Beyond the Storm (8 page)

W
HEN ELIZA LEFT
the garden, Jory said, ‘She is very eager to please you, Alice – and rightly so. You saved her life and have taken her into your household, but in truth you know very little about her background. Don’t you think you should carry out some enquiries?’

‘Why? I know she survived a shipwreck, is lucky to be alive and I will soon learn whether she is telling the truth about having been in service. What else do I need to learn?’

‘I don’t know, but she does seem very reluctant to talk about the shipwreck itself.’

‘Is that so surprising? She is a young girl who has been through a thoroughly terrifying experience. The mind tends to blot out memories of such things – and it is perhaps just as well. Besides, in the short time I have known her I have come to like her and believe I am going to be very happy to have her working for me.’

Jory realised that any further suggestion from him that Eliza might possibly be hiding something about her background would be resented by Alice, and it was something he was anxious to avoid. He wanted to come to know the Trethevy cleric’s sister better.

‘I am pleased … for both of you. I must confess I know very little about poorhouses, but I
am
aware they are very unhappy places. Besides, as her recent experiences fade with time I have no doubt you will learn a great deal more about her.’

‘If she carries out her work to my satisfaction she can tell me as much, or as little, as she pleases. For now I am happy just to have been able to save her from the sea.’

Eliza made the tea and carried it to the garden table and was assuring her solicitous employer that she had encountered no problems in performing her first duty as the rectory housemaid, when a furious Eval Moyle stormed into the garden.

Jory was absent at that moment, having gone to the stable to ask Percy to water his horse as he was remaining at the rectory longer than he had anticipated.

When Moyle looked around and located Alice, he advanced towards her menacingly, declaring angrily, ‘I want words with you!’

Trying very hard to appear calm and self-assured, Alice replied, ‘And good morning to you too, Mr Moyle. May I perhaps offer you a cup of tea?’

‘Don’t try making a fool of me, young woman, I’m not one of your soft-living English churchmen. Now you’re in Cornwall you’ll need to learn how a woman’s expected to behave, before someone takes a mind to put you firmly in your place.’

‘That someone is certainly not going to be
you
, Mr Moyle, so if this is not a social call, I suggest you go on your way and attend to your business.’

‘I’ll go when I’m good and ready and not before – but I haven’t come to bandy words with
you
, any business I have right now is with your brother. Where is he?’

‘Reverend Kilpeck went to Tintagel early this morning. You’ll either find him in the church, or with the churchwardens.’

Looking at Alice speculatively, Moyle said, ‘If your brother’s been in Tintagel since this morning then it wouldn’t be him who turned my cattle out on the road, they was where I put ’em only an hour ago. Was it you? If it was…!’ He took a step closer,
clenching
his fists.

‘No, it wasn’t Miss Kilpeck, Moyle, it was me.’

Jory had come from the stables, unseen behind Moyle and now the burly preacher swung around to face him.

‘You? What business is it of yours what I do with my animals? Ain’t it enough that you had my fishing-boat broken up with your interfering? Are you out to ruin me, and all the men like me,
hereabouts
?’

‘Lieutenant Kendall was helping me by removing cattle which had been deliberately turned out to graze on consecrated ground, Mr Moyle. Had he not done so
I
should have reported the matter and you would be facing a hefty fine.’

Returning his attention to Alice, Moyle said angrily, ‘I told you just now to remember your place, girl, you have far too much to say for yourself. That might be alright for them mamby-pamby preachers you’re used to, but I’m not one of ’em. If I have any more of your lip you’ll feel the back of my hand.’

‘That’s quite enough of such talk, Moyle. You’d do well to set off after your cattle or they will be halfway to Devon.’

‘If they are it’ll be
your
doing.’ Stepping towards Jory, Moyle said angrily, ‘You and me have a score to settle and you’re not on duty now. Even if you were, turning my cattle loose into the
countryside
has nothing to do with coast guard business. I think it’s time to see what you’re made of without a dozen or more men backing you up.’

Jory realised how vulnerable he was in the confrontation with this man. He was not carrying a weapon and the man facing him was not only a brutal and experienced fighter but also far more heavily built than himself. However, he could not back down now. All he could do was issue a warning, fully aware it would be disregarded.

‘If you attack me you’ll not convince a court it wasn’t to take revenge for what’s happened between us in the past, Moyle. You’ll go to prison for it.’

Shaking his head, the preacher said, ‘I’ll not be convicted by any
Cornish
court. Not for breaking the bones of a coast guard in a fair fight, I won’t.’

‘But you will certainly go to prison for sacrilege – and I doubt whether even a Methodist ministry will want anything to do with a preacher convicted of such a crime.’ Aware of the very real danger Moyle posed to Jory, Alice made a last-ditch attempt to head off violence.

At that moment Eliza provided an unexpected diversion. She had disappeared soon after Moyle arrived and now, hurrying to where the two men stood facing each other, she addressed Moyle. ‘Excuse me, sir, do you have a pony, a small, brown, shaggy one?’

Taken by surprise, Moyle scowled, ‘What’s it to you, girl? But yes, it’s tied up outside the gate.’

‘Not any more. You couldn’t have tied it up properly. I’ve just seen it wandering off along the lane with its reins dragging on the ground.’

His anger flaring-up once more, Moyle glowered at Eliza, ‘There was nothing wrong with the way I tied the pony. Have you turned it loose? If you have …’

‘I haven’t been out of the house,’ Eliza lied, adding with assumed indignation, ‘I saw it through the window. ’Sides, I’m scared of horses, I wouldn’t go near one.’

This too was a lie, in London she had never been able to pass by a tethered pony without stopping to stroke its muzzle, but Moyle was unaware of this and Eliza continued …

‘I think I should tell you, sir, there’s a dog from one of the places along the lane that barks whenever it sees a horse. If it barks at your pony it could run a mile or more in fright and might well hurt itself if its leg got caught in the reins and trips it over.’

Eval Moyle was far from satisfied with Eliza’s reply but at that moment there was the sound of a dog barking in the distance. Seizing the opportunity it offered, Eliza said, ‘Listen! That sounds
like the dog. I hope your pony hasn’t reached that far yet, sir, or you’ll never find it again.’

Her words succeeded where Jory’s threats of jail had not.

‘I haven’t finished with you by a long way,’ Moyle threw the words at Jory, but it was a parting threat as he hurried from the rectory garden, leaving Alice, Eliza and Jory greatly relieved.

It was Alice who was the first to speak. ‘That was a very timely intervention, Eliza, but did Moyle’s pony really break free of its own accord?’

‘Well, it wasn’t really
tied
to the rail,’ Eliza admitted. ‘The reins were just wrapped around it a couple of times. It wouldn’t have taken much for the pony to do it by itself.’

‘But no doubt the process was accelerated with a little help from you?’ Jory suggested, adding, ‘You are a very resourceful young lady, Eliza, and I am in your debt. I am not unused to violence and can hold my own with most men, but I don’t think I would have lasted long against Eval Moyle without suffering a severe beating.’

Pleased with the coast guard officer’s comments, Eliza was clearing the tea things away when Jory began talking to Alice.

‘I have received a letter from the coast guard headquarters in London, the storm we suffered here, in the South West, was even worse than we realised at the time. Of all the ships wrecked around our coasts there were only a handful of survivors. Perhaps one of the most tragic was the foundering of a ship named
Cormorant
on Lundy Island, in the Bristol Channel. It had a number of female convicts on board, being carried to Australia. They were all drowned and some of their shackled bodies are still being washed up on the island …’

The crash as tea things fell to the ground from the tray Eliza was holding interrupted what Jory was saying and, seeing the distressed expression on Eliza’s face, he hastened to apologise, ‘I am so sorry, Eliza, it was quite unforgivable of me to talk about such things in front of you.’

‘It … it’s all right,’ Eliza said, the tears that had sprung to her eyes giving the lie to her words, ‘It’s just … I’m sorry about the tea things.’

Once again she faltered and Alice came to her aid. ‘Don’t worry about them, Eliza, I’ll pick them up and take them in. It is going to take you a long time to get over your horrible experience. You go to your room now and rest for a while, you are looking very tired.’

Giving the young girl a wry but warm smile, she added, ‘Your first working day has been rather more eventful than I trust your normal duties will be. You will not be expected to deal with
bullying
dissenting preachers as an everyday occurrence.’

‘I apologise once again, Eliza, and I trust Miss Kilpeck is right – but I think you should keep out of Eval Moyle’s way for a while.’

Alone in her room, Eliza found she was shaking, but her distress had nothing to do with the visit to the rectory by the Primitive Methodist preacher. Her mind was filled with thoughts of the women with whom she had travelled from the prison hulk moored at Woolwich to the
Cormorant
and who had remained shackled in the forward hold of the ship during the storm.

She had thought of them at the time when the storm was raging, but only in passing. Now the sheer horror hit home of what they must have experienced, shackled and helpless as they were, when
Cormorant
was breaking up on the rocks of Lundy Island. Imagining their plight, memories of her own ordeal flooded back.

Flinging herself face down on to her bed, she began sobbing into the pillow. 

T
HE DISSENTING PREACHER
did not return to the Trethevy rectory and Alice and Jory spent a pleasant time together, taking full advantage of the opportunity to discover more about each other.

Jory learned that Alice and David came from an ecclesiastical family, their late father having been Dean of an East Anglian cathedral before his untimely demise while Alice was still young. His death seriously affected their mother’s health for the rest of her life and she eventually died too, having been nursed by Alice for many years.

Since their mother’s death Alice had kept house for her brother in various parts of the country, while he waited for an
appointment
to a parish. It eventually came through the nepotic influence of their uncle, also a Dean.

Unlike Alice, both of Jory’s parents were still alive and his family owned a large house and estate on Cornwall’s South coast, close to the ancient town of Lostwithiel.

Much to Alice’s surprise, she learned that Jory’s father was
Lord
Kendall, a family ancestor having been raised to the peerage as a Baron during the English Civil War.

‘Does that mean you are in fact Lieutenant the
Honourable
Jory Kendall?’ she queried.

‘A quite meaningless accolade,’ Jory admitted. ‘It’s not as
though I will ever inherit the title. I am the third of five brothers and the wife of the first of them is expecting what the family hopes will be a future heir to the title and estate.’

‘Does it trouble you to know you are unlikely to inherit the title?’ Alice was puzzled by Jory’s apparent indifference to the
situation
.

‘Not at all. It means I have none of the responsibilities that come with the inheritance and I was able to leave home and pursue a naval career without the distractions that come with being heir to a large estate. At least, I could before hurting my leg.’ Patting his thigh to emphasise his remark, he added, ‘Actually, it seems to have confounded the prognosis of the surgeons by mending itself.’

Alice had observed that Jory had a slight limp, but had never thought it might be anything serious. Now she asked, almost casually, ‘What did you do to it?’

Giving her a wry smile, he said, ‘
I
did nothing, it was a Malayan pirate’s large-bore musket ball that did the damage. It made such a mess that the ship’s surgeon wanted to amputate the leg, but at the time I believed it looked far worse than it really was and refused to allow him to operate. He wasn’t terribly concerned by my refusal, saying I was probably going to die anyway! Fortunately, I was right and he was wrong, but it put me ashore and set back any chance of promotion for a while. However, I anticipate returning to sea-going duties again before too long.’

Shuddering at the thought of an operation that would have removed Jory’s leg, Alice said, ‘I am glad your leg was not lost, of course, but surely the work you are doing is important enough to keep you in Cornwall?’

‘We are at war with China and need to put more ships to sea. With my seniority I might possibly be given a command, even though it would certainly be of something small, like a brig, or perhaps a schooner.’ 

The thought of returning to sea was quite obviously pleasing to Jory Kendall, but Alice hoped his departure would not happen
too
soon.

When David returned home that evening he was told of the incident involving Eval Moyle’s cattle and the threatening attitude the Primitive Methodist minister had adopted towards Alice and Jory Kendall.

The Trethevy rector was furious and his first thought was to seek out Moyle and take him to task for his actions but he was dissuaded from such a course by Alice and Jory. Both were aware that David was not a violent man – and Moyle most definitely was!

David accepted, albeit reluctantly, that discretion was preferable to foolish valour on this occasion but he said, ‘Whatever course of action is taken, Moyle cannot be allowed to flaunt the laws of the Established Church in such a manner. He must be warned of his conduct by a letter from the archdeacon, or perhaps from the bishop.’

‘Think very carefully before you do anything, David,’ Alice said. ‘If you bring the Bishop into the matter he might decide to take Moyle to court. That would really stir him up, and possibly alienate some of your parishioners. Think about the possible
consequences
before you take any action against him.’

Grudgingly, David saw the wisdom of Alice’s advice. He was still a newcomer to the parish and although Moyle preached in a dissenting Church he was a local man – and in Cornwall that counted for a great deal.

When Jory concurred with what Alice had said, David agreed he would do nothing without first discussing it with Alice, and perhaps consulting Jory too.

Aware her argument had won the day, Alice made an effort to move her brother’s thoughts away from the difficult dissenting
minister. ‘You have said nothing about your visit to the churchwardens at Tintagel, how was your day?’

Her ploy worked immediately. His face lighting up, David said, ‘It was most successful. The churchwardens were delighted to hear I will be taking on Reverend Carter’s duties. It seems they have a waiting list for christenings and weddings – especially weddings. There are at least two prospective brides who are likely to give birth out of wedlock if not married very soon. There are also a number of mothers asking for churching, to give thanks for the safe delivery of a child. So it looks as though I will be kept busy and able to add a little to our income.’

The problem of Eval Moyle forgotten for the moment, David beamed at his two listeners. ‘One of the churchwardens is Henry Yates, master of the poorhouse and the meeting gave me an opportunity to thank him for his help and generosity in helping to bury the unfortunate victims of the shipwreck. He was delighted to have his contribution acknowledged and I feel he is basically a good man. He has promised to bring many of the
poorhouse
inmates along to my first service in Tintagel church. I doubt if they will boost the collection at all but they will certainly add to the congregation numbers and that should impress the bishop’s office – and Reverend Carter. Yates was helpful in other ways too. I happened to mention that I am going to find it difficult to keep the churchyard and rectory garden tidy here at Trethevy and he says he has a very suitable candidate to take on the task. It would seem this young man lived with his
grandmother
and took excellent care of her and when she died applied to join the army. He was accepted, but before he actually signed the papers he was injured in an accident whilst working
temporarily
in a local quarry. He badly broke a leg and as a result ended up in the poorhouse. Yates assured me the leg has healed now, but has left him with a bad limp. He can work as well as any other man and is pleasant, honest and strong, but these are not the
easiest of times and there would seem to be no employment for anyone with even the hint of a disability – especially a poorhouse lad. I have said I am willing to give him a trial.’

The poorhouse master’s reported praise for the out-of-work young resident of his establishment failed to impress Alice. ‘Having someone from the poorhouse working here at Trethevy might be satisfactory in summer, but in winter, or when there are storms about such as the one we have experienced recently, even a fully able man could not be expected to walk to and from Tintagel on a dark morning or night. For someone with a
disability
it would be positively dangerous!’

Jory had been listening to the conversation and now he spoke for the first time. ‘I know the lad in question and have gone into his background very thoroughly. His name is Tristram Rowe and if you were to take him on I think you would find him as
dependable
as anyone you are likely to wish to employ at the rectory. A couple of months ago he applied to me for work and he was willing to do anything I was able to offer him. Unfortunately, I could not take him on as a coast guard but I felt sorry for him because of my own experience of a serious leg injury and found a few odd jobs for him around the coastguard station. He did them well, completing all that I gave him to do much more quickly than I expected. He is a very likeable young man and had I been able to take him on permanently, I would certainly have done so. I told him I would be happy to recommend him to any potential employer. So there you are, I have now done exactly that!’

‘Thank you,’ said David, then, turning to Alice once more and appearing slightly embarrassed, he said, ‘Er … Yates and I
discussed
the problem of the distance between the poorhouse and Trethevy and I told him we could probably put young Rowe up here, at the rectory.’

Forestalling Alice’s predictable objection to this latest proposal, he added hastily, ‘Not in the rectory itself, of course, but there are
the rooms over the stable, Percy only occupies one of them. Rowe could have one of the others. I have no doubt he would make far more of tidying it up than Percy has.’

‘Give him a room of his own and he would be in absolute heaven,’ Jory said, enthusiastically. ‘He feels the ignominy of living in a poorhouse very strongly.’

Shifting her gaze from one man to the other, Alice shrugged her shoulders in a gesture of resignation before addressing her brother. ‘I can see that whatever I feel about the matter will make no difference and it is you who will be paying for him. When is he coming?’

After throwing a brief but grateful glance in Jory’s direction, David replied, ‘I told Yates I would speak to you this evening and if you were in agreement with the arrangement I would ride to the poorhouse tomorrow and meet with Rowe.’

‘You will like him,’ Jory commented, positively, ‘you too, Alice.’

‘Whether I like him or not is quite immaterial,’ Alice replied, ‘he will be working outside and not here, in the house. In fact, it will make life easier for me. Now we are to have
two
outside workers, he and Percy can come to a mutual arrangement for feeding
themselves
.’

Alice was aware she was behaving in a peevish and probably unreasonable manner. It did not help when realisation came that she was more upset because Jory had sided with David against her than by the fact her brother wanted to take on another employee, when it was not at all certain they could really afford the additional expense.