Trevallion Read online

  The two men worked in stony silence, careful not to get in each other’s way. They brushed the forecourt clean and tried to cover the holes where the shrubs had been ripped up. About two o’clock Joe stopped and looked at Trease who was becoming increasingly unsteady on his feet from the after-effects of his drinking and lack of food.

  ‘You best get back home,’ he said gruffly. ‘Wouldn’t do for the Major to see you the way you are. Get a good meal inside you, tidy yourself up in case he wants to see you today. Becca has told him you’re ill, with a liver complaint. Don’t tell him a different story.’

  ‘What’s he like, the Major? Showing much interest?’

  ‘Hard to say. He’s very quiet but seems an agreeable sort of a bloke.’

  ‘I’ll be different now, Joe, I promise. We have a new master and we have hope for the future. I’ll give up the drink. We’ll make a go of this place, like the old days.’

  Joe shook his head disbelievingly and said grimly, ‘Do it for Becca’s sake.’

  * * *

  Rebecca changed back into her old clothes and met the Major outside the gatehouse. He had brought the ponies and trap up to the front door and held out his hand to help her up then twitched the reins to begin the half-mile journey to Trevallion House. He had changed his mind about her driving the trap and she wondered why he still needed her. She watched him with a feeling of foreboding as he looked all around, up at the pale blue sky, down at the road which was in need of repair and at the neat verges Joe had cut, slowing down when the rhododendrons took over from the oaks, cedars and firs.

  ‘Joe looks after them,’ Rebecca said, feeling she couldn’t allow her father to take the credit. ‘There’s over twenty varieties in the grounds, some are quite rare, I believe.’ She gripped her hands together in fear of what he would think when he saw the ruined ones.

  ‘So I understand,’ Alex said briefly.

  Rebecca wished he would open up and give a clue to his intentions for the estate but she knew it was asking too much at this stage.

  She said, in a subdued voice, ‘The big house hasn’t been lived in since the Captain went to war. It’s a bit run down.’

  ‘I’m not expecting too much,’ Alex replied.

  That’s a relief, Rebecca thought, and she had the comfort of knowing that Trease had at least looked after the garage and the motorcars. It might be something in his favour. Whichever car Major Fiennes selected, he would find it in tiptop condition for the drive back to the gatehouse.

  Alex stopped the trap for a few moments to gaze at the top storey of Trevallion House, its walls glinting in the sunlight, its four rows of chimneys standing like silent guards at each end of the root Rebecca hoped he was impressed. She glanced at his face. There was no way of telling; he retained the same rock-hard expression.

  They drove into the square courtyard and Alex brought the trap to a halt. He looked at the house and all around it for a long time. Rebecca felt her heart sinking down into her stomach. Much had been cleared up but there was still evidence of what Trease had done and it was obvious the damage was recent. Muddy pools had dried under the windows Joe had hosed down and the holes in the lawns and the scratches down the main door stood out like sore thumbs.

  Joe appeared and nodded to the Major. He said nothing, believing an attempt at an explanation would only make matters worse. Better to wait for the Major to ask questions then he’d think of something to say.

  ‘You can take the trap away, Carlyon,’ Alex said, jumping down and taking the bunch of keys out of his pocket.

  ‘I thought I’d show you around, Major Fiennes.’

  ‘Miss Allen can do that,’ Alex said shortly.

  Joe’s dismay at leaving Rebecca to bear the brunt of what was to come showed clearly on his rugged face. Alex moved away and looked in the nearest window. Joe shrugged his shoulders at Rebecca and climbed up on the trap.

  Rebecca moved woodenly to the Major, who was standing in front of the damaged door. His dark eyes were travelling down the length of the deep scratches and suddenly they were resting, intensely, on her.

  ‘Did you clean up the inside?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘Yes, me and Loveday Wright and several of the women from the creek and the farms on the estate. We’ve done the downstairs but we didn’t have time to do anything upstairs.’

  ‘From what I could see through the window, it looks immaculate.’ He ran a thumbnail down one of the scratches on the door and said, slowly, ‘And who was responsible for this?’

  His eyes were on her again and Rebecca knew she had to tell the truth. She choked back the bile rising in her throat and her voice came out small and husky.

  ‘My father.’

  Alex sighed. What he said next was worse to Rebecca than an explosion of anger. ‘Because of the drink?’

  She gasped, her face as red as blood, and she could not look him in the face. He had obviously taken the trouble to find out all about the estate staff. There was no hope now of keeping Trease’s alcoholism a secret. The Major must have been suspicious about Trease not meeting them at the station and now he had made her come down here with him to give them both their marching orders.

  ‘Mr Drayton and Mr Faull have given me full information about Trevallion,’ Alex said quietly. ‘I know how much they value you and all the work you’ve done in your father’s place.’

  This did not lessen Rebecca’s shame. Gulping, she said, ‘It was the war, sir. He came home to find my mother had left us. It made him very bitter. I’ll go to our cottage and get us packed up. I’m very sorry.’

  She turned on her heel and began to run.

  ‘Miss Allen!’

  It was a command and stopped her in her tracks. She didn’t turn round and his next words seemed to hit her one by one in the back.

  ‘Don’t take it upon yourself to make assumptions. Come back.’

  Rebecca felt she had never made a bigger fool of herself. She retraced her steps and stood in front of Major Fiennes like a naughty schoolgirl.

  ‘Yes, sir?’

  ‘Although I’ve never visited Trevallion, I knew my cousin Captain Miles very well. I knew how much he cared about the estate and its employees. I know about your father and Joe Carlyon and Stanley Wright in particular. I received letters from Captain Trevallion during the war and he never doubted that any one of them would have given their lives to protect him. I visited my cousin several times during his invalidity. He couldn’t speak, of course, but I know that somewhere inside him he was concerned for those who went to war with him. I know what war can do to a man. Many have come back and turned to drink. I am not about to throw you and your father off the estate.’

  Rebecca was so relieved she could hardly speak for the emotion choking her. ‘I’m s-sorry, sir. I spoke out of turn. I thank you for your understanding. I’ll tell my father what you’ve said.’

  Alex looked stonily at the door. ‘I’ll speak to him tomorrow. Now you go and collect your things and bring them back here in an hour and I’ll drive us back to the gatehouse.’

  * * *

  Alex took only a quick look round the ground floor of the house. He wasn’t much interested in it at the moment. He wanted to see the creek Miles had loved so much.

  No one was about down by the water and he was glad of that. The last thing he wanted was company. The tide was coming determinedly up the Fal estuary, spilling over into the creek basin and filling it with emerald-green water, the colour given to it from the reflection of the trees that bowed down over its banks and the multitude of algae that flourished in it.

  Alex looked at the few boats not out working, their names comfortingly familiar from what Miles had told him. Then his gaze rested on a section of the shore where a small tangle of seaweed, rope and birds’ feathers lay. He watched the spot, fascinated as the water moved towards the tangle in smooth waves, the sound of their soft rush and fall like music to his ears. When it was completely submerged, he looked up and scanned the scene on the other side
of the creek. In the meadow rising up from the trees, sheep were grazing, and above the meadow was clear blue sky, adorned with the odd puff of white fluffy cloud. It was a tranquil scene. It was peaceful here.

  Birds were flitting about but Alex did not try to sift through the fog that was in his mind to recall their names. Miles had talked of them all; at the end of his life he wouldn’t have recognised them either. A pity Miles wasn’t brought here to sense the timeless peace of his home, Alex thought sadly.

  He hoped this place would give him peace, peace to regain his right mind and be again as he was before the war, a place where his terrible nightmares would come to an end.

  Alex shook himself Enough of that now. No brooding. He’d promised himself he’d try not to brood. He pushed his hands deep into his pockets as a positive action to prove to himself he was going to relax.

  A movement caught his eye and he saw a large, scruffy dog ambling sheepishly towards him, its big brown eyes showing it was hoping to be welcomed and would receive some petting. Alex crouched down and whistled to it. ‘Hello, boy. You’re a friendly old thing. I wonder what your name is.’ Alex turned the dog’s collar round until he found a metal tag. A name was scratched on it. ‘Motley,’ he read aloud. He gave a short laugh. ‘Me and you both, boy. You seem to like living here, and perhaps I will too.’

  * * *

  That night Rebecca sat in her nightie on the bed in the smallest room of the gatehouse. The air was hot and the house stuffy after its sudden use and she had pulled the windows wide open. A welcome breeze tinged with the smells of the river, fresh and clean with a hint of salt, ruffled the curtains and she breathed in slowly and deeply. The silk dress Abigail had given to her was on a hanger suspended from a high cupboard handle. She had worn it as she’d helped Loveday serve dinner to the Fiennes, a meal during which Abigail had chatted away gaily and the Major had hardly spoken a word.

  He hadn’t said much when she’d arrived back at Trevallion with a small bag of belongings, her best dress, change of underclothes, night things and a few toiletries. He’d taken the bag from her and put it in the back of the car, helping her to climb into the Mercedes, a long low-lined vehicle with a carriage body. His face was closed and gaunt and, Rebecca thought, very sad. She wanted to ask him what he’d thought of the house but knew it wasn’t the right time.

  Things were going to be difficult living in the gatehouse. There was the horrible boy to contend with, who never missed a chance to be spiteful; Rebecca had seen him push little Tamsyn away from him, shouting at her, ‘Of course you can’t play with the model railway!’

  Rebecca had her own sink to wash her face, clean her teeth and rinse her smalls in, but she would have to share the bathroom. She hated the thought of standing in her shabby dressing gown, waiting her turn. What if the Major came out of his room to stand behind her? Apart from the embarrassment, was it manners to let him go first? Mrs Fiennes would, of course, spend hours and hours in there, but Rebecca thought it would be pleasant going in the bathroom after her and being swamped by the beautiful scents she would no doubt leave behind.

  Still, things were not so bad. Her father wasn’t going to get the sack and perhaps having a master again would encourage him to give up the drink and pull himself together at last. Mrs Fiennes was very friendly and had talked at dinner as if the family intended to stay down in Cornwall for the rest of the summer. A strange man Major Fiennes was, though. Quiet and somehow secretive but seemingly in charge of things.

  She pondered on his sad face. Despite its emptiness, he was good-looking. Not that it mattered to Rebecca. There was only one man she was interested in. She took another deep breath of fresh river air and it came out in a long sigh. The real trouble with having to stay in the gatehouse was that she seemed so far away from Joe.

  Chapter 5

  The next morning Rebecca was dismayed to learn that she would not be able to help Joe with the horses. The Major liked to ride in the early hours and he had left word that he would exercise two of the horses himself before breakfast. Furthermore, Abigail made it quite clear that she expected Rebecca to be at her beck and call; Rebecca found herself in the strange position of being a lady’s maid.

  At least it meant someone would get a temporary job on Verrian Farm, she thought glumly as she put away the items of Abigail’s huge wardrobe which hadn’t been unpacked the day before. Abigail’s clothes were bright and carefree, reflecting the move away from the drab and puritanical. Rebecca hung the dresses on scented padded hangers and carefully laid the filmy underwear in drawers. The many pairs of shoes went side by side at the bottom of the wardrobe. There wasn’t enough space for everything; a lady of Abigail Fiennes’ tastes needed a house at least as big as Trevallion to function properly. Rebecca could picture Abigail there, living comfortably and elegantly, entertaining the cream of the county, having house guests from upcountry. With a pang of foreboding, Rebecca could not picture Alexander Fiennes belonging in Trevallion House, not even in the Captain’s study.

  The Major went straight out again after breakfast, dressed in casual clothes, topped with an old cricket jumper. He took the car down to the big house. Rebecca wondered if he’d go down to the creek, if he would meet her father and, if so, what would be said.

  Trease was as relieved as Rebecca had been that the neglect of his work, his drinking habits and the terrible havoc he’d wreaked on Trevallion were known to Major Fiennes. He’d broken down in tears when Rebecca told him that the Major had been understanding, that he hadn’t lost his job and his home. He made her the same promise he’d made Joe, to give up drinking and to work hard to encourage Major Fiennes to keep the estate.

  ‘How long do you think it would take before Trevallion is fit to be lived in, Rebecca?’ Abigail asked, coming into the room and curling up in an armchair. She lit a cigarette in a long ebony holder and blew smoke delicately through her lips.

  ‘Not very long,’ Rebecca replied. ‘Only about a week or so. It needs some paint and a bit of replastering, but it’s not dilapidated. Just needs airing out and things put back in their proper places. It smells a bit musty upstairs but most things are in order. There’s no electricity, I’m afraid. I’m sure Captain Trevallion would have had it put in if he hadn’t been injured in the war.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t mind that. It was quite cosy here by lamplight last night and candles are so romantic, don’t you think?’

  Rebecca looked vague at the question. ‘I suppose so.’

  She wiped away the powder spills on Abigail’s dressing table and gathered up her strewn-about jewellery, pretty brooches, rings, diamanté clips, bracelets, necklaces of pearls and sparkling stones and dozens of strings of beads, and put them back in their box. ‘Would you like to lock this, Mrs Fiennes?’

  ‘No, there’s nothing of value in there and I’m certain I can trust you and Mrs Wright.’ Abigail suddenly looked petulant. ‘I wanted to go down to the big house with Alex but he flatly refused to let me go. He can be really stubborn when he chooses to be and is beastly about the things he abhors, like me smoking upstairs, so don’t mention this.’ She waved her cigarette in the air.

  Rebecca was curious to learn all she could about Major Fiennes and with Abigail being so chatty she broached the subject. ‘I take it the Major’s not married, then?’

  Abigail made a scoffing noise. ‘A couple of girls got him close to the altar years ago but they didn’t succeed. He likes his own company too much.’

  ‘Has he always been quiet, if you don’t mind me asking?’

  ‘Oh, yes, but not like he is now. Well, the war, it affected him badly. He has turned in on himself. I’m hoping the change down here, the river, the milder climate and a new interest will bring him out a little.’

  Rebecca was about to ask if she knew what he intended to do with the estate when Abigail murmured, as if to herself, ‘I hope he will decide to keep Trevallion.’

  * * *

  Alex wandered about the grounds of Trevallion, noting repairs
that were needed, the overgrowth of the orchards, the earth thrown into the pond that Joe and Trease had not had time to clean up the day before, the weeds on the pathways, a million and one little things that begged attention. The lawns at the back of the house had not been cut this year except for one small patch before Trease had lost interest. The grass there was already two inches high again and was scattered with daisies, a pretty sight but telling of the lackadaisical attitude of the man who was supposed to look after things here.

  A narrow stream ran through the grounds and Alex walked over its small hump-backed bridge, its woodwork covered in layers of green algae. He passed a deserted dovecote and saw something glinting in the sunlight. He pushed aside some overgrown shrubbery and discovered a wooden bench. He set to work pushing back the bushes so he could read the brass inscription plate on its back. He rubbed at the film of dirt and read ‘To My Beloved Harriet’. Alex was angry that the seat put here in memory of Miles Trevallion’s fiancée had been included in the general neglect.

  The sound of someone clearing his throat made him look round.

  ‘Major Fiennes, sir,’ Trease Allen said sheepishly, holding out his hand. ‘I’m Trease Allen. ’Tis a pleasure to meet you. I’m sorry that I wasn’t about to meet you yesterday, sir.’

  Alex shook Trease’s hand but his face was grim. He looked at the seat, part of it hidden again by the bushes that had fallen back round it. ‘Are you responsible for this, Allen?’

  ‘Um, yes, sir. I, um, meant to get round to it.’ Trease hung his head.

  ‘Don’t make excuses, Allen, at least spare me that! Captain Trevallion would despair at the state you’ve allowed this place to fall into. It’s a great pity you are not diligent and caring like your daughter.’

  ‘I’m very sorry, sir.’

  ‘I don’t want you being sorry either, I want you working. Damned hard! I want everything that you’ve neglected back in perfect order. I want you putting in every hour until the gardens and immediate grounds to the house are in immaculate condition. You are relieved of your duties concerning the house. I’ll be putting someone else in charge.’