Tom Askhew stalked purposefully through his newspaper offices with a vitriolic expression on his face and a sheaf of papers in his hands. His staff fell silent, wondering who was to get the brunt of his wrath this morning. Most of them breathed a sigh of relief as he stopped at Ellis White’s desk, since few of them cared for the fellow. Ellis himself visibly paled as Tom flung down the papers on his desk and leaned on it, palms flattened, and his face puce with barely-contained rage.
‘So, my fine treacherous bastard, ’tis you who’s been filtering in these anonymous letters to my paper, is it?’
‘I don’t know what you mean—’ Ellis blustered, glancing around for support and finding none.
‘Yes, you bloody well do! I’ve suspected for a long time that it had to be an insider. The wording was too slick by half to have come from a peasant, and the pet phrases were becoming just too familiar, my fine laddo. So what d’you mean by it, eh?’
Ellis capitulated at once, as he always did under pressure. ‘I meant no harm, Mr Askhew, sir. It just seemed a good way to get my point across—’
‘To get at my family, you mean!’ Askhew roared.
‘I never did that—’
‘Oh no? Then what’s this?’
Slowly, like a cat playing with a mouse, Askhew drew out a crumpled piece of paper from his trouser pocket, and Ellis’s face blanched even more as he saw it. He felt physically sick. He wished Leonard was here to help him, but Leonard had never really approved of the letter writing, and they were out of sorts with one another lately.
Leonard had tired of the quiet life and was preparing to move to London. He’d said Ellis could come with him, but it had been said so carelessly that Ellis had dithered, and he didn’t even know if the offer was genuine or not. But it was the last thing on his mind as he gaped at the crumpled paper that Tom Askhew was slowly unfolding in front of his eyes.
He wanted to die at that moment. He’d merely been playing with the idea of a taunting letter about how the fortunes of Walter Tremayne had changed. He hadn’t intended publishing it. He’d just set it out for his own amusement, to see how the words looked on paper, and then got rid of it…
‘You should be more careful of the things you throw in your wastepaper basket, you scumbag,’ Askhew raged. ‘This is my daughter’s husband you’re sneering at here, and however little love I’ve got for the Tremaynes and the rest of them, I’ll not have my Cathy upset by your measly-minded slander. So clear your desk and get out.’
‘What?’
‘Are you deaf as well as an imbecile? You’ve got ten minutes to get out of my office before I send for the constables and have you forcibly thrown out.’
‘You can’t do that! You have to give me notice, and there’s wages owing to me—’
‘Don’t push me, White,’ Tom said, his eyes glinting dangerously. ‘Ten minutes, and no more. Collect any money that’s due to you from the wages clerk, and if I get wind of any more letters appearing in any other newspaper, make no mistake about it, I’ll make bloody sure that your private life is made public. Do I make myself clear?’
Ellis’s white face changed instantly. It was scarlet with humiliation now. He’d always been so careful in the office, but from the sniggers from one or two others, it was obvious he hadn’t been careful enough.
‘You can’t do this—’ he spluttered.
‘I’ve already done it. And you can take this with you as well.’
As he flung a battered notebook on the desk, Ellis’s bowels felt dangerously near to opening at that moment. He recognized his own notebook at once. It was the one in which he’d kept a record of all the letters he’d sent to the newspaper, and he’d revelled in recording all his shady doings in a barely disguised code of his own devising. It wouldn’t have been hard for someone of Askhew’s ability to break.
‘You had no business prying in my notebook—’ he began shrilly, and then wilted at Askhew’s look.
‘Don’t come the pious martyr with me, lad. I’ve had my say, and your ten minutes is already down to six.’
He marched away, and Ellis knew there was nothing left for him to do but to go. He hurled his belongings into a box within minutes, and scurried out of the office, head bent. He didn’t even bother to collect his wages. He knew Leonard would take care of him. Right now all he wanted was to go home and be soothed by Leonard, and to start a new life in London with him.
Ironic as it seemed, he could even thank Tom Askhew in a way, for making up his mind for him. Now, he felt a growing excitement inside him, imagining the freedom of the new, Bohemian city life ahead.
Morwen felt far too unsettled to go to the clayworks after her confrontation with old Zillah. She was troubled and upset, and she couldn’t face a clamour of voices, some sympathizing over the death of her father, some more than curious to know how she felt about the new order of things. She couldn’t answer any of their questions today. And if Ran or Walter were there, they’d know at once that something was wrong. They’d see it in her face and hear it in her voice.
She turned her horse away from the moors and the sky-tips and began the descent towards St Austell. She would visit her mother, and try not to feel guilty because it had only just occurred to her that Bess would be glad of her company. Freddie would be leaving for Ireland any day now, and she could hardly expect Matt to dance attendance on her mother. Besides, he’d be preparing for his family’s return from Europe, and then they would all be leaving for America.
Morwen sighed, wishing things didn’t ever have to change. Wishing she could hold everything in a state of perfect serenity, the way a chrysalis remained so still and safe inside its protective covering until it was forced into the real world. And knowing she was being utterly ridiculous to feel that way.
‘You’re a fool, Morwen Wainwright,’ she said aloud, since there was only the breeze and the gorse to hear her. A fool to be so unsettled when she had fulfilled all the dreams a bal maiden could ever hope to attain. She had everything… yet right at that moment she felt as if she had nothing.
She rode past the little house that old Charles Killigrew had insisted that her parents should move into, after her marriage to his son, despite her daddy’s resentment of so-called charity. But when Charles had rightly pointed out that it wasn’t seemly for his daughter-in-law’s parents, and a man of Hal’s new status at that, to continue living in a little clayworker’s cottage on the moors, he had given in.
It was such a nice, cosy sort of house, Morwen thought now, and for all the splendour of New World that Ran had built especially for her, there had always been so much love in the Tremayne family in the meanest of dwellings. She gave a sigh, knowing she was fast descending into melancholy, and it was the last thing her mother would want to see. She had to perk up by the time she reached Killigrew House, for Bess’s sake.
When she arrived, she discovered she wasn’t the only visitor that day. She had been prepared to sit quietly with her mother, knowing she’d be missing Hal keenly now that all the initial fuss and sorrow over his dying were past. But she stopped in amazement outside the drawing room as she heard Bess chuckling in quite an animated way, and she opened the door quickly.
The two women in the room glanced round, both faces flushed with pleasure as they leaned over something lying on the sofa. Something that kicked energetically and gurgled loudly. Walter and Cathy’s baby.
‘Well, this is another surprise,’ Bess said, almost gaily. ‘Come you in, lamb, and see how this little charmer’s growing so fast. I swear his grandaddy Hal wouldn’t even know him now.’
She said it so naturally, so determinedly bringing Hal’s name into the conversation, that Morwen swallowed hard. She nodded to her pretty daughter-in-law, thinking that this visit was exactly what her mother needed. And Cathy had been so thoughtful to have come here with the baby today. She had inherited her mother’s thoughtfulness all right… Morwen bent over baby Theo and clucked at him, tickling him under the chin and seeing a windy grimace that might just pass for a smile.
‘Oh, I’m sure Daddy would know one of his own anywhere,’ she said, just as determined. ‘Look at those blue eyes, Mammie. There’s not been a Tremayne yet who didn’t follow Daddy there.’
‘My father says just the same,’ Cathy put in, and then looked a little awkward. Morwen patted her hand, imagining the sarcastic way Tom Askhew would have put it.
‘After all these years, there’s no need to be embarrassed about the lack of feeling between your family and mine, Cathy,’ she said drily.
‘Not on my mother’s account, though,’ the girl said quickly. ‘My mother admires you so much, and always has done.’
It was the most ludicrous statement Morwen had ever heard, and the thought that Miss ‘Finelady’ Jane had ever admired her sent her own colour rising.
‘You’re surely mistaken, my love, but I thank you for your tact.’
‘But I mean it, truly I do!’
Theo gave an obliging belch at that moment, and the attention of all three women was drawn towards him. The tortuous smiles the baby had been making turned to twists of pain, and the next second he was roaring his head off.
‘He’s got a good pair of lungs on un, I’ll say that,’ Bess remarked, and Cathy picked him up at once and tried winding him.
‘I haven’t mastered the knack of this yet,’ she apologized. ‘He always seems to fight me, and we both end up tearful.’
She looked so hot and bothered at appearing inadequate in front of the older woman that Morwen held out her arms for the baby.
‘It’s no disgrace to admit it, Cathy. We all have to learn how to be mothers, and you’re still new at it. Just try to be as calm as you can when you soothe him, and the feeling will get through to him, won’t it, precious boy?’
Tiny though he was, she could feel the strength in Theo’s stiffened little body as he wrestled with the colic. He looked up at her with a puzzled expression in his eyes, and she felt an extraordinary rush of love for him. Yet it wasn’t just for the baby himself, she thought. It was for all that he represented, for Sam, and Walter, and Hal. It was for the continuity that shone through Theo Tremayne’s blue eyes.
Morwen smoothed the baby’s furrowed forehead as she murmured softly to him, and after a few more rewarding belches, the angry little body relaxed against her, and she smelled the baby sweetness of him as his eyelids drooped.
‘You see?’ she said softly, trying not to let Cathy think she was cleverer than the child’s own mother. ‘It only needs a bit of practice, Cathy, and it helps to think happy thoughts at the same time.’
‘Oh, I think it’s more than that,’ Cathy said, grateful that this tranquil afternoon for Walter’s grandmother hadn’t been spoiled. ‘My mother used to tell me how you had the gift of healing hands, Mrs Wainwright, and from the nights I’ve sat up with Theo while he battled with the colic, I only wish I had them too. I’m sure that nobody but you could have calmed him so quickly.’
‘And I’m sure it’s due more to experience than any old gift,’ Morwen said lightly, wondering just why she seemed to be hearing so many indirect compliments from Jane Askhew today. She didn’t want them now, any more than she ever had, but nor could she deny the connection between them. Of all the girls in the world that Walter could have chosen to love, it had to be the daughter of her old rival.
She dismissed such thoughts quickly, knowing that she wouldn’t begrudge Walter one moment of the happiness he had found with this lovely young girl. Cathy was a joy, and their happiness was complete with their first-born. As she handed Theo over to her eager arms, Morwen felt a real pang for days like these that were gone. Days when her own first-born baby had looked up at her with that same far-seeing blue gaze, and she’d laughed into Ben Killigrew’s eyes and declared Justin to be the most beautiful baby on earth.
Her heart jolted. Justin. Not Walter. Despite her love for him, and the way her brother Sam’s children had been so lovingly assimilated into her family, Walter was not her flesh and blood, and she shouldn’t forget how Justin must be feeling now. They hadn’t spoken since the day of the will reading, and she hated to think he might still be smarting at what he considered an injustice. She had to see him.
‘I just wanted to see how you are, before I go and call on Justin, Mammie,’ she said now. ‘But I’m glad to see you smiling, and you already have the best tonic to raise your spirits.’
‘How is Justin?’ Bess said at once.
‘I’m sure he’s well,’ she said cautiously, knowing it wasn’t what Bess meant at all, but not wanting to be drawn into any awkward discussion. But she should have known her mother wouldn’t leave things there. She had always been direct in her manner, and had no patience with shilly-shallying. If something needed to be aired, then out in the open was the place to air it.
‘I hope he ain’t still feeling put out then, and if he is, you tell un to come and see me. The last thing your daddy would want is for his boys to be squabbling over his wishes.’
‘I’m sure they won’t, Mammie,’ Morwen said swiftly, seeing how Cathy’s head was bent over the baby now, and that her cheeks were flushed. She shot a warning glance at her mother, for Cathy would be sure to pass on all this conversation to Walter, and Bess could be as sharp as a butcher’s blade when she chose.
She moved across the room and took her mother’s cold hands in her own. They were always cold now, and she wondered if they had ever been warmed since the day Hal died.
‘Let them sort out their own troubles, Mammie,’ she whispered in her ear as she bent to kiss her. ‘’Tis not for us to be concerned about.’
But she avoided Bess’s candid blue eyes as she spoke, knowing it was exactly what she herself intended doing.
She turned to kiss Cathy and the baby, promising to come and see them in their own little house very soon. And mentally crossing her fingers, that Jane Askhew wouldn’t be there at the same time.
She banished the thought from her mind as best she could, willing the sudden rapid beat of her heart to slow down. She then thought of her new rival, Harriet Pendragon, for the clayworks, maybe, but never for Ran… but she remembered that avaricious look in the woman’s eyes, and knew that any woman who ever had to fight for her man would have a formidable adversary in Harriet Pendragon.
Morwen shivered, even though the day was very hot. The sun had climbed high in the sky by now and the summer was as beautiful as only a Cornish summer could be. The scent of blossom was carried on the breeze between St Austell and Truro, even among the houses and business properties of the towns. It was a day to make the heart sing, and to ease all troubles away.
Which was a fair contradiction of the way Morwen Wainwright was feeling as she reached Truro. She had left her own horse at her Mammie’s house and borrowed the little trap, feeling it was a more dignified way to be visiting her lawyer son, and once at the Chambers, she handed over the reins of the horse to a groom to be stabled and watered. She climbed the stairs to the offices of the late Daniel Gorran, and saw the surprise in the clerk’s eyes as she asked if it was convenient for her to see Mr Justin Tremayne.
She shouldn’t have come unannounced. She knew it at once. The clerk was a pompous little man, fastidious in his work, and clearly seeing this visit as an intrusion in the day’s business. He knew her identity, of course, but that didn’t make his guardianship of his master any the less keen.
‘If it’s convenient,’ she said pointedly again, when the man Briggs didn’t seem at all eager to move towards Justin’s inner sanctum. He went a slightly darker red than his normally florid colour.
‘Of course, Mrs Wainwright,’ he blustered. ‘If you would please take a seat, I’ll just enquire if Mr Justin can see you. He had a client earlier, but I believe we have the rest of the afternoon free.’
Morwen wondered fleetingly what had happened to the morning. She had missed a meal, and hadn’t noticed it. The meeting with Zillah had unsettled her far more than she should have allowed it to, and she had lingered at Killigrew House to play with the baby. It was mid-afternoon already, and the pangs of hunger were beginning to gnaw at her stomach. Or perhaps it was simply her disturbed state of mind that was doing that.
The door opened and Justin appeared, a cautious smile on his face as he welcomed her into his splendid office. He was so grand now, she thought, so much the man in charge, and deservedly so. He had the brains, and knew how to use them.
‘Is anything wrong, Mother? It’s not Grandma Bess, is it?’ he said at once, motioning her to a chair.
‘Nothing’s wrong with Grandma Bess,’ she reassured him, ‘though it’s strange that you should mention her, since I’ve just come from Killigrew House.’
‘Why should it be strange for a daughter to visit her recently-widowed mother?’ Justin said, always so correct in his pronouncement of relationships.
‘Cathy and the baby were there,’ Morwen said.
‘Oh? And am I supposed to find something significant in that statement?’
If she had been looking for some underlying bitterness in Justin’s manner, she didn’t need to look any further. His eyes flashed with sudden vigour. ‘Or was my brother’s wife there to assess the situation in case Grandma Bess followed her husband to the grave? Calculating the worth of the Killigrew silver, perhaps?’
Morwen’s mouth dropped open with shock as he went to a cabinet and poured two small glasses of port and handed one to her. She took a large swallow without thinking, and the red liquid trickled down her throat, making her cough.
‘I think that was totally uncalled-for, Justin,’ she said, when she had breath enough to speak.
‘Do you?’ he said, quite unrepentant. ‘Well, I don’t. All these years I’ve had to suffer the knowledge that you loved Walter better than me – oh, please don’t bother to deny it,’ he said, as she gasped in protest, ‘but I didn’t think Grandad Hal could have been so damned thoughtless as to make his own preference obvious for all the world to see.’
‘I won’t sit here and hear you criticizing your grandfather,’ Morwen said angrily. ‘What he did, he did for the good of Killigrew Clay, and I don’t need to tell you how he gave his heart and soul to it. You never wanted it, Justin, so don’t pretend that you did. It was always Walter who was desperate to work with the clay, from the time he was a small boy. He was like my daddy’s shadow in that respect.’
‘Really? I always thought I was the one to walk in the shadows, as far as this family is concerned.’
Morwen became exasperated. ‘You’re talking like a child, Justin. Just listen to yourself! You have everything you ever wanted, so why should you begrudge Walter the same?’
‘Because he’s not a Killigrew, and I am,’ Justin said deliberately.
She spoke slowly into the small silence between them. ‘And you’re never going to forgive him for that, are you?’
‘I can’t. You can’t change facts, Mother.’
Morwen stood up. ‘I obviously made a mistake in coming here today. I hoped to see some generosity of spirit in you, Justin, but there is none. I’m sure your attitude is hurting Walter, and that he’d give the world to have you shake his hand and wish him well.’
As her son gave an angry snort of derision, she felt her heart sink. The hurt in Justin’s mind was far more acute than she had believed, and his final taunt cut her deeply.
‘I’ll see the moon turn blue before that happens!’
‘Then you’re no son of mine,’ Morwen said, and turned and walked out of the office on shaking legs.
She simply couldn’t go home yet. She was so out of sorts, she hardly knew what to do with herself. She couldn’t call on Jack and Annie, because they were off to London again with their girls, and even if they’d been at home, she couldn’t have borne listening to Annie’s barbed tongue today. She could talk to Matt… she’d always been able to talk to Matt… but she was nowhere near Hocking Hall. She was in Truro now, and there was someone else here who would always be glad to see her and to welcome her with open arms. Albert.
She climbed into the little trap, and egged the horse onwards, wondering how such a lovely day could turn so sour. But all of it was forgotten as she arrived at the artist’s studio and pushed open the door. A set of Bohemian door chimes heralded her presence in the outer area, and the next minute Albert came hurrying through from the back room, wiping his hands on a piece of rag, and exuding a strong smell of oils and turpentine. His delight at seeing her was clear.
‘Mother! By all that’s wonderful. I was just thinking about you!’
She couldn’t speak for a moment. Such a warm and spontaneous welcome after the horrendous day she had just spent was almost too sweet to bear.
‘Oh, Albie! Albie!’
She felt the weak tears running down her cheeks, and couldn’t stop them. It was so feeble of her to cry, but as she held out her arms to him, he came towards her at once, with never an ounce of inhibition at being hugged and kissed, nor even any concern about marking her travelling dress. Not that she cared a hoot about that! It was just so good to be held in a pair of uncomplicated arms, and welcomed so readily.
‘Now then, come through to the back and take some tea, and then we’ll talk. But tell me one thing first. You don’t bring bad news, do you?’
‘No,’ Morwen said, shaking her head. ‘I just wanted to see you, Albie.’
‘That’s all right then, because there’s somebody here I want you to meet.’
She drew back at once. ‘Oh, but this isn’t a good time for meeting people. I’m so out of sorts, and if you’ve an important client—’
Albert laughed. ‘She’s not a client, though she’s a very important lady to me, Mother, and it’s time you met.’
Morwen looked at him in astonishment. He sounded so full of assurance, not wallowing in unhappiness now that Primmy had gone off with Cresswell and Louisa, when Morwen really thought it should be Albert who had the chance to see the great art galleries and museums of Europe. But obviously there was something more important keeping him here.
He took her hand and led her through to the cosy back room where he and Primmy used to entertain their odd friends. And as she appeared, a young lady rose to her feet and smiled shyly at the newcomer.
‘Mother, this is Miss Rose Slater.’ He spoke the name as lovingly as if he caressed it, and Morwen recognized all the signs, from the girl’s soft blush that matched her name, to the adoring way she looked at Albert.
‘How do you do, Miss Slater?’ Morwen said gravely, at which Albie burst out laughing, and said for goodness’ sake why didn’t she call her Rose, since he hoped she was going to become one of the family one of these fine days!
‘Don’t go rushing in so, Albie,’ Rose said, her awkwardness diverted for the moment. ‘I haven’t said yes yet!’
‘But you will,’ Albert grinned, and from her answering laugh, Morwen knew that she would.
‘So how did you two meet?’ she said a while later, when they were all replete from jam scones and afternoon tea, and her stomach felt more settled.
‘Rose’s father owns an artists’ supply store in town, and Rose helps out in the shop sometimes.’
‘I see. It must have been fate then, you being an artist and all.’
Albie laughed out loud. ‘And now you’re wondering how I come to be entertaining a young lady without a chaperone, aren’t you, Mother?’
‘It did occur to me,’ she said mildly, wondering if she was just being an old fuddy-duddy in thinking it.
Albert picked up his lady-love’s hand and pressed it to his lips. It was such an innocent, artless movement that Morwen felt moved by the gesture.
‘Her father trusts me, and Rose trusts me, and I know that you trust me too, Mother,’ he said simply. ‘So what does the rest of the world matter?’