by Jane Jackson
‘Where are they now?’
Tom pointed upward. ‘First room on the left.’
Charles took the stairs two at a time. Anxiety for Jenefer was swept aside by icy rage directed at the two women who had wreaked such havoc in his life. He wished he might never have laid eyes on them again. But though their arrival was unexpected and unwelcome, it presented an opportunity to end the matter once and for all. Knocking briefly he opened the door.
‘Charles!’ Eve’s sulky frown swiftly evolved into a smile. ‘Is this not a lovely surprise?’ She extended a hand. ‘Come, help me up.’
Closing the door he remained beside it. ‘You have no business here.’
Widening her eyes, Eve rested one hand on her swollen belly. ‘I’m your wife, Charles. I have every right—’
‘No,’ he cut her short. ‘You have no rights. Not with me.’
‘You can’t!’ Eve shouted. ‘Tell him, Mama. He cannot set me aside.’
‘Calm yourself, Eve. Getting upset is not good for your health or the baby’s.’
‘Tell him that, Mama. He’s my husband—’
‘Did neither of you hear me?’ Disgust roiled in his stomach. ‘This travesty of marriage is over.’
‘You are angry,’ Madeleine interrupted, desperation turning her smile into a grimace. ‘I understand that. But before you make a decision you might regret—’
‘Regret?’ Charles roared as anger, so long contained, burst free. ‘I’ll tell you what I regret: my gullibility. You and Samson are − were − family. I trusted you. Yet you allowed − no, you conspired to have Eve marry me, knowing she was carrying another man’s child’
Madeleine flung up her hands, her face crumpling. ‘What else was I supposed to do?’ she cried. ‘We could not afford a scandal. Charles, please, I beg you. You know my husband is not well. You are like a son to him. Indeed, his plan is to hand you the business. Surely we could put this behind us? I know Eve bitterly regrets her behaviour. Don’t you, dear?’ Madeleine turned, extending her hand to her daughter.
Levering herself off the bed, Eve came forward, her blue eyes swimming with tears. ‘I’m sorry, Charles. Truly I am. But you were away for so long and I was lonely.’
A rasping laugh tore his throat. ‘You betray and trick me and it’s my fault?’
‘Well, it was.’ Eve pouted. ‘You should have—’
‘Enough.’ He shook his head, drained and sickened. He opened the door.
‘Stop!’ Eve shrieked. ‘You can’t leave me. What will people say? What will I do?’
Charles paused on the threshold. ‘Whatever you wish. It’s of no interest to me.’ He eyed Madeleine briefly. ‘Take your daughter home, madam. There is nothing for you here.’
‘Nooooo!’ As Eve sobbed hysterically, stamping her feet, Madeleine shouted after him.
‘You’ll be sorry, Charles. I’ll make sure of that. If you think—’
He shut the door firmly, cutting off the rest of her threat, and looked down into the shocked faces of Tom and Esther who stood frozen at the bottom of the stairs.
After a while the storm of weeping passed, and Jenefer sat up, wiping her eyes and nose on a clean tea towel Lizzie took from the dresser drawer. She gulped and shuddered, sobs catching in her throat.
‘Your shoulder’s all wet,’ she rasped, her voice thick and croaky.
‘I’ve had a lot worse on it than your tears.’ Lizzie patted Jenefer’s knee. ‘Remember the pilchard cellar?’
Jenefer managed a wan smile. ‘Could I ever forget?’
Pushing herself up Lizzie crossed to the range and pulled the kettle over the fire. ‘You wash your face while I make you a nice cup of tea, and some bread and jam. Then you get up over stairs. You had more ’n enough for one day. What you need now is sleep.’
Jenefer bit her lip hard to stop it quivering. She wiped her eyes again. They were swollen almost shut and felt hot and gritty. ‘I can’t believe— He seemed so—’ She bent her head, fighting another upsurge of grief.
Lizzie made tea, refilled the kettle and set it to boil once more, then fetched milk, bread, butter and jam from the larder. ‘Leave it, bird. You’ll make yourself sick else.’ She made a sandwich, cut it into triangles and put them on a plate. Then, wiping her hands on a cloth, she shook up the soft cushion in the armchair and beckoned. ‘Come on over here by the fire.’
Exhausted from weeping, her limbs heavy, her head feeling as if it was stuffed with cotton, Jenefer pulled herself off the stairs. She ached all over and the occasional sob still caught in her chest.
‘I’ll tell you what you’ll do.’ Lizzie poured tea into a cup, adding milk and a spoonful of sugar, and moved it closer to Jenefer. ‘First thing is, drink that.’ She pointed then waited with one hand on her hip. ‘After all they tears you’ll have some terrible headache.’
As Jenefer picked it up, tea slopped into the saucer and she had to use both hands to raise the cup to her mouth. She sipped and pulled a face. ‘I don’t take sugar.’
‘You do tonight. After the shock you’ve had, ’twill settle you down. And tomorrow you’ll hold your head up and look the village in the eye just like you’ve always done.’
As her eyes filled and her mouth trembled, Jenefer gulped more tea and fought for control. She clattered the cup onto its saucer. ‘I can’t.’
‘Yes, you can, but it don’t have to be tomorrow. I’ll tell Hannah you’re sick with a bad cold. Now come on, eat up that sandwich. You need sleep, bird, and you’ll rest better with something in your stomach.’
Lizzie stayed; washing the dishes while Jenefer took water upstairs, bathed her swollen face and changed into her nightgown. Unpinning her hair, she brushed it, avoiding her reflection in the glass as she braided it into a loose plait over one shoulder.
‘Right, bird,’ Lizzie called up. ‘Everything’s put away and I’ve made up the fire.’
Jenefer went down. ‘Thank you, Lizzie.’
‘Soon as I’ve gone, you put the bolt across then get up to bed.’
Pulling the covers up, Jenefer lay on her side and felt hot tears spill over her nose and soak into the pillow. Charles. She closed her eyes, felt herself falling, and welcomed oblivion.
She didn’t want to wake, didn’t want to move. But her mind kept reliving the previous day, then flinging up memories of the hours she and Charles had spent together: work shared, meals here and at Kegwyn, his teasing, his touch, his kisses. Conflict raged between her head and heart, tearing like sharp claws. Unable to bear it, desperate to escape, she stumbled downstairs. Three years ago she had lost everything that defined who she was. Seeking salvation in work she had rebuilt her life. If she had done it once, she could do it again.
No, she couldn’t. She sank onto the armchair, hugging herself, rocking back and forward in anguish. It was different this time. The lies, the deceit and the loss were so much more devastating. She could not bear it. She had no choice. There was no going back, so she had to go on.
She wiped her face on the hem of her nightgown, and forced herself to move. She followed her morning routine, focusing on each task, not allowing herself to think beyond that. Her stomach too tender and tense for food, she drank hot chocolate. Lizzie arrived.
‘Look at you, washed and dressed, your hair all neat, working like always. You’re some brave maid.’
A lump swelled in Jenefer’s throat and she shook her head. ‘No, I’m hanging on by my fingernails.’
Reaching out, Lizzie patted Jenefer’s cheek with work-roughened fingers that were infinitely gentle. ‘That’s what I mean. Right, I’m going down the shop to tell Hannah you been took bad with a cold.’
‘No.’ Jenefer’s voice thickened and she swallowed hard. ‘Don’t say I’m ill. There have been enough lies.’
‘You sure, bird? I just thought—’
‘I know. And I appreciate it. But M— Mrs Polgray’s arrival will be all round the village by now, so no one would believe you. If you are asked directly, tell the truth
. I am, as usual, very busy.’
After Lizzie had gone, she closed the top door to keep in the warmth, pulled the table a little closer to the window to make the most of the light, and started work.
She was halfway through adding a column of figures when a brisk knocking made her start violently. Shock zinged along her nerves as hope flared, and just as quickly died. She knew Charles’s knock, and that wasn’t it. Why would he come here when his wife and her mother were at The Standard? Trust me. Plunging towards despair, she closed her eyes and clenched her fists. As the knock was repeated, she rose from her chair and went to open the door.
‘William!’ Seeing his expression of deep solemnity, her hand rose to her throat as fear blossomed inside her. Betsy? Tamara? The baby?
‘May I come in? The news I have to impart is best told in private.’
‘M–my sister?’
‘No, no. As far as I am aware she and her family are all in excellent health. Jenefer, I want you to know that what I have to tell you gives me no pleasure—’
She knew then why he had come. ‘I am glad to hear it. But if you are here to tell me that Mr Polgray’s wife and mother have arrived in the village you could have spared yourself the trouble. I already know.’
‘I fear the news must have come as a great shock to you.’
She gripped the door latch tightly. Pain lanced through her knuckles and she felt as if she was bleeding inside, but pride would not let her crumble.
‘Why should you think so? Mr Polgray’s domestic arrangements are a private matter between him and his wife. They are certainly of no concern to anyone else. Nor are they relevant to his plans for the harbour. So if that is all you came to say.…’
‘I tried to warn you!’ he blurted. ‘I saw you responding to his attentions.’
‘What you saw was my pleasure in being regarded as an equal and having my business ability respected and valued.’
‘Charles Polgray is not—’
‘That’s enough, William. You came here relishing the opportunity to decry a man whose purpose in this village is to create work so people might comfortably feed and clothe their families. You came to crow. Shame on you!’
Flushing scarlet, he met her gaze. ‘I admit the sin of jealousy. Despite my calling and all my efforts, it took me months to win the hearts and minds of the villagers. I am still trying to win yours.’
Suddenly weary, Jenefer sighed. ‘You think this will help? Go home, William.’ She started to close the door. He held it open.
‘Wait, please. You must know my feelings for you. I— This is neither the time nor the circumstances I would have chosen but – I have received a legacy from an elderly relation. I am in a position to offer you a comfortable life. You know I respect your opinions, and I would greatly appreciate your help in expanding the school. We worked well together before. Do not answer now,’ he said quickly as she opened her mouth. ‘I admire and respect you above all women. I feel sure that the friendship and fondness we share would, given opportunity, grow into love. For myself, there is no one I would rather have at my side for the rest of our lives.’
Jenefer’s head was pounding. She had not expected – did not want – yet could not help but be touched. ‘William, you do me great honour. But I don’t deserve such praise.’
‘We will not argue. I know you to be thoughtful and considerate. All I ask is that you think about my offer. Good day.’ As he turned away she closed the door.
Returning to her chair, she rested her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands. William was a good man who would care for her. But how could she accept one man when she loved another? Scalding tears seeped through her fingers. You are everything to me. How could he have said that? Why had he not told her he was married? Why had he allowed her to think – to hope? He had to have recognized her deepening feelings for him.
But the bitter truth was that while the village had begun to suspect – even hope – there was more than friendship between the two of them, he had never actually said as much.
He had kissed her with tenderness that made her heart tremble, and passion that left her weak and breathless and yearning. But he had never told her he loved her. He had taken cruel advantage. Yet he could have taken far more. That he had not done so indicated a glimmer of conscience. Unless – unless he had not found her desirable.
But he had. As she relived his arms around her, her body moulded to his, his mouth hot on hers, her blood raced and her skin burned. He had wanted her and she had ached for him. She pushed up from her chair, pacing as if she might somehow escape the agony, gasping as sobs racked her.
Eventually the wave of grief ebbed, leaving her with a grinding headache. She left the door unbolted so Lizzie would not worry, dragged herself upstairs, and lay on the bed.
She jerked upright, briefly disoriented. She hadn’t expected to sleep. Her headache had gone, but her face felt tight and her eyes were hot. What had woken her? That was Charles’s knock. He was back. Then she heard Lizzie’s voice.
‘Miss Trevanion isn’t home to visitors today.’
Her heart thudding against her ribs she crawled to the window. Not daring to look out in case he saw her, she held her breath and listened. ‘I understand.’ His voice was hoarse with strain and exhaustion. ‘Will you give her this letter?’
‘You aren’t going to give her no more grief.’ Lizzie’s tone hovered between question and statement.
‘Please, give her my letter.’
Tempted to go down, to hear what he had to say, wanting to hit him and hold him, Jenefer scrambled away from the window. As she got to her feet she heard his footsteps receding and caught sight of herself in the glass. Her face was the colour of ashes except for plum and purple shadows beneath her swollen eyes, and her hair had come loose and hung in untidy hanks.
She heard the door open and hesitated at the top of the stairs as Lizzie glanced up and raised the letter.
‘Mister just brought this.’
‘I heard him.’
Lizzie laid the letter on the table. ‘I’m going in and fetch you a nice bowl of beef stew.’ She paused, her hand on the latch. ‘He look like he haven’t slept in days. Not that he deserve to. But don’t go thinking he got off light. Hannah says half the village isn’t speaking to him, and the other half is ready to scat him in the harbour. ’T isn’t out of sympathy for his wife neither. Hannah heard from Esther that there was some terrible row between the three of them—’
Jenefer came slowly downstairs. ‘Row? But he was away in Truro.’
‘He come back no more’n an hour after they arrived. Tom had already sent the boy up to Kegwyn with a note for ’n to come d’rectly he got home. When mister got to The Standard there was some carry-on. The girl was screaming, her mother was begging one minute and shouting at him the next. From what Esther can make out, the girl was already expecting by another man when mister was trapped into wedding her, and her mother was in on it.’
Jenefer gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.
‘I’ll fetch your dinner,’ Lizzie said. As the door closed behind her, Jenefer picked up the letter, her thoughts fizzing like sparks from a firework. As her heartbeat quickened, drumming in her ears, she broke the seal and unfolded the sheet.
Please, name a day and time to suit you, so I may tell you everything I should have told you when we first met. Nothing is as it appears.
Ever yours, Charles.
Though her head was bursting with questions, and her heart seethed with hurt, fear and anger, she pined for him, ached for him.
When Lizzie returned, Jenefer regarded the loaded tray with unease. ‘I don’t think—’
‘Yes, you can, bird.’
‘He wants to talk to me.’
‘All the more reason for you to eat a proper dinner. You don’t want to meet him looking like something the cat dragged in. Come on, now. Eat it while it’s hot. I’ll fetch the tray later.’
At the first mouthful Jenefer tensed, feari
ng her stomach would rebel. But the second was easier, and the third made her realize that the queasy feeling was actually hunger.
While she ate she pondered. The following evening would be best. At eight o’clock it would be dark. Anyone not at home would be in one of the public houses, which meant fewer people around to perhaps see and speculate.
When she had finished her meal she penned an equally brief note and gave it to Lizzie who promised Billo would deliver it as soon as he’d finished his dinner.
Jenefer spent the rest of the afternoon and evening finishing paperwork. The following morning she cleaned the cottage. In the afternoon she bathed and washed her hair, anxious to repair the ravages of the past few days. Lying awake had given her time to think.
Regardless of the circumstances he was married, and she could no longer afford to indulge her hopes. Thank God for her work. With so many people depending on the harbour project, she had no choice but to set aside her personal concerns.
By 7.45 she was dressed and ready. She had chosen a long-sleeved rose-pink gown that reflected a little colour into her pale cheeks. Her honey-gold hair was piled high and fine curls framed her face. Pink kid slippers whispered on the wooden stairs as she descended. After a critical glance round the spotless and tidy kitchen, she tipped a little more coal onto the fire then sat in her chair and folded her hands.
But she couldn’t keep still. She polished two glasses and placed them on the table with a crystal decanter of brandy, then adjusted the bowl of cream roses and fragrant honeysuckle, breathing in their delicious scent. She sat down again and took deep breaths, trying to slow her racing heart and calm her nervousness. He was married. There was no future.
His knock, instantly recognizable, was quiet. Taking one last deep breath she went to the door and opened it. He removed his beaver hat and as the lamplight illuminated his face she knew Lizzie had not exaggerated. Strain had carved new lines and given his features a hard edge. His expression was aloof, unreadable. But his eyes betrayed him. Haunted and full of shadows, his gaze met hers.
He bowed. ‘Thank you for agreeing to see me.’
