘Well, I appreciate your kindness.’

  ‘It is I who am obliged to you. Just think what I might have missed had you not invited me.’ He spooned up a small portion of pie and cream. ‘To return to your offer. I would be delighted to have you as a shareholder. But I’m looking for additional investment of several thousand pounds.’

  ‘Ah. I’m afraid that’s rather more than I can manage.’

  ‘Oh dear.’ She caught the gleam in his eyes. ‘Then it’s as well I have other options.’

  Her heartbeat had steadied but awareness of him hummed along every nerve. ‘Am I permitted to ask?’

  ‘I was about to tell you. I intend applying to Mr Ralph Daniell at the Cornish Bank in Truro. He already has a holding in K&P’s shipping and smelting interests so I am fairly certain he will be receptive.’

  Jenefer toyed with her spoon. Though the pastry was feather-light and the clove and cinnamon-flavoured apple was delicious, she could not swallow another mouthful.

  As he pushed the bowl containing his unfinished dessert to one side, she realized that beneath his contained manner he was equally unsettled. The knowledge was oddly comforting.

  ‘Perhaps tomorrow you would write requesting an appointment?’

  ‘I will if you wish. But might it not be better if I wrote this afternoon? The post boy leaves The Standard at seven in the morning to catch the horse-van to Falmouth. If it makes the connection with Allen’s van which runs daily between Falmouth and Truro, Mr Daniell should receive your letter the day after tomorrow.’

  Laughing, he shook his head. ‘Miss Trevanion, you are relentless.’

  Familiar with mockery and criticism for she had been the butt of both, she heard only admiration. Sharing important private business with him filled her with pride and shimmering pleasure. Hard on its heels came fear. But she fought hard. Releasing her crumpled napkin onto the table she lifted one shoulder.

  ‘It’s the secret of my success,’ she said lightly. ‘Would you care for tea now? Or shall we do the correspondence first?’

  ‘The letters, by all means.’

  Aware of his gaze following her, she moved the bowls aside, fetched fresh paper from the dresser cupboard, uncapped her inkwell, checked her pen nibs, and resumed her seat.

  ‘Whenever you are ready, Mr Polgray.’ She had offered him help, and would keep her word. But as soon as his hand was better she would distance herself. For Charles Polgray stirred feelings that frightened her. Her life was busy and fulfilling. She had worked hard to achieve what she had now. She was financially independent, answerable to no one.

  But in that brief touch she had glimpsed another world; one of emotion and sensuality; where strength, softness, yielding and power were intertwined: a world she did not know and could not control. The thought dried her mouth and made her heart thud painfully. Trust me he had said. But she’d done that once before and b
een betrayed. She had lost her home and everything that represented security. She could not risk it. Not again. Yet the memory of his hand warm and strong on hers made her ache for more.

  Chapter Ten

  That evening Charles sat in a corner of the taproom in The Standard, a glass of cognac on the scarred table in front of him. Not only had Jenefer Trevanion penned six letters one after another as he dictated, she had also made a list for him of the addressees, the date, and a precis of their contents.

  The longer he spent in her company, the more she fascinated him. He rubbed his forehead where it ached and the back of his neck where conflict weighed on him like a yoke. His conscience urged him to confide his situation. But what if he had misread her? What if the interest he sensed was merely her attempt to make him – a stranger – feel welcome? Were that so, she might consider his revelation an impertinence, for it assumed a partiality she might not feel. Even worse it would achieve nothing except to cause them both acute embarrassment.

  Surely there must be word from the Archdeaconry Court soon? He had made the application months ago, as soon as he had discovered the treachery of people he should have been able to trust. Why burden her with information that would – if justice was done – shortly be irrelevant? A bond dissolved as if it had never existed. The child would still exist. Regardless of Eve’s lies they both knew it could not be his. Let the man who had fathered it take responsibility.

  Yet once he was free, what then? His work had required him to go wherever Kerrow & Polgray’s interests dictated. He was often away from Cornwall for weeks at a time. He had been in Mexico almost a year. Until now he had never minded, finding interest in each change of scene and challenge in each new location. But coming here had changed everything.

  This wouldn’t be an easy project. Indeed he expected it to prove particularly demanding, not least because of the different interests at stake. But he liked the village and the people he had met. He particularly liked the house he had leased and would move into within the week. The main cause of his upheaval was his profound attraction to Jenefer Trevanion.