Later in the day, when Nick turned up in the Trevennor stable yard as arranged, there was no sign of Deborah waiting for him dressed in her ill-fitting voluminous black riding clothes. A maid was sent to tell him that the mistress had been taken with one of her sudden headaches and requested his company in the parlour. Nick had taken more care with his appearance for this riding lesson which did not go unnoticed by the maid or her mistress.
‘That will be all, Dorcas,’ Deborah said, employing the softer voice she retained when Nick was about. ‘I will ring if I need anything.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Dorcas replied dully, dipping her knee. She shot Nick a look of sympathy before leaving the room.
Nick was glad he did not receive any strange looks or cutting remarks from the servants here; Mrs Christopher and Wenna Sweet, the cook, had put their heads together and concluded there must be an ulterior motive for the attention he was giving their dreaded mistress. Mrs Christopher had taken him aside soon after the riding lessons had begun and told him that whatever he was doing, the household and the Thomases knew he was trying to look after Mr Trevennor’s interests. It helped with what he had to do, knowing that some of the folk who’d known him all his life had retained their trust in him.
The parlour curtains were almost drawn and Deborah was reclining on a sofa with her feet on a green velvet stool. Her fingers were massaging her furrowed brow. The room, like the whole house since the Kempthornes’ arrival, was gloomy and sinister and filled with the smell of Deborah’s sickly perfume and stale sweat. Nick wanted to throw her outside and let in the two bloodhounds, which she insisted were to be kept outside when Edmund wasn’t there. He wanted to thrust back the curtains and pull open the windows and let the clean fresh air fill the house that by right belonged to Isabel. He resisted the urgent need to take off his necktie and standing close to Deborah he put on a kindly smile.
‘I’m sorry to find you unwell, Miss Kempthorne. May I suggest an infusion of rosemary tea? My mother and Mistress Trevennor swore by it for headaches.’
‘How kind of you to be concerned, Nick,’ Deborah said sweetly, ‘but Charlotte Thomas was here a short time ago and made the same suggestion. She went straight back home and fetched some for me and I’m relieved to say the worst of the headache has lifted and I am beginning to feel quite comfortable.’
‘Good, I’m glad to hear it.’
She had left off her black mourning clothes and was wearing a gown of pink with a muddy-green stripe over a silver-grey petticoat. Her hair was in a freer style than usual. A little rouge and paint on her lips did nothing to enhance her hard features.
‘Did you have a good day at Tehidy, Nick?’
‘Yes, thank you. The horses I’m training are shaping up nicely.’
‘It’s such a beautiful place. Quite sheltered now from the winds and elements with so many trees planted and growing on the north slope above the mansion, which in itself is a magnificent creation. They have the greyhounds there, odd-looking creatures but appealing I think, and those beautiful birds of paradise. There is also a bowling green and lake and the many and varied plants obtained from exotic countries. The excellent gravel walks do not get a lady’s skirts muddy. It is paradise on earth.’
Nick raised his eyebrows at her lyrical description of Tehidy, knowing she had never been invited there and was unlikely to be in the future. He toyed with one of Laurence’s snuffboxes. You know Tehidy well then, Miss Kempthorne?’ he said, baiting her. If he had to make advances to this despicable woman he wasn’t going to be entirely gracious about it. It worked. Deborah looked most annoyed but did her best to hide it.
‘I heard only the other day that the Bassets’ steward was complaining at the amount of poaching perpetrated on the property. Forgive me, Nick,’ she changed tack while struggling to get to a sitting position, ‘would you like to sit down? I can offer you the drink of your choice. My brother has replenished the spirits table.’
‘I wouldn’t say no to a nip of brandy. You stay put, Miss Kempthorne, and please don’t ring for someone. I can help myself.’
With the brandy bowl warming in his hands, he leaned back against Laurence’s writing desk and looked at her from under his long fair lashes.
‘Is Mr Kempthorne about this afternoon?’
‘Did you wish to see him, Nick?’
‘No, I was merely curious,’ he looked right into her eyes, ‘… wondering if we are likely to be disturbed.’
Deborah flushed with pleasure and gave a noisy gulp. ‘We shouldn’t be.’
He walked to one of Laurence’s many open bookshelves and ran a finger slowly along the spines of a row of books. ‘Laurence always allowed me the use of his library. He was the main influence for my learning to read and write. I was wondering if I might borrow a book.’
‘Of course you may, Nick. Take as many as you like.’ Deborah rose awkwardly and tottered across the room and stood close to him. She watched his big rough hand flit from one thick volume of poetry to another. ‘I don’t know why Uncle Laurence didn’t have a proper library made in one of the other rooms.’ She eyed Laurence’s zograscope, which he used to magnify specimens and detailed maps, his harpsichord and collection of flutes and guitars. ‘I’ve always thought there was too much in this room.’
‘He liked all his collections to be in the room he felt most comfortable in,’ Nick stated, over her tilted face.
‘You knew him very well, didn’t you?’
‘From childhood. I admired and respected him very much.’ Nick took down a heavy book entitled Olde Cornish Verse.
‘You are a romantic, Nick?’
He moved closer to her and smiled deeply. ‘I’m told I can be.’
Her eyes were rooted to his. ‘I can believe that.’
‘Oh? Why is that?’ he said in husky whispers, almost in her ear.
Deborah flushed again and lifted her wide shoulders in an embarrassed shrug. ‘Well, I… you…’
It was the perfect moment for Nick to plunge in. He put the book down and moved just a breath away from her. His gaze held her full attention.
‘Please don’t take offence at what I’m about to say, but I’ve grown very fond of you.’
‘Oh, Nick!’ It was beyond Deborah’s wildest hope. She moved a hand hesitantly forward and one of his moved to clasp it firmly.
‘You don’t mind?’ he said softly through the thick air between them.
‘Not one little bit,’ she breathed, giving an unsightly shudder.
‘Can I call you Deborah?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Deborah…’
‘Yes, Nick?’
Nick’s gut twisted but he had to say it. ‘Can I kiss you?’
She said, ‘Yes,’ with a breathy sigh.
He put his other hand on her waist and bent his head forward for the kiss, the only one he had ever given that he was not looking forward to. Deborah allowed him to do all the work and he could not tell if she was unused to kissing or playing coy with him. She kept her eyes closed when he drew his lips away and then moved into his body. Putting her arms tightly about him she rested her face against his chest. He felt like a sacrificial lamb primed for the slaughter, but held her close. Her perfume had a heavy mildewed smell and her form felt heavy and cumbersome. He prayed she did not expect the situation to be taken to its fullest extent.
‘I had no idea you felt the same way about me, Nick,’ she said, in a deliberately sultry voice that grated more on his nerves than Isabel’s first high-pitched squeals had.
He had given Deborah no encouragement during the riding lessons. He hadn’t touched her unless he’d absolutely had to. He thought how readily he had taken Isabel into his arms even when he thought he’d hated her.
‘’Tis unthinkable,’ he forced himself to sound sincere and romantic, ‘me, falling in love with a lady. I never meant this to happen. I never meant to tell you. This morning I had made up my mind to send you a message saying I could no longer teach you to ride. I intended to stay away but couldn’t… I can hardly believe you feel something for me, Deborah.’
‘But this is wonderful,’ she said, looking up at him earnestly, ‘and I have something to admit to you, Nick. I know I should not have been thinking so but I felt attached to you right from the beginning, the day of Uncle Laurence’s funeral. I tried not to fall in love with you. I thought there was no hope, knowing how you like to be a free agent and that I am a few years older than you are.’
‘And it makes no difference that we aren’t of the same class?’
‘Age, class, what do they matter? Love can pass through any barrier.’
‘You’re right about that,’ Nick said, but he wasn’t thinking of Deborah. With bile rising in his throat, he uttered, ‘Nothing matters except that we love each other.’
Deborah smiled and pouted her lips for another kiss. Nick looked into her dark eyes and saw only the spite and deceit that dwelt there. Lower down was her slightly arched predatory nose and finally the cruel lines that plunged downwards from the sides of her thin-lipped mouth. He could not believe that any man could find Deborah Kempthorne desirable. And Kempthorne was not even her name; would she mention that she was married and not available?
He kissed her again and this time she wrapped her arms possessively round his neck and let her passion run away with her. The well-rounded bosom pressed hard against him rose and fell as she panted. Nick wanted to run outside and gulp in lungfuls of fresh air. It was with much relief that the next part of his plan meant breaking away from her and stalking across the room. Deborah was alarmed.
‘Nick, what is it?’
‘It’s no good, Deborah,’ he said dramatically, raking a hand through his hair then banging his fist on the wall. ‘I have no right to do this. What sort of a life can a working-class man with no money or a roof to call his own offer a lady like you? I can’t ask you to give up all this and travel the roads with me as I search for work!’
‘But, Nick,’ she rushed over to him and flung herself against him. ‘It doesn’t matter. I have plenty of money now. We can live here together and you can ride the horses in the stable as owner and not trainer. I beg you, Nick, don’t be too proud to say yes, don’t allow anything to come between us. The people of Gwithian hold you in high esteem, they would like to see you sharing this house, we could be happy here.’
Nick put his hands firmly on her shoulders and made her look at him. ‘Are you sure about this, Deborah? God forbid that I should ruin your life.’
‘It won’t be like that! I want you with all my heart, believe me, Nick.’
And you’ll hang on to anything you want like grim death, Nick thought. What about your brother? He is sure to object.’
‘Never mind Edmund. He can hardly object while allowing his common mistress and child to live in this house. Besides, he will probably be glad that I won’t be taking so much interest in what he does. He’s very dear to me and up until now he is all I’ve had. I practically brought him up and he constantly grumbles that I smother him. I don’t think he will mind too much about us. Oh, please don’t worry, Nick. It will be so wonderful to have the two men I love living under the roof of this grand house with me. What do you say, Nick? Oh, please let it be yes.’
Nick faked elation. ‘I… I can’t believe it! This is too good to be true. Is it all really this easy, Deborah?’
‘Yes, yes, my dearest,’ she said, laughing.
He thought that at this juncture he should pull her close and kiss her passionately and show he desired her body, but he was afraid she would think he meant it and want to go through with it. He brushed back his hair, saying, ‘Phew, I think I need another brandy.’
‘I’ll get it for you, my love,’ Deborah said eagerly.
Nick sat down close to the door and when she handed him the brandy, she sat at his feet and put her head on his knee. She ran her hands over the tops of his legs, making his skin creep as though it was covered with a thousand clammy insects.
Deborah was only dimly aware of running her fingers over Nick. Her mind was on other things. Edmund had been spending nearly all his time with Mary Ellen and Morenwyn and she felt that she was gradually losing him. Since Laurence Trevennor’s funeral, her infatuation with Nick had grown to a painful intensity. She burned to possess him, this man with the restless soul that turned the heads of so many women and furnished them with impossible daydreams. And now she had triumphed over them, the women of the village who hated her and laughed at her, saying no man would look in her direction.
She knew Nick was not in love with her. No man had suddenly thrown himself at her feet before now, and a man like Nick would need some attractive bait before he did so. It must be wealth and position he was after. All those years of friendship with Laurence Trevennor had probably been to nurture the possibility that there would be a reward in it one day, something left him in Laurence’s will. She smiled down at the Turkish carpet she was sitting on, a slow, malicious smile. By means of a generous bribe to the lawyer dealing with her uncle’s estate, Nick Nancarrow would never know he had been willed the eight good stock horses in the stables.
Deborah knew also that Nick could be a hard man. He was not easily led or fooled and it would take a lot of cunning work to hold on to him. It all added to the thrill of capturing him. But she was nervous of him. There was a terrifying maleness about this man. He would not suffer fools, or schemers, gladly. Her hand froze and she pulled it away and sat up straight.
Nick was ready to put the last part of his plan into action. He placed a hand caressingly on Deborah’s stiff hair. Taking courage again, she rested her face back on his knee.
‘I will enjoy living the life of a gentleman, though by no means of course a conventional one. ’Tis a good thing that sharp-faced cousin of yours is dead and not able to share the inheritance.’
‘Isabel? You knew her?’ Deborah raised her head and stared at him suspiciously. If Isabel had not died, would he have tried this ploy on her?
‘Saw her about as a child but only once as a woman. Sharp-faced prig, she was, full of airs and graces. Looked down on me, she did. Thought she was better than everyone else on earth. Not a patch on the woman you are, Deborah, my dear. I made a point of staying away when she paid Laurence a visit.’
‘Did you?’ Deborah purred. ‘She was a bitch! She certainly thought herself superior to Edmund and myself and we were her cousins. Not once in the last ten years did she call on us at St Ives. We were not good enough because we lived a humble life in a small cottage and she flounced about in a grand mansion above the Malpas River at Truro, which I might add we were never invited to. Do you know what she did, Nick? She wormed herself so much into our uncle’s good books and told so many lies about us he believed every word and disinherited us. We only have what we do because she is dead.’
Nick had never struck a woman in his life but he would have enjoyed slapping Deborah Kempthorne for her spitefulness and lies about Isabel. It was bad enough that he had to say awful things about her himself.
The distaste in his expression was no pretence as he said, ‘You mean if she hadn’t fallen over the cliff after the coach accident she would have inherited all this and you and Edmund would have had nothing?’
‘Yes, my dearest, that is exactly what I mean.’
‘That’s terrible. ’Tis a good thing she went over the cliff, it did us all a great favour.’
‘Yes, and to think the villagers felt sorry for her, that pasty-faced shrew. We have been deluged with letters of sympathy from the best families in the county. Some of the things they wrote about her were sickeningly sweet. Mind you, it may give us some useful contacts in the future. Her fiancé, Captain Richard Grenville, won’t be told until he comes home for the wedding, but his two elderly aunts wrote to say they have actually gone into mourning for her. I could laugh when I think of how Edmund and I have inherited her fortune as well as Uncle Laurence’s. We’ll have to travel to Truro one day soon, beloved, and demand to be shown over the mansion.’ Deborah’s face glowed like a beacon. She took one of Nick’s hands and put it next to her hot cheek.
‘Has your cousin’s body been washed up yet?’ Nick leaned closer to study her harsh face for her reaction.
‘No, not yet, but if or when it is I’d like to dance on her grave!’
‘I suppose she really is dead. It would be a damned nuisance if she turned up and demanded the inheritance and her own fortune back.’
‘She must be dead! What other explanation could there be for her disappearance? All the evidence implies that she fell over the cliff.’ Deborah’s face took on an evil tightness, her eyes narrowed and glared.
‘She could have been kidnapped for ransom, I suppose, but,’ Nick ran a finger down Deborah’s cheek and said in a hushed tone, ‘if it was never paid, she’d be as good as dead anyway.’
‘If that bitch was to turn up,’ Deborah snapped, ‘I would take her for a walk and give her a helping hand over the cliff myself!’
‘We could do that together,’ Nick chuckled, as if he was enjoying the thought. ‘I can see we are like-minded, my dear. I admire a woman who will stop at nothing to get her own way.’
Deborah was looking at Nick as if she was weighing something up. ‘You needn’t worry about Isabel Hampton turning up and spoiling things for us, Nick. I know for a fact she’s dead. Her body was seen at the bottom of the cliff before it was washed away. I myself spoke to the man who saw it.’
Nick stopped his body from lurching. That man was Gyver Pengelly. Charlie Chiverton had told him that it was Pengelly who had brought the news of Isabel’s death to Mrs Christopher. Deborah Kempthorne would surely have no cause to talk to Pengelly unless they were in cahoots over the ‘accident’. Pengelly must have lied to be sure of getting his full blood-money. Here was the proof Nick had hoped he would never find.
‘I’ll do anything to get my own way, Nick. I have been treated badly and looked down upon all my life. I’ve known too many times when I have had to go without the things a lady of refinement requires to lead a respectable and comfortable life. I vow that I will never, never go back to that way of life again!’ She shook with venom and Nick had to fight back the revulsion he felt. There was no doubt now that Laurence’s fears had been justified and Isabel’s life would be in deadly danger, if not from Edmund Kempthorne then his vile sister, if it was found out she was alive. He would have to keep a close watch over the Kempthornes, this revolting woman in particular. Unfortunately, now he knew the truth at last he wouldn’t be able just to fade out of her life. She would be too curious, too jealous and too clinging to give him up and that could lead her to Isabel.
He needed an excuse to get out of this terrible choking atmosphere before Deborah expected him to make further advances. Even for Isabel’s sake he could not do it.
‘I suppose we will have to wait at least four months before we make our engagement known,’ Deborah said, returning to a lighter mood. ‘It would be improper and antagonize the locals if we did so with Uncle Laurence but two weeks in the grave, not that I intend to live in this stuffy village for good but I don’t want bad feelings to follow us to Truro.’
Nick hoped his face did not betray his relief. He could easily believe Deborah Kempthorne was immoral enough to suggest he move into Trevennor House with her straight away. At least this way he hoped he could keep his friends in the village.
It was little Morenwyn who saved him further discomfort. A shriek and a lot of thudding noises followed by anguished screams were heard from the hallway. Nick and Deborah stared at each other for a moment then got hurriedly to their feet and rushed from the room to see what the commotion was.
They found Morenwyn lying crumpled and unconscious at the bottom of the stairs and her mother, hands flapping wildly in the air, in hysterics at the top.
‘My baby! My baby!’ Mary Ellen screamed over and over again.
The servants came running and Nick took charge of the situation, ordering Mrs Christopher upstairs to calm Mary Ellen and a young footman to fetch clean linen while he himself swiftly untied Dorcas’ apron and pressed it against a gash bleeding at the back of the child’s head.
‘Here, take over from me,’ he ordered Deborah. ‘She needs a doctor urgently, the nearest is at Hayle. I’ll ride there myself, it’ll be quicker. Don’t move her and cover her with a blanket to keep her warm till we get back.’