Trevennor’s Will, page 25
Edmund glanced up at the sky and smiled at the friendly sun, then looked thoughtfully down at the flowing red-stained water under the wood at his feet and remembered his meeting much earlier in the day with the odd-looking tin-streamer. He had given Morenwyn Charlie Chiverton’s carved dog and she hadn’t let it out of her little hand since. Edmund thought what a wonderful day this was turning out to be. He strolled on and was soon following Charlotte’s path through the rough grass.
Charlotte rushed into the dark manky smelling shack. A scream was already leaving her throat as she saw Nellie bent over Pengelly’s knee with food slithering down her face. She was gagging and then coughed wretchedly; the next moment she was being violently sick.
‘Let her go, you savage!’ Charlotte yelled.
Pengelly thrust Nellie away and kicked her viciously in the stomach. Nellie cried out and scrambling to her feet lurched towards Charlotte.
‘It’s all right, Nellie. He won’t hurt you now that I’m here. What was he trying to do to you?’ Charlotte held the trembling woman close to her, keeping her eyes rooted on Pengelly who stood glaring at her, panting.
Nellie was crying and complained like a child who felt hard done by and had found an adult comforter. ‘’E wus tryin’ to get me to eat somethin’ ’orrible, Mistress Thomas. Said ’e’d beat me if I didn’t, but it’s too bitter. Say I didn’t do nothin’ wrong!’
‘You did nothing wrong, Nellie.’ Charlotte tried to sound calm while edging herself and Nellie towards the door. ‘You don’t have to eat anything if you don’t like it. What were you trying to give her?’ she demanded of Pengelly.
‘’Twas just a drop o’ stew, not that ’tes any of yourn bizness!’
Charlotte could smell something pungent rising from Nellie’s face. It reminded her of the strong damp smell of a certain fungi and suddenly Charlotte knew with horror why Nellie’s grandmother had died unexpectedly of stomach cramps. Fear and revelation must have shown on her face because Pengelly roared and lunged at the women. Charlotte and Nellie ducked away from him; he stopped and turned by the door, blocking their exit.
‘Let us out of here at once,’ Charlotte said, as sternly as she could through her fear.
‘You can’t prove nothin’!’ Pengelly shouted at her.
Charlotte eyed the platter, still bearing the evidence. ‘All I want to do is to take Nellie out of here to the parsonage and get her cleaned up. Now please move.’
‘And leave you to go straight to a magistrate?’ Pengelly grinned evilly. You’d get medics or some such to look at my stew.’
‘Why should they believe me?’ Charlotte said, gulping but keeping a calm tone. You could say Nellie cooked it.’
‘They’d b’lieve thee afore me! And that wench may be a simpleton but every country maid d’knaw what’s poison and what ain’t. I reckon I’ll have t’keep both of ’ee quiet.’
Charlotte shook with terror, but said contemptuously, ‘Then you’ll find yourself at the end of a hangman’s noose.’
‘Not if I can get far away enough from here first.’ Pengelly stalked towards them. ‘That woman’s mad, I’ll make it look like she murdered thee then took ’er own life. She’ll be the one to ’ang, in remorse like.’
‘Keep away!’
‘Is Mister Pengelly going to hurt us?’ Nellie whimpered.
Charlotte could see one chance for Nellie. Pengelly couldn’t grasp them both at the same time if Nellie was pushed across the room. Charlotte pushed with all her might. ‘Run, Nellie, run! Get help!’
Pengelly hesitated, his outstretched arms swinging both ways but deciding on the parson’s wife. He could still make it look like Nellie killed her. He lunged and caught Charlotte’s hair, knocking off her hat and yanking her towards him. Nellie looked about in despairing bewilderment then ran out of the shack shrieking.
Charlotte screamed and struggled and Pengelly laughed. ‘Don’t thee feel nice an’ soft after that ragged creature.’
Nellie saw Edmund Kempthorne and ran wildly at him. ‘’Elp! ’Elp! ’E’s killin’ ’er!’
Edmund raced up to her and pulling her flailing hands down shouted into her face, ‘Who’s killing who?’
‘Mister Pengelly! Mistress Thomas!’
‘What?’
Edmund pushed Nellie aside and ran to the shack. He found Gyver Pengelly bending over Charlotte’s still body and cried out in anguish. ‘What have you done to her, you swine? Get back, get back, or I’ll kill you myself!’
Pengelly laughed. ‘An’what’s a fine gen’leman like you goin’ to do to me, eh? I could turn yer bones to jelly. I’ll say that mad woman killed you and ’er.’ He thumbed at Charlotte’s body.
Enraged to real violence for the first time in his life, Edmund lashed out again and again with his walking cane. It bit into Pengelly’s flesh and made him howl like a demented animal. The cane broke and Pengelly snatched the stump from Edmund’s hand. Edmund whipped up a length of rope lying on the ground and slashed it across Pengelly’s face, adding to the damage caused by Nick and the vengeful villagers. Something hit Pengelly in the back; he glanced over his shoulder and saw Nellie throwing sods of earth at him. Edmund Kempthorne’s soft features were distorted with rage and horror and Nellie looked as if she had lost all reason. Pengelly didn’t like the odds. With an oath he grabbed the plate of stew and ran out of the shack and off, whipping his hand across Nellie’s face on the way.
Edmund ran to the doorway, wishing he’d had his small hand gun with him. He could have despatched Gyver Pengelly legally in self-defence and the defence of these two women. Nellie had hit the ground from Pengelly’s final assault on her. She shook her head stupidly and getting unsteadily to her feet tottered to her wrecked home.
‘Is she dead, Mr Kem’thorne?’ she whined from a badly bruised and swollen face.
Edmund was staring into space, as if he didn’t quite know where he was and why he was there. He didn’t answer but turned his head and looked down at Charlotte lying crumpled on her side, half under the makeshift table. He groaned. He couldn’t bear to look at her if she was dead, and it would be too awful if that lovely, desirable young woman really was dead. But he couldn’t order Nellie to go to Charlotte, she was unlikely to be able to tell the difference between her being alive or dead.
Moving very slowly, Edmund lowered himself down on his haunches and steeling himself to look under the table but not actually at Charlotte, placed his trembling fingers on her neck. When he felt a pulse he cried out in relief.
Nellie was looking at him with the perplexity of a child. Edmund shuddered; these two women on whom he had designs had been terribly hurt and he felt a sadness and a measure of responsibility for them. He gently pulled Charlotte out from under the table. Her head rolled to face him as he held her in his arms. ‘Charlotte,’ he said softly. Her hair was all over her face. He smoothed it away, saw with more anguish the ugly mark left from the blow Pengelly had knocked her out with. ‘Charlotte…’ He looked around for water to splash over her face but there was none. He called her name again and her eyelids moved. He traced a delicate fingertip down her face and she stirred. It took a moment for her to come to and when she did she stared at him from immense dark eyes, his face red from his fight, but smiling, gentle.
She struggled to sit up and he helped her, keeping firm arms about her. ‘What happened?’ Her speech was slightly slurred. ‘Where’s Nellie?’
‘She’s here, she’s not hurt. Shush now, don’t talk.’
‘Pengelly! He—’
‘He’s gone, I fought him off.’
Charlotte blinked, still feeling dazed. She could only lie against Edmund’s warm body. ‘You saved our lives,’ she murmured.
‘Yes.’
She thought for a while, then her tone was snappy. ‘You need not think yourself noble, Edmund Kempthorne. If you were here it meant you had come to use Nellie, even if you have since redeemed yourself.’
‘Yes.’ He smoothed back a feathery strand of dark hair.
Charlotte gathered her wits and made to stand up. Reluctantly, Edmund withdrew his arms and helped her. Then he and Nellie half carried her home to the parsonage.
* * *
Edmund called at the parsonage the next day to ask after Charlotte’s welfare. She was badly shaken but rather than rest in her bedchamber had insisted on lying on a sofa in the parlour. Perran, delighted to welcome the new and unlikely hero of the village, ordered tea for three and chattered as he vigorously stoked up the fire to keep his wife warm and comfortable.
‘We can’t thank you enough, Mr Kempthorne. Without your timely intervention there would have been two more funerals in the village and one would have been for my own dear wife.’
‘It was providence that I happened to be out for an afternoon stroll and saw Nellie running for help,’ Edmund said, presenting Charlotte with a beribboned bunch of snowdrops and keeping his eyes fully upon her. ‘My uncle cultivated a large patch of these beautiful flowers in the garden of Trevennor House,’ he told her. ‘They have flowered by the thousand this year.’
They are lovely, Mr Kempthorne,’ Charlotte said, raising the posy of miniature white bells to her nose.
Perran took the snowdrops from Charlotte to place them in water and bid Edmund take a seat. Edmund took a chair, the nearest he could to Charlotte, and continued to gaze at her steadily. He could do this quite openly in her husband’s presence because Perran Thomas was doing the same thing, adoringly. She gazed back at Edmund for a moment and he knew she had not told her husband just how close he had been to the hovel yesterday afternoon when he’d discovered her predicament.
‘I’m so glad to see you are recovering, ma’am,’ Edmund drawled, stroking a light fingertip under his chin in a suggestive manner. ‘It was a dreadful experience for all of us yesterday, but for you especially.’
‘I just need a day or two of peace and quiet,’ Charlotte said, her hand moving unconsciously to where she had been struck.
‘That vile man, what is going to be done about him?’ Edmund said, suddenly getting angry. But there was a nervous note in his voice. He was terrified at the thought of running into Gyver Pengelly while out alone.
‘I’m afraid we will be unable to bring the man to justice,’ Perran said, just as angrily, making the fire roar up the chimney.
‘Oh?’
‘It is most unfortunate, Mr Kempthorne,’ Charlotte replied. ‘My husband would have made sure Pengelly was not only apprehended but detained in custody but when Nellie is questioned she becomes confused about what happened. Pengelly will say she went mad for no reason and she was the one who struck me. Despite my pleas to her, she swears Pengelly never meant her any real harm. We are worried that if Nellie is questioned severely she will unknowingly say something to incriminate herself. She could end up in court. In the end my husband decided not to alert the authorities. I’m afraid there is nothing we can do, unless…’
‘Unless of course you will corroborate my wife’s story, Mr Kempthorne,’ Perran took up the theme from his wife.
‘Oh no! I mean, I’m not very good myself under that sort of thing, interrogation… I’d get all mixed up and could make things bad for Nellie and she’s suffered enough as it is.’
Perran and Charlotte exchanged looks. Charlotte was not surprised at Edmund’s response, but Perran was. He didn’t know that Edmund Kempthorne was afraid of the local folk discovering that he had been at Nellie’s shack yesterday with the express purpose of taking advantage of the simple-minded girl. It would provoke a scandal. Perran concluded that Edmund was terrified of Pengelly, of the retribution he might try to mete out if he testified against him. Both Charlotte and Perran realized it would be futile to plead with Edmund. They didn’t approve, they were angry about it, but Edmund had saved Charlotte and Nellie’s lives.
There was an uneasy moment of silence then Edmund asked meekly, ‘Um, what is to be done about Nellie? Surely she cannot go on living in that shack.’
‘Do not be concerned about Nellie, Mr Kempthorne,’ Charlotte said somewhat tartly. ‘My husband has taken her to a place where she will be safe and well cared for, a secret location of course. She will soon forget all about Gwithian and her past ordeals and will live out the rest of her life in contentment.’
‘I’m relieved to hear that, and very pleased for her,’ Edmund said in a small voice.
A maidservant brought in a tray of tea and a message for Perran.
‘There’s a parishioner waiting to have a word with me, my dear,’ Perran said. ‘Will you pour the tea please, Mr Kempthorne? My wife is not up to it. I shall be but a few minutes.’ He went out of the room after the maid and left the door slightly ajar.
Edmund did as he was asked in silence, placing a cup and saucer close to where Perran had been standing, one next to his chair and the last on a small table where Charlotte could reach it. He stayed close beside her. Her face was swollen and bruised where she had been struck and tiny tendrils of her soft hair were sticking to it. He wanted to smooth her hair away and kiss that tender place.
‘I meant what I said about Nellie,’ he breathed softly.
‘We know you do, Perran and I.’
‘Then you do not think too badly of me?’
‘Whatever you do, whatever you are, Mr Kempthorne, I shall never forget that you saved my life, and Nellie’s. You could have run away. Gyver Pengelly is a terrible man, everyone is afraid of him – with perhaps the exception of Nick Nancarrow, and that strange little tinner friend of his.’
‘You are very kind,’ he said in a husky whisper. ‘Do call me Edmund.’
Charlotte sighed a little impatiently. ‘I shall always be grateful to you, Mr Kempthorne.’
Edmund understood what this meant. You have a good marriage?’
Charlotte did not blush. Yes, I have. Perran and I are more than husband and wife, we are soul mates. We love the part of each other that will live for all eternity, but even if we did not…’
‘Forgive me. I shall leave.’
Charlotte smiled. ‘Sit and drink your tea, Mr Kempthorne. I shall enjoy the company of a friend.’ Edmund resumed his seat and smiled with his easy charm. ‘Friends it is then, and I am honoured that you think of me as such.’
‘How is little Morenwyn recovering from her fall?’
‘She is much better, thank you, ma’am. I was more frightened over her mishap than at the thought of being at Pengelly’s mercy.’
‘That is only natural, Mr Kempthorne.’
Edmund lounged back comfortably. You know that I’m her father, don’t you?’
‘One only has to look at her. It is a shame that you and her mother have not married, but nevertheless I admire you in a small way for supporting them both. Do you not think, however, that for Morenwyn’s sake you ought to make your union with her mother lawful and right in God’s eyes?’
Edmund was rather amused. He shook his head. ‘We all live under different laws, do we not?’
‘But there are consequences to be faced for everything we do. Anyway, I shall be very glad to have Morenwyn here to play with my children, if that is agreeable to you and her mother. A child needs the company of other children, a time to play and grow and learn to socialize. She can do that here.’
‘You are very kind, Mistress Thomas, and I’m sure Mary Ellen will be happy for Morenwyn to come, but was there an edge of warning in what you said at first?’
‘Yes, Mr Kempthorne. What I meant was that others may not receive her. I understand you intend to set up permanent home at your larger residence at Truro. Your little girl will feel rejected and terribly unhappy if she grows up to be shunned by society there.’
Edmund looked down into his empty cup thoughtfully. ‘Mmmm, you have given me something to ponder on.’
‘I hope you will make the right decision.’
‘For my daughter, whom I adore as you do your husband and children, I intend always to make the right decisions.’
Perran returned. ‘That was one of the Trevennor shepherds,’ he said gravely. ‘He thought we ought to know that Gyver Pengelly is going about laughing about yesterday’s events. Pengelly is saying he believes he can get away with anything. I fear what he might get up to next.’
Chapter 20
Isabel had left the house at Crantock a few times now. Avoiding all signs of other people, she had wandered across the nearby beach and over the dunes that gave the house such a dramatic backdrop. She usually ended up on the cliff and would stand and gaze longingly into the distance, back the way she had come into Crantock, hoping to see a tall sandy-haired man striding confidently towards her, but Nick never appeared.
Yesterday she had walked to the Gannel, just a short distance. She’d been unable to go far on the beach because the tide was fully in, so she’d backtracked and mounted the high sand dunes. Trudging through them somewhat dejectedly she took her time getting onto the cliff and moved sluggishly on to Polly Joke, looking out for the scraggy cattle that came to drink from the stream that ran to the sea.
Everything seemed to run to the sea, Isabel thought as cold sea breezes ruffled her hair, but why? To challenge its unforgiving mastery? Happy to be an infinitesimal part of its majestic vastness? To be wild and free, to roam at will? On her way here she had made a wide detour to avoid the cliff’s edge where she had stood with Nick watching the surf and tide bombarding Crantock’s beach. That had been a special moment. It would have made her feel acutely lonely to be there without him. Yet what did that matter? Wherever she was on this wild rugged coastline, close to the sea that raged its way into the deserted little cove today, she thought of Nick.
She scrambled back up on the cliff and searched every rocky exposed headland, every part of the twisting path she had trodden with him, but as before there was no sign of him. The journey they had made together had taken place only a few short weeks ago, but it seemed like a lifetime now and she could hardly bear to go on looking for him.
