24

Charles spoke little of his trip to London when he returned, simply telling them Sophie would be coming to visit at Christmas as promised. Thomas and AliceAnne were delighted with the news and began planning her welcome.

Louisa heard the news with a sniff. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing, Charles. As far as I can see, you’ll simply have cemented her in your grandfather’s affections and he’ll never change his mind.’

‘Mama, he is never going to change his mind,’ Charles replied. ‘And it seems stupid to try and deny him her company over Christmas in the vain hope that he will.’

‘Well, let’s hope she makes it a short visit,’ muttered Louisa.

When Thomas asked for other news of Sophie, Charles replied that he had found her well and happily settled back into her own home. He made no mention of Dr Bryan and this was a conscious decision. Provided he said nothing, Sophie need never admit that Nicholas had visited her in London if she chose not to. Let Sophie tell the family in her own good time, Charles thought. It’s nothing to do with me. Why risk subjecting her to her grandfather’s anger by mentioning something that has no substance at all? And in the silent regions of his mind, a quiet voice murmured, And if I speak it aloud, it may become a truth.

He encountered Nicholas the very next morning. The doctor was driving up to the house, and when he saw Charles he raised his hat with a sardonic smile and said, ‘Good morning, Mr Leroy. I trust you had a pleasant trip to London.’

Charles, determined not to rise to this gambit, simply replied, ‘Good morning, Doctor. This is just a routine visit, I hope.’

Nicholas jumped down from the gig and picking up his bag, said, ‘Oh yes, I need to ensure my patient has come to no harm while I’ve been away.’

Charles gave a shrug of indifference. ‘Have you been away?’ he said. ‘We hadn’t noticed.’ And with that he turned and walked round the house towards the stables.

Nicholas continued on his way to the front door. Edith opened to his knock and he waited in the hall while she fetched Louisa.

‘Good morning, Doctor,’ Louisa said as she appeared from the kitchen passage. ‘This is a surprise. We weren’t expecting you today.’

‘I’ve been away for a few days on family business,’ Nicholas said, treating her to his most winning smile. ‘So I thought I’d look in to see how Mr Penvarrow is doing.’

‘I’m glad to say he’s taken a turn for the better,’ answered Louisa. ‘He has more appetite and has more colour.’

‘Excellent,’ said Nicholas. ‘And I trust you still have enough of the powders I prescribed?’

‘Yes, we have,’ replied Louisa briskly. ‘He’s been taking them very sparingly.’

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ declared Nicholas. ‘But perhaps I should take a look at him now that I’m here.’

‘Paxton’s with him at the minute,’ Louisa said. ‘He’s getting dressed.’

‘So early?’ The doctor’s face was full of concern. ‘I do hope he takes a rest later in the day.’

‘Indeed, he usually does, Doctor. But I’m afraid he will not wish to be interrupted while he is getting up. At present he is quite well, and I’m sure you have other patients who require your attendance, especially as you’ve been away. I do assure you that we’ll call you immediately should my father take a turn for the worse.’

Louisa saw the flash of anger in Nicholas’s eyes before he said, ‘As you wish, Mrs Leroy. Let us hope that nothing untoward happens to him.’ And with that he strode from the house without a backward glance.

‘It was most odd,’ Louisa said to Charles over lunch. ‘We hadn’t called him and yet he took great offence when I sent him away. You should have seen the expression on his face, Charles. He was furious.’

‘I don’t like that young man,’ Thomas said from the head of the table. ‘Too big for his boots by half.’

‘Well, he’s certainly arrogant,’ Charles said. ‘But with luck, sir, you won’t need him again. It seems to me that your health is much improved.’

‘And so I told him,’ said Louisa. ‘But he wasn’t pleased. Anyone would think he didn’t want you to recover, Papa.’

‘No visits, no medicines, no payment!’ said Thomas, and they all laughed at his cynicism.

Sophie arrived at Trescadinnick the day before Christmas Eve and received an ecstatic welcome from AliceAnne, who was waiting for her in the hall.

‘Look, look, Aunt Sophie,’ the little girl cried. ‘Papa found a tree and Paxton set it up. And now you’re here, we’re going to decorate it.’

Hannah, coming in behind Sophie, paused in the doorway and when AliceAnne saw her she was immediately enveloped in a hug. ‘Hannah! You’re here too! Hurrah.’

What a difference in that child, Hannah thought, as she returned the hug. When we came in September, she couldn’t say boo to a goose.

‘Of course I’m here, Miss AliceAnne, and looking forward to Christmas in the country.’

How nearly Hannah had not come. She and Sophie had never quarrelled before in the way they had over Dr Nicholas Bryan on the day he left London. It had taken several days for them to return to any sort of normality. Words had been spoken that could never be unsaid, particularly by Sophie, and with the strong streak of Penvarrow pride running in her veins she had found it difficult to apologize. But the thought of Hannah leaving her, walking out of the house they had shared for so long and never coming back, filled her with such a deep misery that she had swallowed her pride and made the first move to reconciliation.

‘Hannah, will you forgive me for what I said?’ she asked. ‘It was inexcusable to say you were only a servant and not a friend. You’ve been the dearest friend to me all my life and no one should speak to a friend as I did to you.’

‘Don’t worry, Miss Sophie,’ Hannah had replied. ‘I’ve forgotten what you said to me already.’ Sophie, however, hadn’t forgotten what Hannah had suggested; that Dr Bryan was more in love with her inheritance than with her. It was something that still stood between them. Though she could forgive Hannah for saying such a thing if it was said as a friend who truly believed it, she couldn’t even begin to consider that she might be right. Nicholas had no idea that she rather than Charles would inherit Trescadinnick, and she knew he would love her even if she were penniless... wouldn’t he? She longed to see him again, to feel him hold her close, to know the touch of his lips, gentle against her own. She had two precious letters telling her how much he loved her and how he longed for her return to Trescadinnick.

Neither Sophie nor Hannah mentioned again the idea of Hannah’s marriage; Sophie because she assumed it had been said in the heat of the argument and there was nothing in it, and Hannah because it was true and she didn’t want to discuss it. Sophie was not the only one who had received a letter from Cornwall. Will was no natural letter-writer, which made his letter asking how soon she could come home all the more dear to Hannah. Home? It would be coming home to be with Will, and she had written back to say they were coming to Cornwall for Christmas.

Sophie and Hannah joined in the preparations for Christmas. As AliceAnne had promised they decorated the tree with garlands and ribbons, and placed a golden star on the top. Candles, carefully placed and spaced, were attached to some of the outer branches, so that when Charles lit them for the first time on Christmas Eve, the hall became alight with magic.

AliceAnne’s face was glowing with excitement. ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ she whispered.

‘It is,’ agreed Sophie. ‘It’s going to be a Christmas we’ll always remember.’

She had not yet seen Nicholas, but they’d agreed that they would meet at church on Christmas morning. I shall wait until after Christmas to tell them that we’ve become engaged, Sophie had written. I know Grandfather may not like the idea and I don’t want to spoil Christmas Day for everyone else. If you come on Boxing Day we can tell him together.

Sophie had been pleased that Nicholas had agreed to this, but once she was back at Trescadinnick, she found it difficult not to speak of the secret she was hugging so excitedly to herself.

She had settled back into the room she’d had before and when she went up to bed on her first night back, she felt as comfortable here as she did in her room at home. She had paused on the landing outside Joss’s room, resting her hand for a moment on the door handle of the locked room, and later, as she lay in bed and watched the firelight glimmer on the old wardrobe, she thought again about what she’d discovered. Should she tell Aunt Matty? Should she be really brave and tell what she knew to her grandfather? Was there any way, she wondered, that she could find out more about what had happened to Cassie and her baby? Would the family want to know?

Sophie was still eager to uncover these secrets, but, immersed in the excitement of her own proposed marriage, she had more important things to think about just now. She had brought all the letters, with some idea of showing them to Matty at least, and being guided by her as to whether she should tell Thomas. But with everything else going on, she decided to wait for the right time, and the letters remained in the drawer of the dressing table.

Christmas Day dawned dank and chilly. Nevertheless, Louisa insisted that they should all go to the church morning service before they sat down to a Christmas dinner of roast goose and plum pudding. ‘But not you, Papa,’ she said. ‘It’s too cold, and we don’t want you to catch a chill now that you’re so much better. It’s going to be a busy day. You should stay in bed until we get back.’

One look at the weather had told Thomas that he didn’t want to brave the elements and go to church simply to hear the rector maunder on in one of his interminable sermons. He accepted Louisa’s decision with little more than a gruff protest at being bossed by his daughter, and stayed where he was.

‘Paxton will come and help you as soon as we all get back from church,’ Louisa said. ‘Edith’s staying in the kitchen, so if you need something, just ring your bell and she’ll bring anything you want.’

‘Tell her to stay downstairs. I shall be perfectly all right without some maid fussing about me,’ grumbled Thomas.

‘Of course you will,’ agreed Louisa, well used to her father’s irritability. ‘Matty’s coming over some time this morning and we’ll be back before you know it.’ And with that, she left him nursing the cup of tea she had brought him, and went downstairs to join the rest of the family getting ready to leave.

As they neared the church they could hear the bells ringing in the joyous season, and despite the cold wind that swept down from the moor, there was a large gathering of people outside in the churchyard, greeting each other and wishing each other well. Sophie looked for Nicholas and Hannah for Will. Both were among the crowd and as soon as he saw Sophie, Nicholas came up to speak to her as she stood with Charles, AliceAnne and Louisa. It was the first time they had met since they’d parted in London and the sight of him, so tall and handsome, made Sophie’s heart beat faster and the ready colour flood her cheeks.

Nicholas, however, showed no emotion at all as he said formally, ‘Merry Christmas, Miss Ross.’ But, taking Sophie’s hand, he pressed her fingers before turning to Louisa and Charles. ‘Mrs Leroy, Mr Leroy. Merry Christmas. Mr Penvarrow is not with you?’

‘Oh no, Doctor,’ Louisa replied. ‘It’s far too cold for him to venture out this morning. He’s staying in bed in the warm until we get home again.’

‘Very wise,’ remarked the doctor. ‘It would be so easy for him to take a chill in this cold weather.’

Hannah, catching sight of Will and his family, had slipped away to greet them and wish them a Merry Christmas. The smile that broke across Will’s face as he saw her approach was the only Christmas gift she needed, and her answering smile told him all he needed to know.

‘You will come and have your Christmas dinner with us, won’t you?’ begged Lizzie. ‘We’ve all been given the rest of the day off, once we’ve served the Christmas dinner at Trescadinnick.’

Hannah beamed at her. ‘Of course I will. Miss Sophie won’t need me after dinner.’

‘And we’ll wait until you and Lizzie get there,’ promised Grace. ‘Molly and Jack are coming with the children, so we’ll have a real family Christmas.’

As people began to move into the church Will took her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, said, ‘Merry Christmas, Hannah.’ She returned his grasp and then broke away, moving to sit with the other servants from Trescadinnick.

As the five-minute bell started pealing Charles led his mother into the church, followed by Sophie and AliceAnne. They moved slowly up the aisle until they came to the Trescadinnick pew at the front, and the rest of the congregation streamed in behind them, settling themselves into the pews with a rustle of Christmas finery and whispered greetings.

Nicholas, watching them all take their places, did not move into a pew, but remained standing at the back. When the bell finally stopped ringing, a melody was struck up on the harmonium, the rector entered from the vestry and the choir began to sing the first carol. Slowly Nicholas edged back behind the velvet curtain that covered the door to help exclude the cold air and closing the door softly behind him, slipped out of the porch into the chill of the morning. He paused briefly, but no one followed him, and he pulled out his watch. If the rector ran true to form, he knew he had at least an hour or more before the service would end; plenty of time for what he had in mind.

With a quick glance about him to make sure he was unobserved, he hurried along the narrow streets and up the steps to the cliff top where he took the path to Trescadinnick. Below him the sea stretched to the distant horizon, grey and hostile, as tossed by the wind, it surged back and forth against the rocks. He hardly gave it a glance as he strode swiftly along the path. When he reached Trescadinnick’s encircling wall he went to the cliff gate that led into the garden. He had reconnoitred the back way into Trescadinnick’s grounds on more than one occasion and tall as he was, he was able to swing himself up and over the gate with ease, landing softly on the grass the other side. From there he only had to cross the garden and he would be at the house.

He paused in the shelter of some bushes and looked carefully at the silent house. A faint light glowed in an upstairs window, and a gleam from the kitchen; otherwise the house was in darkness. He wasn’t sure if everyone but Thomas was at church, but he was relying on the fact that the front door would, as always, be unlocked. Creeping from his hiding-place, he sprinted across the grass and took cover beside the dark windows of the library. Risking a look inside, he saw that the room was empty, the fire unlit in the grate. Clearly Thomas Penvarrow was not expected downstairs yet. Now for the most dangerous part of his plan.

Nicholas walked round to the front entrance and gently turned the heavy latch. As he had hoped, the door was unlocked and a gentle push eased it open. Once inside, he closed it softly behind him and paused to listen. There was definitely someone in the kitchen; he could hear whoever it was moving about. One of the servants must have been left in the house in case Thomas needed something. Swiftly and silently, Nicholas went up the stairs and crept along the landing to Thomas’s bedchamber. Before he went in he glanced at his watch again. Only fifteen minutes had elapsed since he’d left the church. He smiled grimly: plenty of time. He was about to enter the room when he heard a rasping cough coming from within. Clearly Thomas wasn’t as well as his family thought.

Nicholas pushed open the door and walked into the room. Thomas was sitting up in bed, still in his nightshirt. On the table beside him was an empty teacup and a handbell. He turned his head awkwardly to see who had come into his room unbidden. When he saw who it was, he relaxed back against his pillows and said, ‘Now what do you want?’

‘What do I want?’ Nicholas said as he crossed to the bedside and removed the bell from Thomas’s reach. ‘I want to talk to you.’

‘Do you indeed,’ retorted Thomas. ‘Well, I don’t want to talk to you, so you can just take yourself off.’

‘No, I don’t think so... Grandfather.’

Thomas stared at him, confused. ‘Grandfather? Who are you calling Grandfather?’ And then, with anger, ‘How dare you, young man!’ He looked up at the man towering over him and for the first time he knew a flicker of fear.

‘I dare, Grandfather,’ drawled Nicholas, ‘because that’s who you are. My grandfather. So, I’ve come to claim my inheritance.’

‘Your inheritance! Don’t be ridiculous. You’re no grandson of mine.’

‘Well, that’s where you’re wrong. Your son, Jocelyn, seduced my mother and then rejected her. Once he’d had his fun with her, his tumble in the hay, he shunned her. Left her shamed and destitute, cast out by her father... and expecting a child... me!’

‘I’ve never heard such nonsense,’ Thomas said, but there was a frailty in his voice. ‘Jocelyn did no such thing.’

‘Oh, but he did,’ retorted Nicholas. ‘Your son, my father, left her to die in childbirth. Once he had seduced her, he had no more time for the disgraced daughter from a Methodist manse. You knew what he’d done. You could have insisted that he did his duty and marry her, but did you? No!’

‘You know nothing about it,’ Thomas said. But his anger had started a coughing fit and it was several minutes before it subsided, and Nicholas went on. ‘You’re wrong,’ he sneered. ‘I know everything about it, because I’m Jocelyn Penvarrow’s son. I have as much Penvarrow blood running in my veins as you.

‘And I’ll tell you exactly how he died,’ Nicholas declared. ‘He was coming home from the village along the cliff path one night and my Uncle Edwin was waiting for him in the fog. One shove and it was done!’

‘I don’t believe a word of it,’ growled Thomas.

‘Maybe not, but I am your grandson.’

‘Even so,’ Thomas said, ‘you’re a bastard. So you can take yourself off.’

‘Oh, I’m not going anywhere,’ Nicholas said. ‘Not after I’ve taken such trouble to come and find you... and your granddaughter.’

‘Sophie? You just leave her out of this.’ Thomas was frightened now.

‘I’m afraid it’s too late for that, old man,’ murmured Nicholas.

‘What do you mean? What have you done to her?’

‘Sophie? She’s agreed to marry me. She loves me, you see?’

‘I’m her guardian,’ stated Thomas. ‘She can’t marry without my consent and I shall never give it.’

‘I doubt if your consent will be necessary, Grandfather!’ Nicholas said. ‘You won’t be here.’ Thomas looked up at his grandson, terror in his eyes, as he saw Nicholas pick up a pillow. ‘Before you die,’ Nicholas said, ‘I wanted to be sure you knew just who was killing you... and why.’

Thomas opened his mouth to call for help, but Nicholas, smiling, brought the pillow down. The old man struggled as the pillow was pressed against his face. He was no match for the youth and strength of his killer, and it was not long before his struggles ceased and he was still. Nicholas held the pillow for another minute to be quite sure, and then lifted it and looked down at the old man lying still in the bed.

‘Did you really think I wouldn’t do it, old man?’ he said.

Gently, he smoothed the staring eyes shut, and placed the arms that had tried so valiantly to push him away to rest peacefully at his side; a man who had died in his sleep. A quick glance round the room showed Nicholas that nothing looked disturbed or out of place. He picked up the handbell and placed it by the bed, where it would have been within easy reach of Thomas to summon help, and prepared to leave.

He was just emerging from the room when there came a heavy knocking on the front door. Nicholas froze, trapped on the landing, as without waiting for an answer to her knock, Matty Treslyn pushed open the front door and stepped into the hall. She paused to admire the Christmas tree before opening the library door and looking inside. As she did so, Edith came up the kitchen passage.

‘Oh, Edith, there you are,’ Nicholas heard her say. ‘Has everyone gone to church?’

‘Yes, madam,’ Edith replied. ‘But the fire’s lit in the drawing room if you would like to sit in there until they come back.’

‘Yes, I will,’ Matty said, taking off her cloak and handing it to the maid. ‘Perhaps you’d bring me some tea. It’s bitterly cold outside.’

‘Yes, madam,’ Edith said. ‘I’ll bring it in directly.’

Through the crack in the door, Nicholas watched Matty open the drawing-room door and go in.

Edith moved to return to the kitchen before she turned back to say, ‘Excuse me, madam, but of course Mr Penvarrow didn’t go to church. He’s still in his bed. Mrs Leroy said not to disturb him. Should I bring tea for him as well?’

‘Good idea,’ said Matty. ‘Bring an extra cup, and when I’ve drunk mine I’ll take some up to him and see how he is.’ She closed the drawing-room door and Edith disappeared down the passage to the kitchen. For a moment the hall was empty and Nicholas darted down the stairs, across the hall to the front door. Opening it as softly as he could, he slipped out and latched it quietly behind him. Keeping clear of the drawing-room windows, he stole round to the other side of the house, through the stable yard and across to the cliff-top gate. He wrenched the bolts aside and was out on the cliff path in less than a minute. He didn’t know how long it would be before Matty went upstairs, but he needed to be back in the church before she arrived there and raised the alarm. Another glance at his watch told him that he’d already taken nearly fifty minutes and the service could be drawing to a close; and so he ran. There was no one to see him running across the cliff, and as he hurried down the steps into the village he found the streets deserted. He paused outside the church to regain his breath and then quietly opened the old oak door and, sheltered by the velvet curtain, slipped inside unnoticed. The congregation was in the process of taking Communion and Nicholas joined the file of parishioners going up to the altar. Sophie and the others from Trescadinnick were already back in their pew, and as Nicholas returned from the altar rail he caught Sophie’s eye and they both smiled. He saw that Charles had noticed this exchange and knew a fierce stab of relief. In the unlikely event of there being any repercussion after Thomas’s death was discovered, he had his alibi.

As the congregation spilled out into the churchyard after the final carol had been sung, they were amazed to see Edith, the maid from Trescadinnick, running down the road, her cloak flying out behind her, shouting something, her face a mask of panic. People stared at her as she pushed her way through the crowd to where Charles stood, exchanging greetings with Miss Sandra Osell.

He broke off as he saw Edith’s face, saying, ‘Edith? Whatever is the matter, girl?’

‘Oh, sir,’ Edith cried. ‘Mrs Treslyn is at the house and she says can you come at once and please to bring the doctor with you.’

‘The doctor?’ demanded Charles. ‘What on earth has happened, Edith? Is Mrs Treslyn ill?’

‘No, sir, it’s Mr Penvarrow. He’s been taken bad.’ She paused and then said, ‘Oh, sir, Mrs Treslyn thinks he’s dead!’

There was an immediate stir and buzz of conversation as everyone about them heard her words.

Sophie’s hand flew to her mouth, and she saw her own horror mirrored in Charles and Louisa’s faces. ‘Where’s Nicholas?’ she cried, looking wildly round, just as he stepped up beside her.

‘I’m here. I heard,’ he said. ‘I’ll come at once. It may not be too late. I just need to collect my bag.’

‘We’ll pick you up on the way,’ Charles said, and called to Paxton to bring the pony and trap at once. He turned back to Sophie and his mother. ‘We’ll go on ahead. Sophie, please ask Hannah to bring AliceAnne home.’

AliceAnne happily took Hannah’s hand and Hannah said, ‘Don’t you mind about AliceAnne, Miss Sophie. I’ll look to her.’

When they arrived at Trescadinnick, Nicholas jumped down from the trap and ran in through the front door, quickly followed by the others. Matty was standing in the hall, waiting for them.

‘What’s happened, Aunt Matty?’ Charles said. ‘Where is he?’

‘Your grandfather is dead, Charles. I took him up some tea when I got here and found him, dead in his bed.’

Nicholas led the way upstairs and they all followed him into Thomas’s bedchamber. Thomas was lying on the bed as Nicholas had left him, his eyes closed, but his arms were flung wide. Nicholas turned to Matty. ‘Did you touch him, Mrs Treslyn? Did you try and rouse him?’

‘I put my hand on his chest, but he wasn’t breathing. There was no rise and fall. I shook him, putting my hands on his shoulders.’ She held out her hands as if to demonstrate. ‘But,’ her voice broke on a sob, ‘there was nothing there. He was still warm, Doctor. If I had gone up to him when I first arrived, perhaps I could have saved him.’

‘Don’t distress yourself, Mrs Treslyn,’ he soothed. ‘He may not have been dead long, but I doubt if you could have done anything for him if you’d been there sooner. I’ll examine him, of course, but it looks to me as if his heart finally gave out.’ He looked round at all of them. ‘You mustn’t reproach yourselves. We all knew this could happen at any time. He has been most unwell for some months now.’ He looked across at Charles and said, ‘Perhaps you’d take the ladies downstairs while I make my examination, Mr Leroy, and then we can arrange for him to be laid out properly.’

Charles nodded and shepherded the three women out of the room and down to the drawing room. When they’d gone, Nicholas closed the door behind them and opening his medical bag, gathered up the various medicines, including the arsenic he had been prescribing over the past few months, the powders, the linctus and the tablets, and pushed them into his bag. Then he stood and looked down at the remains of Thomas Penvarrow.

‘Revenge, Grandfather,’ he murmured. ‘Revenge is sweet.’