The Cornish Lady

by Nicola Pryce

  I could not breathe. I wanted to snatch my hand away but his hand held mine. Father must see our reflection in the glass; he must be witness to his terrible liberty, but he did not turn round. He must only see two lovers – a man comforting the woman he loved. He could not hear the threat in his voice nor feel the power of his hold. ‘There are as many witnesses against your brother as there are against Henry Trevelyan,’ he whispered in what must look like adoration. ‘Like the theft of a certain necklace and Lady Clarissa’s silver dish, which went missing the night they were both here…I’m sure you must realize that either man could have those thefts pinned on him.’

  He put his finger beneath my chin, forcing me to look up. ‘Captain Fenshaw told me he signed for them when your brother was arrested. And there was the pistol, too, wasn’t there? Now, they could belong to your brother or they could belong to Henry Trevelyan…it just depends which witnesses we find to swear in court…my court, let me remind you, Angelica, where I will be the judge.’

  I thought I would be sick. My heart was hammering so fast, fear making it hard to breathe. Father had moved to the other side of the room and was now intent on studying the books. He must be delighted by our obvious intimacy and I tried to breathe, shutting my eyes as Lord Entworth towered over me. ‘You know how to save your brother, don’t you, my little love?’ He kissed my palm again, vile, reptile kisses that sent shivers down my spine.

  It would be his court, his paid witnesses, his judgement; he would rush this case through just like he had with the rioters. Either my brother or Henry Trevelyan would be arrested and put on trial. One of them would be committed to hang long before Sir Alex Pendarvis returned. Sedition and treason could be tried at any time – no waiting for the assizes. The blood was rushing from my head, I needed to breathe. He smiled a lover’s soft smile, bringing my hand once more to his lips. ‘Go now, dearest girl. Run along and enjoy the iced-cream and raspberry sorbet. Leave your father and me to talk.’

  Chapter Forty

  The door closed behind me and I leaned against it, trying to control my dizziness. He was too powerful to stop. He could implicate either Edgar or Henry – one or the other would be accused. The charge a treasonable offence – conspiring to free French prisoners. One would hang, one would go free. I hardly saw Amelia waiting by the drawing-room door. She came hurrying forward and grabbed my elbow, pressing her forefinger against her lips. She drew me across the hall to a small cupboard and looked round, checking no one was looking. She opened the tall, painted door and pulled me inside.

  The cupboard was long and thin, lined with shelves on one side and hooks on the other, and I knew instantly why we were there. Enamel buckets stood in a neat row, an assortment of mops and brushes. Most shelves were stacked with jars of polish and candles but a couple were piled high with oddly shaped driftwood, a selection of peg dolls and a stone jar full of charcoal. A bench ran down one side and she shuffled me along it.

  ‘It’s The Procurer’s Cupboard,’ she whispered as my eyes adjusted to the semi darkness. Above us, a small row of grilles let in pinholes of light. ‘Frederick and I used to play in here as children. The boys use it too – the Procurer summons us here on rainy days.’

  The cupboard seemed to stretch the whole length of the hall. She indicated for me to shift along the bench and turned round, running her hands along the bricks behind her. ‘The fireplace is just behind here.’ She began twisting something in the bricks, gently pulling out a cork. ‘Mother doesn’t know about this, though she does know about the cupboard. Frederick wasn’t always the golden, blue-eyed hero he is today. He was very naughty as a boy – he used a skewer to drill some loose mortar and made this hole.’

  She turned round, kneeling on the bench. ‘It’s too high up the fireplace to be able to see anything, but you can hear well enough what’s being said. Once Frederick took the cork out and the cupboard filled with smoke – we thought we’d be found out but, luckily, we weren’t. We used to listen when Father had important meetings, but mostly we just heard Father snoring in his chair.’

  There were voices coming from the other side of the bricks. Father and Lord Entworth must have returned to the fireplace and were just the other side of the hole. Amelia shuffled back along the bench. ‘I’ll keep cave. When it’s clear, I’ll come and get you. Don’t make a sound. You won’t hear everything, but you’ll probably make out enough of what’s being said.’ She looked through the crack of the door, checking the hall was empty. ‘That’s how I found out they were sending me to boarding school – pre-warned is pre-armed, as Father says.’

  I took off my bonnet and placed my ear firmly against the hole. They must have been standing right in front of the fireplace.

  ‘There’s something I didn’t say before.’ It was Father speaking. ‘The name Henry Trevelyan is very familiar to me. His grandfather went by the same name…he worked for me…or rather he worked for a shipping firm I bought. The company was in trouble, about to go bankrupt…and they asked if I could buy their ships from them and I did. I took a good hard look at their accounts and it soon became apparent why they were losing money – a clever, systematic fraud was in place and I could see at once who the perpetrator must be. Mr Henry Trevelyan was accused of fraud and charged. He was told to refund every penny or be gaoled for bankruptcy. To this day, I would defend my accusation, though no money was ever traced to him.’

  ‘Sounds perfectly reasonable to accuse the man…So, what you’re saying is that Henry Trevelyan is this man’s grandson and very likely intent on revenge? No doubt he’s as profligate and untrustworthy as his father and grandfather before him.’

  ‘Only the grandfather was accused of the fraud – I believe his son was an honourable, hardworking man who worked for the same company. He died just days after clearing the old man’s debts. He paid everything back, but he borrowed heavily – I believe he mortgaged everything. His untimely death left the family in great penury.’

  ‘And with a perfectly sound motive for the son to return and seek revenge – how better to avenge yourself on the man who ruined your family than have him watch his son hung for theft and treason? The man’s clearly both intelligent and dangerous.’

  ‘I believe I must engage the services of Mr Matthew Reith, Lord Entworth. His is the foremost legal brain in Cornwall. If the man’s guilty, then Matthew Reith will prove it beyond reasonable doubt. I can’t have people think I have a personal vendetta against the family.’

  There was a pause, a long silence, followed by the sound of a snuffbox snapping. ‘Get Mr Reith involved and your son will surely hang. Mr Reith and Sir Alex Pendarvis have always had a close association, and believe me, neither are men you want to cross. The evidence against your son is far greater than that against Henry Trevelyan. Your son is a wanton, unprincipled imbiber of opium who frequents the worst brothels and stinking dens used only by the lowest vermin of our society.’

  ‘That’s a terrible accusation. I ask you to—’

  ‘It’s the truth, Mr Lilly. I’ve had my men watch your son – and they will be compelling witnesses who’ll testify under oath they’ve seen your son crawling from gutter to gutter. Your son is a depraved, profligate disgrace – sent down from Oxford for claiming another man’s work as his own. If it wasn’t for your charming daughter and her obvious delight at the prospect of being the next Lady Entworth, I would back swiftly away like any sensible person. But we have a deal, have we not? And a gentleman honours the deals he makes, even if he wasn’t born a gentleman, and his son’s a profligate disgrace.’

  There was another pause, a long draw of snuff. ‘Get Matthew Reith involved and I’ll be powerless to help. Your son will hang and any hope of a good marriage for your daughter will be lost. Act now and Henry Trevelyan will be up before my bench and the matter resolved with no hint of scandal to yourself. Your son’s indiscretions will be silenced.’

  ‘Lord Entworth…I must protest. You’re forcing me into a very difficult position. The man must have
a just and honest trial.’

  ‘Who? Henry Trevelyan or your son?’

  ‘Both, of course.’

  ‘Allow another court and another judge anywhere near the case and your son will hang, do I make myself clear? The evidence against him is stacking up as we speak. Mr Lilly… I admit to being disappointed and not a little disgusted. To align myself with your family is going against all sound judgement.’

  ‘Lord Entworth, it was you who came to me.’

  ‘That was before…now I see things differently. We agreed a fifteen per cent discount on all my smelting costs, but in view of the change of circumstances, I fear I must change that to twenty per cent. Times are hard and profits are falling and I need a clear advantage over my competitors for both tin and copper. I want twenty per cent discount on all my smelting deals and a twenty per cent stake in your shipping business…and no charge for the use of your ships.’

  ‘Lord Entworth, I must protest…You ask too much.’

  ‘Too much to save your family from ruin? I believe a twenty per cent reduction for both shipping and smelting costs is a fair deal – your son’s life and your daughter’s advantageous marriage at very little inconvenience to yourself?’

  ‘I’m sorry—’

  ‘You may well be sorry – very sorry – if you refuse my terms. Your daughter’s dowry of twenty thousand will remain as we agreed but I require a further annual income of two thousand a year, which I will put by for the benefit of your grandsons – and all this must be signed for, and agreed, on the day I propose to your daughter – which will be here, at Lady Clarissa’s birthday party. Though I believe we have a tedious cricket match to sit through first.’

  ‘Lord Entworth, your terms are too demanding.’

  ‘My terms are simple. And as for my part, I promise I will love and honour your daughter. I will cherish her to my dying breath – I’ll give her everything she wants. She’ll lead the life she deserves…she’ll grace the highest society, which is where her beauty belongs. My terms, as you rather vulgarly put it, are to save your family from disgrace – my terms will grant you everything your wife wished. Her portrait can hang in Carrick Hall, if it must, and I’ll even teach my son to revere his actress grandmother.’

  There was sudden iron in Father’s voice. ‘That portrait will not leave my house. And it will be me who teaches my grandson to revere his Irish grandmother.’

  In the frosty silence I heard the door open. Their voices were faint, difficult to hear. ‘Understand…tired…rather over wrought…sharp words between us must be forgotten…sake of…children’s future…only important ones. Their happiness…must take my leave.’

  I pulled away from the tiny hole, doubling over in pain. They were standing in the hall and had been joined by Lady Clarissa. She was thanking Lord Entworth for coming, sending Amelia to try to find me. Father was telling her he must leave straight away; he needed to see Edgar as soon as possible. I could hardly breathe but sat hugging my knees, fighting the fear ripping through me. Nothing made sense, only that Father was being blackmailed.

  The pain was so severe, I wanted to cry. Henry Trevelyan must have sat staring at me through the window of his hovel with such loathing. He must have hated me, detested everything about me. Perhaps he still did. Perhaps he had used me, framing me just like he had framed Edgar. I could be traced helping my brother – the ship’s crew back to Truro had seen me without my wig. They had brought fish for the kitten, seen the blood on her, brought water to help me wash it off.

  Lady Clarissa was sending a maid to find me but Father’s voice grew urgent. ‘I must leave, now…I have to see Edgar.’

  ‘Of course, I will tell her you were in a hurry. I’m afraid you’ll find Falmouth very crowded at the moment and you may find difficulty obtaining a room. You’d be most welcome to stay with my son Frederick and his wife and child…at number four, Dunstanville Terrace. Do tell them I sent you.’

  ‘Thank you, Lady Clarissa – you’re very kind. But I believe I’ll call on Mrs Bohenna, first. I’ve not seen her for a long while…’

  There were more pleasantries and I heard her say, ‘They must be in the shrubbery…she’ll be so sorry to miss you. But do come back, please, Mr Lilly, come back any time… come for the cricket match.’

  I breathed in the aroma of damp mops, the sweet perfume of the beeswax polish. Henry Trevelyan had never seemed malicious or unkind. He had never looked at me with hostility or cunning – never with resentment or revenge. Yet the more I thought about it, the more the hurt deepened. He had always remained distant, almost critical – making sure I knew he loved another. The pain felt like treachery, sharp stabbing thrusts ripping open my heart. What if I had been right all along not to trust him? What if the woman he loved was the woman in the prison? The woman who had trapped Edgar in the opium den?

  I could hardly breathe. He alone knew Edgar took opium. At the water’s edge, he had held me back, telling me it had to be Edgar’s choice. But what if he wanted him to swallow the vial? What if he expected him to take it?

  Exit Stage

  Chapter Forty-one

  The tiny door opened. ‘They’ve gone. I told George I’ve left my parasol on the terrace. Are you all right, only you don’t look very well?’ Amelia shut the cupboard quickly behind me, hurrying me across the hall. ‘What did Lord Entworth say? No…don’t say anything, George is coming.’

  George’s hurried footsteps stopped. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, do I intrude?’

  I turned my back on his beaming smile, adjusting my bonnet in the large gilt mirror. ‘A slight headache…well, to be honest, quite a bad headache, but I’m fine now.’

  He held up Amelia’s parasol like a trophy. ‘It was next to the urn and I knew you’d be looking all over for it. You must have left it there and forgotten…’ His face flushed with pleasure as he held it up. ‘Now, I’ll have the very great honour of escorting both of you round the garden. Shall we go down to the shrubbery…or maybe the rose garden?’

  The heat of the day had passed, a gentle breeze now cooling my cheeks. It was the height of the tide, the blue water sparkling against the wooded banks, and I breathed in the rose-scented air, wanting to cry. Father had seemed so alone.

  ‘I must say, this is a very welcome breath of fresh air. The air in the castle is so damp – almost unbreathable. It’s not the best place for me but it’s the best place for my vault. To be honest, I’m not sure Captain Melvill will allow me to stay where I am when he takes over command. His arrival has been hurried forward and not a moment too soon. The Fencibles are volunteers and not trained for artillery – the place is a shambles, even Major Basset’s Dragoons won’t stable their horses there.’

  We walked by his side through the shrubbery, his conversation aimed mainly to Amelia whose large bonnet shielded her face from his view, her basket held rigidly between them. She stopped, lifting a flowering shrub for closer inspection. ‘How are the guards? How’s Captain Fenshaw? I hope he’s recovering. Does Dr Bohenna know what was in the wine? What symptoms did they have?’

  ‘Tiredness for a start – I should’ve been alerted when Captain Fenshaw grew drowsy. He shouted back at me to lock the door but he collapsed on the other side and I didn’t know what to do. I’ll be honest and tell you I was absolutely terrified. I was shaking, petrified…I could hear him shouting to me to barricade myself in and I did so at once. I’d barely sipped my wine – I was going to, mind. Captain Fenshaw brought it in to pass the evening but I was too busy at the time. I was going to enjoy it later. As it happened, it’s a good job I only sipped it.’

  ‘Did it taste sour, or different?’

  ‘Not at all, it tasted very good. It was a Portuguese wine – a good one at that.’

  ‘Did anyone vomit, did they convulse?’

  ‘Captain Fenshaw was very sick. Dr Bohenna believes it was laudanum poisoning. There’s plenty about – the sailors bring it with them from China and sell it to make money. A number of dens are springing up. Men go ther
e to smoke it but I believe they sell it as a tincture.’

  Amelia glanced anxiously at me and I looked down. ‘Drowsiness, followed by delirium and extreme pallidness of countenance…sighing, followed by deep, snorting breathing…cold sweats and apoplexy?’

  ‘Yes, I believe so. You’re very knowledgeable, Amelia.’ ‘And the prisoners – was Dr Bohenna called to any of them?’

  ‘I believe one had a nasty laceration, but otherwise they were unhurt. They continue to deny all involvement in the plan. According to Captain de la Croix, someone simply let them free so naturally, they took the opportunity to run but, now I remember – I think one of the prisoners is suffering from excessive heart beats.’ He seemed suddenly shy. ‘Captain de la Croix has become the prisoners’ spokesman and I’ve seen quite a lot of Lieutenant Carew over the last day – your brother is a very impressive man.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘He’s considered quite a hero. Did you know the crew of Captain de la Croix’s ship had terrible dysentery and Admiral Penrose and your brother insisted they should be put ashore in Guadeloupe and only take Captain de la Croix as prisoner?’

  ‘Yes, he told me. It was a very honourable thing to do, though I believe the Admiralty are looking into the case.’ Her voice faltered. ‘But leaving behind men who were dying and yet had a chance to live seems a very straightforward choice to me. They would have all died on the journey back.’

  We walked on in silence, a blackbird singing loudly on the arch above the wrought-iron gate. Amelia’s herbs spilled over the brick paths, the sound of bees filling the air. Moses was weeding the herbs on his knees and rose stiffly as we approached, bowing and smiling his wonky smile, his gardener’s smock covered in dry soil.