Miss Mary’s Daughter

by Diney Costeloe

  Slowly, carefully, she folded the letters and placed them back in the drawer. Jocelyn’s secret plans would remain secret, known only to her. She rose to her feet, picked up the lamp, and with one final look about the dust-covered room, slipped back through the connecting door. It took several minutes and the last of her strength to ease the heavy wardrobe back against the wall, concealing the door once again, but at length it was done. She undressed, doused the lamp, and with only the candle’s light for company she crept into her bed. Her little watch told her it was twenty to two in the morning. Had she really been in Jocelyn’s room all that time? She reached up and blew out the candle, but try as she might, sleep did not come. She lay in the darkness, thoughts of Jocelyn and Cassie and her mother churning in her head. She remembered the letters she’d found in her mother’s desk and set aside to deal with another day. Were Jocelyn’s letters amongst those? Explaining about Cassie?

  I’ll have to look as soon as I get back home, she thought.

  Back home. Suddenly she knew she ought to be returning to London. She’d stayed far longer than she’d intended and if she went back to London, perhaps refusing to come back to Cornwall, maybe her grandfather would recognize that it was Charles who had given his life to Trescadinnick, that he was more of a Penvarrow than she would ever be, and perhaps he would change his will yet again.

  Part of her wanted to get away, to break free from the intensity of life at Trescadinnick and to go back to the familiar home in which she had lived most of her life. But there was another part of her, almost unacknowledged, that looked to the mundane life she’d led there, and which would reclaim her, with dismay. She pushed that thought aside. Home was home. Home was the little house in Hammersmith where she’d been brought up, not this great barn of a place in Cornwall. She had promised AliceAnne that she would be here to celebrate Christmas with them. She could at least keep that promise and stay till then, but after that, when 1887 crept over the threshold, she knew she should leave. As Thomas’s heir, acknowledged or not, her position in the house would become untenable.

  I shall go home soon, she decided. I can always come back for Christmas and so keep my promise to AliceAnne. And with some sort of decision made, she finally drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

  18

  Next morning, when Sophie was summoned to her grandfather’s bedroom, she had decided she would tell him of her determination to go home. She knew he would be angry and had readied herself for his reaction.

  ‘To go home?’ he spluttered in indignation. ‘You are at home, girl. This is your home now, not some hovel in London.’

  ‘No, Grandfather, it is not,’ replied Sophie sharply. ‘And,’ she went on angrily, ‘I do not live in a hovel. I live in a perfectly respectable house in a perfectly respectable neighbourhood.’

  ‘It may be respectable,’ Thomas grumbled, ‘but you are a Penvarrow of Trescadinnick, and your place is here.’

  ‘I am not a Penvarrow,’ retorted Sophie. ‘I am a Ross, whether you like it or not.’

  ‘You’re my granddaughter and that’s the same thing,’ said Thomas.

  ‘No, it is not,’ returned Sophie. She sighed and reached for his hand. ‘I need to go home, Grandfather. I will come and visit you all again. Indeed, I’ve promised AliceAnne that I’ll be here to celebrate Christmas with you, so I shall only be away for a few weeks.’

  ‘And then you’ll stay,’ asserted the old man, adding, as if as an inducement, ‘Your aunt isn’t getting any younger. She needs help with the house.’

  Knowing how much Louisa would resent any interference in the management of her household, this almost made Sophie laugh out loud, but any laughter died in her throat as her grandfather was seized by a paroxysm of coughing. Sophie leaped to her feet, and grasping the old man by his shoulders, heaved him more upright in the bed. As she tried to hold him steady, she could feel his thin shoulders shaking as the coughs racked his chest. When at last his coughing stopped and he lay back exhausted on the pillow, Sophie wiped his mouth with a linen handkerchief and was horrified to see that it was flecked with blood. She reached for the jug of water that stood at his bedside and pouring him a glass, held it to his lips.

  ‘Here, Grandfather,’ she said gently. ‘Have a sip, and then I’ll make you up one of the powders Dr Bryan left you. That should help.’

  Thomas, whose hand had been gripping hers as she guided the glass to his mouth, suddenly pushed her away. ‘No!’ His voice was little more than a gasp, but there was no doubt about the ferocity of the word.

  ‘But you must have your medicine,’ soothed Sophie. ‘It’ll make you feel better.’

  ‘Makes me feel worse,’ murmured the old man. He allowed her to give him a little more water, but was obdurate in his refusal of the glass when she’d mixed one of the powders the doctor had left, so she set the glass aside. Aunt Louisa can try and make him take it, later, she thought.

  They did not return to the subject of her departure again. Sophie picked up the newspaper Paxton had brought the previous day, and began reading aloud. But when she had finished, Thomas still felt too weak to dress and come down for luncheon, and she left him resting, ensuring his room was warm enough before finally closing the bedroom door. So he was not there when Sophie broke the news of her intended departure to her aunt, Charles and AliceAnne.

  ‘But you said you’d be here for Christmas,’ cried AliceAnne. ‘You promised!’

  ‘AliceAnne!’ reproved her grandmother. ‘That is no way to speak to your Aunt Sophie. You only speak when you’re spoken to.’

  AliceAnne closed her mouth, but she looked at Sophie with imploring eyes.

  ‘I promised I’d be here, AliceAnne,’ replied Sophie, ‘and I will. I’ll come back for a visit over Christmas... that’s if you’ll have me.’

  Ignoring Louisa’s earlier admonition, AliceAnne burst out, ‘Of course we will, won’t we, Papa? Aunt Sophie can come back, can’t she?’

  For the first time Sophie turned to look at Charles, who was calmly eating his lunch.

  ‘Your Aunt Sophie will always be welcome here if she wants to come,’ he replied. ‘She may come and go as she pleases. Now, AliceAnne, I don’t want to hear your voice again until your plate is empty.’

  Sophie returned her attention to her own plate, but not before she’d seen a gleam of satisfaction in Louisa’s eyes. She for one would not be sorry that Sophie was planning to leave.

  The meal progressed in awkward silence. No one quite knew what to say after Sophie’s announcement and they were all pleased when the meal was over. As they were getting up from the table Paxton appeared and said, ‘The master wishes to speak to you, Mr Charles. You too, Miss Sophie. He says he’ll expect you both upstairs in ten minutes’ time.’

  ‘I have an important letter to write,’ Charles said. ‘It won’t take long. I’ll be up in a minute or two.’ And with that he disappeared into his study.

  Sophie also wanted a little time to herself before braving her grandfather’s wrath again. She went to her room and tidied her hair. As she looked at the wardrobe, she suddenly wished that she’d taken all the letters from Joss’s desk. If she had the whole correspondence, Joss’s letters and those waiting in her mother’s desk, she might be able to piece together what had really happened. Perhaps, tonight, she’d struggle with the wardrobe just once more and collect them. After all, no one knew they were there, so no one would know they were missing.

  As she opened her bedroom door and stepped out onto the landing, Sophie met Charles coming up the stairs. She smiled at him, but her smile wasn’t returned. He simply preceded her along the landing and knocked on the door of Thomas’s bedchamber.

  At the shout of ‘Come!’ he held open the door for her and they went in. Thomas was dressed and sitting in a chair by the fire. He waved them in, saying, ‘Shut the door, Charles, there’s a draught.’

  Two chairs were set on the other side of the fireplace and he said, ‘Sit down, the pair of you. I want to talk to you.�
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  Sophie perched on the edge of one of the chairs, a bird poised for flight. She knew what her grandfather was going to say and she didn’t want to be there when he told Charles that he had been cut out of the will.

  Charles, seemingly unaware of what was coming, closed the door and took the other chair.

  Thomas looked at him and then across at Sophie. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘you’ll no doubt know why I want to talk to you.’ He raised an enquiring eyebrow, but neither answered him; Sophie because she did know, and Charles because he could guess and had no intention of making it easier for the old man.

  ‘Yesterday,’ Thomas went on, ‘Staunton, my lawyer, called at my request. I’d written to him and asked him to draw up a new will.’ This statement was also greeted with silence, so he continued. ‘He brought it yesterday for me to approve and sign. I’m telling you now that I did both.’ He glanced across at Charles’s stony face and said, ‘I told Sophie this last night, that she is now my heir, the heir to Trescadinnick. But I see from your face that she hasn’t shared the news with you, Charles.’

  ‘Because I was hoping you’d change your mind, Grandfather,’ interjected Sophie. ‘I think it is quite wrong of you to cut Charles out. I’ve done nothing to deserve Trescadinnick. I have no right to inherit. It’s Charles who has kept the estate running these last years, so he has every right.’

  ‘I’m not going to argue the toss with you, Sophie,’ snapped Thomas. ‘I’ve done what I’ve done and I have no intention of changing my mind, now or in the future. Charles knew I was going to make you my heir and I told him what he should do about it.’

  ‘Do about it? What can he do about it if you’re refusing to change your mind?’ demanded Sophie.

  ‘He can marry you.’

  Sophie stared at him, stunned. ‘Marry me? Marry me? But I don’t want to get married and I certainly don’t want to marry Charles!’

  ‘I’m glad we are of one mind about that!’ Charles said with a harsh laugh. ‘I’ve already told your grandfather, if that’s what’s necessary to inherit Trescadinnick, I’m not prepared to do it. I shall leave and make my own way in the world.’

  ‘You mean you knew about this preposterous idea before... before now?’

  ‘Your grandfather told me of his plans the night you arrived. I told him then that if marrying you was the price of Trescadinnick, I wasn’t prepared to pay it.’

  Sophie felt the colour flood her face at the starkness of his words, anger at their arrogance.

  ‘Be reasonable, both of you,’ barked Thomas. ‘If you marry each other it solves all the problems at a stroke. Charles is able to stay and manage the estate as he’s been doing so capably these last years. He has a charming and beautiful wife to run his home and provide him with more children. Sophie is set up in a suitable marriage and has a wonderful house to call her own, a place to bring up a family of her own; and little AliceAnne has a new mother who she already loves.’

  ‘Have you quite finished, sir?’ Charles spoke through gritted teeth. ‘I told you then and I’m telling you now, if and when I wish to remarry, I shall choose my own wife and it will not be a chit of a girl scarce out of the schoolroom, who is foisted on me by my step-grandfather as payment for services rendered and as a sop to his own conscience!’

  ‘And when the time comes when I want to marry,’ Sophie retorted, ‘I shall choose my own husband.’ She fixed her grandfather with a baleful eye. ‘Just as my mother did. I shall choose someone handsome and charming, someone I can love and with whom I long to spend the rest of my life, not a sour-faced, middle-aged man looking for a mother for his child and an inheritance for himself.’

  ‘I thought I’d made it quite clear to both of you,’ snapped Charles. ‘I am not looking for a wife, or a mother for my daughter, or, for that matter, the Trescadinnick estate.’

  ‘Oh yes, cousin, or should I say step-cousin, you’ve made that abundantly clear. And as you say we are of one mind.’ She turned to face her grandfather and said with chilling calmness, ‘You have our answers to your proposal, sir, and mine at least is irrevocable. I would not marry Charles if he begged me on bended knee!’

  ‘There is absolutely no danger of my doing any such thing,’ countered Charles. ‘That I can promise you.’

  Sophie got to her feet and mustering all the dignity she could, she turned her back on both men and walked, ram-rod straight, to the door. There she turned and said, ‘I told you this morning, sir, that I intended to go home to London very soon. That has changed. I intend to leave Trescadinnick at the first possible opportunity.’ And with that she left the room.

  By the time she reached her own room, she found she was shaking with rage. How dare they? Either of them! It was her grandfather who had come up with this crackpot scheme, but it was Charles who had rejected her in no uncertain terms. She didn’t want to marry Charles; she had said as much, but there were ways of saying so. When Charles had spoken of her as a schoolroom miss, the vehemence of his rejection had been echoed in her own.

  When she had calmed down a little, she rang for Hannah, who had been waiting for her call. Sophie had warned Hannah that morning of her plans and was surprised when Hannah had said, ‘If you’re sure that’s the best thing, Miss Sophie.’

  Now, after the confrontation with her grandfather and Charles, Sophie knew that, definitely, it was the best thing. She still had money from that given to her by Matty, enough for their fares home and if necessary for an overnight stay along the way.

  ‘I shall consult Bradshaw and find the times of the trains back to London. I intend to leave tomorrow. Paxton can take us to the station in the morning and at least we shall get as far as Truro. In the meantime, please will you pack and have us ready to leave first thing.’

  ‘What does your grandfather say to your sudden departure?’ asked Hannah.

  ‘He’s furious, but he should have expected it when he started telling me whom I should marry,’ snapped Sophie. ‘It didn’t work with my mother and it isn’t going to work with me!’ Then, immediately repentant, she said, ‘Dear Hannah, I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to take it out on you. My grandfather is demanding that Charles and I should marry. Neither of us wish it and so it’s better that I quit the house as soon as possible.’

  ‘Could you not consider such an idea?’ Hannah said gently. ‘Marriage with Mr Charles?’

  ‘No, I could not,’ declared Sophie, adding, ‘And nor could he. We are of one mind.’

  Sophie stood up and walking to the wardrobe, pulled out her riding habit. ‘I’m going out for a ride to clear my head,’ she announced.

  ‘By yourself?’ Hannah said nervously.

  ‘Certainly by myself,’ said Sophie. ‘I have no need of an escort and I’m sure my cousin has better things to do with his time than to play nursemaid to a schoolroom miss. When I get back I shall not go down for dinner. Perhaps you would ask Mrs Paxton if I might have a tray here in my bedroom.’

  Hannah knew there was nothing she could do or say to Sophie when she was in this mood, and she simply nodded and said, ‘I’ll ask Paxton about the train times. I’m sure he’ll know.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Sophie as she pulled on her riding boots... Anne’s riding boots. ‘That’s a good idea. I’m sure he’ll know.’

  Once changed, Sophie took herself down to the stable yard and asked Ned to saddle Millie for her.

  ‘Will Mr Charles be needing Hector?’ Ned asked.

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ Sophie said casually. ‘I’m sure he’ll tell you if he does.’

  Sophie mounted from the block and was just riding out of the yard when she saw Charles coming out of the front door. He stopped short, his face rigid, as he saw her set off down the drive. Determined that he shouldn’t stop her and equally determined to show him that she was entirely her own mistress, she gave him an insouciant wave and broke into a trot.

  Once she had reached the open cliff top, Sophie edged Millie into a canter. Winter was creeping in and the afternoon wa
s cold and grey, but Sophie didn’t care. She needed to get away from the house, to feel the freedom of riding alone. She looped round and, slowing, followed a cart track up and under the moor. She had been that way with Charles once and knew it led eventually back to Port Felec. She decided that she’d go that way into the village and perhaps visit Jocelyn’s grave again before she left for London.

  As she came down the lane that led to the church she heard someone call her name, and glancing round saw Nicholas coming out of one of the small stone cottages, his doctor’s bag in his hand. She drew rein and waited for him to come up beside her.

  ‘Sophie!’ he greeted her with a wide smile. ‘What a surprise! It’s a cold afternoon for you to be riding out.’ He looked back at the cottage he’d just left and added, ‘Mrs Pennell was my last call of the day and I’m on my way home. Will you join me at The Clipper for a cup of tea and a muffin to warm you up before you return home?’

  Sophie was sorely tempted to accept his invitation. That would show anyone who happened to be watching that she could do as she chose; that she didn’t care that she should not be alone in public with a gentleman who was not family and to whom she was not engaged. She was about to say yes, but common sense prevailed, making her shake her head and say regretfully, ‘Thank you, Nicholas, that’s a very kind invitation, but I’m afraid I’m really on my way back to Trescadinnick. I’m leaving tomorrow for London and have much to do before I go.’

  ‘To London?’ he said. ‘Is this a sudden decision? I thought you were making an extended visit to Trescadinnick.’

  ‘I have to go back unexpectedly,’ Sophie said.

  ‘But you are coming back?’ Nicholas asked anxiously.

  ‘I may be back for Christmas,’ Sophie replied. ‘I have promised AliceAnne to try and come back then.’

  ‘And you leave tomorrow? How very strange that you should be going just now,’ he said. ‘I too have business in London and will be there in a week’s time. Perhaps I may come and call upon you there.’