Miss Mary’s Daughter

by Diney Costeloe

  ‘Surely they can wait until tomorrow,’ said his mother. ‘I particularly wanted to go today.’

  But Charles was adamant. ‘No, I’m sorry, Mama, but if you would like to go tomorrow, I shall be happy to take you... and Aunt Matty too, if you like.’

  Louisa subsided into disgruntled silence and as soon as possible, Sophie excused herself and left the table. Charles found her in the drawing room, pacing the floor as she waited for Nicholas to arrive.

  ‘Don’t close the door completely,’ he said, ‘and my door will be open. Call me if you need me.’ To her surprise he bent forward and kissing her lightly on the cheek said, ‘Be careful, cousin,’ before returning to his study.

  Sophie stared after him, her fingers going to the place where his lips had touched her cheek, before giving herself a shake and going to the window to watch for Nicholas.

  It was not long before she saw his gig coming up the drive and she found her heart was pounding in her chest. The time had come to confront him with his duplicity, and suddenly she wasn’t ready. She saw him get out of the gig and hitch the reins to a fence post.

  It was a cold, bright day and the sun struck golden lights in his fair hair. As he turned for the house she could see his face, as handsome as ever, and for a moment she saw him as she had seen him that first day, a good-looking young man whose admiration for her had been apparent in his eyes. Was that a lie too? she wondered bitterly.

  She heard the knock on the front door and Edith coming to let him in and take his coat. She heard Charles’s voice as he wished him good afternoon, and then saying, ‘I think you’ll find Sophie in the drawing room.’

  The door opened and Nicholas strode in, a broad smile on his face. ‘Sophie,’ he cried, his hands outstretched to her. ‘You’re home. How I’ve missed you, my darling girl.’

  ‘Have you, Nicholas?’ she replied, her hands firmly by her side. ‘And do you miss Dolly when you’re away from her?’

  Nicholas stopped in his tracks, his face rigid with shock, before he said, sounding confused, ‘Who?’

  ‘Dolly, your wife.’ There, it was done. ‘You forgot to tell me about her, Nicholas. Or were you going to let me into the secret when we were married?’

  ‘Sophie, my dearest—’

  ‘But I’m not your dearest, am I, Nicholas? You have a wife and surely she is your dearest.’

  ‘Sophie, please, you’ve got it all wrong. Let me explain—’

  ‘Explain how you forgot you were married?’

  ‘Explain about Dolly.’

  ‘All right.’ Sophie sat down in an armchair and then wished she hadn’t as Nicholas came towards her, towering over her. But she raised her chin and looked him in the eye. ‘Explain about Dolly.’

  ‘Listen,’ Nicholas said, ‘I don’t know where you heard about Dolly, but you’ve got it all wrong. I do know a Dolly, in London. I met her and her family while I was training at St Thomas’s. We became friends and for a while, I have to admit to my shame that I lived with her as man and wife. I was young and impressionable. Dolly was young and sweet. I know it was wrong, but we were only together for a few weeks and then she met someone else. I know it was wrong,’ he repeated, ‘but I promise you there was never any question of marriage. I was a poor student. I couldn’t afford to get married.’

  ‘So the record of your marriage with Dolly at St John’s Church, Waterloo, on 6th January 1883 is wrong, is it?’

  Nicholas, taken aback at her knowledge of this information, thought fast. Shaking his head, he said, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sophie. Really. Maybe Dolly married someone else,’ he suggested. ‘Our life together was long over by then.’

  Sophie suddenly got to her feet, making Nicholas take a step back. ‘Nicholas Bryan, you are a liar,’ she declared, her voice icy. ‘You lie about everything. I know who you are and you know it, but you still lie. You’re married to this Dolly, we both know it, but you still deny it.’ She tugged the engagement ring off her finger and placed it on the table. ‘I can’t marry you, Nicholas, because you are already married and there is written proof, but I wouldn’t marry you even if you weren’t. You are a liar and you have lied to me from the start. You told me you loved me and I believed you—’

  ‘But, Sophie, I do love you—’

  ‘Stop it!’ Sophie cried. ‘Stop it. You don’t! All you ever wanted was Trescadinnick. Why else did you come here in the first place?’

  Nicholas made a grab for her hands, gripping her wrists so tightly that she couldn’t break free.

  ‘Sophie, listen to me—’

  ‘Let me go!’ she shrieked. ‘Let me go! Just get out of here! I never want to see you again.’

  At the sound of her cries Charles erupted into the room and swung his fist full into Nicholas’s face. Nicholas let go of Sophie as he staggered back, blood streaming from his nose.

  ‘I think you were just leaving,’ Charles said through gritted teeth.

  ‘I am, but don’t think this is the last you’ll see of me. You’ll regret this,’ Nicholas warned, ‘all of you. I won’t be made a laughingstock.’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Sophie retorted. ‘I won’t be spreading your grubby little secrets. You can simply let it be known that I’ve changed my mind and I’m not going to marry you after all.’

  ‘Now get out,’ growled Charles.

  Nicholas gave him a look of pure loathing. And with one hand holding a handkerchief to his nose, with the other he snatched up the engagement ring and stormed out of the house.

  ‘Are you all right, Sophie?’ Charles asked anxiously. ‘He didn’t hurt you?’

  ‘No,’ Sophie replied a little shakily. ‘But thank you for coming so fast. I’m so glad you were there.’

  ‘So am I,’ Charles said, looking ruefully at his split knuckles, before adding with a smile, ‘but Nicholas isn’t!’

  Later that afternoon Sophie again took Hannah into her confidence and told her what had happened. Hannah looked distressed at what she heard. ‘Oh, Miss Sophie, I wish you’d let Mr Charles deal with him.’

  ‘That might have been even worse,’ Sophie said. ‘If Charles had confronted him, Nicholas would still have come to me. It was better that it came from me and I told him straight out. Anyway,’ she went on, ‘he won’t be coming back. My cousin and I have decided to tell no one what we have learned about him. There is no need to open up old wounds and it would even now invite unwanted scandal for the family over something that happened long ago.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Miss Sophie,’ Hannah promised. ‘I’ll be as silent as the grave.’

  That evening, as they sat at dinner, Sophie told her aunts that she had broken off her engagement to Dr Bryan. ‘I felt I was being rushed into it,’ she said, ‘and I don’t think we’re suited after all.’

  ‘Hhm! Thank goodness you’ve come to your senses,’ retorted Louisa.

  ‘I think it’s a sensible decision, my dear,’ was all Matty said.

  ‘And now we shan’t have to move to that pokey little house at Kenwyn after all,’ Louisa went on.

  ‘That is something we shall have to discuss with Sophie,’ Charles said, giving his mother a quelling look, ‘and not over the dinner table.’

  ‘No discussion necessary,’ Sophie said at once. ‘There’s no need for any of you to move. I hope you’ll stay here at Trescadinnick for the foreseeable future.’

  ‘And will you live here too?’ asked Matty.

  ‘I certainly will for now,’ Sophie said. ‘Things will be as they always have been.’

  She’d made that decision earlier when talking with Hannah. ‘I don’t want him to think that he’s frightened me away, Hannah. We may go back to London from time to time, you and I, but we shall stay here for a while now. Will you mind?’

  Hannah had smiled and said that she didn’t mind at all.

  40

  For the next few weeks life at Trescadinnick settled back into its normal routine. Charles asked Sophie not to go out alone for a
while. He didn’t really think Nicholas would hurt her, but he still didn’t trust him, and though they had seen nothing of him since he’d stalked out of the house, they knew he was still in Port Felec.

  Will Shaw told Hannah that the news of the broken engagement had quickly spread round the village.

  ‘Dr Bryan’s no gentleman,’ he said. ‘He’s saying that Miss Sophie has jilted him; that she considers herself too superior to marry a simple country doctor now that she’s inherited Trescadinnick.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous,’ retorted Hannah.

  ‘Maybe,’ agreed Will, ‘but the sympathy is all with him.’

  ‘She had a change of heart, that’s all,’ Hannah said, wishing she could at least explain to Will what had happened.

  Will nodded acceptance of this. ‘Better now than after they’re wed,’ he said, ‘but you should warn her what story is going round. She may find things difficult till it all blows over.’

  ‘I will,’ said Hannah, and spoke to Sophie that very evening.

  ‘Dr Bryan is brazening it out,’ Hannah warned her. ‘The blame is being heaped on you; typical Penvarrow, too proud to marry beneath her.’

  ‘They can say what they like,’ Sophie said. ‘Anyone who knows me, knows that it isn’t true.’

  Even so, Sophie had to hold her head high the following Sunday, when several people with whom she would normally chat outside church cut her and turned away. Nicholas was not there that day, so they had no occasion to meet, and as Sunday succeeded Sunday and there was no sign of him, she began to wonder if he had only attended morning service to be seen with her. Surely that couldn’t really be the case, but whatever the reason for his absence, it was a relief not to have to avoid him every Sunday morning.

  It was after the service one Sunday, when Sophie was just about to start walking home with Charles and AliceAnne, that Miss Osell came up to sympathize with her about her broken engagement. ‘So uncomfortable for you, a broken engagement,’ she said, her voice consoling, her eyes alight with malice. ‘So close to your wedding day as well.’

  ‘Thank you for your sympathy, Miss Osell,’ Sophie replied sweetly. ‘But the wedding was still some way off, you know, and really it was all for the best. I doubt if I’d have made a good doctor’s wife.’ Adding with a questioning look, ‘I thought that was probably more in your line?’

  Sandra Osell coloured and gave a tinkling little laugh. ‘Oh no, Miss Ross. I shall never marry. My calling is to look after my dear papa. Whereas you, no doubt, may take your pick of suitors. Plenty look for a wealthy wife, do they not... irrespective of her character?’

  Sophie held on to the rags of her temper and smiling, said, ‘I really couldn’t say, Miss Osell. But I beg you not to give up hope of a husband yet. Surely someone will marry you... in the end.’ And leaving the rector’s daughter standing speechless, she inclined her head and walked away.

  ‘What was all that about?’ asked Charles as Sophie came up beside him.

  ‘Sympathy,’ said Sophie succinctly.

  ‘Sympathy?’

  ‘Disguising her jealousy. She wants Nicholas, but he’s never given her the time of day.’ Sophie gave a self-conscious laugh and said, ‘I have to admit it wasn’t a very charitable conversation for a Sunday, though, on either of our parts.’

  ‘Never mind her,’ Charles said, offering her his arm. ‘Let’s get back home.’ And with AliceAnne skipping along beside they walked companionably up the hill to Trescadinnick.

  Back at the house, Sophie went upstairs to tidy her hair for lunch. As always, her fingers brushed the handle of Joss’s room as she passed. The door remained locked. Charles had been determined that they should not tell Louisa or Matty of Sophie’s discoveries, and Sophie agreed with him. But one day, she had promised herself, when she was truly mistress of Trescadinnick, that room would be opened and Joss’s memory should be allowed to drift out through the house that had once been his home.

  *

  It had been suggested that perhaps Sophie might like to move into the tower bedchamber, which had been Thomas’s. It had been cleaned and polished, its windows thrown open to the fresh sea air, clean curtains fluttering beside them, and fresh hangings on the large old oak bed, but to Sophie it would always be the room her grandfather had died in.

  ‘Such a fuss about that,’ scoffed Louisa. ‘The tower is the oldest part of the house. Generations of Penvarrows have been born and died in that room. My father was simply the last of many.’

  Sophie knew that Louisa was right, but even so she chose to stay in her own room, the room that had been her mother’s. It had become her refuge, a place away from her Aunt Louisa, who had a caustic tongue and was still bitter about her inheritance, and from Charles, for whom she recognized she was developing more than cousinly love. She found she was listening for his voice about the house, watching for him to come home, looking for the rare smile that lit his face and made him look so much younger and less careworn. Of course, she knew that he had no such tender feelings for her, still simply regarding her as a cousin he was fond of, but no more, so she was careful not to betray any change in her feelings for him. She didn’t want his pity and was determined not to leave herself open to rejection by him a second time. She realized now that what she had felt for Nicholas was nothing more than infatuation, the infatuation of a young woman meeting with the admiration of a handsome man for the first time, swept away by his good looks and easy charm. She could see now that there was no depth to Nicholas Bryan. He was guided solely by his own selfish desires and she blushed at the thought of how easily he’d manipulated her, and for how she had allowed him to dictate to her with no thought of what she wanted or how she might feel.

  The comforting presence of Charles in the house must be enough until, of course, he found someone he wanted to marry, for surely such a man wouldn’t remain a widower for ever, but that, she hoped, was in the distant future. Sophie was determined not to look beyond the next few months. She would spend the summer at Trescadinnick and then decide whether she was going to return to London or make her permanent home in Cornwall.

  Gradually the house began to feel like a home once more. Louisa continued to manage the household, but Sophie took on AliceAnne’s education. She enjoyed teaching the little girl and AliceAnne was an eager pupil, longing to learn more about the world beyond Trescadinnick. Together they pored over the old atlas on the schoolroom shelf, and read from a tattered history book with stories about William the Conqueror, Henry VIII and Bonnie Prince Charlie. AliceAnne had a quick brain, and both of them enjoyed the lessons and the time they spent together. Sophie also gave her daily piano lessons and it was clear that AliceAnne had some aptitude. It wasn’t long before she could play simple pieces, delighting both her and her father when she played them for him.

  Spring was in the air, but winter had not given up its last grasp on the world and there were days when the wind came in strong gusts off the sea, scurrying dark storm clouds before it – days to stay indoors in the warm, learning to make bread with Mrs Paxton, or to sew with Hannah.

  It was late on an afternoon such as this, when the rain was battering the windows and the noise of the wind had risen in a crescendo, that the air was split by an echoing boom, quickly followed by two more, all clearly heard in the Trescadinnick schoolroom. AliceAnne gave a cry of fear. ‘It’s the bangs!’ And she buried her head in Sophie’s lap.

  Sophie felt a jolt as well. Charles had told her long ago that if the maroons summoned the lifeboat men, he always went. Would he really venture out in this dreadful weather? She gave AliceAnne a hug and trying to keep her voice steady, she said, ‘Let’s go downstairs and see what’s going on.’ Taking her hand, she led the little girl down into the hall, where they found Charles hurriedly pulling on tarpaulin jacket and trousers over his clothes.

  ‘Are you going?’ Sophie asked.

  ‘I must,’ replied Charles. ‘I could be needed.’

  ‘Don’t go, Papa,’ AliceAnne cried, rushin
g over to him and clinging on to his arm. ‘I don’t want you to go.’

  Charles kneeled down beside her and put his arms round her, drawing her against him for a moment. ‘I have to go, sweetheart,’ he murmured, ‘but I’ll be back soon.’

  ‘Promise?’

  Charles looked at Sophie over his daughter’s head. ‘I promise, I’ll do my best,’ he said, and got to his feet. ‘Now you be a good girl and stay with your Aunt Sophie,’ adding with a meaningful look at Sophie, ‘I know you’ll look after her, Sophie, if... if I’m gone long.’

  Sophie, understanding only too well, nodded, and said in a tremulous voice, ‘Come back safe, Charles. We all need you here.’

  For a moment their eyes met. ‘I love you, Sophie,’ he said, as he opened the front door and without a backward glance, vanished into the storm.

  Had she heard him right? Had he really said he loved her? For a moment Sophie stood transfixed and then she rushed to the door, heaving it open against the strength of the wind, and ran out into the rain, but he had disappeared into the night. Slowly, she turned, her hair dripping about her face, her clothes already soaked by the torrential downpour, and went back into the house. AliceAnne was standing where she had left her.

  ‘That was silly of me, AliceAnne. Now I’m all wet. I think I’ll have to go and get changed. Why don’t you run and ask Hannah to bring some tea and pikelets into the drawing room and we’ll have them by the fire?’ Sophie didn’t want tea or crumpets, but it gave the child something to do while she went upstairs to put on dry clothes.

  I love you, Sophie. Charles’s words echoed in her head. Had he really said them? Did he really mean them? Joy flooded through her, only to be dashed to nothing by the thought that he was going to risk his life in a small open boat in a heavy sea, to try and save the lives of others. Of course, he might not have to go. Surely they’d have a full crew, with men from the fishing fleet. All the other volunteers would go, people like farmer Will Shaw and postman Fred Polmire, and if necessary she knew Charles would too, in the hope of saving lives.