All the manor staff were aware of Kerensa and Oliver’s violent quarrel, of the cooling off of their once joyful, fulfilling marriage. All were affected by the bleak atmosphere they worked in. Jake Angove, the surly head gardener, had issued loudly, taking no care who heard him. ‘Wonder what’s up with the proud bugger this time? No need fer un to be upsetting the little missus so. Found her in the rose garden this forenoon. She weren’t crying nor nothing. She was just staring into space looking all lost and forlorn, poor little maid.’
‘Well, Beatrice,’ Jack said louder. ‘Do you know anything?’
Beatrice grunted, ‘If I did I wooddun say nothin’ ’bout it. Tes somethin’ more ’n’ a mite serious I grant ’ee, but there’s nothin’ we can do ’bout it. Jus’ ’ave t’wait ’n’ see, ’ope it’ll all blow over, boy. Tedn’t good fer the missus to be upset like this though. An’ I’ll tell ’ee one thing, Jack, I won’t stand fer it!’ She tapped the gin bottle with a gnarled finger. ‘I’ll not take too much of this these days. She may ’ave need of me.’
‘What for?’ Jack wanted to know, spitting on the leather and eyeing the crone. ‘Her Ladyship’s not ill, is she?’
‘Never ’ee do mind.’ Beatrice peered at Jack. ‘Whad’re ’ee all ’et up fer at the moment anyway?’
Jack paused in his work. ‘I saddled Conomor for His Lordship’s early morning ride. Off to Pengarron Point, his thinking place, I shouldn’t wonder. Anyway, he reckoned Conomor’s saddle wasn’t near enough polished properly, said I’ve allowed Michael and Conan to get lazy. Got in a proper temper, he did. I thought he was going to kick the stable door down he was so mazed.’
‘Umph!’ Beatrice snorted. ‘If ’e don’t sort ’isself out soon, reckon someone will ’ave t’do it fer un.’
‘You going to try, Bea?’
‘Dunno, I might, might not. Whatever tes, tes too big fer a light tickin’ off, lean tell’ee.’
Jack looked at Reeth, sleeping fitfully and giving the occasional shiver. ‘I don’t like His Lordship’s mood and there’s only one person I wish it on at the moment and that’s the evil swine who did that to Reeth.’
* * *
Later in the day, when the rain eased off and the heavy black clouds cleared from the sky, Jack rode to the horse stud on Ker-an-Mor Farm with Kane and Luke to look over a newly born foal. As they leaned on the paddock fence, Matthias Renfree joined them to admire the foal.
‘He’s a real beauty, Preacher,’ Jack enthused.
‘Aye, Jack,’ Matthias agreed. ‘He’s the finest foal I’ve seen in many a year. My father reckons he’s another Conomor.’
‘Yes, he certainly looks as good as Conomor,’ Luke observed, climbing up to sit on top of the fence and putting his hat on a pole.
‘He’s better than Conomor,’ Kane added, copying his younger brother’s actions. They were sitting side by side, Luke, tall like Oliver, head on the same level as Kane’s red one.
‘Take some horse to be better than Conomor, Master Kane,’ Jack said.
The foal left its mother, a neat black mare with white socks and blaze, to try out its long straight legs in short elegant runs round the paddock. The men and boys watched in admiration until it tired and returned to suckle the mare. They made a charming scene against the backdrop of open fields, a few wind-waving tall trees and a clearing white sky.
‘We should have brought Olivia with us,’ Kane said regretfully. ‘She could paint a lovely picture of them.’
‘She can come another time,’ Luke said shortly, ‘with Mama and Cherry.’
‘The foal will need a good rider, too, as good as Sir Oliver,’ Matthias said.
‘I’m going to ask Father if I can have him,’ Luke said confidently. ‘He’s not to be sold, do you hear, Matthias?’
Matthias and Jack exchanged amused grins. ‘I don’t know what plans Sir Oliver may have for the foal, Master Luke,’ Matthias replied, ‘but I’d be surprised if he’s thinking of selling him. Sir Oliver’s really proud to see the stud produce such a fine animal again. Cornwall’s not renowned for good horse-breeding.’
‘Aye, he’ll do well at the Truro, Redruth and Bodmin races,’ Jack said. ‘I’ll look forward to seeing him race at them.’
‘Me too,’ Luke said.
‘Me too,’ Kane echoed.
‘Well, he might outrun Conomor, if he’s his father’s son, but although he’d have youth on his side, Conomor has experience. Aye,’ Matthias said in a satisfied voice, ‘one of the best sights in the Lord’s creation is a fine piece of horseflesh.’
‘Perhaps Father will give him to Olivia,’ Kane said. The foal trotted in front of Kane and after a little encouragement moved in close and allowed the boy to smooth its jet-black neck. The mare looked up but stayed at an unconcerned distance.
‘Olivia!’ uttered Luke with scorn. ‘Waste good horseflesh on a girl! I shall ask Father to give him to you, it’s you he came up to, it’s you he obviously likes.’
Luke Pengarron was an odd mixture of moods and emotions. He was not jealous of the sturdy well-proportioned foal falling in readily with the rapport that all animals shared with Kane, but he was envious of the closeness between Kane and their sister. That Kane was a Pengarron in name only did not matter to him. All Luke required was that he was at the centre of everyone’s attention and he ensured that by whatever means it took.
Matthias led the mare and foal into the warmth of their stall. Leaving the boys hanging over the stall door to talk knowledgeably about the foal’s many fine points, he and Jack strolled to the pump at the end of the stable yard.
‘You look worried, Jack,’ Matthias remarked. ‘Is there anything wrong? You missed the Bible class this week. Have you been ill? Is there anything I can help with?’
‘No, Preacher, I haven’t been ill and I’m still going to give you a hand to build the meeting house, but you’re right, I am worried about something.’
‘Would it have anything to do with Heather Bawden, by any chance? Or would you rather I didn’t ask?’
‘You know I’ve a liking for Heather, do ’ee?’ Jack got busy with the pump handle to cover his embarrassment. ‘I thought I’d kept that a secret. No, it’s not about her, though I admit things aren’t running too smoothly there.’ He gulped cold water from the ladle and handed it to Matthias. ‘Can I confide in you, Preacher?’
‘Yes, of course, please do.’
* * *
On the way home Jack rode behind Luke and Kane half-listening to their excited talk about the foal, his heart lighter now he had shared his worries about his master and mistress with Matthias. Matthias was a good listener, hardly saying a word until Jack had relayed the full story, as he and the manor staff knew it, of the blazing quarrel and now strained relationship between Kerensa and Oliver.
Matthias told Jack that he knew as much himself and he was not to worry. He was sure that in time, with prayer and the understanding of those about them, the couple would sort out their differences. Matthias firmly believed that two people so much in love would not allow even the most serious matter to come between them. And after all, no marriage had ever been known not to run into problems.
Jack had nearly asked Matthias for his advice on how to handle his proposed courtship of Heather Bawden. But he thought the Preacher, who never sought the company of women, was unlikely to know anything about them and their peculiar ways. His intellect, faith and compassion made Matthias a good comforter and counsellor. But it would take a different sort of man to advise on affairs of the heart – if Jack could ever pluck up the courage to ask.
Jack did not know that although he felt the burden he had shared had lifted, Matthias was left with a niggling worry. If the estrangement between the Pengarrons continued and became common knowledge, what might Clem Trenchard do?
Luke insisted they take a longer route home on the eastern side of Ker-an-Mor Farm where its land verged on the moorland of Lancavel Downs. He wanted to see the foundations of the new meeting house laid by
Matthias and his willing band of helpers. Oliver had given permission for it to be built a few yards on Ker-an-Mor land on a spot well drained and sound underfoot and close to the ancient public right of way that ran along the farm’s boundary.
Luke was unimpressed by the foundations and piles of granite slabs waiting to form the four walls, declaring it was no bigger than the servants’ outdoor closet. Jack patiently asked him to wait until the meeting place was finished before he offered his final opinion.
Luke gave Jack a look that inferred he was stupid, and urged his horse on to the right of way. His sharp ears had heard the sounds of laughter and he was eager to investigate. It turned out to be a group of Wheal Ember bal-maidens making their way home. Among them was the precocious, wild-haired Heather Bawden.
‘Well, look ’ee ’ere,’ giggled one girl as she recognised the riders, ‘tes yer sweet’eart, ’eather.’ She ran up to Jack and fell in step beside Meryn, his mount. ‘Jus’ look at un. Don’t ’e look all important like up there on that fine ’orse?’
Luke had not missed the teasing remarks and he shouted across to Jack, ‘Which one is she, Jack? Which one is your sweetheart?’
Jack’s face grew crimson as the other bal-maidens joined in the leg-pulling but Luke had only to follow the women’s eyes to see which one it was.
‘Her?’ The boy pointed his riding crop at Heather. ‘An admirable choice, she’s very pretty. If I was a little older I’d give you a run for your money.’ Luke wasn’t sure what the term meant, it was one he had overheard, but he knew it would provoke the desired shocked reaction.
‘You didn’t oughta talk like that, Master Luke,’ Jack chided, hoping he sounded authoritative.
‘He’s his father’s son all right,’ cackled one of the older women. ‘That one with the dark hair ’n’ eyes.’
Luke pressed his knees into his pony’s sides and manoeuvred closer to the bal-maidens. He smiled at them graciously but not without a hint of ribaldry and bowed from the saddle with a flourish.
Heather moved up to Luke and stroked his pony’s neck then gripped a handful of its flowing brown mane. She looked into the boy’s face and gave a saucy curtsy. ‘I’ll still be ’ere in a few years’ time if you’re still int’rested, Master Luke.’
Kane was enjoying the bawdy interchange but sensitive to Jack’s feelings he did not join in. Trotting up beside his brother he prodded his arm. ‘I’ll race you home, Luke, and I wager you my new pocket knife I’ll beat you by more than the whole length of the carriageway.’
Luke never refused a challenge but he had more to say to the buxom bal-maiden. He bent his wiry young body to whisper in her ear. ‘What about my brother, Heather? I don’t do anything without him.’
Heather smiled at the small, handsome, strong-featured face close to hers and glanced across at the beaming redhaired boy. ‘Well, it’s like this, Master Luke,’ she said jauntily. ‘Master Kane is nearly as good-looking as you are and if ’e carries on in the same way I’m sure I can manage if both of you can.’
Fresh cackling broke out and Jack was afraid the matter would get out of hand. He was about to order Luke away when the boy, satisfied with the answer he’d got, gave a bawdy laugh equal to that of Sir Martin Beswetherick’s and said heartily, ‘How about a kiss to be going on with?’
Jack tried to intervene but the other women put themselves in the way. He was outraged as Heather said, ‘A kiss, Master Luke? Now that will cost you a shilling.’
Jack’s protests were drowned by peels of riotous laughter but he heard Luke say, ‘I haven’t got a shilling on me at the moment but if you’ll allow me I’ll open an account.’ Heather turned her head and planted a long kiss to the side of the boy’s lips.
Luke let out a mighty whoop and raced off with a shout over his shoulder, ‘You lucky man, Jack!’
Kane bolted after Luke and the two boys quickly disappeared into the distance.
Jack debated whether to chase after his charges or stay and talk to Heather. He knew what he ought to do, but he wanted to do the other, despite his affront at Heather’s common behaviour. The girl was smiling sweetly at him and she won his decision.
‘Well!’ she shrieked at her companions. ‘Off with you then. A maid don’t need no company when she’s met up with ’er man.’
The other bal-maidens carried on their way over the hard, well-worn ground, giggling and throwing back crude innuendoes.
Jack jumped down beside Heather. Her smile vanished and she stared at him. Jack sighed. He could never tell what mood his ‘sweetheart’ was in.
‘You shouldn’t oughta have spoken to Master Luke like that and carried on in that way in front of me and Master Kane and they other women,’ he reprimanded her.
‘Oh, don’t be so stuffy,’ she pouted, looking annoyed.
‘But that’s not the point, he’s only a boy and shouldn’t hear or be saying things like that. Tisn’t proper.’
‘Trouble with you, Jack,’ Heather returned angrily, ‘is you take all that preachin’ you listen to to ’eart. Be up in that buildin’ yonder when tes finished, bleatin’ with the rest of the sheep. Be a preacher yerself one day, I shouldn’t wonder.’
‘Wouldn’t hurt you none to listen to some of it,’ Jack said peevishly.
‘What! All that prayin’ ’n’ stuff! You won’t catch me steppin’ over Jeb Bray’s threshold or no meetin’ ’ouse. Silly old sod called me sister the other night. I don’t want nothin’ t’do with bein’ converted, whatever that means,’ Heather hooted. ‘You want t’be careful, Jack, it sounds ruddy painful t’me.’
Jack squarely faced the smirking girl. ‘You don’t half say some awful things, Heather. Don’t you ever want to better yourself, be more like a lady?’
The bal-maiden’s expression changed to fury. ‘If you don’t like me just the way I am, Jack, you can git yer arse back on that bloody pony and go to hell!’
She made to storm after her friends but Jack grabbed her arm. She twisted and struggled and Jack moved his legs smartly to avoid a kick. ‘No, no, please, Heather, I’m sorry. Don’t go off in a huff. I have to go myself in a minute anyway to catch up with Master Luke ’n’ Master Kane. Please stay, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.’
Heather forgot her wrath. She stared into Jack’s anxious face as if attempting to learn a secret from its sharp lines. ‘What the bloody ’ell’s yer other name anyway? I only know thee as Jack. Never ’eard nobody call ’ee anythin’ but Jack.’
The clouds had been gradually returning, the light dimming and now a mist was making the air chilly and damp. Heather pulled her shawl in tighter and it accentuated her well-rounded figure. Jack tore his eyes away from her bosom and looked into her face. Her gipsy-wild hair, full of thick flowing crinkly waves, was sprinkled with drops of moisture and Jack wanted to touch it.
He gulped in a mouthful of air to help dampen down his ardour and answered her question before she changed mood again and screamed at him. ‘I haven’t got one,’ he said quietly.
‘What? Got no name? Why on earth not? Everybody’s got a first name and a last name, even we poor mining folk. What’s ’appened to yours then? The piskies come and steal it from ’ee?’
Jack looked at the place where he had last seen the two boys and hoped they would not arrive home too far in front of him. ‘I was a young’un, an orphan, when Sir Oliver took me on as stable boy. I’d been going round with travelling folk, stealing for a living. My parents had been dead for years and I’ve always been called only Jack. Sir Oliver says if I ever want a surname to see him about it, he’ll arrange something for me.’
Heather fell silent. When she spoke again Jack saw compassion in her lively face. ‘Must be awful, not knowin’ where you come from, not knowin’ who you really are. Don’t it bother you none, Jack?’
‘No, not really. Pengarron Manor is more than just a work place to me, it’s my home. Sir Oliver says for me to always feel it’s my home. I have my own little cottage in the grounds,’ Jack
ended proudly. He looked at Meryn and knew he should mount and be on his way.
‘Aren’t you the lucky one, a cottage all ready t’take a wife to. You’ll need another name when you choose one,’ Heather said, eyeing Jack sideways but bouncing straight on to something else. ‘Sir Oliver’s a mixed up sort of man, isn’t ’e? One moment shoutin’ and bawlin’, the next sayin’ kind things like that. Bet ’e’s soft as puddin’ with ’is children and I know ’e adores that beautiful wife of ’is but I d’reckon ’e’s probably ’ell t’live with at times. I want a man like that fer meself, mind you, couldn’t be doin’ with no milksop.’
Jack started forward. ‘I have to be going, Heather. I’d better catch up with Masters Luke and Kane and I have work to be getting on with. I have Michael and Conan, the stable boys, to supervise,’ he added, to impress her. ‘Heather, will you meet me somewhere later tonight? Say you will, please.’
Heather screwed up her face, pretending to think over his request but really to tease him. ‘Reckon I can find an ’our to slip away after my shift. I’ll meet ’ee ’ere about ’alf ’our after that, that suit you?’
‘Aye!’ Jack almost shouted in excitement. ‘Tis fine by me, but can you find your way over the moors in the dark?’
‘Course I can,’ she said scornfully. ‘Do it with me eyes shut.’
Jack thought he should kiss Heather and bent his head to do so. But she bounded off with a shrill laugh.
Pengarron Pride Page 16
