Trevennor’s Will, page 20
‘I had no idea you felt the same way about me, Nick,’ she said, in a deliberately sultry voice that grated more on his nerves than Isabel’s first high-pitched squeals had.
He had given Deborah no encouragement during the riding lessons. He hadn’t touched her unless he’d absolutely had to. He thought how readily he had taken Isabel into his arms even when he thought he’d hated her.
‘’Tis unthinkable,’ he forced himself to sound sincere and romantic, ‘me, falling in love with a lady. I never meant this to happen. I never meant to tell you. This morning I had made up my mind to send you a message saying I could no longer teach you to ride. I intended to stay away but couldn’t… I can hardly believe you feel something for me, Deborah.’
‘But this is wonderful,’ she said, looking up at him earnestly, ‘and I have something to admit to you, Nick. I know I should not have been thinking so but I felt attached to you right from the beginning, the day of Uncle Laurence’s funeral. I tried not to fall in love with you. I thought there was no hope, knowing how you like to be a free agent and that I am a few years older than you are.’
‘And it makes no difference that we aren’t of the same class?’
‘Age, class, what do they matter? Love can pass through any barrier.’
‘You’re right about that,’ Nick said, but he wasn’t thinking of Deborah. With bile rising in his throat, he uttered, ‘Nothing matters except that we love each other.’
Deborah smiled and pouted her lips for another kiss. Nick looked into her dark eyes and saw only the spite and deceit that dwelt there. Lower down was her slightly arched predatory nose and finally the cruel lines that plunged downwards from the sides of her thin-lipped mouth. He could not believe that any man could find Deborah Kempthorne desirable. And Kempthorne was not even her name; would she mention that she was married and not available?
He kissed her again and this time she wrapped her arms possessively round his neck and let her passion run away with her. The well-rounded bosom pressed hard against him rose and fell as she panted. Nick wanted to run outside and gulp in lungfuls of fresh air. It was with much relief that the next part of his plan meant breaking away from her and stalking across the room. Deborah was alarmed.
‘Nick, what is it?’
‘It’s no good, Deborah,’ he said dramatically, raking a hand through his hair then banging his fist on the wall. ‘I have no right to do this. What sort of a life can a working-class man with no money or a roof to call his own offer a lady like you? I can’t ask you to give up all this and travel the roads with me as I search for work!’
‘But, Nick,’ she rushed over to him and flung herself against him. ‘It doesn’t matter. I have plenty of money now. We can live here together and you can ride the horses in the stable as owner and not trainer. I beg you, Nick, don’t be too proud to say yes, don’t allow anything to come between us. The people of Gwithian hold you in high esteem, they would like to see you sharing this house, we could be happy here.’
Nick put his hands firmly on her shoulders and made her look at him. ‘Are you sure about this, Deborah? God forbid that I should ruin your life.’
‘It won’t be like that! I want you with all my heart, believe me, Nick.’
And you’ll hang on to anything you want like grim death, Nick thought. What about your brother? He is sure to object.’
‘Never mind Edmund. He can hardly object while allowing his common mistress and child to live in this house. Besides, he will probably be glad that I won’t be taking so much interest in what he does. He’s very dear to me and up until now he is all I’ve had. I practically brought him up and he constantly grumbles that I smother him. I don’t think he will mind too much about us. Oh, please don’t worry, Nick. It will be so wonderful to have the two men I love living under the roof of this grand house with me. What do you say, Nick? Oh, please let it be yes.’
Nick faked elation. ‘I… I can’t believe it! This is too good to be true. Is it all really this easy, Deborah?’
‘Yes, yes, my dearest,’ she said, laughing.
He thought that at this juncture he should pull her close and kiss her passionately and show he desired her body, but he was afraid she would think he meant it and want to go through with it. He brushed back his hair, saying, ‘Phew, I think I need another brandy.’
‘I’ll get it for you, my love,’ Deborah said eagerly.
Nick sat down close to the door and when she handed him the brandy, she sat at his feet and put her head on his knee. She ran her hands over the tops of his legs, making his skin creep as though it was covered with a thousand clammy insects.
Deborah was only dimly aware of running her fingers over Nick. Her mind was on other things. Edmund had been spending nearly all his time with Mary Ellen and Morenwyn and she felt that she was gradually losing him. Since Laurence Trevennor’s funeral, her infatuation with Nick had grown to a painful intensity. She burned to possess him, this man with the restless soul that turned the heads of so many women and furnished them with impossible daydreams. And now she had triumphed over them, the women of the village who hated her and laughed at her, saying no man would look in her direction.
She knew Nick was not in love with her. No man had suddenly thrown himself at her feet before now, and a man like Nick would need some attractive bait before he did so. It must be wealth and position he was after. All those years of friendship with Laurence Trevennor had probably been to nurture the possibility that there would be a reward in it one day, something left him in Laurence’s will. She smiled down at the Turkish carpet she was sitting on, a slow, malicious smile. By means of a generous bribe to the lawyer dealing with her uncle’s estate, Nick Nancarrow would never know he had been willed the eight good stock horses in the stables.
Deborah knew also that Nick could be a hard man. He was not easily led or fooled and it would take a lot of cunning work to hold on to him. It all added to the thrill of capturing him. But she was nervous of him. There was a terrifying maleness about this man. He would not suffer fools, or schemers, gladly. Her hand froze and she pulled it away and sat up straight.
Nick was ready to put the last part of his plan into action. He placed a hand caressingly on Deborah’s stiff hair. Taking courage again, she rested her face back on his knee.
‘I will enjoy living the life of a gentleman, though by no means of course a conventional one. ’Tis a good thing that sharp-faced cousin of yours is dead and not able to share the inheritance.’
‘Isabel? You knew her?’ Deborah raised her head and stared at him suspiciously. If Isabel had not died, would he have tried this ploy on her?
‘Saw her about as a child but only once as a woman. Sharp-faced prig, she was, full of airs and graces. Looked down on me, she did. Thought she was better than everyone else on earth. Not a patch on the woman you are, Deborah, my dear. I made a point of staying away when she paid Laurence a visit.’
‘Did you?’ Deborah purred. ‘She was a bitch! She certainly thought herself superior to Edmund and myself and we were her cousins. Not once in the last ten years did she call on us at St Ives. We were not good enough because we lived a humble life in a small cottage and she flounced about in a grand mansion above the Malpas River at Truro, which I might add we were never invited to. Do you know what she did, Nick? She wormed herself so much into our uncle’s good books and told so many lies about us he believed every word and disinherited us. We only have what we do because she is dead.’
Nick had never struck a woman in his life but he would have enjoyed slapping Deborah Kempthorne for her spitefulness and lies about Isabel. It was bad enough that he had to say awful things about her himself.
The distaste in his expression was no pretence as he said, ‘You mean if she hadn’t fallen over the cliff after the coach accident she would have inherited all this and you and Edmund would have had nothing?’
‘Yes, my dearest, that is exactly what I mean.’
‘That’s terrible. ’Tis a good thing she went over the cliff, it did us all a great favour.’
‘Yes, and to think the villagers felt sorry for her, that pasty-faced shrew. We have been deluged with letters of sympathy from the best families in the county. Some of the things they wrote about her were sickeningly sweet. Mind you, it may give us some useful contacts in the future. Her fiancé, Captain Richard Grenville, won’t be told until he comes home for the wedding, but his two elderly aunts wrote to say they have actually gone into mourning for her. I could laugh when I think of how Edmund and I have inherited her fortune as well as Uncle Laurence’s. We’ll have to travel to Truro one day soon, beloved, and demand to be shown over the mansion.’ Deborah’s face glowed like a beacon. She took one of Nick’s hands and put it next to her hot cheek.
‘Has your cousin’s body been washed up yet?’ Nick leaned closer to study her harsh face for her reaction.
‘No, not yet, but if or when it is I’d like to dance on her grave!’
‘I suppose she really is dead. It would be a damned nuisance if she turned up and demanded the inheritance and her own fortune back.’
‘She must be dead! What other explanation could there be for her disappearance? All the evidence implies that she fell over the cliff.’ Deborah’s face took on an evil tightness, her eyes narrowed and glared.
‘She could have been kidnapped for ransom, I suppose, but,’ Nick ran a finger down Deborah’s cheek and said in a hushed tone, ‘if it was never paid, she’d be as good as dead anyway.’
‘If that bitch was to turn up,’ Deborah snapped, ‘I would take her for a walk and give her a helping hand over the cliff myself!’
‘We could do that together,’ Nick chuckled, as if he was enjoying the thought. ‘I can see we are like-minded, my dear. I admire a woman who will stop at nothing to get her own way.’
Deborah was looking at Nick as if she was weighing something up. ‘You needn’t worry about Isabel Hampton turning up and spoiling things for us, Nick. I know for a fact she’s dead. Her body was seen at the bottom of the cliff before it was washed away. I myself spoke to the man who saw it.’
Nick stopped his body from lurching. That man was Gyver Pengelly. Charlie Chiverton had told him that it was Pengelly who had brought the news of Isabel’s death to Mrs Christopher. Deborah Kempthorne would surely have no cause to talk to Pengelly unless they were in cahoots over the ‘accident’. Pengelly must have lied to be sure of getting his full blood-money. Here was the proof Nick had hoped he would never find.
‘I’ll do anything to get my own way, Nick. I have been treated badly and looked down upon all my life. I’ve known too many times when I have had to go without the things a lady of refinement requires to lead a respectable and comfortable life. I vow that I will never, never go back to that way of life again!’ She shook with venom and Nick had to fight back the revulsion he felt. There was no doubt now that Laurence’s fears had been justified and Isabel’s life would be in deadly danger, if not from Edmund Kempthorne then his vile sister, if it was found out she was alive. He would have to keep a close watch over the Kempthornes, this revolting woman in particular. Unfortunately, now he knew the truth at last he wouldn’t be able just to fade out of her life. She would be too curious, too jealous and too clinging to give him up and that could lead her to Isabel.
He needed an excuse to get out of this terrible choking atmosphere before Deborah expected him to make further advances. Even for Isabel’s sake he could not do it.
‘I suppose we will have to wait at least four months before we make our engagement known,’ Deborah said, returning to a lighter mood. ‘It would be improper and antagonize the locals if we did so with Uncle Laurence but two weeks in the grave, not that I intend to live in this stuffy village for good but I don’t want bad feelings to follow us to Truro.’
Nick hoped his face did not betray his relief. He could easily believe Deborah Kempthorne was immoral enough to suggest he move into Trevennor House with her straight away. At least this way he hoped he could keep his friends in the village.
It was little Morenwyn who saved him further discomfort. A shriek and a lot of thudding noises followed by anguished screams were heard from the hallway. Nick and Deborah stared at each other for a moment then got hurriedly to their feet and rushed from the room to see what the commotion was.
They found Morenwyn lying crumpled and unconscious at the bottom of the stairs and her mother, hands flapping wildly in the air, in hysterics at the top.
‘My baby! My baby!’ Mary Ellen screamed over and over again.
The servants came running and Nick took charge of the situation, ordering Mrs Christopher upstairs to calm Mary Ellen and a young footman to fetch clean linen while he himself swiftly untied Dorcas’ apron and pressed it against a gash bleeding at the back of the child’s head.
‘Here, take over from me,’ he ordered Deborah. ‘She needs a doctor urgently, the nearest is at Hayle. I’ll ride there myself, it’ll be quicker. Don’t move her and cover her with a blanket to keep her warm till we get back.’
Chapter 16
‘I’ve got something here you can read – for both of us,’ Kitty said, with the small tremor in her voice that was there when she was excited. She had just returned from the village and could hardly wait to fling off her hat and cloak and dig a piece of folded and wax-sealed paper out of her basket. ‘A friend of Nick’s gave this to me just as I passed the shoemender’s shop. It must be a message from him.’ Isabel sprang to her feet from the kitchen table where she was struggling to make a perfect job of peeling carrots for a stew.
‘How’s Benjamin? Has he had his morning nap?’ Kitty asked.
‘Benjamin is fine. I had a little chat with him then he dropped off to sleep about half an hour ago.’ Isabel took the letter from Kitty and peered at its back and front. There was no name or address on either side.
‘Hurry up and open it,’ Kitty said, hopping about, another of her habits. ‘What does he say? Are you in danger or no? Does it say when he’s coming back?’
‘What did this friend of Nick’s look like?’ Isabel said at first, feeling the need to be cautious.
‘Charlie Chiverton? He’s an ugly little small man. Used to be an underground miner but does a bit of tin-streaming and free trading as a living now. Lives in a shack up on Reskajeage Downs. Don’t worry, Jenna, he’s a proper friend of Nick’s.’
‘He’s the man Nick took me to after the coach accident.’
Isabel picked open the red unmarked sealing wax and spread out the piece of paper on the table. She recognized it as the paper her uncle had used and knew that Nick had gained access to Trevennor House. She marvelled at the exquisite handwriting on it and read out the letter slowly.
My Dear Kitty
I trust this finds you and your friend in Good Health. I have found out here there is Great Malice aimed at your Friend. Take the Greatest Care. Will see you in the Near Future to discuss further.
‘It is signed with the initial N,’ Isabel concluded, with a shudder. The letter makes it quite clear my cousins wish me harm as my uncle suspected.’
‘Your cousins sound like a right nasty pair,’ Kitty said to Isabel’s doleful face. ‘Don’t worry about it, though. If Nick didn’t think it safe for you to stay here he would have come himself instead of writing. He’ll be here soon and we’ll know more about it then.’
Isabel brightened at the mention of Nick coming back, then frowned and sighed, ‘I still find it difficult to believe that my own kin wish me harm.’
‘We’ll stay on our guard. At least everyone in the village here is happy to take you for the friend of mine that I say you are.’
Isabel was staring at the letter, rereading it over and over as if she hoped she’d see something else written there. ‘Nick doesn’t mention my uncle’s funeral… how it went.’
‘Jenna,’ Kitty said carefully, ‘it seems indelicate for me to mention it but one of my gentlemen went to your uncle’s funeral. He told me all about it. I can tell you what he said if you like.’
Isabel flushed. She had said she wasn’t shocked at Kitty’s line of work and this was true, but it was different discussing something Kitty had found out during the course of it. ‘That would be kind of you.’ To cover her embarrassment, Isabel looked again at the letter. ‘I would never have thought that Nick could write as well as this. His lettering is quite perfect, artistic – unless of course he dictated it to someone who wrote it down for him.’
‘Oh, that’s Nick’s handwriting all right. I’ve watched him write to Laurence Trevennor at this very table.’
‘I would never have thought that Nick would have taken any form of schooling.’
‘Why not?’ Kitty asked, putting her pretty face at an angle that challenged Isabel’s remark.
‘Well, he’s so wild and free in his nature. He must have been a lively child, always wanting to run about, not to sit still and learn the alphabet.’
‘Nick’s a very clever man, clever enough to know even as a boy that it was a good thing to have some learning.’ Looking annoyed, Kitty used terse actions to clear away the carrots and peelings.
‘Have I prepared enough for luncheon?’ Isabel asked, looking at her closely.
‘There’s plenty for the three of us,’ came the short answer.
Isabel was at a loss to know how she had upset Kitty. It reminded her of Nick’s prickly moods and she wanted to ask if all working-class people were as sensitive as they seemed to be, but knew it wouldn’t be appreciated.
‘You were going to tell me about my uncle’s funeral,’ she said.
Kitty’s mood took another swing and she looked at Isabel with sympathy. ‘Do you want to sit down first?’
