Miss Mary’s Daughter

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Miss Mary’s Daughter Page 27

by Diney Costeloe


  ‘Of course. Come back later and we can tell them all then.’

  26

  Sophie went back into the house. There was no one about and she went upstairs to change out of her riding habit. Nicholas would come back this afternoon and together they would tell the family that they were getting married. She knew a moment’s trepidation at the thought, knowing it would not be an easy meeting, particularly in the circumstances, but she hated the secrecy. She wanted everything to be out in the open, for Nicholas to be welcomed not just as the doctor, not just as a guest, but as a prospective member of the family. She wanted him acknowledged as her future husband before the funeral so that he could stand with her in the church, publicly giving her his love and support in her time of sadness.

  As she changed her dress, Sophie noticed her wrist still held the marks from his fingers, and she pulled her sleeve down firmly to hide the bruising. Nicholas hadn’t meant to hurt her. She thought of him driving over to Tremose to visit old Mrs Slater, and felt a glow of pride at his devotion to his patients. How often had he come to visit her grandfather, concerned about his declining health?

  It was when they were all seated at table for the midday meal that Sophie said, ‘I have invited Dr Bryan to take tea with us this afternoon.’

  ‘You have what?’ Louisa’s exclamation was loud and harsh.

  ‘I have invited Dr Bryan to take tea with us this afternoon,’ Sophie repeated and went on, ‘I feel we owe him a deep debt for the care of my grandfather over the past months, and that we haven’t shown how much we appreciate that care.’

  ‘You have no right...’ stuttered Louisa, looking round at her sister and her son for support.

  ‘I’m afraid she has every right, Mama,’ Charles said quietly. ‘Trescadinnick is hers now. Whether you like it or not, she is mistress of this house and may invite whomever she chooses.’

  ‘But Papa is not even in his grave. His will has not been read, and until that happens’ – she turned venomous eyes on Sophie – ‘I suggest you, miss, mind your place. You may inherit Trescadinnick, but it’s not yours yet.’

  ‘Louisa, I understand how you feel about this—’ began Matty.

  ‘Do you?’ Louisa rounded on her sister. ‘Do you? With your own comfortable home to return to whenever you choose and no one to put you out of it? Charles and I have never lived anywhere else, and now? Now it’s no longer our home.’ She fought to keep the tears at bay, but all of them could hear how close she came to weeping.

  ‘But,’ Matty spoke gently, ‘Sophie is right. We do owe Dr Bryan our gratitude, and inviting him to take tea this afternoon is a way we can show our appreciation.’

  ‘We’re receiving no visitors until after the funeral,’ stated Louisa. ‘Cards of condolence, yes, but no visitors.’

  ‘I shall receive him,’ Sophie said quietly, ‘and I am asking all of you to join us for tea in the drawing room.’

  ‘I will not be summoned by a mere chit of a girl to my own drawing room,’ muttered Louisa, but Matty simply nodded and said, ‘It will be my pleasure to thank Dr Bryan for all he has done.’

  Charles made no further comment, but when the doorbell rang later that afternoon he emerged from his study to greet Dr Bryan and lead him into the drawing room, where Sophie and Matty awaited him. There was no sign of Louisa.

  They both stood, Sophie stepping forward to take his hand with a smile. ‘Dr Bryan, Nicholas,’ she said, ‘we’re delighted to see you.’

  Matty also shook his hand and welcomed him. ‘Do come and sit down, Doctor,’ she said. ‘Edith will be bringing in tea shortly.’

  Nicholas took the chair she indicated and Sophie, having closed the door, went to stand behind him. In that instant, Charles knew what he was going to hear and a shaft of anguish went through him.

  It was Nicholas who spoke. ‘Sophie and I wish to tell you, her family, that we have become friends over the past weeks, and when I visited her in London, she did me the honour of accepting my proposal of marriage.’

  There was a gasp from behind the folding screen which divided the far corner of the room and to the surprise of all of them, Louisa stepped out into the room. ‘Your proposal of marriage!’

  ‘Yes, Aunt,’ Sophie said. ‘Nicholas and I are to be married just as soon as propriety allows.’

  ‘You are under age,’ Louisa said. ‘Your grandfather wouldn’t have allowed it.’

  ‘We had planned to speak to my grandfather immediately after Christmas,’ Sophie said. ‘But...’ She swallowed. ‘But as that is no longer possible’ – she looked round at them all, Matty pale and silent, Louisa, white-faced and rigid with fury and Charles quiet and impassive – ‘we’ve come to tell you and to ask your blessing.’

  It was Charles who broke the silence and said, ‘I wish you well, cousin.’

  Sophie turned to him and smiled. ‘Thank you, Charles.’ And her smile of joy assailed him so that he had to turn away.

  ‘I’m afraid I am unable to stay and take tea,’ he said. ‘If you will excuse me, cousin, I have to ride to St Morwen. I have a meeting there.’

  Sophie watched him walk out of the room, her happiness dimmed a little by his muted congratulations.

  The gleam of triumph in Nicholas’s eyes was not lost on Matty as she stepped forward to shake his hand and offer her felicitations, and she knew a distinct disquiet at the speed of Sophie’s attachment to the young doctor.

  Louisa simply glared at them both and walked out of the room, almost colliding with Edith, entering with the tea trolley, and Mrs Paxton, carrying a cake-stand laden with delicate sandwiches and slices of cake. Edith placed the tea trolley in front of Matty. ‘Will you pour, Aunt?’ Sophie said and as Matty duly filled the cups, Sophie took one across to Nicholas, who remained seated. It was an awkward gathering and one that none of them wanted to prolong. It was Matty who carried the conversation, asking Nicholas about his family.

  ‘Are you a Cornishman, Doctor?’ she asked. ‘Have you always lived here in Cornwall?’

  Nicholas seemed happy enough to answer and as he did so, Sophie too learned more of his life. ‘I was born in Truro,’ he replied, ‘but my parents soon moved to Plymouth where I was brought up.’

  ‘And is your father also a doctor?’

  ‘Both my parents are dead, Mrs Treslyn. Sophie will be my only family.’

  ‘I suppose you went to London for your training,’ Matty said.

  ‘Indeed,’ Nicholas agreed. ‘The best place to learn of modern medical methods.’

  ‘Nicholas chose to come here to Port Felec because he wanted to help poor, country people. He’s a very dedicated doctor, driving all over the country to visit patients who cannot come to him. Why, only today he drove to Tremose to visit old Mrs Slater.’

  Nicholas gave a brief laugh. ‘Thanks for your testimony, my dear Sophie, but all doctors are dedicated, you know.’

  ‘Nan Slater?’ exclaimed Matty. ‘Is she still alive?’

  ‘Do you know her, Aunt?’ Sophie asked in surprise.

  ‘Not really. I once visited her with Louisa.’

  When they had finished their tea Matty stood up. ‘If you will excuse me, Sophie, Doctor, I promised AliceAnne I would go up to the schoolroom after tea. It’s been very difficult for her, well, for all of us, these last few days. But with the funeral now set for Friday at least things are moving forward.’ She held out her hand to Nicholas and said, ‘I wish you and Sophie every happiness together, and I thank you for all your care of my father.’

  When she had quit the room, Nicholas pulled Sophie into his arms and kissed her. It was an entirely different kiss from any she had received from him before and as he held her tightly against him, his tongue probing her mouth, she found herself curling her own tongue away, disliking the touch of his. Allowing this response for the time being, Nicholas let her go and said, ‘So, now they know. Our secret’s out and we can be seen together.’

  ‘Oh, Nicholas,’ Sophie responded, ‘indeed. You must come and g
o here as you wish. You will always be welcome.’

  ‘My dear Sophie,’ he laughed, ‘do you really think so? Did you not see Leroy’s face when we broke the news? And as for his mother...’

  ‘They were surprised,’ Sophie told him. ‘They weren’t expecting it.’

  ‘And they didn’t approve, though your Aunt Matty made a better fist of pretending she did than the other two.’

  ‘They’ll soon get used to the idea, Nicholas, and as they get to know you, they’ll grow to love you as I do.’

  ‘Will they? We’ll see.’

  ‘Grandfather’s funeral is on Friday,’ Sophie said. ‘When you escort me to that, it will tell the world that you are my future husband, even though we have to wait a while for decency’s sake, before we can marry.’

  This was one of the things Nicholas had not anticipated when he had taken the opportunity to dispatch Thomas on Christmas morning. He’d known there would be violent opposition from the old man to his marrying Sophie, and had decided to deal with it before it occurred. The impropriety of Sophie marrying for at least three months after his death had never crossed his mind.

  ‘And after the funeral,’ Sophie was saying, ‘which Mr Staunton, Grandfather’s solicitor, will attend, there will be the formal reading of the will, and as my fiancé you will of course be present at that.’

  ‘When we shall hear Charles Leroy inherits the estate.’

  Sophie was very tempted to tell him there and then about the terms of Thomas’s will, but she did not. She was determined that his surprise should be genuine when he heard of her inheritance; surprise in front of the whole family, so that no one could believe what she knew Hannah thought, that Nicholas was simply a fortune-hunter, after her inheritance.

  Nicholas stayed no longer. He knew that despite Sophie’s protestations, any welcome he received at Trescadinnick in the foreseeable future would be at best grudging. Before they emerged from the drawing room he kissed her again, less forcefully this time, and felt her warm and compliant in his arms.

  There was no one to see him leave except Sophie. Matty had found Louisa in the morning room and together they were talking over the revelation of Sophie’s engagement.

  ‘We must put a stop to it,’ Louisa announced. ‘Papa would never have allowed it.’

  ‘I don’t see how he could have stopped it,’ Matty replied. ‘She’ll be twenty-one in March and then she can marry whoever she likes.’

  ‘He’d have found a way,’ Louisa insisted.

  ‘Like he did with Mary? If he’d refused his consent, she would simply have waited until she was of age and married the doctor anyway. He’d have lost her as he lost Mary.’

  ‘And good riddance,’ snapped Louisa. ‘If she doesn’t know what’s fitting conduct for a Penvarrow, and insists on marrying some nobody, that’s up to her.’

  ‘I think,’ Matty said slowly, ‘that the less opposition we put up the better. They are unlikely to marry immediately, and she may change her mind. She’s only known him a few months. As she gets to know him better she may find he’s not the man she thought he was.’

  ‘And when they marry,’ Louisa went on as if Matty hadn’t spoken, ‘Charles and I and little AliceAnne will be turned out of our home. That’s what he’s after. Not Sophie, Trescadinnick.’

  ‘Oh come now, Louisa,’ said Matty. ‘You don’t know that. We can’t assume he knows that Papa changed his will.’

  ‘Can’t we? He was here when Mr Staunton came, remember? He and Paxton witnessed Papa’s signature. He must have known it was on a new will.’

  ‘Even so, he wouldn’t have known what was in it.’

  ‘Oh, Matty, don’t be so naïve, he’d have guessed! New granddaughter, new will, new heir!’

  When Charles had left the drawing room, he’d taken Hector and ridden away, striking out again onto the moor. The daylight was fading but he just had to get away, from the house and from the news Sophie had just given them. Ever since she had deserted Trescadinnick and returned to London, Charles had gradually realized his true feelings for her. If his grandfather had left matters to take care of themselves, he knew now that he would have grown to love Sophie, wooing her until she came to return his love. If his grandfather had made no demands of either of them, had never told them of his new will, they might have grown together as Charles now wished they could. How he wished he could take back all the unkind words that had exploded from him that fateful day. But now it was too late. Sophie had fallen in love with Nicholas Bryan and she was lost to him.

  27

  Friday morning was cold but dry. The hearse and funeral carriages moved in slow procession from Trescadinnick down to the church in Port Felec. Louisa, Matty and Sophie rode in one, dressed in unrelieved black, their faces discreetly veiled. Charles walked behind the hearse, followed by the pall-bearers.

  When the cortege arrived at the lychgate, the rector stepped forward to greet the coffin and the mourners. A crowd had gathered in the churchyard, but they parted politely to allow the ladies from Trescadinnick to pass between them and enter the church. As Sophie descended from the carriage she had caught sight of Nicholas, dressed in sombre black, his head bare, his top hat in his hand. As she walked up the path towards the church door, he fell in beside her, offering his arm. She turned and inclined her head as she rested her fingers on his sleeve. Together they entered the church and took their places in the family pew.

  Gradually the church filled up behind them, the Trescadinnick servants, all except Hannah who had stayed with AliceAnne at the house, standing respectfully at the back.

  Other landowners from the area had preceded the coffin into the church and taken their seats near the front, and behind these were the people of Port Felec. Will Shaw was there with his mother and so were other men who worked on the estate farms: some miners from the last working Trescadinnick mine; the fishermen who manned the Trescadinnick pilchard boats and seine nets, all there to offer their respects to the old man who had been their landlord or employer all their lives.

  As Thomas’s coffin was carried into the church, followed by Charles alone, Sophie looked back and saw him, grave-faced with sadness in his eyes. Never one to allow his emotions to show, she knew that despite Thomas’s capriciousness and authoritarian attitude, and his apparent rejection of him, Charles had loved his step-grandfather. As he stepped aside to join his family in their pew, Sophie allowed her hand to brush against his. Charles did not turn his head, but the faintest smile touched his lips before he drew his hand away.

  ‘I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die...’

  The service was not a long one and as she stood staring at the coffin with its funeral wreath, lying on the bier before the altar, Sophie’s mind wandered away from the drone of the rector’s voice and she thought about her mother, her father and her grandfather. She had passed almost all her life thinking her parents were her only family and then suddenly she’d found herself part of a wider family, of which she’d known nothing and was the only grandchild. She had shared her grandfather’s home for almost two months and had gradually come to know him. She knew she didn’t love him as a granddaughter should, but she had developed an affection for him despite his autocratic ways and she sincerely regretted his passing. She had no tears to shed, but, as the rector finally pronounced the blessing and the coffin was carried from the church to its final resting place in the Penvarrow tomb in the churchyard, she knew a deep sadness for all the lost years.

  A chilly wind had blown up and after a few moments outside the church, the funeral party returned to Trescadinnick where Mrs Paxton had laid out a collation for the mourners who were expected. Thomas had been something of a recluse at the end of his life, but he had once been a force in the neighbourhood and the other local landowners and businessmen who had come to pay their respects had to be entertained. They were not accompanied by their w
ives; it was not the custom. Once they had offered their condolences to the ladies of the house, they gathered together in groups and discussed what changes Charles Leroy would make, now that the place was his and he had a free hand. Charles moved from group to group, acting as host, watched by Nicholas as he stood in the hallway, with Sophie at his side. It was not long before the ladies withdrew, Sophie with them, leaving the brandy and the baked meats to the men. Mr Staunton had come from Truro and as he served several of the gentlemen who were there in a legal capacity, he too moved among them, speaking softly with a nod here, a smile there; but all of them knew his real purpose. When they had departed for their own firesides, he would gather the family together and take Thomas’s will from his briefcase and all would be revealed.

  When Sophie had withdrawn, Nicholas moved into the drawing room. Charles was not surprised. She had told him that she wanted Nicholas to be there at the reading of the will, but it was clear that several of the other guests were surprised that the doctor, once he had paid his respects, had not quietly left the gathering and returned to his own place. He was not their physician and no one engaged him in conversation. He stood alone, a glass of brandy in his hand, noting who was there. They might ignore him now, but it would not be long before they realized his new standing in the community. Master of Trescadinnick. He smiled to himself and waited for them to leave.

  At last the door was closed to the final guest and Charles suggested to Mr Staunton that they should all repair to the library for the reading of the will. The ladies, who had been taking tea in the morning room, followed them in; Louisa’s face a mask of hostility at the sight of Nicholas, Matty, grave and resigned, and Sophie, smiling as she accepted Nicholas’s arm.

  The fire had been lit earlier and the room was warm and comfortable. Charles pulled out the chair from Thomas’s desk and suggested that Mr Staunton take it as his seat, while everyone else found places on chairs and sofas, waiting to hear Thomas’s last will and testament.

 

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