Taken to Heart

by Jane Jackson

  If that were so, the sensible ladylike course of action would be for her to withdraw. With Mr Keat overseeing the work, Charles would have more time to concentrate on planning and finance.

  Establishing distance between them might help her retrieve some dignity. But when they were together dignity mattered not at all. When he touched her, kissed her, when his gaze pierced her very soul, the sensations he ignited and the yearning that gripped her were profound and passionate. They were not remotely ladylike.

  By midmorning the following day, having added up the same column and arrived at three different totals, she conceded defeat and threw down her pencil. Leaving papers and ledgers spread over the table, she put on her hat and coat, closed her door, and walked down to the quay.

  Gorse and heather crackled on two bonfires. Higher up the slope men sawed and chopped. Others dragged the brush down to piles waiting to be fed into leaping flames fanned by a fitful breeze. Even from yards away Jenefer could feel the heat and smell the sweet-scented smoke.

  Then she saw Charles, magnificent in a dark blue coat, buff pantaloons and polished black boots. A black beaver hat covered his thick hair. Watching him she felt something leap inside her. He stood near the quay edge talking to his clerk. As she hesitated, unwilling to interrupt, Cyrus Keat spotted her and politely touched the brim of his hat. Charles turned. Recognizing her he smiled, and she felt herself open like a flower to the sun. With a final word to Keat, he came towards her.

  ‘I hope I’m not intruding,’ she said quickly.

  ‘Never.’ Deep and soft, his voice sent tingles along her spine. Shadowed by the brim of his hat his eyes gleamed as they gazed into hers. ‘I am happy to see you,’ he said softly. ‘I wondered if you might come down today.’

  Swallowing the questions she dare not ask, she moistened her lips. ‘I am glad I did. Such progress in so short a time is remarkable.’ She turned her head, unable to hold his gaze, afraid of what he might see. She pointed to two tall white posts on the sloping ground below Pednbrose. ‘Are those the leading marks you spoke of?’

  He nodded. ‘If you would care to walk with me I can show you their purpose.’

  She looked at him, a quick shy glance, and smiled. ‘I’d like that.’

  A brig carrying a cargo of limestone was moored to the seaward side of the quay. A derrick raised a fresh load from the hold, swung slowly across, and lowered it onto the quay where a relay of men filled wooden barrows and pushed them to the kiln.

  ‘I intended to build the extension using massive granite blocks so it would look the same as the original,’ Charles said as they reached the end. ‘But that would have required a cofferdam to keep out the water while foundations were laid.’

  ‘Would have?’ Jenefer looked up at him. ‘You’re not going to do that now?’

  He shook his head. ‘The financial shortfall means I can’t afford it. So I’m taking the quick and dirty option.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Jenefer said, startled.

  ‘Forgive me. It means getting the quay built as quickly as possible.’

  ‘But …’ she hesitated.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I don’t want to offend—’

  ‘You won’t.’

  ‘It’s just, well, it sounds a lot more.…’

  ‘Risky?’

  ‘I was going to say temporary.’

  A brief smile touched his mouth. Then he nodded. ‘There is a chance it won’t last more than a few years. But the sooner I can pay off the loan, the sooner I will begin accumulating profit. And that will allow me to make a proper job of rebuilding it later.’

  ‘So how long will it last?’

  ‘It depends how severe the winter storms are and how successful the mole proves to be. I would hope for several years.’

  ‘But if you can’t use stone, how will you build it?’

  ‘With wood. A thirty-foot-long oak pile placed every two yards. On my way back from Truro I stopped off at Trelowarren and ordered forty-eight of them.’

  ‘When will they arrive? And how? The cost of transport—’

  ‘Will be negligible.’ He grinned. ‘Thrown into the water at Gweek and towed round, they should be here any day. It was the quickest and cheapest way.’

  Jenefer found herself smiling back at him. ‘Of course! What an excellent idea.’

  ‘I’m having another derrick erected here at the end of the quay to unload stone. As soon as each ship leaves, the stone will be dropped around the piles and cemented in place to hold them firm. Then the piles will be braced with cross members and a deck laid over the top. As the quay lengthens, the shiploads of stone can be unloaded onto the new deck.’

  Jenefer nodded, seeing it clearly. Then her pulse quickened as he cupped her elbow, led her to the outer corner of the quay and pointed across the water. ‘How many poles do you see?’

  Acutely aware of his palm, the gentle pressure of his fingers, and her shoulder brushing his chest, she tried to concentrate. ‘One.’

  Without a word, he led her across the quay to the inner wall. ‘And now?’

  ‘Oh.’ She looked up at him. ‘Two.’

  He nodded. ‘The poles are a line-of-sight guide to ensure the outer row of piles remains perfectly straight.’ He turned her gently to face him. ‘Will you come to dinner next week? I know how busy you are,’ he added before she could respond. ‘But I do so appreciate everything you have done.’

  ‘That’s why you’ve invited me? Out of gratitude?’ Driven by a complex tangle of emotions the question spilled out before she could stop it. One hand flew to her mouth. Then she clasped both tightly in front of her, shaken and mortified by her lack of control. ‘I beg your pardon. That was unforgivable. I—’ She caught her breath, falling abruptly silent as he laid his forefinger lightly on her mouth.

  ‘Don’t.’ His voice was rough, strained. ‘I want no apology. Just say you’ll come. Please.’

  How could she refuse? She nodded, and answered with the truth. ‘I’d love to.’

  ‘Thank you.’ His smile was brief. As it faded she was suddenly aware of the lines of strain bracketing his mouth and shadows of weariness like sooty thumbprints beneath his eyes. A wave of sympathy enveloped her. And with it, shame at her selfishness. He had allowed her a glimpse into his world, but what did she really know of the demands and responsibilities he carried?

  ‘Wednesday? Three o’clock?’ He must have seen her hesitation for he hurried on, ‘I wish it might be sooner, but I leave for Truro on Monday and have a lot to do before then. I’m meeting Mr Daniell on Tuesday to sign the agreement, hand over the deeds, and collect his draft for the money. I will ride back first thing Wednesday morning.’

  She nodded. ‘I shall look forward to it.’ She had arranged to ride over to see Tamara on Wednesday morning. But she would leave a little early to allow herself plenty of time to wash and change.

  By unspoken agreement they turned and began retracing their steps as Keat hurried towards them.

  ‘Jenefer?’

  ‘Yes, Charles?’

  ‘We both know how much I owe you. But that is not why I invited you.’ His bow was brief and formal but the look in his eyes made her quiver. ‘Until Wednesday.’ He left her and walked swiftly to meet his clerk.

  Watching him go Jenefer touched her mouth where his finger had rested and wondered how she would survive the next five days.

  Apart from attending church on Sunday morning, she worked. There was plenty of her own to catch up on. Then to her surprise and delight, Charles called on her just after nine on Monday morning with a list of letters to be written. He stayed less then ten minutes. But just seeing him lightened her heart and her mood and filled her with energy.

  Over the next three days she completed all the paperwork. Then, because she hadn’t had time before, and had to do something to burn off her surplus energy, she cleaned her cottage from top to bottom. On Tuesday afternoon she was ironing the washing Lizzie had done for her when someone passed the win
dow. She looked up as her neighbour tapped on the open door.

  ‘I finished the shawl.’

  ‘Come in, Ernestine.’ Jenefer set the flat iron down on the slab. ‘I’ve been looking forward to – ohhh!’ she gasped softly as Ernestine shook out the lacy shawl. It was as light as gossamer, as fine as cobweb. ‘It’s beautiful.’

  ‘’Tidn’ bad,’ Ernestine allowed. ‘By time I’d finished, he was a bit grubby, so he’ve been washed. I put a drop of rose water in the rinsing water then dried ’n flat. Lovely and soft he is.’

  Jenefer gathered the shawl and held it to her cheek. ‘It’s like thistledown. Thank heaven I asked you to make it. If I’d tried it would have ended up looking like a dishrag, which would have been a shocking waste of yarn. I’m useless at anything like this. Betsy is the creative one.’

  ‘Your sister is a fine needlewoman, dear of her,’ Ernestine allowed. ‘But there isn’t no one in this village can do what you do. So don’t you go running yourself down.’ Pink and flustered, she stopped. ‘Begging your pardon, miss.’

  ‘Why, thank you, Ernestine.’ Laying the shawl on the table Jenefer went to the dresser drawer for her purse.

  ‘No hurry like that, Miss,’ Ernestine said, backing towards the door.

  ‘Indeed there is,’ Jenefer said firmly, pressing several silver coins into Ernestine’s gnarled hand then folding her fingers over them. ‘Not another word,’ she warned as the old woman looked up wide-eyed and opened her mouth to protest at the amount. Ernestine’s reluctance to charge full price for her work was a long-standing bone of contention between them. ‘You have done a superb job and I’m truly grateful.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure.’ Clutching the money to her ample bosom, Ernestine went to the door.

  ‘Do you know what you’ve done?’ Jenefer said. ‘You have created another heirloom. Just like the one you knitted for Jon, this beautiful shawl will be treasured. When Mrs Varcoe’s new baby no longer needs it, it will be put away and passed on when both children have children of their own.’

  ‘Well! My dear soul. You really think so?’

  ‘I’m sure of it.’

  ‘Well!’ Ernestine said again. Shaking her head as a slow smile spread across her face, she bustled away up the yard.

  Closing the bottom half of the door, Jenefer picked up the shawl again. Five feet square, it weighed almost nothing. Carefully folding it in tissue from the dresser drawer, she tied the package with a gold ribbon and set it aside. Then she finished the ironing.

  That night she lay in bed and listened to the rain, the first for weeks, pattering against the window and gurgling down the gutter into the big wooden butt. At least it would lay the dust.

  She pictured Charles. How handsome he had looked in his blue coat. She recalled his blunt forthright manner as he talked to the men. Then his smile: a smile he kept just for her. It changed him; softening the stern cast of his features, making him more approachable, less aloof. It made her feel special. She hoped he had achieved everything he wanted from his meeting with Mr Daniell.

  He would leave Truro early tomorrow morning. And tomorrow afternoon she would see him again. She felt she had dealt with his absence sensibly. Her days had been full and busy with no time to waste on daydreaming. But last thing at night, when there were no more tasks demanding her attention, she missed him. She missed him more than she had expected to. And, missing him, she realized how lonely she had been.

  Like a phoenix she had risen from the ashes of tragedy and loss, and rebuilt her life. She was busy and successful with a thriving business. She had truly believed it was enough. Meeting Charles Polgray had shown her that it wasn’t. She wanted more. She wanted his love. She could hardly wait for tomorrow. Turning onto her side she closed her eyes. And slept.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Leaving the butcher’s horse in the care of the manservant who also doubled as groom and valet, Jenefer lifted the carefully wrapped shawl from the saddle-bag and walked quickly towards the farmhouse.

  As she knocked and waited, she guessed the time to be just after noon. She would stay for an hour and, after hearing Tamara’s news, perhaps share – what? Her pride and delight in assisting with a project of such importance to the village?

  Tamara knew that. She would ask about Charles: searching questions to which Jenefer had no answers. Torn between hope and doubt, she was also torn between wanting to confide her wretched confusion and, rather than appear a pathetic fool, staying silent. She knew her feelings for him were reciprocated. But unless – until – he told her what was in his heart, she could only lurch between doubt and faith, trust and fear.

  She loved being with him; loved all she was learning. Yet the effects of that same proximity kept her wakeful long into the night. Where was he now? In just a few hours she would see him again. They would have so much to catch up on.

  An hour with Tamara, then half an hour to ride back and returning her mount to Mr Rollason, would still leave her more than enough time to get ready. She wanted to look her best. Dinner with Charles at Kegwyn: happy anticipation fountained inside her.

  About to knock again, surprised that no one had yet answered, she heard running feet. The front door flew open.

  Jenefer’s smile froze at the panic on Molly’s face.

  ‘Oh, miss. I’m some glad you’ve come. Mrs Bosanko’s mother took poorly yesterday so she’ve gone to Helston to see her. Mr Varcoe has gone off with Mr Casvellan. And Missus is having pains and I got Jon to look after so I don’t –’

  ‘Molly, calm down.’ As her stomach clenched, Jenefer kept her voice level as she pushed the maid back gently. Stepping inside she closed the door. ‘Where is Mrs Varcoe?’

  ‘In the morning room. She was—’

  ‘And where is Jon?’

  ‘Upstairs. I’d just put ’n down for his nap when—’

  ‘Yes,’ Jenefer interrupted before the young maid’s panic exploded again. ‘Go and put the kettle on.’

  The maid clapped both hands to her flushed cheeks. ‘Oh my dear lord. I should’ve thought—’

  ‘Molly,’ Jenefer interrupted firmly, ‘this isn’t helping. Come now. Pull yourself together. Getting into a state will not help Jon or his mother. Now go and do as I’ve asked. The kettle?’ she reminded in the face of Molly’s wild-eyed bewilderment. ‘Does Jon usually have something to eat when he wakes up?’

  ‘Yes, miss.’ Molly nodded. ‘A slice of bread and butter with a bit of cheese, some fruit and a glass of milk.’

  ‘Then as soon as you’ve brought a tea tray to the morning room, go back to the kitchen and get it ready.’

  ‘Yes, miss.’ Clearly relieved to have handed over responsibility, Molly dropped a quick curtsy and hurried away to the kitchen.

  Jenefer’s heart thumped hard against her ribs as she approached the morning room. Calming the maid had been easy enough. And practice had made her expert at hiding her own fears. The baby wasn’t due for two weeks. Perhaps Tamara was simply experiencing what Betsy had called practice contractions. Please let it be a false alarm. Untying her bonnet she pulled it off, tucking it beneath her arm as she tapped lightly then opened the door.

  Tamara stood at a side table supporting herself with stiff arms, head drooping, her shoulders hunched.

  The knot in Jenefer’s stomach tightened. She was out of her depth here. She had no experience of childbirth, and no idea of what to do or how best to help. She quickly crossed to Tamara’s side. As she placed a gentle arm around her shoulders, Tamara gradually relaxed then glanced up. To Jenefer’s astonishment, though her face was glistening with perspiration, a smile curved her mouth and her gaze was warm.

  ‘I’m so glad you’ve come.’

  Dropping her bonnet and the tissue-wrapped package onto a small sofa, Jenefer took her friend’s hand. ‘Molly says you’ve been having pains.’

  Tamara nodded. ‘I’ve been having them for the past two days. But they were no worse than cramp and sometimes an hour or more would pass betw
een one and the next, so I thought little of it. The same thing happened when I was expecting Jon and went on for two weeks.’ She started to sit down then shook her head. ‘I’m more comfortable on my feet. I’d like to walk a little.’

  ‘Then we’ll walk.’ Jenefer drew Tamara’s hand through her arm and they slowly crossed to the window. Bright light streamed through the window, then faded as fast-moving clouds driven by a gusty wind hid the sun. ‘Does Devlin know? Sorry, that was a foolish question,’ she said, as Tamara shot her a dry look.

  ‘If I had told him he would have wanted to stay with me. But this meeting he and Casvellan have gone to is really important. I would have felt stupid – and guilty – if he had missed the meeting on my account, all for a false alarm.’

  ‘Is it, do you think? A false alarm?’

  ‘I—’ Tamara stopped suddenly, sucked in a sharp breath, and curled forward, sliding her free hand beneath the mound of her belly to support it.

  Jenefer bit the inside of her lip, ruthlessly suppressing panic she could not afford. Tamara needed her. What should she do? Used to taking action and dealing with situations, hating her helplessness, she held Tamara whose fingers tightened on her arm. Features taut, eyes closed, Tamara groaned as the pain climbed and peaked.

  Jenefer knew the instant it began to subside. Tamara slowly relaxed, released a shuddering breath, and straightened up. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘I think the baby’s coming.’ She looked at Jenefer, her mouth trembling. ‘I wish—’

  ‘Would you like me to send someone for your mother?’

  Tamara flinched. ‘God, no! Can you not picture it? She would sweep in and start giving orders. I am more comfortable on my feet, but she would have me flat on my back with the curtains drawn. This is my baby and I want—’

  The door opened and Molly nudged it wider with her hip as she carried in the tea tray. ‘Mrs Varcoe, Master Jon have just woke up. What d’you want me to—?’