Morwennan House Read online

  ‘I can’t help but notice you are a little dismayed,’ I said, meeting Francis’s gaze directly. His eyes were as dark as his sister’s, small sharp beads beneath fleshy lids. ‘I’m sorry if I am not quite what you were expecting but I assure you I will not disappoint you. I may be young, but my education has been very thorough.’

  ‘I am sure it has, Miss Palfrey. However, you are, as you say, very young. It may be that our life here will not suit you. We live very quietly and there is little opportunity for socialising. In many ways, we are quite isolated. It would not be good for Charlotte if you established a rapport with her, then decided you did not want to remain here. I am looking to instil some stability in her life, as well as learning.’

  So he was trying to discourage me, politely, before I had even begun! I wondered how polite he would have been had his business associate not been standing by his shoulder.

  The stubbornness with which I had been blessed – and cursed! – came to my aid then. I would not be pushed by the Trevelyans from pillar to post as a tool in whatever feud they were engaged in.

  ‘I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting Charlotte,’ I said steadily, ‘but I would never treat a young girl in such a way. Perhaps I, more than anyone, know how important it is for a child not to feel abandoned. I have accepted this post in good faith and I have every intention of keeping my side of the bargain. Of course, if you are unhappy with your sister’s choice of governess then I respect that. I’ll leave at once, if that’s what you want.’

  My directness called his bluff, but I do believe he would have agreed that my leaving at once was indeed the best course if Selena had not intervened.

  ‘For heaven’s sakes, Francis, what is the matter with you? I told you Charity’s age at the very outset; you did not consider it a problem then. Is it perhaps her appearance that is causing you concern?’ She hesitated for just a moment, looking at him with that expression that was both challenging and amused, and the grandfather clock in the hall chimed the half hour. She let the echo fade a little and then went on lightly: ‘She’s a beauty, I grant you. Perhaps that is why you think she would not be content with our life here?’

  Colour flamed in my cheeks that they should discuss me as if I were not here at all. And what was it about my looks that obsessed Selena so? She had described me as a beauty – well, in my opinion, at least, I certainly was not that. She had commented on my hair and my eyes. There was no doubt it was the way I looked that was behind all this. But for what reason?

  ‘You gave me free rein to engage a governess,’ Selena went on. ‘Now, it seems, you are questioning my choice. I think it’s a little late for that, don’t you? Charity is here now and she intends to stay, isolated or not, don’t you, my dear?’

  To my utter astonishment she linked her arm through mine so that we stood shoulder to shoulder facing Francis Trevelyan. And she was smiling faintly.

  ‘Let’s go in to dinner, shall we, and forget all this nonsense,’ she added brightly.

  And drew me forward with her in the direction of the dining room.

  * * *

  Tom Stanton was, I thought, the most attractive man I had ever set eyes on. In spite of the strange strained atmosphere between Francis and Selena, in spite of my discomfort and anger and sheer puzzlement, I could not help but notice it.

  As I had observed from the window he was tall, lean yet well muscled, his shoulders broad, his hips, under the covering of sleek white buckskin, trim. His face was angular, framed by his pigtail wig and now, at closer range, I could see that his mouth was generous with a full lower lip and his eyes a startlingly deep blue and fringed with dark lashes that any girl would have given her dowry to possess. His hands, I noticed as he handled the heavy silver cutlery, were strong and as suntanned as his face, with tapering fingers and square nails, his wrists beneath the cuffs of his green cloth coat lightly feathered with hairs that had been bleached by the same sun that had darkened his complexion.

  But it was not only Tom Stanton’s appearance that I found attractive. I liked his voice, deep and warm, with a hint of slow Cornish burr. And I liked his manner. There was the ease about him of a man who was comfortable in his own skin, a man who had witnessed an awkward scene and remained apparently unaffected by it.

  Where many people would have preferred to ignore what they had heard and make no mention of it, he actually raised the subject over the tasty game soup, served by Mrs Durbin in a magnificent silver tureen.

  ‘Perhaps if Miss Palfrey does find Morwennan too quiet and isolated for her tastes I could show her something of the district and introduce her to what passes for the social life in these parts,’ he said, and the smile in those very blue eyes was pure mischief. ‘In fact, perhaps I should begin my mission without delay before she has the chance to become bored and restless.’

  In spite of myself, in spite of everything, I felt a strange twist of excitement deep inside that was like nothing I had ever experienced before.

  ‘I think, Mr Stanton, I should remind you that Charity is in our care,’ Selena said tartly. She had seen the look that passed between us, I think. ‘I am not at all sure that her father would approve of her gallivanting about the country with a gentleman.’

  I lowered my eyes. Doubtless she was right. But it was a most appealing prospect, all the same.

  ‘We would not be gallivanting!’ Tom protested. ‘Our excursions would be educational for Miss Palfrey – and she is clearly a young lady who likes to be educated. I think such a thing would be clearly in the best interests of all concerned!’

  Francis set down his soup spoon with a clatter and reached for his wine glass.

  ‘She may not be here long enough to take advantage of your offer, Stanton.’

  ‘Oh, don’t start that again!’ Selena interposed and I felt my stubborn determination stir once more.

  ‘I shall be here as long as Charlotte needs me,’ I said firmly. ‘Unless of course you choose to dismiss me, Mr Trevelyan. And…’ I glanced at Tom Stanton and felt a faint colour tinging my cheeks, ‘with your permission I should be most happy to take up Mr Stanton’s offer to show me something of the district. In whatever free time I have, of course, and provided it does not interfere with Charlotte’s studies.’

  Tom’s generous mouth curved briefly. ‘Capital! Surely you are not intending to be such a tyrannical employer that you would deny such a request, Francis? No, I can’t believe it of you!’

  ‘Oh, do what you like!’ Francis growled.

  And again, sneaking a glance at Selena, I saw a satisfied half-smile twist her thin lips, and my pleasure in the moment was spoiled. In spite of her earlier protest she was pleased I had agreed to go out with Tom Stanton, and I did not know why.

  Unless, of course, it was simply that she was enjoying her brother’s defeat in the matter.

  * * *

  ‘I’d like to take a walk down to the cove,’ I said. ‘It looks most inviting and I think the sea breeze will blow some of the cobwebs of my journey away.’

  Dinner was over and Tom Stanton had left. I had been sorry to see him go for a variety of reasons, not least that his easy presence had made me feel less isolated in this house of strange discordant undercurrents.

  ‘Of course we have no objection,’ Selena said. ‘At least, I certainly do not.’ She glanced at her brother. ‘Francis?’

  ‘As you wish,’ he said, but there was still a bad-tempered set to his jowly face. ‘Only watch your step on the cliff path. It’s steep and covered with loose stones. You don’t want to break your neck on your first day here.’

  His tone was as bad-tempered as his expression. I thought wryly that Francis Trevelyan would not care much if I did break my neck.

  ‘I’m quite used to cliff paths,’ I said coolly. ‘I grew up scrambling down them with my brothers. We lived within reach of the coast, remember.’

  Francis’s eyes were sharp. ‘I thought Penwyn was inland.’ He glanced at his sister.

  ‘Nowh
ere in Cornwall is far from the sea,’ I said with determined lightness. ‘Especially when it comes to a pair of young legs and a liking for the sound of the surf.’

  ‘You like the sound of the surf then?’ Selena asked.

  ‘Not especially. But the boys did,’ I returned. ‘They were never happier than racing each other down to the beach, and where they went I followed.’

  ‘I hope you will not influence Charlotte into wild ways,’ Francis said. ‘She is a young lady and I want her brought up as such.’

  ‘I would never encourage her to be anything else,’ I said with asperity. ‘But I have to say it never did me any harm.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be so stuffy, Francis!’ Selena grated. ‘I was a tomboy too, remember. From the day Papa gave me my first pony I was in the saddle galloping on the moors whenever I could escape the house, whilst you…’ Her thin lips twisted again into that disconcerting, downward-pointing smile. ‘You didn’t take to it half so well, as I recall.’

  Francis shifted impatiently, clearly not best pleased at this reference to what I imagined to be some past failing and I had a sudden vision of a plump little boy not nearly so at home in the saddle as his fearless sister.

  ‘That has nothing to do with anything,’ he said shortly.

  Selena raised an eyebrow. ‘Sometimes, Francis, I think it has everything to do with everything.’

  He turned to me. ‘Take a walk down to the cove if you like, Miss Palfrey. But if you decide to explore the beaches, have a care. Remember the tide can come in very suddenly and there are places that become quite cut off.’

  ‘As she has told you, she knows the coast and its ways,’ Selena reminded him. ‘Yes, take your walk, Charity, before the sun goes down. And come back to us safely. As you can see, my brother is most concerned about your welfare. I think already he realises how much you will come to mean to us.’

  Unsure of how much irony was meant in that remark I left them – and went off on my expedition.

  The hall was almost completely dark now and as yet no lamps had been lit. Francis and Selena were accustomed to the gloom, I supposed. Outside the great front door it was almost dark too in the shadow of the trees, but as I walked along the side of the house beneath the window of my room the shade became first dappled then the warm glowing light of a perfect summer’s evening. As I reached the corner of the house I saw the gardens sloping down to the sea, the same view as was afforded from the parlour, and which had caused me to exclaim with pleasure. They were well tended, those gardens, a great sweep of lawn, beds of flowering shrubs and rose bushes that looked none the worse for being exposed to the wind off the sea. I paused by one bush, lifting a branch heavy with deep-pink blooms and sniffing the sweet haunting perfume that had been drawn out by the warmth of the sun.

  The path sloped steeply down, interspersed by several series of steps. And ahead of me always was the sea, a darker blue now with the rippling white breakers longer and more pronounced, enclosed at either side of the cove by the jutting cliffs. They were dappled with the soft evening light and far out over the horizon the sky was decked with small pinkish clouds. I could hear the ceaseless motion of the waves and instead of the caw of the rooks I heard a seabird mew.

  The feeling of space and oneness with nature was so wonderful after the horrid overbearing aura in the house that it was all I could do to stop myself from running. But I walked, as a lady should, lifting my face to the fresh salt breeze and breathing it in as if it were the very elixir of life.

  At the foot of the gardens there was a little picket gate in a hedge of some wiry, wind-hardy plant whose name I did not know. I lifted the latch and went through, closing it behind me.

  I was on the cliff path now and I could well see why Francis had warned me of it. Narrow, uneven, almost worn away in places and edged with tufts of gorse and thrift, it dipped and swept its way down to the beach below.

  And yet, for all that it was precarious, I could see that it was well used. Many feet had trodden this way before me. Briefly I wondered whose. Francis did not appear to be the sort of man to take solitary walks on the beach and from what he had said Charlotte was not encouraged to go there to play. Selena, then? She had admitted to being a tomboy in her time. Yet somehow I could not see it. Selena, walking on the beach with the wind disturbing her elaborate coif and the pebbles scratching her slippers?

  Oh, I told myself, no doubt the path had been there for centuries, long before Morwennan House had been built. Perhaps fishermen had occupied shacks that clung to the steep cleft and over the years their feet had trodden the path so hard that new growth was reluctant to spring up.

  I ran the last few feet on to the beach – I had no option for it was so steep it propelled me down – and the pebbles pinched painfully through the souls of my slippers. I gave a little gasp, then laughed at myself. This was what I had wanted – so why was I complaining?

  I walked for a little while, enjoying the solitude and the sound and the smell of the sea. The tide was low; beyond the pebbles was a broad stretch of wet sand, festooned with strings of seaweed and beached shells. I walked along the edge of it, for it was easier on my feet than the pebbles, heading towards the outcrop at one end of the cove.

  Now that I was closer I could see the intricacy of the rock formations on that wing of the bay, an archway, like the eye of a needle, the finger of tumbled boulders stretching towards the tide yet not quite reaching it. There might well be another cove beyond that outcrop, I knew. A cove even more secluded than this one with nothing but the sheer cliffs above it and no life but the nesting seabirds to look down upon it. There might well be caves, washed clean by the tides. There might be rock pools of sea water or even a small lagoon of fresh water. I longed to go around that headland and explore but common sense told me I must not. Not yet; not until I was more familiar with the tides on this coast. If I got myself cut off it would not be an auspicious start, particularly in view of Francis’s warning, and it could be worse than that even. If the cliffs rose sheer from the beach with none of the caves and crannies I was imagining I could be drowned like a rat in a trap.

  In spite of the warmth of the evening, I shivered.

  I turned my back on the inviting headland, climbed on to a boulder and sat down. It was no way to treat my good gown, but I did not care. I bunched it up above my knees like a child, loving the feel of the fresh air on my bare legs; leaning back, raising my face to the fading sun.

  Here, nothing seemed so bad. I could tell myself that I had misinterpreted the dubious welcome I had received and almost believe it. Francis Trevelyan was just a father concerned for his little daughter’s welfare, Selena was an eccentric, perhaps embittered at the treatment meted out to the daughter of a house who had not found a husband, forced to depend on her brother for a home. And the way Francis had looked when he first saw me – that had all been my imagination too. My fertile, foolish imagination.

  I thought too of Tom Stanton. Remembered the way something strong and sweet and unfamiliar had stirred within me as I looked at him. That really was foolishness, of course. And the quirk of happiness that seemed to run through my veins at the thought of him was foolishness too. Why, I didn’t even know the man! But it was welcome foolishness all the same, a spark of sunlight in what had been a rather dark day.

  A figure appeared within my line of vision, moving slowly along the shoreline. The bent figure of an old woman with a creel over her arm. Her skirts, hitched up to keep them out of the softly breaking waves, stirred in the stiff breeze, her head was covered by a shawl. I saw her crouch down a few times, gathering shellfish, no doubt, from the pools left by the tide.

  The sun was low now, the daylight beginning to fade. Reluctantly I decided it was time I returned to Morwennan House. I was not yet sufficiently familiar with the cliff path to negotiate its perils in darkness. I slipped down from the rock and began walking back.

  As I drew nearer to the old woman I became aware that she had straightened up and was staring a
t me. I nodded in her direction and expected no more than a nod in return. But instead she came towards me, her mouth agape in her wrinkled, weatherbeaten face, small beady eyes peering at me incredulously. Disconcerted, I stared back.

  ‘Julia?’ Her voice was little more than a dry croak. ‘Julia – is it really you?’

  For a moment I was speechless. This was, in its own way, the self-same reaction that I had encountered from Francis Trevelyan. Then I found my voice.

  ‘I am not Julia, no. I am Charity Palfrey.’

  The old woman continued to stare, as if she did not believe me. Then she drew a long, wheezing breath.

  ‘Forgive me. I thought… Oh, you are so much like her!’

  My mind was whirling now and for no reason I could explain I had begun to tremble. But I knew that somehow I had to find the courage to ask the question that was burning on my lips. ‘Who did you think I was?’

  The old woman cackled drily. ‘I’m going soft in my old age. Taking leave of whatever sense I once had. I thought for a minute… but of course, it could not be. She’s been dead for years.’

  ‘Who?’ I persisted.

  But I think, even before she replied, I already knew what her answer would be.

  ‘Why, Julia Trevelyan, of course! The maid from Morwennan House. Francis Trevelyan’s wife.’

  Four

  Julia Trevelyan. Francis Trevelyan’s wife. The old woman’s words echoed and re-echoed in my head. The wind from the sea was suddenly chill and I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself.

  ‘Am I so like her then?’ I heard myself ask.

  ‘Like her? You’re the dead spit of her and no mistake. In her heyday, of course. Before…’ The old woman broke off, shaking her head. ‘Ah well, fate can play some strange tricks – and some cruel ones. Good day to you.’

  She hitched her creel up on her arm and with one last penetrating look into my face, went on her way.