We passed several cottages dotted here and there amongst the hedgerows. One in particular caught my eye. It had an old, thatched roof with white-washed walls, and a short path with fading flowers either side led to the black oak door. Without consciously realising it I had reined Amber to a halt.
‘I don’t know if I should be the one to tell you this,’ Robert Thornton’s voice came drifting to me.
‘Tell me what?’
‘Your namesake lives there.’
I turned back to look at the cottage again and as I looked, the door opened and an elderly woman with white wispy hair bent and placed a bucket by the door. As she stood up she smoothed her hands across the front of her white apron. She gave us only a cursory glance before going back inside.
‘My namesake?’ I asked somewhat stupidly.
‘Yes,’ Robert Thornton said, looking down at me. ‘That was old Granny Merriock.’
My mind was working overtime as he led me onward. She had to be a relative, family of my father. I had every intention of returning to the cottage and knocking on the door, maybe with Molly, for in view of Robert’s words I was sure it was some sort of secret. I had no desire to mention it to my grandmother before I had spoken to this Granny Merriock myself.
As we reached our destination, I caught a glimpse of the church with its squat tower reaching above the trees in the distance. When I took notice of where we were I had a sudden intake of breath. Before me in the field was a circle of weathered stones, each some five foot high. Robert Thornton had dismounted, but Aunt Laura had decided to stay on her horse. She had obviously been here many times before.
‘Miss Merriock, may I help you down?’
Before I could answer, his strong hands had encircled my waist as he swung me to the ground. His hands lingered for a matter of seconds and I felt the colour rise to my cheeks. Why did this man have such an effect on me? Aware of his gaze and the knowledge he had noticed my confusion, I turned my face away from Aunt Laura who was watching us intently with, I felt, veiled emotion. As Robert let me go I realised Aunt Laura’s affections lay in his direction and began to wonder if mine did also.
I moved around the stone circle, counting as I went. There were thirteen stones, each the same height, a few inches shorter than myself but not as tall as Robert. There was something earthy and evil about them and I felt half-afraid and half-drawn to their overbearing dominance. I had certainly never seen anything like it before, nor had I felt the presence of something so evil. It was almost tangible. I moved away, wanting to get back to Amber and home to Pendenna. Robert caught my arm gently.
‘You are surely not afraid, Miss Merriock?’
‘No,’ I lied. ‘What is the legend you mentioned?’
‘On the Sabbath, the damsels were dancing although forbidden, so they were turned to stone.’
‘And do you believe this, Mr Thornton?’
‘We all believe what we want to believe, my dear, but do not be afraid of anything, especially while I am near.’
I thought of his words as we rode back to Pendenna and recalled with some pleasure him calling me dear and I no longer felt afraid.
Mrs Dobbs met me in the hall with a silver salver which she held out to me. I picked up the small cream-coloured card. On reading it, I realised it was a calling card from a Jason Trehaine.
Thanking Mrs Dobbs and clutching the card in my hand I quickly made my way to my room. I knew from experience living at Amy’s that it was usually some time before a stranger in the district received a calling card. To have received one so soon meant there was a good reason. I suspected that Jason Trehaine was in some way related to Aunt Laura’s betrothed. It was too much of a coincidence for him not to be, but even so what could he possibly want with me?
Looking at the card again on reaching my room, I realised Jason Trehaine had indeed invited me to call at Mannamead, his house in Polgent, at three o’clock on Tuesday afternoon. I recalled that Polgent was the small fishing village Robert Thornton had pointed out to me that morning and where Aunt Laura had said she would not go. I partly understood the reason now. A visit to Polgent would have brought back painful memories of Andrew Trehaine.
So I would take Molly with me and realised I would need some conveyance. I would have to seek out Robert and ask if he could arrange it for me. I was not altogether sure if Grandmother knew of Jason Trehaine’s visit. Mrs Dobbs had told me my grandmother was indisposed and would see me at dinner. Could it be Jason Trehaine’s visit had upset her?
While eating luncheon alone on the terrace I set to wondering where Aunt Laura and Robert ate their lunch and thought that perhaps they ate together. This conclusion on my part did nothing to ease my already overactive mind. Many questions were whirling around in my head. Who was the face at my window and who had left the message on the scrap of paper in my room? Why was Aunt Laura so hostile towards me when she knew nothing about me? And now why would Jason Trehaine, a man I didn’t know and who didn’t know me, invite me to his home?
As I had been left to my own devices that afternoon, I decided that it being such a glorious afternoon, I would explore Pendenna Cove. I calculated that the tide would have gone out by now so it was as good a time as any and I wanted to be alone with my thoughts. The hall was empty as I passed through and let myself out. I took a quick look back before stepping out down the steps and into the sunlight. I had the strangest feeling that I had escaped, but from what? Certainly not my grandmother who had made me so welcome and it wasn’t just Aunt Laura.
As I made my way along the cliff path and looked back at Pendenna Reach, I realised that the house itself was oppressive, maybe because of its age or had I become fanciful since entering its doors? I had not noticed the tall, soot-blackened chimneys before which reached upward towards the blue sky. I tried to shake off my morbid thoughts and concluded that I had not been the same since visiting the Dancing Damsels and vowed I would not go there again.
I had reached the top of the path which led to the cove below. It was indeed steep but to my relief a small handrail had at some time been constructed. Picking up my skirts, and holding on to the railing, I started the walk downward. I was overjoyed to see wild flowers growing in abundance on the cliff.
My mood had lightened and I suddenly had a spring in my step as I neared the cove below. Stepping on to the shingle beach, I stood for a moment and breathed in the salty sea air, walking precariously as the shingle was uneven in places. I headed for the sand the receding tide had uncovered, eventually sitting on a rock. I was alone with only the seagulls for company. Daringly, I removed my boots and stockings, enjoying the feel of the cold, damp sand beneath my feet. The warm sea breeze caressed my face and gently lifted tendrils of my hair. I felt more relaxed than I had since leaving London. Looking to my right I could see craft in the harbour, the glint of the sun catching the masts.
So engrossed was I with my surroundings and thoughts it wasn’t until the last minute that I heard the crunch of shingle. As I whirled around, I saw, striding towards me, was Robert, his haired ruffled by the breeze. He was almost beside me and in my confusion I glanced down at my bare feet and gathered my boots and stockings in one hand.
‘Janie.’
No sweeter word could have escaped his lips and tears pricked my eyes as the memory of my father uttering the same word sprang instantly to mind. I looked at Robert and, sensing my distress, his hands gently touched the top of my arms.
‘I’ve upset you,’ he whispered. ‘For what reason I cannot imagine. Did I startle you?’
‘No, it’s just that you brought to mind the memory of my father who always called me Janie.’
The desire was so strong to touch his cheek I had to turn away.
‘Apologies, Janie. I would not intentionally cause you distress. I don’t know what makes me call you such. All I know is it seems the most natural thing to do.’
‘There is no need for apologies, sir. It was just a sweet reminder.’
I turned back to f
ace him, my hands still clutching my boots and stockings. As I glanced down so did he and we both laughed. The poignant moment was gone.
‘You caught me unawares, sir, most unladylike.’
‘No, it is good that you sense the beauty of nature. I caught sight of you and wished to warn you that the mist will roll in suddenly.’
Even as Robert spoke, I could see a haze starting to form on the horizon.
‘And, Janie, if I may call you by your name, please address me as Robert. Let us be formal no longer.’
Sitting back on the rock, I proceeded, as discreetly as I could, to put my stockings back on. I noted that Robert averted his eyes until my stockings and boots were in place once more. I stood up, adjusting my skirts, at the same time looking at Robert’s broad back and thinking all the while how depend-able he seemed. Gently I touched his arm and he turned to face me.
‘I shall call you Robert from this moment.’
His answer was to smile.
‘And as you say, we should get back to Pendenna before the mist overtakes us. I remember on my arrival mist shrouded the house.’
We headed back across the shingle and to me it seemed the most natural thing to do, walking alongside this man who was barely a stranger. My heart leaped at his nearness and I prayed silently that he felt the same.
5
I awoke next morning after a restless night dreaming that I walked down the aisle with a faceless bridegroom by my side. These fanciful thoughts must stop, I chided myself, and the thought of the day brought me back to reality. It was today I was to meet Jason Trehaine.
After dressing, I intended to look through Mamma’s chest, but I stood looking out of the window for some time. Grey clouds scudded across the sky where there had been none the previous day. The sea looked a murky colour and not at all as inviting as the day before. For some reason, since yesterday, I had taken some aversion to the house and wondered idly what a winter spent here would be like.
Grandmother had already said how nice it would be to have me here at Christmas time and I could not disappoint her but at this moment Amy’s comfortable drawing-room and cheery nature seemed far more inviting, but now there was Robert. The thought of being far from him filled me with such sadness. My heart was here and I knew this was where I should stay.
Lifting the lid of Mamma’s chest, I immediately set eyes on her marriage certificate but today I dismissed this intending to find out the truth at some later time. I lifted out four dark red books embossed with gold filigree and on each bottom right hand corner were the initials F.A.P. printed in gold. I opened the cover of one, and printed on the fly-leaf in my mother’s hand was written, The Diary of Felicity Anne Pendenna, July 1850.
Skimming quickly through the pages I could see it was a daily account of Mamma’s life here at Pendenna, and one name jumped out at me from the page — Jason Trehaine. I read the paragraph.
August 15, 1850.
Today Laura and I walked to the church with Andrew and Jason Trehaine. Laura has eyes for Andrew who is tall and dark, Jason on the other hand is fair and not a lot taller than myself. We hope to walk with them again on Sunday afternoon.
My mouth formed a smile as I thought of my mother at the age of sixteen. It is always hard to imagine one’s parents at that age. I looked forward to reading these diaries on a dreary day but I had spied something else in the chest. A small blue velvet box was tucked away in the corner where it had lain beneath the diaries. I picked it up and instinctively knew that whatever this box held was going to have a marked effect on my life, or so I thought. On opening it, I could see it contained a small brooch Mamma had worn for as long as I could remember. It was so familiar to me but as it lay in the palm of my hand it was as if I had never seen it before.
A heart-shaped pale violet amethyst was set in gold which surrounded the stone and was fashioned in small hearts. It looked very dainty but was in fact quite heavy. I turned the brooch over and could see some letters inscribed on the gold backing. Peering closely at it in the light from the window I made out the words, I adore you forever.
I stood for some moments thinking of the words and how romantic they were and yet I had never thought of my father as a romantic. How wrong one can be! Deciding to wear the brooch that afternoon, I placed it back in its velvet box on my dressing table. It would go well with my lilac-coloured dress which I intended to wear to make as good an impression on Jason Trehaine as I could. Jack, the head stablehand, was to convey Molly and myself to Polgent. I guess Molly was pleased about this and was sure she had a soft spot for him as she had mentioned him on a couple of occasions.
Placing a heavy shawl around my shoulders, I made my way outside. On passing through the hall I collided with Robert as he walked from the library.
‘Robert, I’m so sorry. I was daydreaming as usual.’
‘My dear young lady, it is I who should be apologising. I was in far too much of a hurry. Forgive me.’
He looked at me, smiling, and I was jelly under his gaze.
‘Where are you off to, Janie? It is today you are visiting Mannamead, of course.’
It was a statement rather than a question.
‘Why, yes,’ I stammered, ‘though why Mr Trehaine would request my company, I do not know.’
‘He’s a good man, Janie. I know him well. I’m sure that he is anxious to meet Mrs Pendenna’s granddaughter after all this time. He and Andrew were good friends of your mother’s.’
‘So Andrew is Aunt Laura’s betrothed, Mr Trehaine’s brother?’
‘Indeed he is, or was. We will talk some other time of the Trehaines but for now would you please excuse me, Janie? I shall be late for an appointment.’
So saying, he cupped my face gently in his hands and kissed me on the forehead. Almost before I had time to realise what had happened Robert was gone.
As I made my way to the rear of the house with the intention of exploring the small, wooded area behind the stables, I pondered over the kiss that Robert had placed on my forehead, but my sensible side told me to dismiss it. However, my heart sang with the thought that Robert held some affection for me.
On the edge of the wood, I hesitated. Even in the light of day, it appeared dark and forbidding. The large oak trees were set quite far apart but the boughs of them overlapped one another, shutting out the sky above. Boldly I stepped on to the moss-covered ground, twigs snapping gently beneath me here and there. The farther in I went, the darker it seemed, then I stopped in my tracks for I fancied I could hear voices.
Straining my ears, my heart pounding in the stillness, I realised it wasn’t a fancy. Someone was indeed speaking, not far from me. I moved as quietly as I could behind a large tree trunk in the direction of the sound, picking my skirts up so they would not disturb anything. Peering around the gnarled tree trunk I clamped my hand to my mouth so as not to let my gasp of surprise escape my lips.
Robert and Aunt Laura were stood together in a small clearing, his hands holding her arms as he had held mine and they were gazing at each other. Their words I could not hear, just the murmur of their voices as they spoke softly to one another. Tears sprang to my eyes and, picking up my skirts, I ran back out of the wood.
As I reached the edge of the wood and ran across the gravel, I heard Robert’s voice calling my name. I ran on, my breath coming in short gasps as I raced through the house, past a bewildered Mrs Dobbs. On reaching my room, I shut the door and stood with my back to it, sobs escaping me as I thought what a fool I was to even think that such a man as Robert Thornton could fall in love with me.
An hour later, I had composed myself and had decided resolutely to treat Mr Thornton with the contempt he deserved. There was a sudden knock at the door and my grandmother entered, leaning heavily on a silver stick. My heart sank as she surveyed me for some moments before she spoke softly to me.
‘What is wrong, Jane? Mrs Dobbs tells me you rushed past her not an hour since as if you had the devil at your heels.’
I turned away
from her gaze, not wishing to be rude but also not wishing to tell her the truth.
‘It was a large bumble-bee, Grandmother.’
As I faced her, the small lie just escaped my lips.
‘And would you cry over a mere bumble-bee, Jane? I think not, for you have been crying, and don’t deny it. I may be getting old but I can still see when a young woman has been reduced to tears.’
I faced her stubbornly, not wishing to change my story.
‘Please sit down, Grandmother,’ I said and I led her to the armchair by the fireplace. Tumble-bees do indeed fill me with dread and I was afraid of being stung as I was when a child. My tears were tears of relief that I had not been.’
Grandmother continued to look me up and down. Her eyes were keen and I knew she was taking in my dishevelled appearance and red eyes.
‘We will speak no more of it, but needless to say I do not believe you. I had hoped you could confide in me as your mother used to but I see you do not wish to speak the truth. However, I do believe a person of the male variety is involved and that you have been sorely disillusioned. As there is only one man it could be, I can guess, but not why. Perhaps sometime in the near future you will tell me, for now I suggest you send for Molly, dress for your outing and join me for lunch before you go.’
She had a very authoritative voice and I felt very meek on the receiving end of it as I pulled the bell. I assisted Grandmother to her feet and walked with her to the door. Before she left she turned and said to me, ‘Please convey my kind regards to Mr Trehaine.’
Two hours later, attired in my lilac-coloured day dress which was adorned with cream lace on the v-neck bodice and long sleeves, my matching bonnet and cream lace gloves and my mother’s amethyst brooch firmly in place, I stepped into the open carriage with a composure I did not entirely feel. Molly tucked a travelling blanket across my lap and joined Jack up front for our short journey to Polgent. I really was apprehensive, as on other occasions in London I had always been accompanied by Amy.
Matters of the Heart Page 3
