Miss Mary’s Daughter

by Diney Costeloe

  As they neared the church they could hear the bells ringing in the joyous season, and despite the cold wind that swept down from the moor, there was a large gathering of people outside in the churchyard, greeting each other and wishing each other well. Sophie looked for Nicholas and Hannah for Will. Both were among the crowd and as soon as he saw Sophie, Nicholas came up to speak to her as she stood with Charles, AliceAnne and Louisa. It was the first time they had met since they’d parted in London and the sight of him, so tall and handsome, made Sophie’s heart beat faster and the ready colour flood her cheeks.

  Nicholas, however, showed no emotion at all as he said formally, ‘Merry Christmas, Miss Ross.’ But, taking Sophie’s hand, he pressed her fingers before turning to Louisa and Charles. ‘Mrs Leroy, Mr Leroy. Merry Christmas. Mr Penvarrow is not with you?’

  ‘Oh no, Doctor,’ Louisa replied. ‘It’s far too cold for him to venture out this morning. He’s staying in bed in the warm until we get home again.’

  ‘Very wise,’ remarked the doctor. ‘It would be so easy for him to take a chill in this cold weather.’

  Hannah, catching sight of Will and his family, had slipped away to greet them and wish them a Merry Christmas. The smile that broke across Will’s face as he saw her approach was the only Christmas gift she needed, and her answering smile told him all he needed to know.

  ‘You will come and have your Christmas dinner with us, won’t you?’ begged Lizzie. ‘We’ve all been given the rest of the day off, once we’ve served the Christmas dinner at Trescadinnick.’

  Hannah beamed at her. ‘Of course I will. Miss Sophie won’t need me after dinner.’

  ‘And we’ll wait until you and Lizzie get there,’ promised Grace. ‘Molly and Jack are coming with the children, so we’ll have a real family Christmas.’

  As people began to move into the church Will took her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, said, ‘Merry Christmas, Hannah.’ She returned his grasp and then broke away, moving to sit with the other servants from Trescadinnick.

  As the five-minute bell started pealing Charles led his mother into the church, followed by Sophie and AliceAnne. They moved slowly up the aisle until they came to the Trescadinnick pew at the front, and the rest of the congregation streamed in behind them, settling themselves into the pews with a rustle of Christmas finery and whispered greetings.

  Nicholas, watching them all take their places, did not move into a pew, but remained standing at the back. When the bell finally stopped ringing, a melody was struck up on the harmonium, the rector entered from the vestry and the choir began to sing the first carol. Slowly Nicholas edged back behind the velvet curtain that covered the door to help exclude the cold air and closing the door softly behind him, slipped out of the porch into the chill of the morning. He paused briefly, but no one followed him, and he pulled out his watch. If the rector ran true to form, he knew he had at least an hour or more before the service would end; plenty of time for what he had in mind.

  With a quick glance about him to make sure he was unobserved, he hurried along the narrow streets and up the steps to the cliff top where he took the path to Trescadinnick. Below him the sea stretched to the distant horizon, grey and hostile, as tossed by the wind, it surged back and forth against the rocks. He hardly gave it a glance as he strode swiftly along the path. When he reached Trescadinnick’s encircling wall he went to the cliff gate that led into the garden. He had reconnoitred the back way into Trescadinnick’s grounds on more than one occasion and tall as he was, he was able to swing himself up and over the gate with ease, landing softly on the grass the other side. From there he only had to cross the garden and he would be at the house.

  He paused in the shelter of some bushes and looked carefully at the silent house. A faint light glowed in an upstairs window, and a gleam from the kitchen; otherwise the house was in darkness. He wasn’t sure if everyone but Thomas was at church, but he was relying on the fact that the front door would, as always, be unlocked. Creeping from his hiding-place, he sprinted across the grass and took cover beside the dark windows of the library. Risking a look inside, he saw that the room was empty, the fire unlit in the grate. Clearly Thomas Penvarrow was not expected downstairs yet. Now for the most dangerous part of his plan.

  Nicholas walked round to the front entrance and gently turned the heavy latch. As he had hoped, the door was unlocked and a gentle push eased it open. Once inside, he closed it softly behind him and paused to listen. There was definitely someone in the kitchen; he could hear whoever it was moving about. One of the servants must have been left in the house in case Thomas needed something. Swiftly and silently, Nicholas went up the stairs and crept along the landing to Thomas’s bedchamber. Before he went in he glanced at his watch again. Only fifteen minutes had elapsed since he’d left the church. He smiled grimly: plenty of time. He was about to enter the room when he heard a rasping cough coming from within. Clearly Thomas wasn’t as well as his family thought.

  Nicholas pushed open the door and walked into the room. Thomas was sitting up in bed, still in his nightshirt. On the table beside him was an empty teacup and a handbell. He turned his head awkwardly to see who had come into his room unbidden. When he saw who it was, he relaxed back against his pillows and said, ‘Now what do you want?’

  ‘What do I want?’ Nicholas said as he crossed to the bedside and removed the bell from Thomas’s reach. ‘I want to talk to you.’

  ‘Do you indeed,’ retorted Thomas. ‘Well, I don’t want to talk to you, so you can just take yourself off.’

  ‘No, I don’t think so... Grandfather.’

  Thomas stared at him, confused. ‘Grandfather? Who are you calling Grandfather?’ And then, with anger, ‘How dare you, young man!’ He looked up at the man towering over him and for the first time he knew a flicker of fear.

  ‘I dare, Grandfather,’ drawled Nicholas, ‘because that’s who you are. My grandfather. So, I’ve come to claim my inheritance.’

  ‘Your inheritance! Don’t be ridiculous. You’re no grandson of mine.’

  ‘Well, that’s where you’re wrong. Your son, Jocelyn, seduced my mother and then rejected her. Once he’d had his fun with her, his tumble in the hay, he shunned her. Left her shamed and destitute, cast out by her father... and expecting a child... me!’

  ‘I’ve never heard such nonsense,’ Thomas said, but there was a frailty in his voice. ‘Jocelyn did no such thing.’

  ‘Oh, but he did,’ retorted Nicholas. ‘Your son, my father, left her to die in childbirth. Once he had seduced her, he had no more time for the disgraced daughter from a Methodist manse. You knew what he’d done. You could have insisted that he did his duty and marry her, but did you? No!’

  ‘You know nothing about it,’ Thomas said. But his anger had started a coughing fit and it was several minutes before it subsided, and Nicholas went on. ‘You’re wrong,’ he sneered. ‘I know everything about it, because I’m Jocelyn Penvarrow’s son. I have as much Penvarrow blood running in my veins as you.

  ‘And I’ll tell you exactly how he died,’ Nicholas declared. ‘He was coming home from the village along the cliff path one night and my Uncle Edwin was waiting for him in the fog. One shove and it was done!’

  ‘I don’t believe a word of it,’ growled Thomas.

  ‘Maybe not, but I am your grandson.’

  ‘Even so,’ Thomas said, ‘you’re a bastard. So you can take yourself off.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not going anywhere,’ Nicholas said. ‘Not after I’ve taken such trouble to come and find you... and your granddaughter.’

  ‘Sophie? You just leave her out of this.’ Thomas was frightened now.

  ‘I’m afraid it’s too late for that, old man,’ murmured Nicholas.

  ‘What do you mean? What have you done to her?’

  ‘Sophie? She’s agreed to marry me. She loves me, you see?’

  ‘I’m her guardian,’ stated Thomas. ‘She can’t marry without my consent and I shall never give it.’

 
; ‘I doubt if your consent will be necessary, Grandfather!’ Nicholas said. ‘You won’t be here.’ Thomas looked up at his grandson, terror in his eyes, as he saw Nicholas pick up a pillow. ‘Before you die,’ Nicholas said, ‘I wanted to be sure you knew just who was killing you... and why.’

  Thomas opened his mouth to call for help, but Nicholas, smiling, brought the pillow down. The old man struggled as the pillow was pressed against his face. He was no match for the youth and strength of his killer, and it was not long before his struggles ceased and he was still. Nicholas held the pillow for another minute to be quite sure, and then lifted it and looked down at the old man lying still in the bed.

  ‘Did you really think I wouldn’t do it, old man?’ he said.

  Gently, he smoothed the staring eyes shut, and placed the arms that had tried so valiantly to push him away to rest peacefully at his side; a man who had died in his sleep. A quick glance round the room showed Nicholas that nothing looked disturbed or out of place. He picked up the handbell and placed it by the bed, where it would have been within easy reach of Thomas to summon help, and prepared to leave.

  He was just emerging from the room when there came a heavy knocking on the front door. Nicholas froze, trapped on the landing, as without waiting for an answer to her knock, Matty Treslyn pushed open the front door and stepped into the hall. She paused to admire the Christmas tree before opening the library door and looking inside. As she did so, Edith came up the kitchen passage.

  ‘Oh, Edith, there you are,’ Nicholas heard her say. ‘Has everyone gone to church?’

  ‘Yes, madam,’ Edith replied. ‘But the fire’s lit in the drawing room if you would like to sit in there until they come back.’

  ‘Yes, I will,’ Matty said, taking off her cloak and handing it to the maid. ‘Perhaps you’d bring me some tea. It’s bitterly cold outside.’

  ‘Yes, madam,’ Edith said. ‘I’ll bring it in directly.’

  Through the crack in the door, Nicholas watched Matty open the drawing-room door and go in.

  Edith moved to return to the kitchen before she turned back to say, ‘Excuse me, madam, but of course Mr Penvarrow didn’t go to church. He’s still in his bed. Mrs Leroy said not to disturb him. Should I bring tea for him as well?’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Matty. ‘Bring an extra cup, and when I’ve drunk mine I’ll take some up to him and see how he is.’ She closed the drawing-room door and Edith disappeared down the passage to the kitchen. For a moment the hall was empty and Nicholas darted down the stairs, across the hall to the front door. Opening it as softly as he could, he slipped out and latched it quietly behind him. Keeping clear of the drawing-room windows, he stole round to the other side of the house, through the stable yard and across to the cliff-top gate. He wrenched the bolts aside and was out on the cliff path in less than a minute. He didn’t know how long it would be before Matty went upstairs, but he needed to be back in the church before she arrived there and raised the alarm. Another glance at his watch told him that he’d already taken nearly fifty minutes and the service could be drawing to a close; and so he ran. There was no one to see him running across the cliff, and as he hurried down the steps into the village he found the streets deserted. He paused outside the church to regain his breath and then quietly opened the old oak door and, sheltered by the velvet curtain, slipped inside unnoticed. The congregation was in the process of taking Communion and Nicholas joined the file of parishioners going up to the altar. Sophie and the others from Trescadinnick were already back in their pew, and as Nicholas returned from the altar rail he caught Sophie’s eye and they both smiled. He saw that Charles had noticed this exchange and knew a fierce stab of relief. In the unlikely event of there being any repercussion after Thomas’s death was discovered, he had his alibi.

  As the congregation spilled out into the churchyard after the final carol had been sung, they were amazed to see Edith, the maid from Trescadinnick, running down the road, her cloak flying out behind her, shouting something, her face a mask of panic. People stared at her as she pushed her way through the crowd to where Charles stood, exchanging greetings with Miss Sandra Osell.

  He broke off as he saw Edith’s face, saying, ‘Edith? Whatever is the matter, girl?’

  ‘Oh, sir,’ Edith cried. ‘Mrs Treslyn is at the house and she says can you come at once and please to bring the doctor with you.’

  ‘The doctor?’ demanded Charles. ‘What on earth has happened, Edith? Is Mrs Treslyn ill?’

  ‘No, sir, it’s Mr Penvarrow. He’s been taken bad.’ She paused and then said, ‘Oh, sir, Mrs Treslyn thinks he’s dead!’

  There was an immediate stir and buzz of conversation as everyone about them heard her words.

  Sophie’s hand flew to her mouth, and she saw her own horror mirrored in Charles and Louisa’s faces. ‘Where’s Nicholas?’ she cried, looking wildly round, just as he stepped up beside her.

  ‘I’m here. I heard,’ he said. ‘I’ll come at once. It may not be too late. I just need to collect my bag.’

  ‘We’ll pick you up on the way,’ Charles said, and called to Paxton to bring the pony and trap at once. He turned back to Sophie and his mother. ‘We’ll go on ahead. Sophie, please ask Hannah to bring AliceAnne home.’

  AliceAnne happily took Hannah’s hand and Hannah said, ‘Don’t you mind about AliceAnne, Miss Sophie. I’ll look to her.’

  When they arrived at Trescadinnick, Nicholas jumped down from the trap and ran in through the front door, quickly followed by the others. Matty was standing in the hall, waiting for them.

  ‘What’s happened, Aunt Matty?’ Charles said. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Your grandfather is dead, Charles. I took him up some tea when I got here and found him, dead in his bed.’

  Nicholas led the way upstairs and they all followed him into Thomas’s bedchamber. Thomas was lying on the bed as Nicholas had left him, his eyes closed, but his arms were flung wide. Nicholas turned to Matty. ‘Did you touch him, Mrs Treslyn? Did you try and rouse him?’

  ‘I put my hand on his chest, but he wasn’t breathing. There was no rise and fall. I shook him, putting my hands on his shoulders.’ She held out her hands as if to demonstrate. ‘But,’ her voice broke on a sob, ‘there was nothing there. He was still warm, Doctor. If I had gone up to him when I first arrived, perhaps I could have saved him.’

  ‘Don’t distress yourself, Mrs Treslyn,’ he soothed. ‘He may not have been dead long, but I doubt if you could have done anything for him if you’d been there sooner. I’ll examine him, of course, but it looks to me as if his heart finally gave out.’ He looked round at all of them. ‘You mustn’t reproach yourselves. We all knew this could happen at any time. He has been most unwell for some months now.’ He looked across at Charles and said, ‘Perhaps you’d take the ladies downstairs while I make my examination, Mr Leroy, and then we can arrange for him to be laid out properly.’

  Charles nodded and shepherded the three women out of the room and down to the drawing room. When they’d gone, Nicholas closed the door behind them and opening his medical bag, gathered up the various medicines, including the arsenic he had been prescribing over the past few months, the powders, the linctus and the tablets, and pushed them into his bag. Then he stood and looked down at the remains of Thomas Penvarrow.

  ‘Revenge, Grandfather,’ he murmured. ‘Revenge is sweet.’

  25

  When Nicholas appeared in the drawing room, Sophie leaped to her feet and ran to his side.

  ‘Oh, Nicholas,’ she cried as, unaware of the expressions of surprise on her aunts’ faces, she clutched his arm. ‘What a dreadful thing! Was there nothing further we could have done for him?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, Sophie,’ he replied, gently detaching her hand. ‘His heart could have given out at any time.’ Nicholas looked round at the assembled group. ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ he said. ‘I’ll arrange for Widow Haller to come up from Port Felec to lay him out.’

  He turned, about to
leave the room, but Charles stopped him with a question. ‘There is no reason you can see, Doctor, for us not to proceed with funeral plans?’

  Nicholas looked surprised at the question. ‘None at all, Mr Leroy. Your grandfather was an elderly man who’d been unwell for some time. His death was not unexpected. Indeed, he survived longer than I would have predicted in the circumstances.’ When this was greeted with silence, he said, ‘If that’s all, I’ll bid you good day.’ And turning on his heel, he walked out of the room. Sophie followed him at once.

  ‘Nicholas,’ she whispered, ‘must you go?’

  ‘Certainly I must,’ he replied, but he reached out and took her hand. ‘I will come again in a few days and we will tell them of our engagement then. Now is not the time.’ He raised her hand to his lips. ‘Until then, my love.’

  Sophie closed the door behind him and paused to look at the Christmas tree. We should take it down, she thought. There’s no place for a Christmas tree in a house of death. In the gloom of the day, with its candles unlit, it seemed a melancholy misfit.

  When Sophie returned to the drawing room, her aunt Louisa said, ‘Well, miss, and what exactly were you doing chasing after the doctor like that?’

  ‘I was showing him to the front door,’ snapped Sophie, ‘as no one else seemed to be extending him that courtesy. He came to my grandfather’s aid as soon as he was called and you still treat him like... like a servant.’

  ‘Now, Sophie, don’t take on so,’ Matty said in a conciliatory tone. ‘We’re all shocked and upset by our father’s sudden death. Please let’s not make things worse by arguing with each other. Of course we don’t treat the doctor like a servant. He is a professional man and we treat him with the respect he deserves, but with Papa’s death, well, we are not ourselves.’

  ‘Where’s AliceAnne?’ Charles demanded suddenly. ‘Did Hannah bring her home as we asked? Is she in the kitchen with the Paxtons?’