Trevennor’s Will, page 17
There was no need to speculate who her father was, she even spoke in the same lazy way as Edmund Kempthorne. Dressed in a pale blue frock and petticoat and matching slippers, a cluster of red ribbons on the crown of her dark head, Nick thought she was quite the prettiest child he had seen. He sat on the lower steps and smiled, putting out a forefinger to touch her chin.
‘Why do you think your father would say that?’ he asked.
‘Cus he was hard up fur money. I heard him talking to my mam. Said if the old man hadn’t gone when he did he would’ve given him a helping hand. Wanted him to go up to see God a bit quicker,’ the girl said innocently. ‘My mam says my fathur’s kind like that.’
‘I see,’ Nick replied, digesting the implications of this piece of information. ‘Do you live here?’
‘Aye, but only since a few days ago. We wus sent fur, from St Ives. Know it, do ’ee?’ Nick nodded and she chattered on. ‘Got fish as big as a ship there. I’ve got a bedroom and playroom all of me own here, but I have to keep quiet. Fathur’s bought me lots of new toys. A hobby horse, a rocking horse, jumping jacks from the Frenchies and hundreds of dolls. I’m getting a nursemaid to look after me when me mam’s busy. What your name?’
Nick smiled and told her, then asked, ‘What’s yours?’
‘Morenwyn Leddra. I’m three, nearly four,’ Morenwyn said proudly. ‘How old are you?’
‘Oh, about twenty-seven, I think,’ Nick said with a wink. Her surname reminded him of the sailor he’d helped ashore from the shipwreck.
‘Is that older or younger than old sourpuss?’
‘Well, I don’t know. Who’s this sourpuss?’ But he thought he already knew.
‘Deb’rah. She’s my aunty but won’t let me call her that. She hates me and me mam. Mam says she’s jealous cus she can’t get a man of her own.’ Morenwyn stepped closer and ran a fingertip round and round on Nick’s knee. It tickled so much he took her hand and lifted her onto his lap. She wriggled about, all elbows. ‘You’re a fine man, Nick,’ she chirped, staring up at him. ‘Mam says a man would make her happy. You be a man for my aunty then p’raps she went be so sour and like me a bit.’
Nick wanted to laugh, but he restrained himself. Morenwyn felt warm and cuddlesome as she nestled close to him. He had never taken much notice of very young children before, not even Jimmy Rowe’s, but this particular one would stand out in a crowd and was easy to take to.
‘Tell me, Morenwyn, have you got an uncle?’
‘Aye, Uncle James. Mam told me about him but we never see him cus he’s always out at sea.’
Nick felt uneasy and hoped James Leddra would not take a notion to call at Trevennor House to see his sister, but he was sure the sailor would keep his word and not mention the two people he’d met in Trevellas Porth.
‘Where’s your mother, Morenwyn?’
‘Upstairs, waiting fur my fathur,’ she answered, putting her hands up to fiddle with her ribbons. Nick doubted that she ever kept still.
The parlour door opened and the Kempthornes appeared together.
‘Ah, Nancarrow, now I see what has delayed you,’ Edmund said, looking proudly at his daughter.
Morenwyn wriggled off Nick’s lap and ran to him.
Nick got up and deliberately gazed warmly at Deborah who flushed crimson. She attempted to return the look but her smile did nothing kind to her hard face. Nick could tell she was interested in him but couldn’t feel happy about it. She tried to speak kindly to Morenwyn who was in Edmund’s arms, hugging his neck. ‘Why don’t you run along and see where your mother is, my dear?’
Edmund took the opportunity to escape to Mary Ellen. ‘I’ll take her up to the nursery, Deborah. Thank you for attending the funeral, Nancarrow. I understand you were here when our uncle died. I was sad to miss his last moments. Good day to you.’ He put a finger and thumb into a waistcoat pocket and produced a coin which he offered Nick. ‘For bearing the coffin.’
Nick held up protesting hands. He was offended. ‘Not necessary. Laurence was my friend. It was an honour to carry him to his resting place. I was only too glad to be back in the area and to have the opportunity to bid him goodbye.’ He moved aside to allow Edmund room to pass. Morenwyn’s delighted chuckles were heard as she was borne to the top of the house.
‘She’s a dear little soul,’ Nick said to Deborah.
‘Yes, I’m very fond of children,’ she lied. She was furious the little girl had wandered downstairs again. ‘Morenwyn has lightened our heavier moments since Uncle Laurence’s death.’ She gave a small embarrassed cough. ‘There is… um… no point in trying to hide the paternal half of her parentage from you, is there, Mr Nancarrow? Your face spoke clearly that you had noticed her resemblance to Edmund.’
‘I hope if I have a child one day I’ll be blessed to have one as delightful, and to love it as much as your brother obviously does Morenwyn, Miss Kempthorne.’
‘I believe you… are not married.’
‘No.’ He smiled with his fullest charm. ‘I am quite unattached.’
Deborah’s face glowed deeper. ‘I would appreciate it if you would not speak of the child as being my brother’s. We are hoping for amicable relations with the local people and some may not approve of Edmund’s… little indiscretion. At present we are keeping the little girl confined to the house. Hopefully in the future she will be able to go abroad in the village and the people will look kindly on Edmund for giving her and her mother a home.’
‘I’m sure they will accept the situation,’ Nick said soothingly. ‘You have my assurance I’ll say nothing about it. I thank you for taking me into your confidence. Also I thank you for your hospitality today but sadly now I must go. If we should meet in the future, please call me Nick.’
He held out his hand and Deborah shot hers out in return. It was big and heavy and felt clumsy enclosed in his fingers and her cheeks were so red they looked about to fry. She showed Nick to the door without ringing for a servant.
‘Goodbye. Despite the sad occasion it’s been a pleasure to meet you.’ It was Nick’s turn to lie.
‘Wait, please, Nick,’ Deborah urgently puffed out the words. ‘I have a proposition to put to you.’
Chapter 13
Isabel had been surprised on meeting Kitty. She had been able to tell from Nick’s smirking face that he was expecting it. He probably thought she had visualised a gaudily dressed, heavily rouged, common looking older woman with a voluptuous figure. But Isabel had hardly given the physical aspects of the woman she was being taken to a thought as she’d walked the cliffs, registering only that Gyver Pengelly had said Nick had lain with her.
Kitty was only three years older than Isabel at twenty-four, with tawny-brown eyes set in a pert pretty face. She wore a neat dress in pastel shades finished at the top with a snowy white lace fichu over an almost curveless figure. Her glossy natural red hair was worn in a ‘sheep’s head’ of close curls and she shared Isabel’s preference for wearing little jewellery. Kitty looked more like a clergyman’s daughter than a woman who sold herself to gentlemen.
Nick had known that Isabel must be feeling at a disadvantage in her shabby clothes and sand-whitened shoes but as he looked at her, standing stiffly upright, her hands clasped before her, he was struck again by the change in her. The three days since the accident had turned her into a vibrant ethereal looking creature.
He’d lifted a palm in her direction. ‘Kitty, this is Jenna Stevens.’
‘Welcome to my house, Jenna,’ Kitty said, her face open and friendly.
‘Thank you,’ Isabel replied, using her own voice.
Kitty’s eyebrows shot up at the unexpected cultured tone and she turned to Nick for an explanation. Nick looked at Isabel with a mixture of contempt and amusement; trust you, he seemed to be thinking, to make sure Kitty knows at once you’re not one of us.
‘Actually, this is Miss Isabel Hampton of Truro,’ he said, keeping an even voice. ‘The late Laurence Trevennor’s supposedly late niece. But for now we must think of her as, and call her, Jenna Stevens.’
Kitty’s face worked with curiosity and there was a trace of excitement in her soft accent. ‘I heard he’d passed away, but you didn’t go over the cliff as was supposed then, Miss Hampton?’
‘It was contrived to look that way,’ Isabel said. She was pleased Kitty had called her ‘Miss Hampton’, it put them both in their rightful places and she knew Nick did not find it agreeable.
‘Well, I suppose there must have been a good reason for it,’ Kitty said, looking from Isabel to Nick and back at Isabel, ‘but it can wait until later. Please sit yourself down and make sure you’re comfortable. I’ll get you something to eat and drink.’ Then to Nick, reproachfully, ‘I don’t suppose you’ve bothered to make the poor maid a dish of tea, have you?’
Nick made a face and sat at the table, making a show of keeping his elbows off the flower-patterned lace-edged tablecloth. He’d been maliciously amused at Kitty calling Isabel a ‘poor maid’ but Isabel was wearing the face of a dignified lady and he couldn’t tell if she’d been offended. Kitty was willing enough to give people their place but she never stood on ceremony for them.
‘Benefit you took they boots off, Nick Nancarrow,’ Kitty scolded. ‘Never thought to use the scraper outside the door, did you? I can never keep a clean floor when you’re about.’ She put a small square table at Isabel’s side and covered it with a lace cloth. ‘I was some sorry to hear about Mr Trevennor passing away, Miss Hampton,’ she said quietly, with genuine sympathy.
‘Thank you, it was a great shock to me,’ Isabel replied, keeping her eyes averted from Nick who was watching her closely.
‘And losing your friend and servants like that too – must have been really awful for you.’ Kitty eyed her shrewdly. ‘By the look of you, you’ve been travelling rough since the coach crash. You must have been hurt. How are you now?’
‘I do have a few aches and bruises left from the accident but nothing serious. My feet are rather sore.’ A sudden thought made Isabel ask a sharp question. ‘Did you know my uncle by any chance, Kitty?’ She heard Nick’s angry intake of breath and shot him a reproachful look. She didn’t consider it an unreasonable question to ask this particular woman. Uncle Laurence had been a widower a long time.
‘No, I’ve never been over to Gwithian, but Nick used to talk a lot about your uncle so I feel I know him in a way. From what I’ve heard, he was a very good man, a real gentleman. You must have cared for him very much.’
‘I did,’ Isabel whispered, suddenly choked by her loss. Embarrassed at displaying her feelings, she looked down at her lap and put a mental block between herself and the two others in the room.
Nick felt ashamed; it did not settle easily on a man so determined to stay emotionally free. Isabel had lost the last relative who had loved her and cared for her wellbeing and not once over the past three days had he told her he was sorry as Kitty had done. And at times he had treated her as badly as Gyver Pengelly would a stray dog. They had become quite close, sharing an unusual kind of comradeship on the cliffs, and then only a short time ago in the little cove he had behaved despicably towards her. He looked at her bowed head and couldn’t blame her for hating him.
Kitty left Isabel to her grief and moved quietly about putting cups and saucers and plates of tiny cakes on the two tables. Then she took a position at the larger table which put her between Nick and Isabel. She was aware of the strained feelings between them.
‘Where’s Talland?’ Nick asked, breaking the mood.
‘Out chasing about the dunes, I expect,’ Kitty answered fondly. Wonder you didn’t see him. He’s too much like you, Nick, he likes to be wild and free and out of doors.’ She turned to Isabel with a warm smile. ‘Talland’s my dog. He’s a handsome great thing, a brown and white hunting dog, big and friendly and very protective.’
‘I shall be glad to make his acquaintance,’ Isabel said, putting aside her misery and smiling back. ‘I’ve always enjoyed the company of dogs.’
‘Talland’s a good dog but nowhere near as noble and strong as Gutser was,’ Nick chipped in, using a tone that implied the two women could not know very much about the animals.
‘In your mind no dog in the world could match up to that creature you once had, Nick Nancarrow,’ Kitty retorted, offering Isabel more tea and going to the kettle to refill the pot. ‘Gutser! What a name to call a dog. It’s about time you got yourself another one and next time choose one without a vicious streak in its nature.’
‘I’ll not hear a word against Gutser,’ Nick said, banging his hand on the table. ‘He was the best friend I’ve ever had. I never saw a finer looking hound in my packman days and he’d have guarded me with his life.’
Isabel thanked Kitty for the tea and caught her eye with a glint in her own. She said, conspiratorially, ‘Gutser is just the kind of silly name a man would call a dog.’
The two young women laughed together.
Nick had not liked this; he and Isabel had engaged in a class war on the way here and now she had called Kitty successfully to her side in a gender war. Looking disgruntled, he said, ‘Well, I can see you two are going to get along all right.’ Pushing the plate of cakes away, he added moodily, ‘Get rid of this fancy stuff and put some proper food on the table.’
‘Yes, m’lord,’ Kitty teased him with a mocking curtsey. ‘If you’ve spent the last three days in his company, all I can say is you have my sympathy,’ she told Isabel. ‘What with his moods, his pride and his bad language.’
Isabel smiled, poignantly. ‘It has been quite an experience, but I probably owe Nick my life.’
Kitty included them both in a look full of questions. ‘Do you now? Well, I daresay you’ll let me in on what’s happened and your reason for being here. Then after that you’ll no doubt welcome a hot bath, a change of clothes and a soft bed to rest on.’
Nick said, ‘Just a good meal, a wash and shave for me, Kitty. Then I’m leaving. I have to get back to Gwithian for Laurence’s funeral and I have things to do there.’
‘I won’t be able to go to Uncle Laurence’s funeral!’ Isabel said, her face stricken.
‘I’ll say goodbye for you,’ Nick said softly, looking kindly at her. ‘Then when you’re able, you can do it for yourself.’
Kitty was amazed at their tale of the Antiss coach probably being deliberately run off the road and Laurence Trevennor’s concern over Isabel’s life and safety. She readily agreed to have Isabel stay with her until Nick had scrutinized the Kempthornes. But she said, ‘Shame on you for dragging her across the cliffs, Nick!’
‘I’m glad he did,’ Isabel intervened. ‘I had no idea how beautiful they are. And I’m grateful to you, Kitty, for being willing to give me refuge.’
Isabel stayed in the kitchen, warm and comfortable, as Nick went upstairs to wash and shave. He came back in clean clothes and she was dismayed to realize that he kept some of his personal things at Kitty’s house. It spoke of a lasting relationship between the two.
When he made to leave, he kissed Kitty’s cheek and both of Isabel’s hands, giving her a lingering look before promising to get word to them on his observations at Gwithian in a few days’ time.
Although that night she slept in a soft bed with fresh linen, Isabel was restless. The sea could barely be heard with the house situated behind the sand dunes and having thick walls and she had got used to having it in the background. But she knew what she really missed was having Nick’s arms round her.
A great weariness and delayed shock from her many traumas overwhelmed Isabel after Nick had left and for the first two days she stayed mainly in the little bedroom given to her. Kitty tactfully left her alone but stayed about the house all day.
Isabel made up a full story of her life as Jenna Stevens, of being a lady’s maid who was visiting a friend while her mistress was overseas. In this way, if anything of her true character slipped out, her manner of employment would explain it. Kitty told this story to her curious neighbours and it was readily accepted.
Nick had left the money Laurence had given him with Isabel, and Kitty had new clothes made up for her. The day after the funeral, she cheered Isabel up by bringing home from the village the few items that were to be her new wardrobe. The clothes were a good fit but Isabel wasn’t particularly interested in them. After spending three days in the late Mrs Chiverton’s shabby dress, the cut and quality of clothes didn’t seem important any more. Isabel dressed and showed Kitty the effect for her to admire lest she was thought to be ungrateful then Kitty said she had to go out again for a little while. There was a slight look of challenge on Kitty’s face and Isabel supposed she must be going to see one of the ‘gentlemen’.
‘You’ll be all right for an hour or so, won’t you, Jenna? Whatever you do, make sure Talland doesn’t get inside the house and go near the room next to the sitting room. I’d prefer it if you didn’t go in there yourself,’ she said briskly as she got ready. ‘The little table’s laid in the kitchen for tea for you. I know you like to rest in there,’ she smiled.
You are very kind but you don’t have to wait hand and foot on me, Kitty,’ Isabel said. ‘I know I would have expected it not so long ago but that side of my life is over with now. I want to learn to do things for myself. I’ve done a little cleaning and after watching Nick I have a rough idea how to lay a fire.’
‘Very well,’ Kitty said, pushing down the fingers of her mittens. ‘When I come back I’ll begin by teaching you how to cook. You can help me with supper.’
Isabel had only to put the boiling water into the teapot to make tea for herself. After doing this she sat and sipped and lingered, thinking back, as she often did, of the time she had spent alone with Nick. She wondered what he was doing. Whether he would soon have news for her. Whether he thought of her. When he would come back to Crantock.
She washed and dried her crockery and returned it to the kitchen dresser. She put the dish towel to dry above the fireplace. She plied the fire with more fuel, swept the hearth, and tidied up everything she possibly could to impress Kitty and express her gratitude. With nothing further to do, she thought of Mrs Chiverton’s clothes still lying in a forlorn heap on her bedroom floor. She had insisted to Kitty that they mustn’t be thrown away and Kitty had left them there, thinking she would change her mind. But Isabel felt they should be laundered and returned to Charlie and she wanted to do the task herself. She went upstairs to fetch them. When Kitty came home she would ask her advice on how to wash them.
