Authors: Suzette Stone
Jenna’s hands lay stiff alongside her body as she moved her hands into her pockets, remembering the item of Trystan’s she placed there. She felt the cold metal of the penknife in her hand and, flicking the slide, opened out the knife. Lord Edwin moved over her, taking his time. He moved his lips over her face, once again forcing his tongue into her mouth, gyrating his hips so his member moved closer, than back, closer than back in a sadistic game of shall-I-shan’t-I.
“There, isn’t this better than pretending to fight me off?” he breathed hotly.
“I hate you.” She screamed. Waves of fear rushed over her, causing her legs and arms to feel numb under the weight of the vicious Lord. The knife lay in her palm, her fingers barely able to grasp it. He moved closer toward her, his sinister laugh implying he intended to take her at any moment. With insurmountable strength, she brought up her knee and kicked him hard.
He rolled off of her, his anguished screams penetrating the night air, his hand reaching up to clutch his groin, his body feverish with rage. He climbed unsteadily to his feet, his eyes wild with anger and lurched toward her again. A cold calm wafted over her as she stood up, reaching for the knife in her pocket. With one last scream, she plunged the sharp blade into his heart, the penknife remaining in his pierced skin as she drew her hand away. With horror, she watched his eyes bulge, his hands clutching at his chest, spluttering and gasping for air before he finally keeled over on the ground, naked except for the blood soaked shirt covering his upper torso.
Sir Jack Bartholomew looked up at the wrought iron fronted Chelsea home of the countess with great tiredness. Damn, why did he have to become acquainted with them of all people? The thought of an afternoon spent in the countess’s gossiping company filled him with dread and, from what he could glean of her over introduction of her daughter, she no doubt wished to play matchmaker as well.
Jack extended one leg out of the carriage and looked over to where Charlie sat dressed in a miniature child size version of Jack’s own suite. He winked. “Now you know what to do, Charlie?”
Charlie nodded enthusiastically. “When your pocket watch strikes five, I knock on the door.”
“Correct,” Jack said, tapping his cane on the road. “And for heaven’s sake, don’t let anyone see you before then.”
“Aye aye, sir.” The boy tipped his hat as he had seen Jack do.
Jack seated himself in one of the plush velvet chairs that graced the countess’s expensively decorated drawing room. The strong smell of dogs caused him to sneeze as he gently moved one of the sleeping poodles from the arm rest of the chair.
“Oh, Jack,” the countess exclaimed, stuffing another teacake into her mouth. “I do hope you are not getting a cold.”
He shrugged. Perhaps that would be a good excuse not to be in their company again. “I hope not.” He feigned a slight sniffle.
One of the poodles jumped up on the countess’s lap and began nibbling one end of the teacake protruding from the countess’s mouth. “Oh, you greedy little silly Billy. What do you think of my poodles, Jack? They are all pedigrees from Paris.”
“Indeed?” He tried to look interested. “I can tell by your décor you have a great fondness for baroque fashions, French in particular?”
She smiled in smug satisfaction. “I do. I do! The French life is so romantic don’t you think? We in England have little of their fanciful frills.”
“Indeed.” Jack eyed the clock that read three-thirty and wondered how he would ever survive until relief came at five. He looked over to where Phillippa sat, pale and thin, dressed in a fashionable gown with an empire waist that did little to make her appear more appealing to the eye. “Phillippa, how do you like London?”
“Very much,” she replied in a faint, barely audible voice. “But I prefer Paris. We both do, don’t we, mama?”
“Yes we do, Pippa!” The countess popped another bonbon into her mouth and fed one to her dog. “Phillippa is very attuned to the French way of life and she is most proficient on the pianoforte in French song. Perhaps you will give us a tune my dear.” She gave her daughter a hearty wink.
“But, mama…” Phillippa began, her thin body shaking just like the small poodle seated beside her. “I have yet to practice today.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Pippa! Honestly, I tell her day after day to not hide her light under a bushel. She is a talented beauty, don’t you agree?”
Jack glanced back over to where Phillippa sat rigid and frightened, clutching at the trembling cup and saucer in her hand, and suddenly felt lost for words.
“Well, go on then girl!” The countess nodded and winked to Jack as though he were in for a great treat.
They watched as Phillippa stood from the velvet sofa and gingerly made her way over to the pianoforte, clearing her throat as she seated herself behind the instrument.
“Play that one you did for Lord Hartley’s son,” the countess said. “You know the one that shows the range of your voice!”
Jack winced as Phillippa began to sing in a shrill voice, her hands pressing the keys with an unsure touch. The song was difficult, demanding in its range of octaves and Phillippa’s weak vocal chords strained to hit the correct notes. Jack coughed, the embarrassment of the situation making him feel uneasy. He glanced over to where the countess sat, her eyes closed as though she were hearing the sound of heavenly angels. She mouthed the words as Phillippa continued to warble on and on. When finally she finished, the countess clapped her hands heartily, beaming with pride at Jack, nodding her head and extolling the virtues of her daughter.
“And now,” the countess gushed, “I have a particularly wonderful invitation for you dear Jack!”
Jack gulped, horrified the countess might ask her daughter to regale them with another droll song.
“I have, in my possession, two tickets to Covent Garden to see an opera. I don’t know which one it is. I find it inconsequential as the opera is the opera no matter what is playing. It gives me great pleasure to bow out of taking Phillippa myself and gifting that privilege to you, Sir Jack.” The countess gazed at him expectantly.
“How very….” Jack stammered, dreading the thought of spending an evening with the countess’s dull and sullen daughter. “How very kind of you.”
The countess clapped her hands with glee. “That’s all set then. Phillippa will be ready and waiting for you here tomorrow at 6 p.m., no later.” She wagged a finger at Jack and winked. “And I expect you to bring her home in one piece as well.”
Jenna bent over as her stomach wretched and a stony fear gripped her body. In the darkness of the night, there was nothing but silence, interrupted only by the rapid beating of her heart. She bent once more over the body, lifting Lord Edwin’s wrist to feel for any sign of life. There was none, just the dead body of a man killed by her hands. In horror, she stood, the fear now a reality. She was a murderer. She did not kill just anyone. She killed Lord Edwin. Arguments of self protection would never be heard. The only noise in the case of Jenna Penworthy people would hear would be the slow creaking of the noose around her neck, the penalty for a common servant girl who murdered one of the most prominent members of England’s aristocracy.
She let go of the wrist, which fell like stone. She stood up and began to run over the dark moorland, running away from the scene as though it never happened. She had no idea where to run to or what she was even going to do. She just wanted to get away from it all, away from these past few weeks, back to how her life as a child before Trystan, Jack and the lecherous Lord Edwin. There would be no reprieve for her now. She would be killed, her family left with the reputation they borne a murderer.
In the darkness, she made out the faint light of the Caradon Inn in the distance.
Karenza
, she thought. She ran toward the light, searching for any sign of movement, any sign someone had seen her. There was nothing but darkness, the wind gently stirring the leaves of the massive oak standing in front of the old Inn. Jenna bent down, picking up a handful of gravel and threw it up to the window where Karenza and Billy slept.
Come on
, she willed as a few pieces of stone hit the window pane. Wake up. Please, wake up.’
She bent down, picking up another handful and threw it against the small window. Tears of fear and frustration began to well as she bent again and again throwing the small pebbles against the window. At last, she saw a shadow at the pane. The window creaked as it lifted and Billy’s face appeared. He looked down to where Jenna stood. Hastily, she lifted her finger to her lips gesturing for him to be quiet. She moved to the oak tree, camouflaging herself with the blackness of its branches and waited for Billy.
“You’ve done what?” His eyes widened with horror as Jenna gasped out the story of what happened.
“I killed him.” The reality of it still seemed like a dream. “I stabbed him in the heart. He is as dead as…” She trailed off as her body shook with tears.
“Oh, good God.” Billy took a step back, shaking his head and sobbing violently. “They will hang you for this. There will be no trial, Jenna, not for killing a Lord. They will hang you for killing that perverted, dirty old scoundrel. But if you had not killed him, as God is my witness I would have killed him with my bare hands for what he would have done to you.”
She slumped to the cold ground, the magnitude of the events coming into realization. “What am I to do?” She looked up into Billy’s face. “What am I to do?” She shivered as she watched Billy pace back and forth.
“You must escape, Jenna. You must leave. We must hide you somewhere.”
Jenna began to sob once more at the enormity of the situation. “But where? I can’t bring all of you into this. I should just confess, take the consequences as they come.”
“They will kill you.” Billy shook her angrily by the shoulders. “They will hang you. Do you not understand? You cannot confess, Jenna. You cannot.” His voice grew softer as he held her close to him. “I have an idea, but we will have to act quickly. No one must know of it except for you, me and Karenza.”
“Karenza… I don’t want to harm her.”
“It will harm her more if we keep this from her. Trust me on this.”
He held her face between his hands, gazing into her eyes “Will you be strong, Jenna? Will you do as I say if you want to live?”
Jenna nodded, her tears now replaced with a somber reality. She followed Billy to where his horse and blacksmith cart stood near the Inn’s stables. He lifted the heavy covering and helped her climb underneath it.
“Lay low here. I will be back shortly.”
She waited in the darkness as she heard Billy’s soft footsteps retreating across the graveled path toward the Inn. It seemed like eternity before she heard the soft footsteps again, this time accompanied by hushed whispers. She felt the cover being lifted off.
“Take off your dress.” Karenza handed her one of her own garments. “Put this on, instead. I need your dress. Come on. Quickly!”
Jenna handed her the blood stained garment, grasping her hand. “I am sorry, Karenza, I am sorry.”
“Shush,” Karenza said sharply, reaching into the pocket of the dress and handing Jenna the contents. “You did what you had to do and now I am doing what I have to do to protect you. Don’t talk. Don’t say a word. Don’t ask me what I am doing. Just go with Billy. He is going to take you somewhere safe where you can hide temporarily until I do what is needed to be done.”
Jenna opened her mouth to say something and closed it abruptly as her sister shook her head. “Don’t ask any questions. Just do as Billy tells you to do.” She lifted Jenna’s left hand, taking off the bridal ring. "Do you understand?”
“Yes.” Jenna took a rough blanket from her sister’s hand and placed it over her shivering body as she heard Billy quietly rig his horse up to the cart.
“I love you, Jenna,” Karenza said. “Trust me on what I’m about to do. Promise me.”
Jenna nodded. “I love you, too,” she said as the cover was placed back over the cart and she felt the motion of the wheels slowly moving across the gravel and over the bumpy lane.
* * * *
Jenna stiffened slightly at the muted voices outside as the cart came to a halt.
“Where you off to then?” a gruff voice said.
“Plymouth,” Billy replied. “I’ve an early start there.”
“That’s a long way from home for a blacksmith to be working isn’t it?”
“Yes. It’s not my most favorite place to work,” Billy joked. “But I’ve a babe on the way and have to go where the money is.”
“Don’t we all. Well, be careful crossing the Tamar. There’s a rough wind tonight. I fear we’re in for another storm and I wouldn’t want you missing out on that there baby of yours.”
“Thank you, Constable. Hopefully the storm won’t keep me in Plymouth longer than I need to be.”
As the cart began to move again, Jenna released the frightened breath she held. She relaxed slightly as the cart rolled onto the Tamar ferry and began crossing the rough river toward Plymouth. Lying under the heavy, dark cover of the cart, she was alone and silent with her thoughts. She still tasted the bile in her mouth, caused by the lingering feeling of Lord Edwin’s thin lips against hers. She still felt his hand upon her skin, inching its way along her thigh, stabbing and prodding inside of her. As she closed her eyes, she saw him leaning over her, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. She heard the horrific spluttering sounds he made as she stabbed the knife into him. She saw the way he looked at her through bloodshot, bulging eyes filled with a horror that pierced into her.
Angrily, she tried to force the picture of his face from her mind, to replace it with a happier memory, but she couldn't think of one. Fate played the cruelest joke. She reached around her neck, eager to find her locket, but it was gone. Horrified, she realized in the struggle it must have broken free.
Yet another piece of evidence of the part I played
, she thought hopelessly. Placing her hand in her pocket, she felt the stiff paper beneath her fingers. The letter! Her heart beat in nervous excitement, spurred on by the prospect that perhaps there would be an escape from everything, albeit to the other side of the world, to a strange land. But a strange land where she could start a new, anonymous life. Where fate would perhaps cast her a better hand.
Jenna jumped as the cart came to an abrupt halt. She lay motionless, barely making a sound with her breath as she heard Billy dismount from the cart, walk a few steps and knock quietly. There were hushed voices as Billy entered, the door closing behind him. It seemed as though hours passed before she heard the door creak open and footsteps walked toward the cart.
The cover of the cart pulled back and she blinked as the morning sunlight blinded her. Billy handed her a large bonnet. She covered her head with it, pushing her hair inside the hat.
“Follow me and keep your head down,” Billy ordered.
Jenna clung to his arm as he lifted her from the cart. Keeping her head down, she followed him up a large set of stairs, her eyes never leaving the ground to see where she was going. He led her down a long, cold stone corridor. The smell of incense sprung up through her nostrils. There was nothing but silence, no voices to be heard. Finally, Billy stopped outside of a small door and opened it, leading Jenna to a tiny bedroom inhabited by a narrow twin bed, a small bedside table and a large crucifix on the wall.
“Where am I?” Jenna asked, breathing in the musty smell of solitude.
“The Convent of St. Agnes,” Billy replied, seating himself on the small wooden chair in the corner of the tiny room.
“I…I don’t understand.” Jenna felt lightheaded from tiredness and fear.
“You will be safe here. My aunt will take care of you.”
Jenna looked up as a petite nun entered the room. She held in her hand a habit, which she hung on the back of the door. Moving beside Jenna, she took her hand in hers and sat down on the edge of the bed.
“You poor child,” she soothed.
Jenna bowed her head, uncertain as to what Billy had told his aunt.
“My nephew has informed me your life is in severe danger. I will try and keep you as safe as possible. The Lord will watch over you and absolve you of your sins my child.”
Jenna wiped the tears from her eyes, the nun’s sympathetic tone bringing her emotions to the surface
Billy kissed his aunty lightly on the cheek as she left the room. “You will need to change into the habit. My Aunt has been in this convent since a young girl. She will make sure you are safe and that no one knows who you are other than a fellow sister who is staying temporarily at St. Agnes.”
Jenna gulped as she looked at her surroundings. “Thank you, Billy. I am sorry.”
“What for, protecting yourself? The Penrose family has no loyalty from me or many in these parts of the world. There will be many who are heaving sighs of relief at the death of the Lord Edwin.”
“But my family, what will become of them?”
“Don’t fret about your father and Tamzin. Karenza will take care of everything. As soon as the news begins to fade we will decide our next step.”
Jenna cleared her throat, reached into her pocket and handed Billy the letter and ticket. “Trystan received this from his brother in Australia the morning he died. In four weeks time, a boat leaves from Liverpool.”
Billy took the ticket from her and gazed at it, nodding slowly. He looked back up at her, his eyes watery with tears. “Do you think you can do this? It would be the best idea, get you away from England where you’ve no fear of being recognized. Do you think you are up to making such a long and arduous journey, full of danger and hardship with no indication of any safety at the other end?”
“What else is there?” She shrugged her shoulders hopelessly. “Life in Cornwall is over for me. That is all I have ever known, so what difference is it to me now anyway. As you say, in Australia I will be anonymous. Here I will always look over my shoulder with worry, afraid someone will recognize me, someone will turn me in.”
Billy handed her back the ticket, stood and bent to kiss her on the cheek. “Stay safe and be brave,” he advised as he smoothed back her hair. “I have no doubt of your safety here. Keep your head down and talk little. My aunt will advise you and look out for you. Karenza and I will return to visit you in a week."
Jenna stood in silent sadness as she watched Billy leave, quietly closing the door behind him. She climbed out of Karenza’s dress and into the heavy black garbs, pulling the habit tight around her face, so that her mass of locks were concealed. She placed the ticket under the mattress of the tiny bed and, laying down closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep away the nightmares.
* * * *
Lady Emmeline paced the long hallway outside of her study, flinging open door after door after door. No doubt her husband was at it again, ensconced in some room with some maid. Only this time in daylight! It irritated her how brazen he was becoming in his wonton lust. She had not seen him since he stalked out of the house following dinner the previous eve and now this. His bed had not been slept in and he missed breakfast. He knew they made arrangements to visit Truro today.
Emmeline sighed with frustration. She arose earlier than normal, excited about the prospect of a day perusing the market and shops of Truro. The stable hand had prepared the carriage over an hour ago and still no sign of Edwin. As she flung open door after door, she felt relieved – if not a little startled – to find no sign of her philandering husband. Worriedly, she made her way to the front foyer, beckoning over the stable hand. Edwin had been in the foulest mood last night, deliberating with his mine captain before dinner and then storming off at nightfall. She supposed he left to clear his head or drink away his anger at the public house. Suddenly, the thought occurred to her that perhaps he may have staggered up to the mine in the darkness. The area was still unsafe with debris everywhere, the shaft unsecured.