The Lost Years

by E. V. Thompson

  Standing to one side in order that Maude might pass into the room, Perys asked hesitantly. ‘Will Edward be dining with us?’

  ‘No.’ Giving him an enigmatic look, Maude added, ‘He feels he needs to rest. He insisted that we call a doctor from Mevagissey. You will no doubt be relieved to know that, although he has bled profusely, nothing is broken. What is more, Edward has decided to return to his family home in Devon first thing tomorrow morning. He will remain there until it is time for him to return to his studies at Cambridge.’

  Arabella clapped her hands in delight and Maude gave her a look of mock disapproval. It was evident to Perys that Edward was not the most popular member of the Tremayne family.

  ‘Shall we make our way to the dining-room?’ Maude suggested. ‘Perys must be absolute famished after such an eventful day . . .’

  * * *

  Perys had very little to say during dinner. In truth, he had spent little time in the company of women and felt particularly shy in the presence of these unfamiliar relatives. Nevertheless, he answered all the questions that were put to him, and from the chatter of Maude and her two daughters was able to piece together something of their lives.

  Maude was a widow, her husband having been killed in the Boer War, fourteen years before, when Morwenna was six and Arabella two. She had brought up her daughters at their family home in London, helped by other members of the large and wealthy Tremayne family.

  The subject of Perys’s own mother and grandparents was studiously avoided. However, he was questioned about his schooling and the career he proposed following in the army.

  Unused to confiding in others, Perys replied hesitantly, ‘I haven’t discussed it with anyone yet and I first have to be accepted in the Duke of Cornwall Light Infantry. But what I would really like to do, eventually, is join the Royal Flying Corps as a pilot.’

  There was a squeak of excitement from Arabella, while the others looked more doubtful.

  ‘Is that not rather dangerous?’ asked Maude.

  ‘They do seem to have a great many flying accidents,’ admitted Perys. ‘It’s a very new skill, but it must be exciting to be able to fly. What’s more, I believe it will one day prove its worth to the army - and to the navy. We had a French boy at school whose brother was a pilot. I think the French army takes flying far more seriously than we do.’

  ‘You know, of course, that two of your distant cousins are flyers? John, and Rupert, whose mother married a Pilkington.’

  ‘Yes, I was hoping I might meet one of them while I am in Cornwall.’

  ‘I am sure it would have proved extremely useful to you. John is a naval flyer and rather reticent about what he does, but Rupert is always ready to talk about aeroplanes and such things to anyone with even the remotest interest in flying. Unfortunately, John is in France at the moment and not expected back for a month or two. I have no idea where Rupert might be.’

  Perys was disappointed. Far keener to become a flyer than to pursue a career in the regular army, he had been hoping one of the two cousin’s might be able to help him.

  ‘When are you attending your interview for the infantry?’ Morwenna asked.

  ‘It’s not certain,’ Perys replied. ‘Great-Uncle Hugh was going to leave a letter for me, telling me what I should do, together with an introduction to the recruiting officer of the regiment at Bodmin. I was hoping to find it in my room . . .’

  ‘Ah! That will be the rather bulky envelope that was left for me, with instructions that I should hand it to you on your arrival at Heligan.’ said Maude. ‘I had quite forgotten it until now. What a good thing you reminded me. You shall have it after dinner.’

  ‘I hope Perys doesn’t have to go right away.’

  Arabella said. ‘I wanted him to escort Morwenna and I to some of the places of interest around here. Edward never would.’

  ‘I am quite sure Perys has many of his own things to do,’ said Maude.

  ‘I doubt whether an interview can be arranged very quickly,’ Perys said. ‘And as I have never before been to Cornwall I would welcome an opportunity to see something of the area. I’d be delighted if Arabella and Morwenna might be allowed to accompany me.’

  Arabella clapped her hands in delight, then looked at her mother uncertainly as she remembered Perys’s unfortunate background.

  ‘That is a very kind offer, Perys,’ said Maude. ‘It would be nice if the girls were able to see something of the countryside while we are in Cornwall. I will probably come too on occasions, if I may. That is, of course, if the rumours of an impending war prove unfounded.’

  CHAPTER 5

  Perys spent the day after his arrival exploring the extensive gardens of Heligan House and generally familiarising himself with his surroundings. He did not have company because Maude and her two daughters were spending the day some eighteen miles away at Lanhydrock House, home of Lord Clifden and his family, prior to attending a ball at the house that evening.

  Their absence suited Perys. The girls and their mother had been kind to him, but he was not yet a fully accepted member of the family. Both they and he needed to adjust to his presence in the household.

  However, Maude was not spurning him. She had taken the family off half-an-hour earlier than planned in order to personally deliver a letter written by Hugh Tremayne. Addressed to the recruiting officer at the Duke of Cornwall Light Infantry barracks, it recommended Perys for a commission in the county regiment.

  She was doing this as a special favour to Pery as she was acquainted with the officer in question. Major Peter Stokes had served in the Boer War with her late husband, and she believed her interest might further the cause of her young relative. She was aware that he would need all the help he could get because the officer was also a close friend of Edward’s father.

  Arabella had wanted her new-found cousin to accompany them to Lanhydrock, but he had saved Maude any possible embarrassment by pleading tiredness after his journey to Cornwall and the events of the previous day. Besides, as he pointed out to the disappointed young girl, he had not been invited. The unexpected arrival of an additional male guest, when they were expecting only a mother and two daughters, might prove inconvenient to their hosts.

  In truth, he was happy to spend the day in his own way, free of all pressures, although he was to learn little about the workings of the estate. The talk of everyone he met - servants, gardeners, labourers and stable hands - was of war.

  The previous day, the newspaper Perys had purchased on the railway station in London had been full of similar dire predictions of an imminent war in Europe.

  Austria-Hungary had already declared war on Serbia, as a direct consequence of the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne. The Archduke had been killed by a Balkan student while on an official visit to Sarajevo, capital of Bosnia. The student was believed to be a member of a secret society which enjoyed support from Serbia.

  There were few people in Great Britain who understood the confused politics of the Balkans. Yet because of a whole series of pacts which existed between the various European countries, it was feared many other nations would be drawn into the conflict, however remote they might be from the turbulence which had long been a feature of Balkan countries.

  But war seemed far off to Perys as he strolled around the grounds of Heligan House, enjoying the warmth of a beautiful English summer day.

  Particularly impressed with the horses in the Heligan stables, he picked out a pretty dappled mare that the groom promised would be ready for him to ride the following morning.

  * * *

  Perys had breakfast alone before taking his ride. The two Tremayne girls and their mother were not expected home from Lanhydrock until that evening. Although there was a thick bank of cloud far out over the sea, it was a warm morning and Perys was looking forward to seeing the countryside from the back of a horse.

  The mare was an easy ride and Perys chose a route that took him along the cliffs, where he enjoyed the br
eeze coming off the sea.

  He had not been riding for long, however when the breeze began to strengthen alarmingly. The clouds he had seen gathering in a dense dark mass on the horizon now began rushing towards the land.

  Turning his horse, Perys rode back the way he had come. Skirting Mevagissey, he headed in a direction that he hoped would return him to Heligan House. He had just turned in to a lonely valley that followed the course of a small fast-running stream when, suddenly, the mare went lame in one of its front legs.

  Dismounting immediately, Perys checked the hoof in case a stone was lodged there. He found nothing. The mishap put him in a quandary. Not certain of his exact location in relation to Heligan, he did not want to lead the lame animal any farther than was absolutely necessary.

  Higher up the valley, not too far away, he spotted the thatched roof of a farmhouse. He decided to make for it and ask directions from the farmer.

  His arrival in the farmyard caused alarm to a number of geese who noisily announced his presence as they fled in ungainly alarm. The sound brought a pleasant, dark-haired woman to the door of the house. Wearing a floral apron, she was wiping flour-powdered hands on a clean, white cloth.

  The appearance of a stranger with a horse was an unusual occurrence in this small farmstead, hidden as it was from the view of those passing along the nearest road. Harriet Bray’s expression revealed her surprise, but she greeted him civilly enough.

  ‘Good morning, sir. Is there something I can do for you?’

  ‘I wonder whether your husband is around the farm?’ Perys replied. ‘My horse has gone lame and I am a stranger here. Perhaps I might leave the horse with you and get directions to take me back to Heligan. Once there I’m quite sure one of the grooms will come out to take a look.’ Belatedly, he added, ‘I am Perys Tremayne.’

  Harriet’s expression changed to one of pleasure. ‘I’m delighted to meet you, sir! Our Martin told us how you spoke up for him and wouldn’t let Master Edward dismiss him.’

  Perys realised he had stumbled upon the farm of the parents of Martin and Annie. Uncomfortably, he wondered what else Martin might have told his mother, but she was talking once more.

  ‘Of course you can leave the horse here Master Perys. My husband will be very sorry to have missed you, but it’s market day in Saint Austell. He’s taken our latest litter of pigs to sell there. Thirteen, and not a runt among ’em. But where are my manners? There’s a heavy showers on its way, won’t you come inside the house for a drink until it passes over? Annie will settle the horse in one of the stalls before the rain reaches us.’ Raising her voice, Harriet called, ‘Annie, Annie. We have a visitor. Show yourself, girl.’

  Annie had been milking one of the farm’s four cows when the geese gave warning of the arrival of Perys and his lame horse. A quick glance from the milking parlour was sufficient to discover the identity of the visitor. Annie had spent the few minutes since then trying to tidy her dress and her hair.

  The latter had been hanging loose, but after frantically using her fingers as a makeshift comb, she drew it back and tied it with a length of tape hastily cut from her apron ties. The apron itself was then discarded and left hanging from a nail in the milking parlour. Emerging from the building, Annie acted out her surprise at seeing Perys.

  She might have fooled him - but not her mother.

  Harriet viewed her daughter with a degree of concern. She had never before known Annie try to impress any young man. She was not happy that the first should be a member of the squire’s family. But she consoled herself with the knowledge that Perys was not likely to be at Heligan for very long. If what Martin had told her in strict confidence was true, he was also unlikely to become a regular visitor to the great house.

  Perys knew nothing of her thoughts. Tethering the horse, he smiled at the girl. ‘Hello, Annie. I’m glad to see that the soaking you received on the day of my arrival has had no lasting effect on you.’

  ‘Likewise, sir,’ Annie replied, dropping Perys the briefest of curtsies. ‘But if you hadn’t made it to Tregassick you’d have been in for another soaking today.’

  As she spoke, one or two raindrops fell, ahead of what would undoubtedly be another deluge.

  A momentary frown crossed Perys’s face. ‘I do wish you would stop calling me ‘sir’, Annie. It makes me feel terribly old. My name is Perys.’

  Deciding it was time she gave her daughter and this young man something else to think about, Harriet said, ‘If we don’t move, we’re all likely to get a soaking. Come into the house while Annie settles the horse, Master Perys. We have milk, or tea . . . there might even be a drop of cider if you would prefer.’

  ‘Milk will be fine, Mrs Bray, thank you.’

  He followed the farmer’s wife inside the house while Annie unhitched the horse and quickly led it away.

  The furniture inside the farmhouse was plain Much of it looked as though it might have been made by an amateur carpenter. Nevertheless, it was serviceable and the house itself was spotlessly clean.

  When Harriet opened the door to the little-used front room, Perys said quickly, ‘Might we use the kitchen instead, Mrs Bray? I am sure I will feel far more comfortable there.’

  Doubtfully, the farmer’s wife said, ‘It’s a bit of a mess right now. I’ve been cooking . . .’

  Smiling at her, Perys said, ‘I know, I can smell baking - I’ve no doubt it’s quite delicious.’

  ‘Oh, my dear soul! I left some scones in the oven . . .’

  There was no suggestion of going into the best room now, and Perys followed the hurrying Harriet to the kitchen.

  Opening the door of the oven situated at the side of the fire, she pulled out a tray of scones. It was followed by a second, and a third. To her relief, they were cooked to perfection.

  When Annie came into the kitchen, only just ahead of the rain that was now beating against the window panes, Perys was sitting at the table, a glass of milk in front of him and a half-eaten buttered scone in his hand.

  She looked questioningly at her mother, and Harriet said, apologetically, ‘Master Pery insisted on coming in here.’

  ‘It was the wonderful cooking smells,’ Perys explained. ‘And the taste is even better! They really are delicious. I hope you’re going to teach Polly up at the house how to cook these, Mrs Bray, or Martin will never leave home.’

  Pleased that Perys was displaying an interest in Martin, Harriet said, ‘The girl can cook well enough. She’ll make him a good wife.’

  ‘It hasn’t taken you very long to learn what’s going on at Heligan,’ said Annie, ignoring the frown her mother gave her for being overly familiar.

  ‘Polly very kindly ironed some of my clothes ready for dinner on my first night,’ Perys explained. ‘She thanked me for speaking up for Martin and explained that they were to be married. I am also grateful to you for telling me who was staying at Heligan, Annie. It helped a great deal.’

  ‘I’m sure you managed to sort things out well enough by yourself,’ she said.

  Harriet drew in her breath sharply at what she considered to be her daughter’s impertinence, but Perys was more concerned with how much Annie knew about him. At the same time he felt the truth would matter far less to her than it did to members of the Tremayne family.

  ‘Would you like another scone ... or some more milk, perhaps?’ Harriet was determined to steer the conversation towards safer ground.

  ‘Yes please to both offers, Mrs Bray. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted scones like these before.’

  Throwing her daughter what was intended to be a warning glance, Harriet put two more scones on Perys’s plate and moved the butter dish towards him. ‘I think the rain will move on directly,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what’s got into the weather these days, with such squalls sweeping in out of nowhere. At this time of year we should be having haymaking weather.’

  ‘Have you heard that Henry Dunn came home from hospital last night?’ Annie asked Perys. When he looked momentarily blank, sh
e explained, ‘Henry was the man we dug out of the landslip on the Pentewan Road. He’s got a broken leg, and a couple of ribs are injured too, but he’s going to be all right.’

  ‘That’s good news,’ declared Perys. ‘I’d like to call on him some time.’

  ‘Why don’t we go now?’ Annie suggested. ‘The rain seems to have almost stopped.’

  She sounded a little too eager and Harriet said, firmly, ‘You have work to do about the farm, my girl. Cows don’t milk themselves - and your pa said you were to bring the sheep from the bottom field in closer to the house.’

  ‘I have things to do, too,’ Perys said reluctantly. ‘I must get back to Heligan and tell them about the mare. She ought to have someone look at her as soon as possible.’

  Annie was disappointed but Harriet’s relief was short-lived.

  ‘Could we make it sometime this evening.’ Perys asked. ‘Morwenna and Arabella are bringing friends to Heligan from Lanhydrock tonight. I really would like an excuse to be out of the house while they are there.’

  It would have been churlish and embarrassing for Harriet to refuse permission for Annie to accompany Perys, and she said, ‘I think that would be all right. Perhaps Martin could go, too.’

  ‘Then that’s settled,’ said Annie. ‘Come to the farm whenever you’re ready . . . Perys.’

  Her mother’s expression showed such disap-proval that Annie decided it was not the moment to tell her that Martin had informed her he would be required at Heligan that evening. He was to take Morwenna’s and Arabella’s friends home when they were ready to leave.

  CHAPTER 6

  Mevagissey was a pretty little fishing village, with houses and fish-cellars crowded together and streets so narrow that for most of their length only the smallest of wagons were able to pass each other.

  There was an inner and an outer harbour and both were crowded with boats. These were mainly fishing vessels only half-a-dozen had steam engines. The remainder were sailing vessels, their owners reliant upon the vagaries of the wind to earn a living.