Old Sins Long Shadows (20 page)

Mrs
Friggens broke the silence, ‘Take no notice of her, Janey. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about sometimes.’ Janey helped to clear the plates.

‘
She has a point,’ she said, ‘I felt bad that I survived and my mother did not reassure me otherwise.’

Mary came to help her,
‘You aren’t the only one. I was six when I caught the fever. I didn’t have it bad but my friend died. Pretty little girl she was, with hair down to her waist. I was always jealous of her hair, but I didn’t half feel bad about her dying.’

‘
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 Davey 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?’ Mary asked starting to worry about herself.

Janey grew pensive,
‘I’m not sure. I don’t think so.’

Mrs Friggens took the cloth from Janey’s hands and started to wipe t
he 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?’

Janey successfully negotiated the door and placed the tray of tea in front of her mistress. The day had been pleasant, mainly because, unusually, Miss Petherbridge had taken the day off to visit her sister. Janey poured the tea and placed it in her mistress’ hands.

‘
Mr Tallock brought me a letter just now, Janey. He has left it on the table. I would like you to read it to me now.’

Janey instantly recognised James’ handwriting and her stomach and shoulders tensed in response
. She sat down next to Lady Brockenshaw with the letter in her hand. Unable to delay its reading she slit the envelope open with an ornate letter opener in the shape of a dagger. Once his letters had filled her girlish head with fantasies of the mystery son, now the paper felt tainted and threatening. Her fingers trembled slightly.

‘
It’s from Mr Brockenshaw,’ she replied, unfolding the paper. A second sealed letter fell onto her lap like an autumn leaf and Janey nervously looked up to see if her mistress had seen, forgetting in her panic that her mistress was blind. Even from miles away he was able to affect her, she thought, silently scolding herself at her own reaction. Janey turned the sealed envelope over in her lap, dreading what she would see. Written on the envelope, in James’ theatrical scrawl, was her name. She snatched it up and slipped it into her pocket.

Janey read Lady Brockenshaw’s
letter to her, but her mind was on the one burning in her pocket. To his mother he played the doting son, asking after her, telling her he missed her, all the right words that a mother wishes to hear, but Janey was no longer fooled. It is easy to write words from miles away but when he was in the house he hardly saw his mother. He visited her briefly in the evenings but preferred to spend his time elsewhere. Not once did he take his mother out in the trap, accompany her to church or take a stroll with her around the gardens. He lacked understanding and patience regarding her blindness, and preferred his hunting friends than anything his mother had to say. As Janey read his words she realised that that was just what they were, words and nothing more. She remembered later the letter said something about an American business friend, exclaimed the benefits of the telegraph and the wonderful life he was leading in London but Janey did not care for its contents. Before she had lapped up his news of the world across the Cornish boarder but now she knew him better and she had no interest. Her mind was elsewhere.

It wasn’t until much later, in the solitude of her little bedroom, did Janey pluck up the courage to look at the second letter. She stood in her little room, where she felt safe and free from prying eyes. Daniel’s coat still hung on the hook behind the door and his shirt button in a dish on the bedside table. With trembling fingers she ripped the letter open and, carefully unfolding it, a sickening feeling rose in her throat.

‘
My dear little vixen,

‘
Were you hiding from me on the day I left Cornwall? I looked for you but you were nowhere to be found!  Is this how you repay me after all that I have done for you? You are a cold unfeeling woman, Miss Carhart. You keep me at arms length despite all I could offer you. I have come to the conclusion it is nothing but a ploy, a game you are playing to tease me. I have said before that I like a challenge. You are holding out for marriage, which I cannot offer you. Surely you must understand this. I must make a good match.  My position requires it and demands it. How can I possibly introduce a servant as my wife into society?  I would be a laughing stock but, my little vixen, I am determined that you shall be mine. I am in London for the summer and then I will return and the hunt will resume.

Ja
mes.’

Horrified, Janey crumpled to her knees as the letter fell from her hands. She sat against the cold wall staring at the sheet of paper that had fluttered to her feet. She had a few months before he returned, she thought, urgently trying to organise her thoughts to form a plan for her own survival. A few months to find a new position, new lodgings, a new beginning as far away from James Brockenshaw as she could find. Just a few months until he walked back into this house and continued his intimidation and harassment of her. If she stayed the other staff would soon begin to notice. His behaviour had already begun to violate her dignity and risk her reputation and in his letter he threatened much more. She had a few months, only a few short months and then she must be gone.

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’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 that had offered his help. A man he would never find sitting in his congregation and who made it no secret he was an atheist, yet it was he who had offered to help and not one of his God fearing flock who often boasted about the good that they did.

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?’

Daniel smiled fondly at the sound of her name.

‘
I wouldn’t want it any other way,’ he answered.

‘
I always think a woman makes a house a home with the little things she does that you don’t even notice at the time. A table cloth for special occasions, flowers in a vase, the smell of wax polish or the warming pan in your bed at night.’

‘
Edna is a bit like Amy in that respect. She cooks, cleans and mends but she’s not into the fussy side of keeping house.’

Both men thought for a moment before the vicar spoke again.

‘My wife, bless her soul, enjoyed the, what you call, fussy side of housekeeping. I didn’t think I did until she died and it was that, as well as her company, I missed the most. To walk into the house and see fresh flowers in the vase brightened my day. It meant my wife had been there and left her presence in the room. Silly really but after she died my home became a house once more…that is until I found Betty, my housekeeper.’ The vicar looked appreciatively at the brick wall. ‘Edna rules the roost, I suppose.’

Daniel was enjoying his pasty,
‘She thinks she does!’ he said between mouthfuls causing both men to laugh.

The wooden w
heels of a trap drew their attention away from the wall to the nearby road. They watched silently as the trap came into view, its red painted wheels turning on the stony road. Wrapped up warmly against the chilling breeze sat Lady Brockenshaw, enjoying a rare trip out with her maid by her side. The vicar lifted a hand in greeting and they watched Janey’s lips move, informing her mistress of the vicar’s presence. She in turn raised her hand to acknowledge it, her eyes staring unseeing into space. The vicar voiced his greeting but his attention was on Janey who had not taken her eyes off Daniel Kellow for the entire time. She gave a tentative smile to him in greeting and the vicar looked at Daniel, eager to see his response. Thinking there must be some form of friendship between them he was shocked when Daniel ignored her acknowledgement and simply turned his back on her. Janey’s smile instantly faded and the trap rattled away down the road bringing the brief encounter to an end. The vicar at first was speechless. He knew Daniel would not mince his words where men were concerned but he had never seen him be rude to a woman. Zachariah always made sure the boy behaved well in front of womenfolk and Amy would have boxed his ears if she had witnessed his behaviour. The vicar did not remain speechless for long.

‘
What was that all about?’ Daniel defiantly bit into his pasty but inexplicably it turned to sawdust in his mouth and he found it difficult to swallow. ‘You aren’t still mad at her are you?’  Daniel looked away and said nothing. He made to take another bite but he could no longer stomach the food and tossed the remainder of the pasty to the birds. In absence of any explanation the vicar continued. ‘You fell out months ago!  Surely you are not holding a grudge against her for what she called you at the Harvest Festival dance?’

Daniel took in a deep breath,
‘No. We have had words since,’ he said, ‘It is of no concern of yours, vicar.’

The vicar watched Daniel return to his work but her appearance had troubled him as several bricks were picked up and discarded as unsuitable in quick succession
. He had lost his building rhythm.

‘
It appears to concern you though.’

‘
I appreciate your interest. I know it’s kindly meant, vicar, but there is nothing between me and Miss Carhart to mend or otherwise.’

The vicar would not be put off
. Perhaps if Janey had not come to him a few weeks ago, in such distress and confusion, he would have let things go but he suddenly felt protective of the little creature. He hoped that Daniel wasn’t the person who had been upsetting her. He concluded he probably wasn’t. Daniel may be many things but you knew where you stood with him. He was not a manipulator and no one was left confused by what he thought of them.

‘
She appeared hurt by the rebuff.’

‘
Appearances can be deceiving.’

‘
Life is too short to fall out with one’s acquaintances.’

‘
Is that a quote from your Bible?’

‘
It is a quote from me.’ 

Daniel stood up, giving up for a moment on the task in hand.

‘Falling out with people does not upset me. I can live quite happily without anyone pretending to be my friend. I know what people around here think of me and I do not care. The fact that I no longer wish to be on friendly terms with Miss Carhart does not upset me, so don’t let it upset you.’