Pengarron Pride

by Pengarron Pride (retail) (epub)

  When she stepped inside the summer house with its high domed roof she shook the hand of a magnificent marble statue of a stern aristocratic-looking Roman senator. It was a superstition of Kerensa’s, done from her very first venture here. The summer house had been erected by Sir Henry Pengarron, Oliver’s great-grandfather, a man of elaborate tastes, and Kerensa had felt the statue forbade her entry; he was a noble man, she only a working-class girl. Its hand was stretched out as though it was about to begin a speech and she had shaken it in a gesture of friendship. Since then she had felt it tolerated her presence if she performed this simple ceremony. Sometimes she bid it the time of day, but not now. She put the tray on a table and crept up to the figure lying on a padded couch.

  ‘You’re going to drink it all up, young man,’ she whispered into the figure’s ear, ‘whether you like it or not.’

  The figure did not move so she allowed Bob to lick its face. This did the trick and Jack sat up smiling and pushed the dog away.

  ‘How’d you know I was awake?’

  ‘When your eyes are open, Jack, they’re so bright you can see them a mile away.’

  With her fingertips Kerensa pushed streaks of hair gently away from Jack’s eyes and viewed him critically. ‘I have never seen such unruly hair. No matter how many times it’s brushed and combed, within minutes it’s all over the place again. Jack, you’re as untidy as the other boys.’

  ‘Me a boy?’ came the scornful reaction. ‘I’m only a few years younger than you are.’

  ‘Well, you know what I mean,’ she said, handing him the glass of strong-smelling green medicine that Beatrice maintained would restore his vigour. ‘I keep forgetting you’re quite grown up. Now prove it by drinking this straight down without your usual fuss.’

  Jack rose to the challenge and drank the bitter liquid in two courageous gulps then without taking a breath snatched up the goat’s milk at once to wash away the taste.

  ‘Ugh!’ he complained. ‘I sometimes wonder if Beatrice is trying to kill me off.’

  Kerensa put a finger to her lips. ‘Shh, don’t let Beatrice hear you say such a thing or we’ll never hear the last of it. She takes great trouble to mix up her herbs and other ingredients to heal the many parts of your body needing treatment.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Jack said contritely, ‘but it tastes some awful, worse ’n the stuff that doctor man gave me at Trecath-en Farm.’

  ‘Dr Crebo takes Beatrice’s mixture for gout himself. Says it works better than anything an apothecary could make up for him.’ Kerensa patted Jack’s hand and gave him a maternal smile. ‘You won’t be like this for much longer. As soon as you can keep your balance you’ll be able to do light jobs around the stables and by the end of the summer you’ll be almost back to normal. It could have been worse, we thought at first you’d been blinded.’

  ‘I know, but I just aren’t used to lying about all the time,’ Jack said, scratching a troublesome spot above Bob’s nose. ‘I want to see for myself that Kernick and Meryn are really all right. I want to check ’em over ’n’ make sure they footpads did ’em no harm.’

  Kerensa sat at the table and pulled at a fold in her skirt. She was still nervous from the attack but it helped to talk about it with Jack who’d shared the same terrifying experience. ‘They’re fine, according to Clem. He gave them both a good look over when Mr Harrt asked him to bring them back from Penzance market.’

  ‘Begging your pardon, m’lady, Clem’s a good farmer but he don’t know nothing much about horseflesh.’

  ‘Michael and Conan are quite able to take care of them, Jack, but if you’re so concerned, would you like me to ask Adam Renfree to take a look at them? He’s been in charge of the stud for over thirty years, he should be able to set your mind at rest.’

  ‘If you would, I’d ’preciate that.’ Jack leaned gingerly towards the table and flicked a fly off the rim of one of the glasses. ‘You’d think they men would have had more sense than trying to sell the ponies so close to home.’

  ‘Apparently they were so drunk when they were caught, one is thought to have believed himself to be in Truro.’

  ‘All they miles away! P’raps they thought they’d sell the ponies for the races.’

  ‘Well, it’s a relief to know they’ll all be hung. Apparently they’ve been found guilty of many other crimes too.’

  ‘Serves ’em right,’ Jack said with feeling, his hands going instinctively to the parts of his body injured in the attack. ‘’Tis probably they who’ve been murdering and cutting up all they people. We was lucky, they might have cut we up too.’

  Kerensa shuddered and reached out to Jack. ‘Are you in pain, Jack?’

  ‘Just a little, m’lady, there’s always a dull ache somewhere, but ’tis just reaction mostly, that’s all. You don’t need to fuss over me so, although I must admit I rather enjoy it,’ he added.

  ‘And I enjoy it too. Besides, it keeps me busy. Kelynen Ann rarely wakes up between feeds. Olivia is absorbed in her painting, and Luke and Kane are often out in the grounds practising their race for the foal.’

  ‘I’m some proud to be asked to give another name to the baby,’ Jack said humbly. ‘I always liked the name Ann. ’Tis simple but pretty. I keep wondering, though, what His Lordship will say…’

  ‘I made a vow on that terrible journey I made to Trecath-en Farm that if you and the baby got through the ordeal all right, you would choose one of her names. Kelynen was my choice, well… Anyway, Sir Oliver can choose as many names for her as he wants when he comes home.’

  ‘I’d feel happier if Ann became her last name then. ’Tis a good name to finish off with.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Jack, Sir Oliver won’t feel it improper for you to have picked a name for his daughter in the circumstances. After all,’ she said tightly, looking away, ‘he was the one who wasn’t there.’

  Quickly changing the subject, Jack said, ‘The children on Trecath-en Farm are like Masters Luke and Kane, always off on their own getting into mischief. I enjoyed watching what they got up to. All the family were good to me during my stay there. Morley used to sit with me and tell me about the time he worked on the estate in his younger days, and till I could see properly Kenver read his poetry to me. I used to watch him at his craftwork, he’s some clever. I think it made a change for him to have someone about him who couldn’t dash about on their two feet. The things he makes are a wonder to see, all the better when you’ve feared you’d never see again.’

  ‘How about Clem?’ Kerensa asked slowly. ‘Did you get on well with him?’

  ‘Aye, I did. He’s not near so quiet and moody when you get to know him and I was surprised at how close he and Alice are. They behaved more in the way you’d expect Rosie and Matthias Renfree to now they’re betrothed, and they can be some soppy, ’n’ all. Didn’t expect the Preacher to come out with all that romantic stuff. You never really know people, do you?’

  ‘No, you don’t.’ Kerensa felt a glow of warmth for Alice, pleased that her friend was receiving the love and affection she deserved. It seemed after all these years their situations were reversed: Alice had a loving husband now and she did not.

  ‘What I’m meaning is, m’lady, the Trenchards were good to me, but I’m glad to be home. Be even better if everyone was here.’

  Kerensa sighed. ‘I know what you mean, Jack.’

  ‘I hope you don’t mind me saying, but I miss him too, Sir Oliver. I know it must be the hardest for you, but he wouldn’t have gone away… unless… unless…’ and Jack blushed and faltered.

  ‘Unless he had a good reason?’ Kerensa muttered. ‘Is that what you’re trying to say, Jack?’

  ‘Aye, yes… I mean…’

  ‘He did have a good reason, Jack.’ Then she spoke as if to herself. ‘But to stay away for so long, without any word…’

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, it’s just that Sir Oliver is a good man, he wouldn’t mean to hurt. I just wish there was some news of him.’

  ‘Do
n’t worry, Jack,’ Kerensa said wearily, ‘he’ll be back. Sir Martin has been making inquiries for me on both sides of the Channel to see if he can come up with anything. I’m sure we’ll hear something soon.’ Kerensa found it hard in her own heartbreak to have to comfort those around her. She had to display a constant bright outlook, when in fact she was beginning to share the private fears of others, that Oliver wouldn’t have stayed away for so long and without communication unless he was dead. Kerensa knew Jack had another fear – that she wouldn’t readily take Oliver back. But while she sometimes resented his actions, she thought of her part in what had provoked them, and her love was so deep she knew she’d have him back at any cost. She just wanted him to come home.

  ‘He’ll be surprised to see the little one when he does come home,’ Jack said, in a bid to be more cheerful.

  ‘Yes, he will.’

  Kerensa stared blankly across the perfectly landscaped gardens, mentally imagining Oliver riding up the long gravelled carriageway that lay beyond the imposing granite manor house. She suddenly wanted to cry but shook herself and took a deep breath, forbidding the tears to appear. The children were becoming used to their new sister; would they get used to not having a father? They asked fewer questions about him now.

  ‘Anyway, Jack,’ she smiled bravely, ‘at least I have you home again.’

  * * *

  Since the attack on herself and Jack, Kerensa had forbidden the children to ride outside the manor grounds unescorted. Frustrated by his father’s prolonged disappearance which delayed the race for the black foal at the stud, Luke was angered by this restriction. He constantly picked away at Kane’s better judgement and urged him to ride further afield. That afternoon Kane finally gave way.

  ‘No one will know if we don’t go too far,’ Luke said perkily. ‘Just a mile or two, along the edge of Lancavel Downs where no one is likely to see us.’

  ‘I’m not sure about this, Luke,’ Kane argued, regretting his weakness at allowing his younger brother to get the upper hand once again. ‘I hope Mama doesn’t find out, it wouldn’t be fair to give her any more worry.’

  ‘Don’t be so soft!’ Luke scoffed, prodding Kane in the chest. ‘You’re no fun, you’re always round Mama’s skirts. Well, I want to be more like Father.’

  ‘But we’re riding over to Trecath-en Farm tomorrow with Mama and Olivia and Nat to play with Jessica, Philip and David again. That will get us out of the grounds and I’m sure Clem will organise a race for us. I bet he’s good at that sort of thing.’

  Luke was wildly jealous of Kane’s fondness for Clem. ‘He’s only a farmer! The girl squeals if I just look at her and those twins can’t talk properly! I probably won’t even go.’

  ‘Oh, Luke. Mama will be so upset if you throw another one of your tantrums. You know she’s got her heart set on us going and getting on well with all the Trenchards. After all, it’s up to us to set a good example.’

  They were in the hut set aside for injured and convalescing birds and animals. Luke kicked a crate in bad temper and frightened a jackdaw with a splint on its wing. He was immediately sorry about that but he pushed his brother out of the door. Kane stumbled down the steps and landed on his backside. Luke stood on the top step and scowled down at him.

  ‘If you don’t go with me right now, I swear I will never, ever go near that beastly farm again and the next time I see Ricketty Jim I’ll give him a good kicking!’

  Kane stared at Luke unbelievingly as he stalked off to the stables.

  ‘Well, are you coming or are you going to stare at me like a damned fool idiot?’ Luke stopped and taunted.

  ‘I’m coming,’ Kane said, getting up and rubbing his hands on his shirt front, ‘but this is a foolhardy adventure, and one of these days you could be sorry for the things you do and say.’

  As they rode along Kane looked about uneasily, half expecting to see a spy jump out from behind a boulder or hedge and run home to tell their mother they were disobeying her orders. Luke set his sulky mouth in a tight determined line and prodded his knees in his pony’s sides.

  ‘We’ll race from here,’ he said in superior tones a short time later, ‘a mile to the new meeting-house building. Agreed, brother?’

  ‘But it’s dangerous riding fast over the moors,’ Kane protested. ‘It’s safer to wait until we reach the pannier tracks.’

  ‘There you go again. We’ve ridden this way many times with Jack, we should know every dip and obstacle by now – at least I do.’

  ‘Oh, very well, but only if you promise to go straight back home afterwards and promise not to try any of those tumbling tricks that circus rider showed us when Mama asked him to perform for us.’

  Luke glared at Kane. Their father and Beatrice had filled their heads with the daring, apparently death-defying things he had done as a boy and he’d never once got hurt, at least not badly. If Kane had his way they would never know the thrill of repeating them and making up some new ones of their own before the age of fifty! They’d probably live the lives of two soppy girls!

  Making a rude face, he said in a sarcastic sugary-sweet voice, ‘Fine by me. Ready?’

  Kane counted to five and they both surged forward. Luke moved quickly ahead, but only because Kane had made up his mind to let him win the ultimate race for the pony. He had no heart left in the challenge, not with the father he loved so far away and with the mother he adored heartbroken. Neither of them would be interested in the outcome of the race and so neither was he.

  They rode swiftly over grassy tussocks, expertly skirting round huge boulders in natural but strange formations and solitary ones standing or lying mysteriously alone. Banks of tall ferns bent with the wind of their passage. A slow-worm scuttled away to safety. Insects disturbed by the ponies’ thunder ceased their humming and search for food until they had passed by.

  Kane’s hat was blown off; he did not stop to retrieve it but slowed his pony down to a walk. His younger brother would be furious with him for giving up the race, but Kane was in no mood for the contest. Luke was out of sight now and Kane lingered along the edge of a narrow fast-running stream to see if it held any wild watercress with its dark green tangy leaves. He loved wild cress piled on top of thickly buttered bread, soaked in vinegar and liberally sprinkled with sea salt. He would eat it late at night with Beatrice, who could be relied on to keep his waywardness a secret; she approved of boys being boys.

  There were many unusual and sometimes eerie sounds to be heard on the moors. Rumours of lost souls of those who had stumbled and drowned in the bogs came to mind and folk were apt to look fearfully over their shoulders. All thoughts of watercress and secret suppers vanished as Kane heard a cry like nothing he had heard before. His heart hammering in his chest, he urged his pony forward.

  Luke was a good distance away from him but it soon registered in Kane’s mind that what he could hear were the terrified high-pitched screams of his brother. Kane spurred his pony on, dreading what had happened.

  He found Luke lying face down over a granite boulder close to the meeting house; his pony could just be seen running a race of its own along the path that led to the Wheal Ember mine. Bringing his mount to a jarring halt Kane hurtled off and raced to his brother who was now babbling incoherently.

  Kane recoiled in horror when he saw Luke’s injuries. There was a deep gash that seemed to reach right across his head which was running with blood, and his right arm was forced back and upwards at the shoulder at a grotesque angle.

  Fearfully Kane moved closer and touched Luke’s good shoulder.

  ‘Can you get up, Luke? Can you move at all?’

  Luke kept babbling and Kane fought his horror and fear to stop himself from freezing on the spot. With an effort he knelt down to look into Luke’s stricken face. Blood from the gash was trickling over his face and dripping off his chin.

  Kane wanted to be sick but he knew he had to do something, to take charge of the situation, or his brother might die. His voice was panicky but the words cam
e out clearly.

  ‘I’ll get you on my pony, Luke. You’re not to worry, you’ll be all right, I… I promise.’

  But the moment he said it he knew it would be foolish to try to move Luke. It would aggravate his terrible injuries and Luke had their father’s build, he was tall for his age, and would be too heavy to be lifted safely. Kane tilted Luke’s chin a little and tried to get his eyes to focus on him.

  ‘Listen to me, Luke. I’ll have to leave you to get help. I won’t be gone very long. You’re going to be all right. You mustn’t worry, don’t worry.’

  Luke blubbered something, then his eyes rolled and closed.

  Kane cried out, ‘My God! Don’t die, Luke. I’ll get help, don’t give up! I’m going now!’ He didn’t take his eyes off his brother’s body until he’d leapt on his pony again.

  As he rode, as swiftly as he dared, he harshly accused himself. ‘It’s all your fault! You’re the eldest, you should have refused to go along with this silly race. You should have told Mama what Luke was planning.’

  It was several seconds before he realised that he could hear more than the wind in his ears or his muttered fears; someone was shouting to him from behind. He reined in and watched in utter relief as three riders picked their way carefully towards him. One was leading Luke’s pony.

  The fact that the three riders turned out to be the Blake family did not diminish his relief. At that moment he didn’t care that his father hated Peter Blake and his mother would not have his name mentioned in the house. The presence of an adult meant the terrible weight of sole responsibility for his brother’s fate was lifted from his shoulders. Mr Blake would know what to do.