The captains daughter, p.12
The Captain's Daughter, page 12
‘I wasn’t aware a compliment from me was so important to you,’ replied his father as he picked up his spectacles.
James examined his drink. ‘Nor I, Father. Nor I.’
James’s continual advances made Janey feel as if her world was spinning out of control. In the beginning it was the difference in their stations that shone a light on the madness of any relationship between them. Over time, his persistence and manipulation of her slowly poisoned any feelings she thought she held for him. However, it was Daniel’s kiss and his gentle touch, by the river in the valley, which turned her romantic thoughts of James to the ashes they were now. James was leaving at the end of the week and the day could not arrive quickly enough for her. All Janey had to do was avoid him and soon he would be gone.
So when Janey saw James riding over the hill towards her, during her afternoon walk, she had no hesitation in darting into a disused building to hide. She stood quietly, with Charlie at her heels, listening for the beat of his horse’s hooves as they approached. She had no interest in the disused granite building with its fallen in roof, piles of sacking adorning the earth floor and the strangulating ivy that was making claim to the walls. A few more years of such neglect and nature would repossess the land it stood on as its own once more, but to Janey, for this moment in time, it was a place to hide.
The hoofbeats stopped outside and James dismounted. He had seen her and Janey felt sick with anxiety.
‘Why are you hiding from me?’ asked James as he swept into the roofless building.
What could Janey say in reply? Once again she felt stupid for hiding and doubting him.
He plucked at the fingers of his gloves and cast them aside one by one onto the sacking.
‘You drive me to distraction, Janey. Can’t you see that I find you incredibly attractive? Yet you treat me so badly. I must be in love to keep coming back for more.’
He came closer and lifted her chin so she was forced to meet his gaze.
‘I don’t know the reason, but it is not necessarily love.’ Janey looked towards the entrance.
‘You doubt me?’ She did not answer so he tilted her chin to face him. ‘Do you doubt this?’ He pressed her against the cold stone wall and kissed her roughly on the lips. James moved back to study her reaction, but she refused to give him the pleasure. Stony-faced, she focused on the wall behind him.
‘I see you need a real kiss.’
‘Please, sir. I need to leave.’
‘You leave when I say you can leave. You are under the misapprehension that you have a choice in the matter. A real kiss I want and a real kiss you shall give me.’
She tried to move away but it only excited him more as his tongue protruded deeper into her mouth, heightening her indignation and the feeling of violation. She tried to move her head but he grabbed it ruthlessly and continued his onslaught. Managing to turn her head at last, she gasped for air.
‘Please, James. James!’
Ignoring her he reclaimed her mouth and grabbed her bottom, kneading it as if she was a whore. She struggled to free herself but he was too strong.
‘What the hell is going on here?’ an angry voice demanded from behind James.
Janey felt a surge of relief that someone had interrupted him, then instantly shrank with shame as she recognised the voice. Sunlight shone brightly on her as James moved aside.
His movement unveiled her downfall to the newcomer, whose shadow came to loom over them in the confines of the old stone walls. She saw Daniel’s stricken expression when he recognised the woman in James’s arms.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ demanded Daniel. It was not clear who he was talking to but James’s arrogance assumed it must be him.
‘Daniel. How are you?’
‘Get out!’
James almost laughed at the order. There was nothing wrong with being caught with a woman. He was a man after all and, no doubt, Daniel had had his fair share of a roll in the hay.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘You are on my land. Get out.’ Daniel’s voice was controlled, but deadly as he stood his ground.
‘How dare you talk to your betters in this way?’
‘Get out. Now!’ Daniel shouted. ‘Or the foxes will be having a fine supper tonight.’
‘Are you threatening me? You murdering oaf!’
‘As they say, the first kill is the hardest, after that it’s easy.’
James visibly paled.
‘This is my land and you are trespassing. Get the hell out before I throw you out!’
James picked up his gloves. ‘You have not heard the last of this, Kellow,’ he said, marching out. Swearing with indignation, he mounted his horse and in a flurry of flying mud, galloped away, forgetting the woman still trapped inside.
‘I’m glad you arrived,’ said Janey. Her words sounded false as she wished it had not been Daniel who had found her. Still shaking from the onslaught, she wanted to be alone. She prepared to leave, but Daniel barred her way with his arm.
‘Not yet,’ he ground out, angrily.
Janey focused on the muscled forearm in front of her.
‘You shouldn’t have spoken to him like that,’ she said, quietly. ‘He may cause you trouble.’
‘Your lover does not need your protection.’
She looked up at him. ‘He is not my lover.’
‘Not your only lover, you mean.’
‘He was forcing himself upon me!’
‘Why did you meet with him here if you are not lovers?’
‘It is not what it appears,’ she argued, pushing his arm away.
Daniel followed her to the door. ‘He was kissing you! He had his hands all over you!’
‘Whatever it looked like it was not so!’
Daniel halted her with the crook of her arm. ‘I heard you crying his name! God Almighty, woman, if I’d known you were that easy I would have had you myself by the river!’
Janey slapped him.
Daniel grabbed her shoulders and pressed her up against the wall. ‘Why here, Janey? Why my land? Perhaps you like the thrill of being discovered? Did you want me to find you?’ He touched her forehead with his, the fight leaving his shaking body. ‘Give you a sick pleasure, does it? Seeing two lovers at the same time?’
‘You are not my lover!’ she said, hating his insults yet also hating to see his hurt.
‘Do you not think I know that?’
‘He is not my lover,’ she whispered.
Daniel closed his eyes, their foreheads still touching. Slowly he released her shoulders, taking in what she had said.
‘I’m sorry. I should not have touched you.’ He stepped back. ‘He will never marry you, Janey.’
‘I know,’ she replied.
‘The best you can get is to be set up in a separate house, leading a life as his mistress, bearing a brood of bastards without a name.’
‘I know.’
‘He is no gentleman,’ he continued. ‘A gentleman does not leave a woman alone with a murderer.’
It was the first time the rumours about him were laid out between them. She knew he was waiting for her response and that it was important to him.
‘I see no murderer,’ she replied, gently.
‘What you see is not always what it seems.’
They stood facing each other, the fragile bond between them now in tatters.
His view of her had changed and this injustice gave her strength. She gathered up her shawl.
‘Perhaps you should remember that, Daniel. James and I are not lovers, never have been, nor ever will be.’
She pushed past him and left. She could not bear to look at him any longer, or her heart would start to break.
Daniel raked his hair with a trembling hand. He did not believe her. Why would a lady’s maid call Lord Brockenshaw’s son by his Christian name? He knew she was attracted to James. Why else would she be alone with him in an isolated building on the edge of the moor if there was not something going on between them? What chance did a farmer have against a powerful man of the gentry with land and money to provide her with comforts, if not a wedding ring?
Daniel picked up a piece of granite and threw it angrily at the one remaining window. Its glass shattered into a hundred shards, just as his heart had done when he first entered the place just a few moments ago.
Chapter Nine
Janey looked at Daniel’s coat, which still hung from a hook on her bedroom door. It was the first thing she saw in the morning and the last thing at night, its dark form like a guard stationed by her side. She lifted its sleeve and held it to her cheek. She could still smell the sandalwood soap he used, despite the time that had passed. The realisation brought tears to her eyes. He was near, yet so far away.
She should feel happy. James had left the same day as Daniel had found them together. She had felt a great weight lift from her shoulders that James was no longer around, yet a deep sadness had replaced it. A sadness that was linked to this man. The cause ranged from the humiliation that he had caught her with James’s hand up her skirt, to anger that he had not believed her explanation. She had only met Daniel on a few occasions and, in truth, barely knew him, yet she still had a burning need that he should think well of her and – at the moment – he did not. She carefully let his sleeve fall and ran her hand along the rough cloth. She wanted to see him again, to explain – and to say goodbye, as she could not stay here. One day, James would return home and she did not want to be around when he did. So she had started to apply for other positions and it was a matter of waiting to get a response.
Miss Petherbridge simmered with jealousy as she watched Janey from across the table. The staff had just finished their evening meal and Janey was entertaining Lizzy and Charlotte with some trivial anecdote that had captured their attention. Janey looked at ease amongst them, her easy rapport feeding the housekeeper’s resentment of her.
‘Have you heard about it, Miss Petherbridge?’ The sound of her name brought her back to the servants’ hall where she realised all of the staff were looking at her and waiting a reply.
She refused to be rattled. ‘About what, Mr Tallock?’ she replied, carefully placing her fork on her plate.
‘Scarlet fever is rampant in Bodmin at the moment.’
‘No, I had not, Mr Tallock.’ She smiled without humour. ‘Unfortunately there is always some fever doing the rounds.’
‘Fever always gives a cause for concern,’ said Mr Tallock, pushing his plate away. ‘Lovely meal, Mrs Friggens.’
The cook thanked him.
‘Trehale’s an isolated village,’ he continued. ‘Fortunately it often escapes such fevers but when it is as prevalent as it seems to be at the moment in Bodmin, we must do all we can to prevent it reaching us here. If the village succumbs there will be many cases.’
‘The working classes are more at risk, Mr Tallock,’ the housekeeper replied.
Mary raised an eyebrow as all of them sitting at the table were working class.
Finishing her meal, Janey disagreed. ‘Not always. I lost my mother and sisters to scarlet fever. At the time we were living in Cromwell Street in Falmouth, a very middle class area.’
‘It is a wonder you did not follow them.’ It was a spiteful thing to say but the housekeeper could not stop herself. It was Janey’s turn not to be rattled.
‘A wonder indeed,’ she replied, in a measured tone. ‘I bring this up because it is best to remember that the fever does not care what class you are from or age. We should all take precautions.’
Miss Petherbridge waved a hand at Charlotte to indicate she should clear the table.
‘You place yourself in an authoritative position, Carhart. Perhaps you should enlighten us with your expertise.’
Janey did not reply immediately but Mr Tallock encouraged her to continue.
‘Scarlet fever can present in mild forms as to be of no consequence, but it can also be a very serious disease indeed and fatal.’
‘You tell us nothing we do not already know.’
Janey ignored the housekeeper. ‘Onset is often sudden, beginning with a sore throat, shivering and a headache. It develops on the second day into a rash behind the ears, which spreads to the arms and legs. Those suffering fever should be kept in bed, even in mild cases. Particularly if the weather is cold and for a considerable time after the eruption has disappeared.’
‘Are you suggesting that any member of staff who has a headache should be put to bed?’ Miss Petherbridge scoffed.
‘I’m suggesting more than that.’ Janey turned to Mr Tallock in the hope of a more sympathetic ear. ‘I suggest anyone who has even the mildest symptoms should be isolated from the remaining staff. The staff member who is taking on the nursing duties should not mix with the rest of the staff before changing her clothing and washing. The linen and bedclothes used should be well boiled. Anything that cannot be washed with a solution of chloride of lime or boiled should be burned. A container of the solution ought to be kept in the room for such purposes.’
Janey turned to Mary who was listening intently. ‘I’ve also read that another measure which tends to prevent the spread of the disease is to oil the patient’s skin daily, while it is peeling.’
Miss Petherbridge scraped back her chair as she stood abruptly making everyone turn to look at her.
‘Thank you, Miss Nightingale.’ She surveyed her staff. ‘But for now scarlet fever is in Bodmin which is twelve miles away. I don’t think it is helpful to spread fear and panic. There is work to be done. Mrs Friggens, we will leave dessert for today, I think everyone has had their fill, thanks to Janey’s storytelling.’
‘I saw my mother and sisters die, Miss Petherbridge,’ replied Janey, in an icy tone. ‘I would have given anything to have known how to nurse them. It may have made a difference.’
Miss Petherbridge gave her a withering look.
‘I have heard that guilt can be a motivator to become the expert. I see now that it is true. We will hear no more about it.’ She looked at the others. ‘Mr Tallock, I wish to discuss the accounts with you, if you are available. The rest of you … get back to your chores.’
She turned and left the room with the butler following obediently behind. For the first time in days the servants’ hall fell silent, as quiet as the newly dug graves at Bodmin cemetery twelve miles away.
Mrs Friggens broke the silence. ‘Take no notice of her, Janey. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about sometimes.’
Janey started to clear the plates and Mary came to help her.
‘I was six when I caught the fever. I didn’t have it bad but my friend died,’ Mary said.
‘Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come here.’ Mrs Friggens covered the pie she’d baked. ‘The village children had whooping cough last winter. Little Ben up at Treluggen had it real bad, don’t think he’ll ever be strong in the chest again.’
‘Can you catch scarlet fever twice?’ asked Mary, with concern.
Janey grew pensive. ‘I’m not sure.’
Mrs Friggens started to wipe the table clean. ‘It seems all the reading you did concerned new patients and not yourself.’
‘At the time I didn’t care about me.’
‘We must all care about ourselves, Janey Carhart,’ exclaimed Mary. ‘If we don’t care about ourselves why should we expect anyone else to?’
The enticing sweet smell of hot pasties drew the vicar from his study, along the modest hall of the vicarage and down three stone steps to the warm, welcoming aromas of the kitchen. His housekeeper had just placed three golden pasties, fresh from her oven, on the table and had begun to wrap one in a cloth. She looked up and smiled at the vicar who had been led by his nose to her baking.
‘Should have known it wouldn’t take you long to arrive. There’s only one thing that will make a Cornish man down his tools and that’s a pasty.’
The vicar chuckled. ‘Is that one Daniel’s?’
The housekeeper nodded.
‘Give it to me, I’ll take it out to him.’
A minute later the vicar was picking his way through the adjacent graveyard with a pasty in one hand and a tankard of water in the other. In the distance he could see Daniel Kellow’s bent form, building the wall that bordered the grounds. Two weeks ago a storm had felled an old oak tree, its trunk and branches destroying the brick wall as it crashed to the ground.
Despite the carnage being on view to all that passed by on the nearby road and causing quite a stir so that several people came up to the church with the sole purpose of seeing the destruction, only one of his parishioners had offered to help. That one was Daniel Kellow.
The vicar was embarrassed to admit that at first he was quite taken aback. He had known Daniel since he was a troubled boy, but as an adult he had kept very much to himself. Yet it was this quiet man who had offered his help, not one of his God-fearing flock. A man he would never find sitting in his congregation and who made it no secret he was an atheist.
True to his word, Daniel had returned the next day and spent the week cutting up the wood and stacking it by the vicarage, giving clear instructions to let the wood rest for a year before using it in the fire. Yesterday he had started on the wall and it wouldn’t be long before that too was finished to a very high standard. When the vicar had offered to pay, Daniel had just scoffed that perhaps for payment the vicar should have a quiet word with God to let Daniel into heaven when the time was right. The vicar wasn’t sure if he was serious but said he would pray for him, as he does for all his flock. Daniel had just grunted and returned to his work.
Just as the aroma of a freshly cooked pasty had drawn the vicar from his work, it did the same for Daniel. He straightened his back and, following his nose, turned his head to see the vicar approaching with a smile on his lips. The warm crusty parcel was handed over to grateful hands.
‘You are doing a fine job, Daniel. I really appreciate you taking time away from your farm to help out.’
‘Now is a quiet time. In a couple of weeks I will have more work to do to keep me on the land.’ Daniel bit into the pasty.
‘How are things up there? Edna still got her feet firmly under your kitchen table?’
