Clem stood aside to let her pass. Catherine ran to the front door and out into the dusty farmyard, but stopped as she saw a group of people coming towards the house.
David, Philip, Jessica, and a short, slightly built woman who must be the mysterious Kerris, who was trying to keep away from the brawny twins, were coming home for their midday meal. With them was the one-time rover known as Ricketty Jim.
Jessica was indulging in horseplay with her brothers. Philip and David were tossing her between them, her skirts flying up to reveal her long legs. She pulled at their hair and pretended to struggle then Philip lifted her clean above his head with outstretched arms. Jessica laughed until she cried and then she was dumped down on her feet again. It was only then that she and those with her saw the farm’s unexpected visitor.
Kerris stared, goggle-eyed, at Catherine for a moment then made a rapid beeline for the kitchen door. Philip and David and Ricketty Jim, who swept off his ancient battered hat, bowed their heads in unison and stood still. Jessica had seen Miss Catherine Lanyon from a distance before and recognised her at once. Stifling a giggle, she went straight towards her.
Clem advanced on Jessica before she could reach Catherine. He had been mortified that this genteel lady should witness his daughter’s wild behaviour. Catherine surveyed Jessica with a cool eye.
‘This is my daughter Jessica, Miss Lanyon,’ Clem said sternly, before Jessica could speak.
There was no ‘Pleased to meet you’ or ‘How do you do, Miss Lanyon’ from Jessica. She took in Catherine’s fine clothes, then said, ‘Did you want to see me?’ and Clem realised with a lump in his throat just how unruly and unladylike his daughter was.
‘I’m pleased to meet you, Jessica,’ Catherine said, and her voice held a deliberate tone to show the difference in their stations. ‘Your father will explain why I called. I must be going now. I’ll bid you all a good day.’
Clem crossly ordered Jessica into the house, then watched the parson’s refined sister ride out of the yard on her thoroughbred pony with his gut in knots. He was ashamed of himself for allowing Jessica to become so out of hand in the two years since Alice had died; Alice would not have approved. Rosie’s words came back to haunt him: ‘If the girl needs a mother then it’s up to you to provide her with one.’
Since Clem had lost Kerensa many years ago, the family he’d had by his subsequent marriage was all he had; he loved them desperately and would do anything for them. If it meant that he had to marry again to provide Jessica with a mother to stop her from disgracing herself and preventing an eventual good marriage, then he would do it. Somehow he had to see Miss Catherine Lanyon again and repair all today’s damage.
* * *
While Catherine was on her fool’s errand at Trecath-en Farm, Olivia Pengarron had arrived at the Parsonage. She was shown into the parlour by Nancy Wills and was disappointed to be told that Miss Catherine was abroad on charitable business.
‘Do you think she will be away for much longer, Nancy?’ Olivia enquired.
‘Longer? ’Tis hard to say, Miss Olivia. She didn’t say where she was going today and she’s been gone a good while, but if she can stay and help the folk she’s visiting, she’ll do just that. She liaises, that’s what she calls it, with your dear mother, Lady Pengarron. They call on as many folk as they can during a week, then they get together to talk over what’s happened. I daresay her ladyship could have told you where Miss Catherine is likely to be today.’
‘In that case I think I’ll take my leave and call on Miss Catherine some other time. You can tell her, Nancy, that the purpose of my visit was to thank her for the lovely birthday gift she made for me.’
‘I’ll do that, Miss Olivia. She’ll be some sorry to have missed you. The Reverend Timothy is in his study. Would you like a word with him before you go? He’d be happy to see you, I know.’
‘No, I think I will go now, Nancy.’
The Reverend Lanyon was the last person on earth Olivia wanted to see. But before she could reach the door he barged his way through it. He wore no coat and his shirt was opened at the throat, a state of informal dress that Olivia considered highly improper in a parson. His grey eyes were not on her or even on Nancy; he was looking about the chairs for something.
‘Ah, Nancy,’ he grunted absentmindedly, ‘why didn’t you tell me we have a visitor… Oh, it’s you, Miss Pengarron.’
‘I called to see Miss Catherine but as she is not at home I was just leaving,’ Olivia said haughtily, stung by his bad manners.
‘Good, good,’ Timothy said, rubbing his square chin with his fingers.
Olivia’s fury was growing steadily. He had given her no formal greeting and seemed to have forgotten her presence already. It was time this young parson was put in his place.
‘I think I will have a word with the Reverend after all, Nancy,’ she said in a superior voice. ‘It’s confidential…’
‘Confidential. Well, I’ll just go and tend to my linen cupboard then,’ Nancy said, withdrawing. It went without speaking that the parson would grant an immediate interview with the daughter of the Lord of the Manor.
‘Some spiritual matter, is it?’ Timothy asked, still scouring about the room. ‘I’m looking for a little black notebook. I left it somewhere. Can’t seem to lay my hand on it this morning. It’s got one or two important things written down in it.’
‘Never mind your notebook! I demand your immediate attention. Now!’
‘My dear Miss Pengarron,’ and Timothy was suddenly standing to attention, his face full of concern, ‘is there something wrong?’
‘Yes! With you!’ Olivia snapped, putting her hands on her hips in just the way that Oliver did.
‘With me?’ Timothy pointed to his chest. ‘I don’t understand.’
Olivia flung up her chin and her eyes blazed. ‘You, Timothy Lanyon, are the rudest, most ill-mannered, inconsiderate, bumptious man I have ever had the misfortune to meet! Why my father chose you to take over the parish after the kindly Reverend Joseph Ivey is beyond my comprehension!’
Timothy was stunned. ‘What have I done to upset you?’
‘Simply by just being you,’ Olivia replied, stabbing a finger at him.
‘You are a sparky little madam, aren’t you?’ Timothy said, his humorous eyes twinkling.
‘I’m a what? How dare you! Have you no respect for who I am? Who my father is?’
‘Yes. Yes. Well, go on, I’m still puzzled over your chagrin with me.’
‘Oh, I give up…’ Olivia sounded as if she was suddenly out of puff. She stormed to the door, changed her mind, stuck her hands on her hips again and leaned forward. ‘Don’t you realise that you haven’t got even the simplest of manners? That you have no idea how to behave in society, no idea how to address a lady?’
‘I treat all people the same,’ Timothy said evenly, and in retaliation bent towards her.
‘No, you don’t. You speak to most men like they’re your old friends but you are rude to every woman who has the misfortune to meet you. You’ve even been disrespectful to my mother on occasions. I don’t know how Nancy and Miss Catherine put up with you!’
‘I’ll have you know that they’re perfectly happy with me and I’ve never been aware of harming your dear mother’s sensitivity even once. Sir Oliver was happy to choose me as incumbent for this parish after interviewing me and knowing full well of my character.’ Timothy was waving his arms all about. ‘I consider myself no better or worse than anybody else, and neither are you, Miss Olivia Pengarron, even though you are a daughter of privilege. You can take me or leave me.’
‘Then I’ll leave you! And I’ll never set foot in this house again while you reside here. In my opinion you have no right to be here, you’re nothing like a real parson should be!’
‘Oh, am I not?’ Timothy sounded much amused and stretching out one long arm he pulled Olivia towards him and before she could exclaim he used the other to twiddle with one of the drop-pearl earrings she was wearing. He let
her go and with a scream of rage she slapped his face. The noise resounded around the room.
‘I could have you horsewhipped for that!’ Olivia hissed. ‘How dare you touch me! You’re utterly despicable!’ Then she angrily wiped at the pearl to remove his tainting.
‘I’m an ordinary mortal man, as capable of having my face slapped as any other man,’ Timothy said in a stern voice.
‘An ordinary man?’ Olivia felt she had no energy left and slumped down in a chair. ‘There’s nothing ordinary about you. I don’t understand you at all.’
Timothy sat down too, on the edge of a chair, and leaned over with his arms resting on his knees. He was quiet and thoughtful for a moment, then said, ‘Sometimes I don’t understand myself. You’re correct about me being despicable, Miss Pengarron. I believe no man has the right to force himself in any way upon a woman, and yet it’s something I’ve just done to you… I don’t know why I did it. I’m sorry, believe me. I couldn’t help myself, you looked so beautiful, all on fire and beautiful.’
He became silent and as Olivia did not want to speak, the only noise for several long moments was the heavy tick-tock from a huge mantelpiece clock.
‘Miss Pengarron, if you demand it, I will leave the parish after what I did to you. After all, as you pointed out, you are the daughter of the Lord of the Manor. I couldn’t go on here if I lost your father’s respect, although he’ll probably leap on his horse and ride here at speed to break my neck anyway when you tell him what I have done.’
‘I shall not tell my father and you don’t have to leave, Reverend Lanyon,’ Olivia said, enjoying herself now she had gained the upper hand. ‘But you would do well to learn some manners and how to show respect to those to whom it is due. I suggest you ask your sister for advice. She is a perfect lady and would know how to make you something of a gentleman.’
Timothy suddenly grinned. It threw Olivia for a moment and she thought she had lost her ground already. ‘What is it?’ she demanded.
‘I’ve never had a lady throw her fury at me before. It was rather appealing and you did provoke me.’
‘Oh, that’s typical of you, Timothy Lanyon. You’re a thoroughly bigoted male where women are concerned.’ Olivia sprang to her feet. ‘I abhor the way you look upon us.’
‘Particularly you?’ Timothy asked quietly.
‘Are you suggesting I’m only angry with you because of the way you treat me?’
Timothy stood up and looked straight into Olivia’s green eyes. ‘Yes, I am.’
‘Oh, you’re impossible! I can’t stand another moment in your company. Good day to you, Mr Lanyon.’
Olivia left, slamming doors behind her. Nancy Wills came down the stairs carrying an armful of kitchen linen. She eyed her employer carefully as he stood at the parlour window gazing out at Olivia’s retreating slender figure.
‘Now what have you done?’ she asked.
‘How do you know it’s my fault?’ Timothy demanded as Olivia flounced round the corner of the ivy-clad Parsonage to the stables at the rear.
‘It’s always your fault,’ Nancy replied. ‘What did you say to upset Miss Olivia?’
‘It seems that everything I say upsets the dear young lady.’
‘Humph,’ snorted Nancy, heading out of the room.
Olivia waited impatiently for the stable hand to get her pony ready. He looked at her flushed, angry face curiously and she turned her back on him. At that moment no man was worth the little piece of ground he stood on. She rode the lanes back to the Manor and swore that if anyone again mentioned she should be seriously thinking of a future husband she would blast them with her tongue to the point where they would never dare to broach the subject again. She would make straight for her painting room at the top of the house, engross herself in her art and never, never think about men, particularly a certain young parson, again.
* * *
Kane was enjoying a leisurely ride around the parish with the woman he would never be rude to, the mother whom he adored. They looked over the charity school Oliver and Luke had set up first. It was a small, square granite building on the top of the hill that dipped down into the little fishing village of Perranbarvah. Kane was impressed with it. It was light and well equipped, where pupils aged between seven and eleven attended to learn their elementary lessons and some moral teaching. Anything up to fifty children came each weekday, children from the village and the new Roscawen tin mine, estate workers’ and tenants’ children. It was part of the parson’s duties to hold prayers and teach in it, backed up by the scholarly Matthias Renfree whose help was welcome as long as he steered clear of Methodist ideas. Catherine, Cordelia, Olivia and Luke helped with the supervision in varying degrees.
Kane and Kerensa listened in on one of the classes and Kane played a rough game of leapfrog with the children, which delighted them. Afterwards he and Kerensa went down to the village and walked up and down Perranbarvah’s little beach, talking to the fisherfolk and joining Elizabeth King, Matthew’s mother, for a dish of tea. From there they rode to the Roscawen mine, whose community benefited from regular food and milk supplied by the Blakes, a tradition Peter Blake had started after marrying his bal-maiden wife. Kane was pleased to see so many of the same families there whom he had known since childhood. Finally they rode to the oak plantation that sheltered the Manor house and dismounted in a sunny clearing, sitting on the dry green grass on the bank of the river that ran through the woods.
‘Are you glad to be back home, my dear?’ Kerensa said, letting a hand drift in the waters of the river.
‘I certainly am, as glad as you are to have me back,’ Kane grinned.
‘I like to have all my family around me.’
Kane was thoughtful for a moment. ‘Joseph would be toddling about all over the place now, keeping you happy.’
‘Yes, I still miss him so very much. What about you, Kane? Are you really happy?’
‘I’m a bit unsettled at the moment but I haven’t left a lost love behind me if that’s what you’re thinking, Mama.’
‘But sad memories, I think.’
‘You know me better than anyone else,’ he smiled. ‘Something happened that made me see the sordid side of life. It’s nothing for a lady’s ears and I want to put it all behind me now.’
‘I hope we see no more of your thoughtless pranks,’ Kerensa laughed fondly. ‘What did you do with that spider, by the way? I’ve not asked before because I’ve been dreading the answer.’
‘I gave it to an acquaintance of mine who’s interested in entomology. He collects specimens of all kinds.’
‘Where does he live?’
‘Live? At Launceston, why?’
Kerensa laughed with dry humour. ‘Just making sure the creature is a long way away. You must have seen some changes at home since you went away.’
Kane rolled over on his back, clasping his hands underneath his neck. ‘Well, everyone is two years older to begin with. Only Beatrice seems not to have changed. Do you know, I believe she’ll live for ever. Shell be living at the Manor coughing gin-laden breath over the next Pengarron generation and the next.’
‘I hope so. Life at home would be strange without her, and Jack. They were the first two people I met when I began my new life as your father’s wife.’
‘Jack’s not changed either. But the Wheal Ember mine has closed down. Luke and I often played around that area when we were boys. And now there’s the Roscawen mine set up not too far away. I’m glad of that, it would have been a shame to have seen the mining community broken up and folk going round the county looking for work. I hope they get many years’ work out of it. And Adam Renfree finally drank himself to death while I was away and Matthias is our farm steward in his place. It will give him and Rosie a good future.’
‘Now you’re home, I wonder what the future will bring for us all.’
‘Only time will tell.’ Kane rolled over on his front and tossed leaves and sticks into the flowing sparkling water. As he watched them being tos
sed over the stony base of the river and swishing through the clear water, he wondered about his past.
Chapter 9
The start of the day was much the same as any other market day for Philip Trenchard. He took a fattened pig to be sold, left his father’s horse at the farrier’s to be re-shod, looked over the animal pens and won a wrestling match against a miner from the Roscawen mine. He won two guineas on bets he made on the following match and emptied five tankards of strong ale in a grog shop. Following that he spent a furtive few minutes at the darkened end of an alley with a kitchen maid employed at the Blakes’ house, then kept a longer assignation with a woman of higher social standing in the grander surroundings of her large house while her husband was away on business in London. He was paid five guineas for his expertise in that field, and all his earnings would be saved towards the plans he had to improve the farm.
Then, feeling full and satisfied, he made his way to Painted Bessie’s clifftop kiddleywink up on Lancavel Downs. He was there to make plans that would enable him to make more money. Before he went inside the ramshackle alehouse, whose main ware consisted of smuggled spirits, he glanced behind and caught sight of a headful of blonde curls. Why was Jessica following his every move this morning?
‘What can I get ’ee, boy?’ Painted Bessie, an over-made-up hag, hailed him as he looked about the smoke-laden rough interior.
Philip threw some pennies on a scratched table top. ‘A clean tankard of ale,’ he replied gruffly.
He lit his pipe and his demeanour made clear his wish to remain alone and mind his own business. Philip had been here a few times before but it was a place he disliked. The smell of stale alcohol and unwashed bodies filled every nook of the room and most of the other customers looked unfriendly. He didn’t want to sit in this place for long, swilling back the bitter, unpalatable ale. He would give the man he was here to meet no longer than it took him to sup his tankard dry before he left.
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