Taken to Heart

by Jane Jackson

  He had made one disastrous mistake: was he on the brink of making another?

  By nature a solitary man, content in his own company, this physical attraction, the shock effect of her touch, his hunger to be near her, to hear her opinions, challenge her, make her laugh, had taken him completely by surprise.

  She was different: hardly remarkable given her experiences in recent years. The ways in which she had risen above misfortune fascinated him. Yet he sensed in her a reserve, an indefinable sadness that made him want to comfort and protect. What right had he even to think of her in such terms? He pressed fingertips against a knot of tension in his forehead created by frustration, impatience and too little sleep.

  The curate’s interest was plain to see. He was a good man with laudable ambitions for his congregation. But Ince was not her equal and would not make her happy.

  And you would? his conscience demanded. You, who lie by omission every moment you spend in her company? I gave my word. I cannot break it. You are afraid. Yes. I am. I cannot speak, but am condemned by my silence. I hardly know her, yet to lose her would be unbearable.

  At the sound of the doorknocker he looked up. Perhaps it was the postman bringing replies to his letters. He recalled the meal they had shared after inspecting this house, their conversation, then her writing to his dictation until failing light and respect for her position demanded he leave. In the five days since, not an hour passed that he didn’t think of her, wonder where she was and what she was doing.

  He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing up at the sound of a tap on the door. It opened and the little maid bobbed a curtsy. Neat in her blue gown and white apron, her small face beneath its frilled cap was pink and serious.

  ‘If you please, sir, Mr Vincent to see you.’

  Shifting his chair back from the bureau where papers covered the baize-covered writing surface, Charles rose to his feet, adjusting his coat. ‘Show him in, Ruth. And kindly tell Mrs Eustace we have a guest for dinner.’

  ‘Yessir.’ Bobbing another curtsy, Ruth scuttled out.

  ‘Steven, my dear fellow, I am so pleased to see you.’ Charles grasped his friend’s outstretched hand and shook it firmly.

  ‘And I you. What’s this?’ Steven eyed the bandage.

  ‘A stupid accident. An owl spooked my horse and we parted company. It’s just a sprain, but still damned inconvenient. Anyway, what brings you here? You know I’m always delighted to see you.’

  ‘I have news. On two matters, actually.’ Resting the leather satchel the back of a sofa, Steven unbuckled the flap. ‘By the way, the house is delightfully situated. You have an excellent view of the harbour and village. How did you learn of it?’

  ‘From Miss Trevanion’s neighbour.’ Just speaking her name made his blood quicken. ‘She had heard I was looking for a property to rent and wondered if this might suit. I obtained the key, came up to inspect it, took advice regarding staff, and closed with the person acting as agent, all within two hours.’

  Steven laughed. ‘That was certainly decisive.’

  ‘When something feels right …’ Charles gave a brief shrug. ‘It is, as you say, a delightful property and perfect for my needs. What news?’

  Extracting an envelope sealed with red wax, Steven passed it across before seating himself on a sofa upholstered in green and cream striped brocade. ‘If this is what I think it is, I knew you would want to see it as quickly as possible.’ He laid the battered leather satchel on the floor by his feet.

  Charles broke the seal and unfolded the sheet inside, frowning as he read. ‘It’s from Archdeaconry Court in Bodmin.’

  ‘I guessed as much,’ Steven said.

  ‘I am requested to attend a hearing.’

  ‘You will remember I warned of this possibility,’ Steven reminded. ‘As marriage is a status conferred by the church, only an ecclesiastical court can grant an annulment. When is the hearing?’

  Charles paused by the window, re-reading the letter. ‘Mid-November.’ He blew a sigh of frustration. ‘The timing is most inconvenient. Construction of the mole and the new arm will be underway by then. I should be here.’ He turned, brandishing the letter. ‘Why am I summoned? I’m petitioning for a declaration of Nullity on the grounds of concealment and fraud.’ Bitterness burned like acid in his gut. ‘Eve married me knowing she was already pregnant by another man. Is that not clear enough?’ A thought struck him and he swung round in horror. ‘You don’t think— Surely she does not intend to contest?’

  ‘Were that the case I’m sure the letter would have mentioned it. In any event, to forestall such an occurrence I asked for an additional copy of the statement you obtained from your wife’s—’

  ‘Don’t call her that!’ Charles snapped. ‘She has no right to my name, or married status.’

  ‘I beg your pardon,’ Steven said quietly.

  Seeing sympathy in his gaze, Charles flung himself into a chair still clutching the letter. ‘No, it is I who should apologize. It’s just—’ I have not seen Jenefer Trevanion for almost a week. That is as it should be. She has her business to run and I have mine. She is free. I am not. Yet with each passing day I miss her more. He swallowed. ‘There is a great deal to do here.’ He studied the letter once more.

  ‘Why must I travel to Bodmin when the court already has all the facts? I assume the copy you refer to is the doctor’s statement declaring her pregnancy to pre-date our marriage by three months?’

  Steven nodded. ‘I hope this second copy won’t be needed. But it’s as well to be prepared. The doctor’s statement will convince her parents that contesting would be futile, and should such an attempt become public, the result would be a scandal. Neither they, nor Eve, will want that.’

  ‘Of course. Forgive me. I’m not— It has been a difficult week.’

  ‘Nothing major, I hope?’

  Charles shook his head. ‘No, no. Just this.’ he raised his bandaged hand. ‘And waiting for replies to various enquiries. I thought you might be the postman bringing confirmation of an appointment with Ralph Daniell at the Cornish Bank in Truro. Steven, about the hearing: why have I been summoned?’

  ‘So you can make your statement under oath to the court in person.’

  ‘And that will be the end of it? I’ll be free?’

  ‘It may be a few days before you receive the decree. But essentially, yes. All being well that will be the end of it.’

  Charles suppressed a deep shudder of relief. It could not come soon enough.

  Steven shuffled papers. ‘Now to my other news. It’s about the mine. All is well,’ he added quickly. ‘The lode is yielding high quality copper and the price is continuing to rise. But two tributers came to see me yesterday. In case I didn’t understand how the work was organized, they took care to explain that Polgray miners work in pares of between two and six men with each pare bidding for a pitch every two months on a profit-sharing system in lieu of wages.’

  A brief smile quivered on Charles’s mouth. ‘Go on.’

  ‘In your absence, on pay-days Edward Barton has been handing one man a cheque, drawn on his bank, for the money due to the whole pare. When they asked how they were to obtain change so the money could be shared out, he told them to go to The Bell inn where his son would cash the cheque for them. But not only did John Barton charge them commission for cashing the cheque, he also made it clear that if they wished this favour to continue they must buy a round of drinks.’

  Charles was still, his anger ice-cold. ‘How long has this been going on?’

  ‘Four months.’

  ‘Too long. Thank you for bringing it to my attention, Steven.’

  ‘Would you like me to—?’

  Charles shook his head. ‘No. I will write to Edward Barton myself. If he fails to pay each man in cash from the next accounting date, I will transfer all K & P’s business to another bank. What was he thinking of? It’s sharp practice, Steven, and totally unacceptable.’ He put the matter aside. ‘You’ll stay for dinner?’

&n
bsp; ‘I should be delighted.’

  Charles enjoyed showing Steven over the house. Then, carrying a cut glass tumbler of fine whisky, they walked out through the French doors into the garden. Harry Tozer raised a forefinger to his cap as they passed, then returned to weeding an overgrown flowerbed. They walked through the gate onto the coast path and looked out over rocky coves to the sea.

  ‘Injuring your wrist must have been dreadfully inconvenient,’ Steven said. ‘Especially now when there is so much paperwork.’

  ‘It would have been,’ Charles agreed. ‘But for Miss Trevanion. Did I tell you Casvellan recommended her to me? He holds her in very high esteem.’

  ‘I believe you mentioned it.’

  Charles knew he should stop. But the opportunity to speak of her to the one person who knew the entire sordid story of his marriage, a man he knew he could trust, was impossible to resist. ‘She is a most unusual person. In truth, I have never known anyone like her. Were you to meet her you would see for yourself.’

  Steven was silent for a moment, gazing into his glass. Then he looked up, meeting Charles’s gaze. ‘Do I sense something warmer than mere gratitude?’

  With a helpless shrug, Charles gulped a mouthful of whisky, glad of the spirit’s burn in his throat and the smoky warmth curling in his stomach. ‘In law and the eyes of the church, ‘he said bitterly, ‘I am still a married man. I have no right − for her sake I must not—’

  He broke off, shaking his head. ‘I’m damned if I tell her and damned if I don’t.’

  ‘Isn’t it all a bit sudden?’

  Charles’s smile held little humour. ‘It certainly took me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting— Dammit!’ The words burst from him with rare ferocity. ‘If only—’

  ‘Stop,’ Steven interrupted. ‘Regrets are pointless. Look to the future. In just a few short weeks you’ll be free. Between now and then, as soon as the rest of the finance is in place, you’ll be so busy the hearing will be upon you before you know it.’

  Charles raised his glass in salute. ‘You’re a good friend, Steven.’

  Draining their glasses they returned to the house.

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘All right, bird? ’Tis after one,’ Lizzie said, entering with Jenefer’s dinner on a tray. ‘I done veal cutlets with green beans and carrots, and damson tart for afters.’

  Jenefer dropped her pen and leaned back, flexing her shoulders and spine. ‘It sounds lovely, and smells delicious.’ Quickly closing and stacking ledgers, she gathered letters and invoices into a neat pile and set them aside. Then rising from the table she fetched cutlery and a napkin from the dresser as Lizzie set the plate and dish on the table then started towards the door.

  ‘Lizzie? You’re very quiet. Is anything wrong?’

  ‘Just me being daft. Sam have took Will fishing. What worries me is they got to go so far out to catch anything. What if they’re caught by one of they navy boats? ’Tisn’t just that. This weather is bound to break soon. We always get storms in late October.’

  ‘But if the storms are bad then none of the fishermen will be going out.’

  ‘’Xackly. Then Sam’ll be home fretting because there’s no money coming in.’ Tucking the tray under her arm she flapped her free hand. ‘Don’t take no notice. I just got one on me today. You have your dinner. I’ll see you d’rectly.’

  Sitting down and unfolding her napkin, Jenefer wished she could tell Lizzie of Charles’s plans, and the well paid work which – if they wanted it – would be available for Sam and Will. But she could not break her promise.

  Yet she needed to know what was happening. If Charles were too busy to come to her, she would go to him. She had the perfect excuse: the two jars of quince jelly. With so much happening recently it had slipped her mind. But he had kept his promise to donate to village charities, now she must keep hers.

  The front door opened. Neat in a blue and white check gown covered by a clean white apron, her hair tucked up into a mob cap, Ruth bobbed a curtsy, her anxious frown softening into a smile of welcome. ‘Aft’noon, Miss Trevanion.’

  ‘Good afternoon, Ruth. Is Mr Polgray at home?’

  ‘He is, miss. If you’ll step inside, I’ll go and tell’n you’re here.’

  Leaning towards her Jenefer whispered, ‘How very smart you look. Are you enjoying your new job?’

  ‘Love it I do, miss. I ain’t never been happier. And Aunt Cora – Mrs Eustace’ she corrected herself quickly, ‘is learning me to cook proper.’

  ‘She is teaching you,’ Jenefer correctly gently, ‘you are learning.’

  Ruth nodded, her eyes shining. ‘I am too. I wish I could’ve come to the school. Only Mother needed me home. But coming here to work’ – she heaved a sigh of pure happiness − ‘’tis like a dream come true.’

  Making a mental note to ask Hannah about Ellen Collins’s health, Jenefer said, ‘No one would ever guess you have only recently taken up your position. Mrs Eustace must be very pleased with you.’

  Before Ruth could respond, the sitting room door opened and Charles appeared. ‘I thought I heard something.’

  Blushing furiously, Ruth stammered, ‘Miss Trevanion have come, sir.’

  ‘So I see.’ His tone was dry. ‘Bring a tray of tea, will you?’

  ‘Yessir,’ Ruth bobbed, then scuttled back to the kitchen.

  ‘Miss Trevanion,’ Charles bowed, formality mocked by his smile.

  ‘Mr Polgray,’ Jenefer curtsied, gripping the handle of her basket in both hands as her heart skipped beneath her green velvet jacket.

  ‘Please, come in.’ He stood back, gesturing.

  As she walked past, her shoulder almost brushing his chest, every nerve in her body was acutely aware of him. Her heart fluttered like a trapped bird and she swallowed, then moistened dry lips.

  The room looked familiar but felt different. All the shutters were fastened back and light streamed in through the long windows. Jenefer imagined Cora and Ruth cleaning them with vinegar-soaked scrim cloths. Apple logs burning in the grate filled the air with fragrant warmth.

  The last time she’d been here the furniture had been shrouded with Holland covers. Now she saw a pretty striped sofa and two high-backed armchairs. Between them a low dark-wood table had been polished to a shine.

  An open walnut bureau stood against the wall, its writing surface piled with papers. Her gaze moved on past a glass-fronted bookcase and several small tables and tapestry-covered stools to rest for a moment on the spinet.

  Hearing the door close she turned to face him, aware of heat climbing her throat to burn her cheeks. ‘I brought—’ she began.

  ‘I’m so—’ he said at the same time. They both stopped.

  ‘Please,’ he gestured. ‘You first.’

  She lifted her basket. ‘I’ve brought the quince jelly. It’s so long since – I just – I didn’t want you to think I’d forgotten.’

  ‘I was beginning to wonder.’

  At the gleam of laughter in his gaze she relaxed. Nothing had changed. ‘A promise is a promise.’ Seating herself on the sofa she put the basket down by her feet and began to remove her gloves. ‘How is your wrist? I see you have removed the bandage.’

  He nodded. ‘Much better. Though it aches like the devil when I try to write.’

  ‘Why are you surprised? It’s not yet a week since you sustained the injury. Anyway, you had only to ask; I would have – ‘

  ‘It seemed unfair to burden you further with my work when you already have your own.’

  Jenefer tucked her gloves into her basket. ‘It’s not a burden. Actually, I consider it a privilege.’ She paused for an instant. ‘How else will I find out what progress has been made?’

  ‘Why, Miss Trevanion, are you chiding me for not keeping you informed?’

  She tilted her head. ‘How could you think me capable of such impertinence? But now that you mention it.…’ She smiled.

  ‘I have been trying to contain my impatience – unsuccessfully, I might add –
while waiting for replies to the letters we wrote last week. An hour ago the postman brought three, so your visit is well timed.’ As he crossed to the bureau there was a tentative knock and the door opened.

  Frowning with concentration Ruth carried in a tray containing a pretty set of bone china decorated with flowers. Setting it on the low table between the sofa and armchairs she hurried to the door.

  ‘I’ll be back d’reckly, sir. I just got to fetch t’other one.’

  As Ruth disappeared, Jenefer caught Charles’s eye. ‘Other one?’ she mouthed.

  ‘You’ll see,’ he muttered, returning to his chair with a handful of papers as Ruth came in with a second tray containing a plate of shortbread, another of buttered scones, a glass dish of raspberry jam and a fruit cake with two slices already cut.

  ‘Thank you, Ruth,’ As the girl gazed at him in mingled awe and anxiety, Jenefer saw his quick kind smile. ‘Please thank Mrs Eustace. I’ll ring the bell if I need anything else.’

  Blushing deep rose, Ruth bobbed like a cork.

  As the door closed behind her, Charles met Jenefer’s gaze. ‘I am grateful for your recommendation. Apart from Mrs Eustace’s determination to fatten me up, she is proving excellent in all respects. Her niece has a lot to learn but appears very willing. But you know this already.’

  ‘I’m still happy to hear it from you.’ She smiled. ‘Cora is causing Hannah Tresidder considerable frustration by refusing to relay any information whatever concerning your staff and arrangements.’

  Something changed in his eyes: a moment of frozen stillness. Then he matched her smile, arching one dark brow.

  ‘And what is Mrs Tresidder’s interest?’

  Dismissing her impression as simple surprise, Jenefer laughed. ‘Are you serious? Nothing happens in this village without Hannah hearing of it. She has remarkably acute hearing, and people chat in the shop while waiting to be served. You are a stranger recently arrived in our midst. Now you have taken a house. Of course there is curiosity.’