When Sophie had gone up to bed, Thomas bade his daughter goodnight, but instead of following her upstairs he turned to his grandson and said, ‘Before you go up, Charles, a word.’ Without waiting for Charles to reply, he opened his library door and led the way inside.
Charles followed his grandfather into the room, wondering what he wanted to discuss at this time of night. Of course Thomas was not actually his grandfather, though Charles had always thought of him as such and even addressed him as Grandpapa as a small boy. That was the trouble. Charles had always known that Thomas Penvarrow was disappointed that he had no living son or grandson to inherit Trescadinnick, but Charles always assumed that when the time came the estate would pass to him, the step-grandson. Thomas had never said so, but until a few weeks ago there had been no one else. Now there was this Sophie girl, daughter of the erring Mary. Charles knew very little about either of them. He had only the vaguest recollection of Mary, from when they had been living together at Trescadinnick. He had been four years old when she left to marry John Ross, and he’d been told nothing about why she had gone. He was considered far too young to understand such matters, and the memory of another aunt, so like his Aunt Mary who had gone away, soon mingled with the reality of the aunt who was still there, so he had given her little further thought. Certainly, no one had actually mentioned her name for years. No one had dared. Now though, she had died and left an orphan daughter, a grandchild for Thomas, and Matty had been dispatched to fetch her.
Charles had not been party to much of the heart-searching that had gone on before Matty had left to find Sophia. When told of Mary’s letter he felt a mild curiosity about her daughter, and agreed with the decision already taken that it was right for Matty to visit her, but he was surprised at his stepmother’s reaction to the idea.
‘Why did you encourage them?’ she asked tersely. ‘Why did you agree that they should ask the girl here?’
Charles shrugged. ‘Why shouldn’t I? Clearly my grandfather wants to see her. What difference does that make to me?’
‘You really aren’t very bright sometimes, Charles,’ Louisa said, exasperated. ‘Don’t you see that she stands between you and your rightful inheritance? It doesn’t seem to matter to my father how hard you work on his behalf; you are not his own flesh and blood. He will make her his heir and everything you’ve worked for will become hers.’
Charles looked at her and said simply, ‘If that’s the case, Mama, there is very little I can do about it.’
‘You could talk to him. Before she comes, you could talk to him and tell him how you feel. You and AliceAnne belong here far more than she does. She may be Mary’s daughter, but Mary chose to leave this family and so her daughter has no place here. You’ve been brought up here and Trescadinnick is your home. You deserve to inherit when your grandfather dies. It’s your right. You must demand your right.’
‘I can’t start demanding rights before I even know what my grandfather intends, Mama,’ Charles pointed out. ‘I think you’re worrying unnecessarily. He’s not an unjust man, and you can’t blame him for wanting to see this girl.’
‘If that’s all he wants,’ said Louisa darkly.
‘As to that, we shall have to wait and see,’ Charles replied. ‘It’ll do more harm than good if I start making demands.’ But Louisa’s angry comments had started him thinking.
‘Well, I can demand for you,’ Louisa stated. ‘I’m not prepared to stand by and watch while he sets you aside for some slip of a girl we don’t even know. I shall speak to him if you’re too afraid.’
That stung Charles and he retorted angrily, ‘I’m not afraid of him, Mama. I simply do not see the necessity for creating problems before they occur. Nor,’ he added with a grim smile, ‘do I want to put ideas into his head. I hope you won’t say anything yet, because there may be nothing to worry about. We’d be much better to hold our fire for the time being and just wait upon events.’
Louisa was not convinced. She still wanted to tackle her father while she had the courage. She had always been afraid of him and his explosive temper, but when it came to fighting for what she considered the rights of her son, she was determined to face up to him, and win. Why should some young girl arrive on the scene and charm her way into the old man’s heart, taking away the chance of Charles inheriting Trescadinnick? Thomas had recently been coming round to the realization that Charles had earned the right to Trescadinnick. Indeed, he’d sent for his solicitor, Mr Staunton, and Louisa had got the idea that he’d been told to draw up Thomas’s will. If so, it could only be in Charles’s favour. It was, after all, Charles who was putting the estate back on its feet; Charles who had looked into new methods of farming to obtain a higher yield from the land; Charles who had invested some of his own meagre inheritance from his father in a seine net and two fishing boats, paying local fishermen to crew them when the vast shoals of pilchards followed the warm currents into Cornish waters, in the late summer and early autumn, to provide a new source of income. He knew only too well that the days of the tin mines were over, the tin worked out and the price at rock bottom. The mines had been the foundation of the Penvarrow family fortunes, and it had taken Thomas time to accept that now they were worthless; though the family was not penniless, certain retrenchment had been necessary. They no longer employed all the servants they had when Louisa was a girl: the cook, the housemaid and parlour maid, the valet and the groom, two gardeners and a boy. Now they ran the house with the help of the Paxtons, Edith, the maid-of-all-work and a kitchen skivvy; Davies, the gardener, and Ned, the stable lad, worked outside. Louisa left Mrs Paxton in charge of the kitchen, but she supervised the housekeeping, was her own dairymaid and also saw to the few hours’ schooling AliceAnne needed. There was no governess for her as there had been for Louisa and her sisters. Most of the time Louisa did not mind the life she led. She was used to it now, and at least the running of the household was left to her and she was her own mistress. She had been sure that in the end her father would see the rightness of leaving everything to Charles, but now that was all put in jeopardy by the appearance of Mary’s daughter. However, Charles had asked her not to approach her father on the subject of inheritance and for the moment she had, against her better judgement, acquiesced.
‘But if we discover that he plans to cut you out, Charles, I will speak to him,’ she declared. ‘He has no right to do so.’
Of course, they both knew that he had every legal right, but Louisa was adamant that he had no moral right, and if necessary she would take her courage in her hands and tell him so.
As Charles wondered now what his grandfather was going to say, he could only hope that his mother had held her peace.
‘Put another log on the fire, Charles,’ Thomas said as he settled himself in his chair. When Charles had done so, and poured two glasses of brandy, also at Thomas’s bidding, he sat down opposite him and waited.
‘Well, she’s come,’ Thomas began. ‘My only grandchild, Charles. Pretty girl, eh? Looks like her grandmother, don’t you think?’ He glanced up at the portrait of his wife that hung over the fireplace and with a sigh said, ‘You’ll think I’m getting sentimental in my old age.’
Sentimentality was the last accusation Charles would have levelled at his grandfather. He could see the likeness between the woman who smiled down from the painting and the girl who had sat next to him at the dinner table, but he made no comment, simply waited for Thomas to go on.
‘Well,’ snapped the old man. ‘What do you think of her? Pretty enough for you?’
For a moment Charles thought of Sophie as he’d first seen her, dressed in her simple black dress, her chestnut hair swept back off her face, her dark green eyes shining in the candlelight, and replied cautiously, ‘She seems a likeable young girl, but we hardly know her yet.’
‘We will, soon enough,’ answered Thomas. ‘She won’t be going back to some hovel in London. I shan’t allow it.’
‘She said she was only here for a short visit,’ Charles reminded him.
‘She’ll change her mind,’ said Thomas. ‘I’ll tell you straight, Charles, I intend to make her my heir.’
‘I see.’ Charles managed to keep his voice level, despite the abruptness of this announcement.
‘And that being the case,’ Thomas went on as if he hadn’t been interrupted, ‘I’ve decided you’d better marry her.’
‘Marry her!’ ejaculated Charles, this time unable to control his reaction.
‘Certainly marry her,’ said the old man testily. ‘Why ever not? That’ll make everything right and tight. I know you’ve worked hard for this place, specially over these last few years.’ He spoke gruffly, finding it difficult as always to express his thanks to anyone. ‘You marry the girl and you’ll get the reward you’ve earned.’
Charles was dumbfounded. He stared at Thomas for a moment before repeating incredulously, ‘Marry her? Marry her! I only met the girl this evening. I don’t know her and more to the point, nor do you.’
Thomas was unrepentant. ‘What does knowing her matter? She’s family. You need a wife. That daughter of yours needs a mother. It seems to me to be the perfect solution to all your problems.’
Charles felt the anger rising up in him and did his best not to let it overwhelm him. ‘I wasn’t aware, sir, that I had any particular problems,’ he said tightly. ‘And if I had, I would find my own solutions. If, and I repeat if, I felt in need of a wife I am perfectly capable of choosing one for myself. I certainly wouldn’t marry some young girl scarcely out of the schoolroom just to ensure I inherit this estate.’
‘Your daughter needs a mother,’ Thomas reminded him.
‘If that is the case, and I dispute it, I would choose a woman of good sense, experienced with children, not a chit of nineteen.’
‘She’s twenty, getting on for twenty-one, and it’s the only way you’ll get your hands on Trescadinnick,’ Thomas said flatly. ‘Now send Paxton to me. I want to go to bed.’
Charles downed the last of his brandy in one gulp and stood up. ‘I will indeed send Paxton to you, sir, but before I do, allow me to say that if you make marriage with Miss Sophia Ross a condition of inheriting Trescadinnick, I tell you straight away that I’m not interested. There are plenty of other estates in the country, which I could run a great deal more efficiently than this one, and if necessary I will apply for the position of estate manager on one of those. And,’ he added with a vicious smile, ‘get paid for what I do. I wish you goodnight, sir.’
With this parting shot, Charles left Thomas alone in the library, and having called Paxton as requested, he went out into the cold night air, to cool his temper and to calm his seething thoughts. For long minutes he paced up and down, his fists clenched in fury. How dare he! How dare his grandfather dictate to him on such a matter? How dare he decide to marry him off simply to suit himself! To ease his own conscience! And to a schoolroom miss.
Well, he thought, as he paced the garden, the old man can think again. I have no intention of marrying her.
He wondered what Sophie herself would think of Thomas’s plans for her. Certainly she’d had enough spunk to stand up to him this evening, and Charles allowed himself a rare smile as he remembered how she had corrected her grandfather on his assumption that she would now live at Trescadinnick. That had surprised Charles as much as it had the old man himself. Not many people held their own against Thomas Penvarrow, and Charles wondered if she would continue to do so when she heard she was to be his heir. But I will stand against him, Charles thought to himself. He will not dictate to me and I won’t be coerced into marrying Sophie Ross... or anyone else, for that matter.
His mother had been right about her father’s intentions, he thought ruefully, but even she hadn’t imagined the extent to which he would go to carry them through. He decided not to tell her of the conversation in the library yet. Perhaps, as a result of his reaction, Thomas would reconsider the ultimatum he’d laid down once he realized that Charles would not, now or ever, accept his demands.
At last he turned back to the house and, resolutely setting aside thoughts of Sophie, locked the great front door behind him and went upstairs to bed.