Read Matters of the Heart Online
Authors: Rosemary Smith
Matters of the Heart
© Rosemary Smith 2004
Rosemary Smith has asserted her rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
First published in 2004 by Linford Romance as THE AMETHYST BROOCH
This edition published by Endeavour Press Ltd 2014
Dedicated to my dear Dad, George Broadest, sadly departed.
Thank you for believing in me.
I arrived at my mother’s childhood home, Pendenna Reach, one afternoon in late September, 1873. I’d come with some trepidation, and as I sat in the carriage waiting for the tall, black, wrought-iron gates to be opened, I thought of the circumstances which had brought me from London to Cornwall in such a short space of time.
I thought back to the day, only three weeks ago, when I sat in the apartments of my godmother, Amy Godbeares, in fashionable Grosvenor Square. The letter from my maternal grandmother lay before me on the table. I’d read it through several times, noting the neat, sloping handwriting, and the slight shake of hand with which it had been written. It had come to me from Pendenna Reach, at the beginning of September.
Dear
Jane
You
will
be
somewhat
surprised
to
hear
from
me
,
but
I
have
followed
your
progress
through
life
with
love
and
great
interest
.
I
am
getting
older
and
have
a
great
sadness
in
my
heart
.
It
would
please
me
so
much
if
you
would
come
to
stay
at
Pendenna
for
a
while
,
to
allow
us
to
get
to
know
one
another
.
Your
grandfather
passed
from
the
world
a
year
ago
and
since
then
I
have
thought
a
lot
of
the
past
,
and
wish
to
redeem
in
some
small
way
the
wrong
accorded
to
your
mother
,
my
daughter
,
Felicity
.
Think
on
this
request
,
my
child
,
and
I
look
forward
with
anticipation
to
your
reply
.
Your
loving
Grandmother
,
Harriet
Pendenna
.
I rose from my seat and walked to the window looking out over the square. Since my father and mother died of influenza three years ago, Amy had taken me under her wing. I was very happy here, but knew that at the age of twenty I should be looking to my future. Was this a chance to explore new horizons? My mother had often talked of Pendenna Reach, of the rambling corridors and the sea beyond the house.
She’d also told me how, at the age of eighteen, she’d eloped with my father, an artist, to Paris and married him. It all sounded very romantic to me as a girl, but as I grew I sensed sadness in my mother and knew she yearned to see her old home.
My grandfather had disowned her for thwarting him, and had never forgiven her for marrying beneath her. As it turned out, my father became a very successful artist, and the name of John Merriock became famous for his landscape paintings, even more so after his untimely death. I had the consolation of knowing Mama and Papa were always happy together. I had wanted for nothing and after their death had gone to a finishing school for young ladies in Paris.
Amy had been my rock since returning to London a year ago. She’d launched me into Society where I’d met countless young men but none appealed to me. They were all far too shallow and one very much like another. I had definite views on the husband I envisaged, a man strong of character and one who would stand out in a crowd. So, much to Amy’s chagrin, I did not succumb to the elegant men I met.
My parents’ house near the Thames Embankment, where Papa loved to paint, was sold. I had no desire to keep it on, apart from the fact I could not have afforded its upkeep. So I was left with a useful inheritance to be gained at the age of twenty-one, Mama’s personal possessions still under lock and key in a mahogany chest, Molly our housemaid who had learned many new skills under Amy’s roof, and my memories.
I picked up Grandmother’s letter and made my way to my room. Looking at my reflection in the mirror I thought how much like Mama I looked. My dark brown hair was drawn back in a chignon, one or two tendrils escaping each side of my oval face. I was slim and tall with blue eyes. The pink striped, high-neck blouse I wore, and grey skirt with a small train, made me look even taller. I’d made up my mind, a quick, positive decision, so like me.
I’d go to Pendenna, partly because I felt I owed it to my mother. Also, to know my family would be a new experience. It had always been just the three of us, as Papa’s family had sailed to America and settled there, so I never knew them either. But to have a family at this time in my life could only be a good thing, and hopefully give me some direction. Little did I know then what direction my life would take in such a short time.
When Molly came to dress my hair for dinner that evening, a skill she’d acquired from Amy’s personal maid, I broached the subject of going to Cornwall.
‘Will you come with me, Molly?’
‘I’d go to the ends of the earth with you,’ she replied immediately.
I was delighted she felt this way, for Molly had been part of my life since I was ten years of age. She was five years my senior and I knew she would be a good companion, but also I knew we both had a lot to learn, as we were both so used to City life.
After two weeks of packing, various farewells to friends and acquaintances, and a tearful goodbye from Amy with a promise to write, Molly and I arrived at Paddington Station for the ten-hour journey to Penzance, where, my grandmother assured me, someone would meet us.
We were amazed at the size of the black locomotive which was to pull our train to Cornwall. A kindly porter assisted us into the first-class carriage and walked with us along the narrow corridor to help us find our seats. I thanked him as he placed our luggage on the rack. The compartment was small but adequate, with red seats, numbered above.
I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror which was located under the luggage rack. I was aghast to see specks of black soot dotted on my face and when I looked at Molly could see she was speckled the same. I dabbed both our faces with my lace handkerchief.
‘Oh, miss,’ Molly squealed with obvious delight, ‘this is the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me. I can’t wait to get going.’
I seated myself by the window as she spoke, wondering if it would be proper to remove my bonnet. Deciding to do so, I laid it on the seat beside me, with my reticule, and looked out of the window at the goings on.
Without any warning, the carriage jolted and we could hear the hissing of the mighty engine. At the same moment, a piercing whistle was blown and the train moved forward slowly with a chugging sound, gathering speed as we left the station.
‘I feel quite elated,’ I said to Molly. ‘This is quite an adventure and I must confess I feel quite hungry.’
We both laughed as we partook of cook’s luncheon which she had so kindly put together for us. As we ate, we looked out of the window and marvelled at the changing scenery. After the blacks and greys of the city, the countryside unfolded like a colourful ribbon speeding by.
We arrived at Penzance at four o’clock in the afternoon. Molly and I stood outside the station, our light luggage around our feet, scrutinising each carriage which arrived. Half an hour passed and I was feeling restless. Surely my grandmother hadn’t forgotten our arrival time. I was just about to go and ask the stationmaster if there were any messages for Miss Merriock when a voice startled me.
‘Jane Merriock?’
The voice was deep and questioning, and as I turned to face its owner, I was pleasantly surprised. The gentleman was tall and well-built with fair hair and deep brown eyes set in a handsome face. He was smart but his clothes rested on him casually, in fact his whole manner was of a casual nature. His eyes smiled into mine.
‘Why, yes,’ I stammered and felt foolish as I said it.
No-one had caused this effect on me before. He bowed almost mockingly before me.
‘Robert Thornton at your service, Miss Merriock. Your carriage awaits.’
I followed him without question, Molly at my heels. The carriage was an open one and, Robert Thornton handed me a grey woven rug to cover my legs as the late September afternoon was chilly. Molly sat up front next to the driver, so I was left with this stranger for a companion, and an interesting companion as it turned out.
Robert Thornton sat opposite me on the plush seat, his eyes surveying me and, I thought, waiting for me to speak. I did, for the question had been hovering on my lips.
‘And what role do you play at Pendenna Reach, Mr Thornton?’ I asked him sweetly.
He looked at me a few seconds before replying.
‘I’m your grandmother’s estate manager, your grandfather’s when he was alive, and have been for ten years. I trust that we will become good friends, Miss Merriock.’
It was a statement rather than a question. He leaned towards me and smiled, and I thought his hands were going to reach out for mine, but they relaxed in his lap. He looked at me seriously.
‘You must feel strange coming to see a Grandmother you’ve never met.’
‘You are right, Mr Thornton, it is a very strange feeling, but I know from my grandmother’s letters she is as eager to see me as I am to see my late mother’s home.’
There was something else I had to know.
‘Can you tell me, Mr Thornton, who else lives at Pendenna Reach?’
‘Your Aunt Laura.’
He leaned back. Did I sense contempt in his voice? My mother had spoken of her sister, Laura, who had been engaged to be married, but her betrothed, Andrew Trehaine, had disappeared mysteriously the same time as my mother left Pendenna.
‘Is she married now?’ I asked tentatively, wondering if had any cousins.
‘No,’ was all Robert Thornton replied and I sensed by his manner that was all he would say about Aunt Laura, for now at least.
I looked around at the countryside, thinking how different this land was to the hustle and bustle of London. Small, whitewashed cottages were dotted here and there amongst the fields and hedgerows. My companion pointed out various landmarks.
We neared the top of a hill and I could see the sea shimmering in the late afternoon sun, and on the cliff I caught my first glimpse of the house. Robert Thornton must have heard my sharp intake of breath, for the house was far larger than I’d imagined. It stood stark and grey against the backdrop of the blue sky. Then we dipped down over the hill and it vanished from view.
‘You are impressed?’ my companion queried with a smile.
‘Why, yes,’ I stammered. ‘I had not imagined it to be so immense.’
As I spoke, we pulled up at the tall black wrought iron gates where we stopped momentarily for the lodge-keeper to open them. I felt the butterflies in my stomach and had not imagined that I would be so nervous. Robert Thornton then threw propriety to the wind and laid a hand over mine.
‘Do not worry, Miss Merriock, you will be made welcome and will always be safe while I am here.’
Although taken aback by the touch of his strong hand, the unexpected encounter gave me courage and I felt quite bereft when he drew away.
As we rounded a bend I caught my first close look at the house. Sea mist had started to curl around the chimneys, but many of the mullioned windows still glinted in the late sun. Mr Thornton helped me alight. I felt weary and apprehensive as the great oak door swung open as if in greeting.
Molly disappeared with the carriage and I forced my aching limbs to move forward to the door. Then something suddenly troubled me.
Had I imagined Mr Thornton uttering the word safe?