At her front door, Jenna dismissed Luke for the day, prepared to close up shop. The boy trotted away like a colt over the cobbles, his long limbs swinging.
The air smelled damp; the setting sun’s rays outlined the city in an orange glow, but dark clouds were moving in. A cold wind tugged at her cap.
A man approached, his face coming to light under the pilchard oil lamp beside her door. Will Fenton raised his hand. “Mrs. Rosedew, uh, Jenna, may I come in for a moment?” He smiled and tipped his tricorn hat to her. “I need to purchase some Dover’s Powder.”
“Of course, come in, Will.” She stood aside to allow his entrance. “Who has a fever or needs a good sweating?”
“My oldest boy has a cold and the start of a fever.” He replaced his hat and rubbed his hands together. “A blustery evening it is.”
“I hope a flaw isn’t on the way.” Jenna retrieved a bottle of the medicine made of powdered opium and ipecacuanha. “This should help your son. How is your wife, an’ other mites?”
“Annie is well, and busy with the children. The others are fine so far. How do you fare?” The question seemed pointed, as if he knew something. But of course, he was probably aware of her relationship with his master, as close as their friendship was.
“I’ve never been better.” She meant it, especially after her night with Branek. How sweet it was to wake up cuddled warmly against one another. He’d left early that morning to go to St. Michael’s Mount. A worry she hated to dwell on.
“You do seem in high spirits.” Will accepted the bottle and gave her the coins in payment, his gaze inquisitive. “Your face shines like a young girl’s.”
“Enough of that. You’re embarrassing me.” She turned away with a laugh. “Mr. Pentreath told me he won’t raise my rent, or sell, so that’s what pleases me.”
“I’m glad for you. I know he…but that is estate business.” He scrutinized her again. “You do understand, with the social differences, that nothing will last between you. Mr. Pentreath surely intends to remarry.”
The doubts she’d buried deep inside jabbed her once more. His comment seemed unkind, yet he spoke the painful truth. She raised her chin. “I’ll manage. I’m not an ignorant, green maid, an’ know what’s in store.”
“Just so you are aware.” Despite the insensitivity of his words, Will smiled thoughtfully. “A proper marriage and children will keep the estate intact.”
“You watch out for him well, don’t you? ’Tis good he has such a dear friend nearby.” She felt he lingered to know more about her and his employer. But she refused to feed the rumors, especially after his remark. She was going to offer Will some strengthening medicine since he still looked haggard, but now refrained. She plucked up a rag and wiped down her counter.
“Mr. Pentreath’s welfare is always my concern, along with the running of the estate. I’ve been invaluable at both for many years.” He nodded as if congratulating himself. “It will be nice for everything to settle down finally.”
“I’m certain you have done a good job.” She grew uneasy with him, but was unsure why. “Yet nothing will resolve until whoever murdered his lady wife is found.”
The wind rattled against her bow window.
“Perhaps.” He flicked his gaze about the room. “Or we may never find who killed the mistress. Murders often go unsolved.” He shrugged. His cool voice held little reverence for the victim.
Jenna remembered what Sally had told her. “I heard that Mrs. Pentreath threatened to discharge you. That must have been a shock.”
Will’s gaze slanted, his skin coloring. His drawn face sharpened even more. “Where did you hear that?”
“Forgive me for offending you.” The swift anger in his gaze disturbed her. But why shouldn’t he feel angry at such an insult from his employer’s wife. “It must have been quite the affront, after your long service.”
“It would be, for anyone. A vicious threat.” His brows drew together, his mouth thinning. “Nevertheless, I really would like to know who told you that.”
“I don’t remember, but it’s not important.” She rushed out the words, her heart skipping in disquiet. She backed behind her counter, anxious to change the subject. “Are you all right? You still look a mite ill yourself.”
“I’m fine. However….” He closed his eyes for an instant. “Now you must forgive me.” He wheezed in a slow breath, as if to force himself to calm down, yet his hands clasped and unclasped the bottle. “I’m only surprised someone would spread such a malicious tale.”
“It hardly matters now.” Jenna wanted him to leave, her skin dimpling. She’d never felt this way around Will before, and it threw her off balance. She edged toward her door. “I must close up for the night, if you’ll excuse me.”
“Of course.” He didn’t move. “Please—don’t mention such gossip again to anyone. It won’t serve any purpose.” A flash of warning passed over his gaze, then vanished. “Thank you for the powder. I give you good night.” He walked out the door, the bottle neck gripped in a strangle-hold.
Jenna bolted the door and stepped away. “It hardly matters now,” she whispered. She rubbed her cheeks, her thoughts dipping to dangerous places. She needed to inform Branek about his wife’s threat toward Will. Surely that wouldn’t have sent a good man over the edge.
Branek sat at the small kitchen table in the wing-backed chair where he’d once spent a turbulent night. He relaxed, surround by the homey smells of Jenna’s kitchen. “St. Aubyn promised to dismiss Chenery immediately and appoint a better man. He had no idea that his solicitor was promoting a less than stellar constable.”
Jenna placed two glasses of the brandy he’d brought before them and sat. “Thanks be to God. To get that prickly burr of a man out of my hair will be a blessing.”
Branek smiled and clasped her hand. “I hope I intimidated Quintrell enough for him to relinquish his scheme to condemn me. He might fear for his own position.” He sipped the smooth brandy, but her loving gaze was far more comforting. How had he survived so long without affection? He raised her hand and kissed it; her skin tasted like herbs.
“I have something to tell you as well. But I hope it’s of no import.” She squeezed his fingers. “First, Sally your cook told me your butler overheard Mrs. Pentreath threaten to discharge Will. It happened not long before her illness. Night before last, Will was here an’ I mentioned that. He became…I don’t know, rather agitated an’ wanted to know who told me such a tale. It bothered me, his anger.”
Branek fidgeted in the chair, his own concerns over Will resurfacing; but he had to be mistaken. Of all his staff, Will would be the last person he’d suspect of foul play. Yet there had been much discontent between his estate manager and Sophie in those days before she fell ill. Years before that, if he was honest with himself. “I will speak to Will. I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding.”
“I hope that it is.” She caressed his arm and sipped from her glass. “I’m sorry your wife’s cousin saw fit to put the constable on your trail, wasting time that could’ve been spent on finding the true kill—guilty person.”
“Indeed. Let us leave that for now.” He absorbed her empathy, her touch, like a warm balm on his flesh. “We need to have normal conversations. Tell me about your son, how you met your husband. Your hopes as a girl. I want to know everything about you.” His barbed existence softened and faded as pleasure closed around him. He gazed into her face. Love was a powerful force he had little experience with, but knew he needed it to survive, to flourish—and with this woman.
She talked of her contented times growing up with her parents, her meeting Lemuel at only sixteen, in this very shop, and raising their son, Robby, who now ran his own apothecary shop in Bodmin.
“Tell me about yourself, too,” she said, her hand cupped under her chin. She trailed her other hand over his sleeve. “About your youth at Polefant Place, your sisters an’ parents. Your plans for the estate.” Her smile invited him to expand.
They conversed softly, finishing their drinks as the candles guttered low. The brandy heated him and eased away the tension of the last few days.
“I invested in tobacco shipping, a good trade at the time, to keep the money coming in. And we had the tin mines. But I wanted my estate to be the finest producer of wool. With the additional sheep I purchased, it may still happen. And I’d have many children to enjoy the land as well as I have.” He noticed her gaze change when he mentioned children.
“You deserved that.” She gave him a sad smile.
He clasped her wrist. “Have I upset you?”
“I’m all right. We must talk of the bad as well as the good.” She patted his hand. “My husband was a demanding man, an’ I thought it was love in the early years, his control over me. But I were so young, an’ became used to it. Not that I didn’t fight back. I did, many times.” She sighed. “Robby left Truro for Bodmin as soon as he could to get out from under Lem’s heavy hand.
“I loved learning about the apothecary’s trade; that kept me happy. Then, as I told you, Lem became even more irascible. That’s when he took up with a doxy. He had no reason to, so I’ll never understand it. But I don’t care anymore.” She half-laughed, with a slight shrug. “They deserved each other.”
“I’m sorry that you suffered.” He held her hand close. His regrets about himself pressed down on him. “I don’t think my wife and I were ever content together. She was stiff and pious, always trying to reform me, and I, well, I used to have a sense of humor. Our marriage was arranged, as so many are. And many fail, but with the strict laws and expense of divorce, couples are forced to stay together. We never found common ground to bring happiness.” And they’d had no children to bind them.
“I held in my wants, my needs—at least when I could—and now wonder at my full capacity for the gentler aspects of life.” He would never admit that to anyone else, but he could tell her anything.
“No, don’t wonder about it. I can see it in your eyes. Your intimate time with me.” She reached out and traced her finger along his jaw. “You have much capacity, if only it needs more coaxing. An’ just so you know, my love for you is far more than it was for my husband.”
He stood and pulled her to her feet, his arms closing around her. She melted against him and he kissed her lips that tasted of the smokiness of brandy. He squeezed her tightly, his heart burring.
He wanted to offer her so much, but what would he give up? He’d have little trouble turning his back on society and the strict code of conduct he’d been raised to emulate. His respect for his own class had clouded in these last years. Their superficial, stilted ideas of behavior held no interest for him. He had a solution formulating. Yet, with his gloomy past, he hesitated at slipping too quickly off the edge of their passion.
Two evenings later, a light rain started to fall as Jenna and Branek left Mrs. Vigus’s tavern. They’d shared a meal there under the widow’s knowing gaze and nods. The cold drizzle chilled Jenna’s cheeks as they walked down the path. Their lantern sent circles of light into the darkening landscape. The frosty mists of mid-November skirled along the ground.
“I haven’t yet spoken to Will. He’s been over at Camborne with his family. His mother-in-law is very ill. He should be back by tomorrow.” Branek slowed his step. “But I really can’t believe he’d do such a thing.”
“The new investigation must sort it out. I wish someone would. What has happened with Grace?” Jenna was loathe to absolve the maid since she’d recently learned the chit had thrown herself at Branek. “Could Will an’ she have worked together?”
“I doubt that. Grace still insists on her innocence concerning Sophie.” He sighed. “She’s secure in gaol, but I don’t wish to see her hang if all she’s guilty of is stealing a candlestick.”
They crossed the West Bridge. The River Kenwyn gurgled below. A night bird called out.
Jenna hugged his arm to her side. “The deacon is in gaol too, for his embezzling. I s’pose he’s no longer under suspicion for your wife?”
“I’m tempted to rule him out. The new man, a Constable Sholl, will have to question him further.” Branek slowed his pace again. “I’m beginning to think we need Torquemada.”
“Who would that be?”
“A torturer during the Spanish Inquisition.” Branek chuckled dryly, his voice easier, and she wished all would reconcile so they could enjoy their time together.
He’d insisted on escorting her out this evening, but she suggested the quieter, less frequented place of The Swan on Kenwyn. She didn’t want to listen to what the gossips would say. Even if their relationship had been innocent, people would whisper. Absorbing the warmth of his arm, she doubted she could hide her feelings for him out among others. She was only surprised that he was so open to the scandal.
On her part, any infamy might deter her customers again, the ones to whom reputation mattered. She’d regret that and would have to devise a way to survive.
“We’ve been so busy at the estate since my sister sent me the loan, and it was more than I asked for.” His tone grew serious again. “I’ve also hired more men to re-dig the shaft at Wheal Marya, to see if there is a new vein of tin. The mine is being shored up for better safety.”
“I pray that you find the tin. Your sister is a generous woman I quite like.”
A gust of wind sprinkled their faces with raindrops.
“She likes you as well.” He squeezed her hand. “She encourages our relationship.”
As his mistress! “She doesn’t feel shamed that her brother is cavorting with a common woman?” she said with a humorous air, though her sadness lurked beneath the surface.
She glanced away from him and stared at the lights of Truro that twinkled like stars up ahead.
“You’ll find Lucinda is a selfless person when it comes to me. She only wants my happiness.” He leaned into her and kissed her cheek. “And there is nothing common about you, my dear. You’ve given me a most special kind of love.”
Footsteps sounded, and a figure lurched into their path. “Got what you wanted, didn’t you, sir?” Chenery’s voice grumbled from the shadows.
Jenna stifled a gasp, more of exasperation than fright.
“I did what needed to be done.” Branek raised the lantern to glow on the man’s face. “And if you had any conscience, you’d understand that.”
Chenery squinted. “Well, like you, sir, a man has to get by.” He backed a step out of the light. “But I see I were right about you an’ her. The two of you wanted Mrs. Pentreath dead so you could carry on.” His words slurred; he sounded drunk.
“I hardly knew Mr. Pentreath when his wife died.” Jenna made a futile attempt to defend herself. The little weasel wouldn’t care about the truth.
“Go home, Chenery. A more trustworthy constable is looking into things now. Don’t try to create more mischief. You’ll rue it.” Branek waved the lantern to the side to indicate the man should leave. The light caught on the sparkles of drizzle.
Jenna pulled her cloak hood up and closer around her in the frigid air. The wind swept around her face, the sprinkle dampening her cheeks as her hat rustled.
“I don’t take orders from you.” Chenery staggered back into the lantern light. “I’ll go where I please, won’t I?”
“Have a care, you rascal. Move aside so we may pass.” Branek started forward, his face stern, his arm slipping around her. “Good night, and mind your conduct.”
Chenery snorted. “You off in a hurry to bed your whore?”
Branek handed her the lantern in a quick jerk. He grabbed the little man by his coat collar and punched him in the face.
Chenery sprawled in the dirt with a yelp. He touched his mouth where blood seeped out, and rubbed his long nose. His wig had plopped beside him, along with his fantail hat. His wispy hair stood on end.
“You will never insult Mrs. Rosedew in any manner again. I’ve pressed charges against you for taking bribes, and I’ve written a detailed complaint to the sheriff, with a copy to the magistrate.” Branek loomed over the prone man, who stayed where he was, head down.
“I always thought this wig needed a good scrub.” Jenna snatched the item up, ran back a few steps and threw the cheap horsehair into the river where it splashed. It was a childish act, but she couldn’t help herself after enduring Chenery’s harassment.
She swelled with pride that Branek had defended her, and had given the ex-constable his comeuppance. Then her shoulders drooped over how many other abusers he might have to fight to defend the honor she no longer possessed.
“If you don’t want to end up alongside your wig, I suggest you leave my sight immediately,” Branek warned, arm raised.
Chenery crawled to his feet, turned and shuffled into the darkness.
“I hope that’s good riddance.” Branek shook his hand, then inspected his fingers. “I think I slashed my knuckle on his jagged teeth.”
Jenna examined his knuckle where a spot of blood formed. “We’ll hurry to my shop where I will take perfect care of you.” She kissed his finger as heavier raindrops fell on her hat and shoulders. “An’ more than that if you’re good.”
Branek swiped dust from his breeches as he entered his house the following day, through the kitchen and into the corridor. Mrs. Sandrey drifted forward and took his coat. “At the mine again, sir? I trust it all goes well.”
“Quite well, so far. The old parts of the mine are dug out and reinforced and they’re digging the new shaft. Is Will about?” he asked casually, though he’d stewed over this during most of the ride from Poldice Valley. Will had returned late last night and Branek needed to confront his estate manager. Hopefully it would come to naught. Constable Sholl was poking around and Branek endured the continued rehash of his wife’s painful death. He’d spoken to the man at Odgers’ residence. The investigator would be here tomorrow to question the servants.
“He’s in the office, sir. Would you like me to bring you some mulled ale?”
“Yes, bring some for both of us, thank you.” Branek hurried upstairs and washed his hands and face at his ewer. He changed into fresh clothes and returned downstairs.
When Branek entered the office, Will sat in the corner, bent over his desk. A friend who had been steady in his life for as long as he could remember.
“Welcome back. How is your mother-in-law?” Branek asked as he approached. His mouth felt dry as cotton.
“She’s improving. Anne and the children are staying with her a little longer.” Will turned and leaned back in the chair. His easy smile lit up his now thinner face; his blond bushy hair, as usual, tried to break free of its queue.
“I’m glad to hear it.” Branek stepped closer, hands gripped behind his back. “I hope your son is recovering from his fever as well.”
“He has, and is already running about as if nothing had happened.”
“Good, very good.” Branek rubbed the side of his neck. “How are the accounts this month?”
“I have fortunate news. Mr. Windle brought over his first payment for the land purchase.” Will stood and scratched at his hair. “He said his wife insisted that he no longer honor your agreement, but Windle was adamant to go through with it.”
“And why did Mrs. Windle want him to withdraw from the agreement?” Branek suspected the answer.
Will half-shrugged, his gaze growing reticent. “He said his wife is upset by the rumors of your—connection with Mrs. Rosedew.”
“Ah, now I see. His wife’s disapproval has spurred him into action.” Branek massaged a tense muscle in his shoulder. This unexpected subject distracted him from his true purpose.
“He does not fault you. He even winked to me about it, if you pardon my boldness.”
“I’m certain there are many winks as well as disapprovals in the community.” Branek experienced a stab of guilt over lowering Jenna to such ridicule. She didn’t deserve it. He must rectify that, though he couldn’t promise her anything while the ghost of Sophie’s murder still lingered in this house.
“Not from me. I mean, I don’t disapprove. She’s a good woman. I’m certain you’ll make a suitable marriage later.” Will turned to the account books. “With Lady Nancarrow’s loan and this payment, the guarantee of increased wool production, matters are looking better, but we must still watch our spending.”
How possessive that sounded. Will had quite the stake in this estate.
“I’ve always been a frugal man. However, I plan to send money to Lew Polwin’s wife.” Branek leaned back on the edge of his desk, contemplating his next words. His stomach tightened.
Mrs. Sandrey hurried in with two pewter tankards. The spiced smell filled the room. “Here you are, sir. Mulled ale to warm you up.” Her colorless lips smiled under her snub nose.
“Thank you. That will be all, Mrs. Sandrey.” Branek took both tankards. He handed one to Will. The housekeeper bobbed her head and left.
Branek drank, savoring the taste of cloves, ginger and apples mixed with the heated ale. The liquid failed to unknot his gut. He needed to just get this over with. “Will, did my wife threaten to discharge you?”
Will started and blinked, then fingered his tankard. “Where did you hear that?” He stared into the ale. “She did, once. I didn’t take it seriously, sir.”
Branek might have left it at that—how he longed to vindicate his friend—except for the slight tremor in his estate manager’s hand.
“Didn’t you?” He half finished his drink and set the tankard on his desk. The contents churned inside him. “You weren’t angry over it? You never came to tell me.”
“I didn’t wish to trouble you. You dealt with enough from….” He glanced up. “I won’t be insulting and say anymore.”
“About what? What more is there to say about my wife and our ill-fated relationship?” Branek gripped his desk edge. “You must have kept much from me in your dealings with her.”
“I wanted to protect your peace of mind.” Will swirled the liquid in his tankard.
“You’ve always had my best interests at heart, haven’t you?” Branek stretched his rigid shoulders, but the tension remained. He had recalled an incident from his childhood after his run-in with Chenery. It had niggled at him all night. “Remember when we were boys and we had visitors, friends of my parents, with their nasty son Phillip?”
Will seemed to force a smile on his face; a visage that appeared wan with strain. “Yes. He was a horrid blob of bother.”
“He was two years older than me, and much heavier. He taunted me until I challenged him to a fist fight in the stable yard.” Branek struggled to keep his voice thoughtful. “I think I was twelve.”
“True, and I ten. The varmint had rocks in his fists.” Will shook his head in dismay. “Not at all a fair fight.”
Branek rubbed along his cheeks as if he felt the pain again. “He quite clobbered me. Until you pulled him off. Do you remember what happened next?”
Will glanced away. “I thrashed him. He deserved it.”
“You beat him with a rake.” Branek scrutinized the other man, his heartbeat picking up. “I had to stop you from practically killing him.”
“We were children. Matters got out of hand.” Will’s voice rose in pitch. He drank slowly from his mulled ale. “I was furious that he’d hurt you.”
“Did you ever feel that way about Sophie?” The softly spoken words hung in the air like a bad smell.
Will stared off for a moment then set down his tankard. More silence lingered. “Not at first. I always hoped you’d get your heir and she would turn sweeter with motherhood.”
Branek shifted against the desk. “But that never happened.”
Will traced his finger under his chin. “No, regrettably, it didn’t.”
Branek found it significant that Will didn’t seem suspicious of this questioning. A chill rippled through him. He had to know, but loathed to condemn his comrade. “You did take her threat to discharge you seriously, didn’t you?”
“I knew you wouldn’t have allowed such a thing. I told her that.” Will hunched his shoulders as if he grew smaller, folding into himself. “I asked her to be kinder toward you, more than once. She resented my interference. She said—she insisted she’d tell you that I’d stolen money from your accounts.”
“I would never have believed her.” Branek’s throat constricted at the outcome he dreaded. How could this have happened right under his nose? “You should have discussed these issues with me!”
“Everyone, especially you, had suffered so much. It shouldn’t have been that way.” Will’s eyes clouded with torment. “But there was more.” He groaned. “After I insisted, one last time, that compassion toward you would make her happier, she said she’d never find happiness because you refused to follow the strict teachings of the Bible. She felt your soul was in peril. She planned to admonish you before the congregation, to damage your reputation, if you didn’t repent.”
Branek raked his fingers through his hair. “I might have stopped her from such actions.” Such vindictiveness from his wife stunned him. He didn’t know if he could have stopped her. He straightened, his pulse a hammer inside his chest. “So did you decide to take care of the situation?” He said it so gently, he wasn’t certain if Will had heard him.
“Damme, I couldn’t take any chances she’d carry out either of her threats, it would ruin us both. She always destroyed everything around here. She never cared about anyone’s opinion or welfare, unless it came to the church.” Will stared at him, his eyes wide with misery, his hands fisted. “You know that was true.”
Branek breathed slowly. His brain clogged with fear, remorse. “Did you poison her with the arsenic brought here for the rats?”
Will slumped, shaking his head again; several bushy curls sprang loose from his queue. “I’ve barely eaten or slept since it happened,” his reply rasped out.
“Then redeem yourself and tell me the truth, Will,” Branek whispered, a sour taste in his mouth, his jaw so tight he thought his teeth might crack.
“I was furious and gave her a…a large dose in her tea, to silence her sharp tongue.” He gasped for air, his eyes pouched. “But she hung on in sickness. I had to give her another dose, in her medicine—then another. I wanted it to end!” Will’s shoulders trembled, his voice a pathetic whine. “Does it matter now? She was so anxious to reach Heaven, wasn’t she?”
Branek cursed silently then stared out the high windows, his heart a lump quaking in his chest. Should it matter? Could he let it go? But then he and Jenna, and Grace, would continue to live under suspicion. Sophie’s ghost had to be eradicated. “I’m afraid it does matter, my friend.” He felt sick to his stomach, his voice cracking. “You had no right to take an innocent life.”
Will sank into the chair and covered his face with his hands.
Branek pressed his friend’s shoulder as tears blurred his own eyes. “I’m devastated you thought you had to resort to murder.”
Will’s weeping echoed through the chamber.