A Fateful Wind (3 page)

“Jenna!” Lady Emmeline’s voice shrilled through the still evening air. “Jenna, you look as weak as a lamb!” She rushed over to where Jenna clung weakly to the hedge. Her face filled with concern as she wrapped her arms around Jenna in an apparent effort to steady her.

“What is it, Lady Emmeline?” A man’s voice preceded heavy footsteps running along the gravel path.

Jenna wished they would all go away, leave her here to lie on the cool ground. She wanted to die. She still felt Edwin’s hand upon her breast, heard his bullying words in her ears, felt the frigid fear as he pressed his manhood against her thigh. Clutching her stomach, she rushed once more to behind the hedge unable to keep the bile down.

“Oh, Jack. Thank goodness you’re here. Help me carry the girl inside. It seems as though she has been stricken with a sickness.” Lady Emmeline removed her lace handkerchief from her pocket and began dabbing around Jenna’s mouth, smoothing the hair away from her forehead with her lace gloved hands.

“Why, Emmeline, she is as cold as night.” He removed his woolen tailcoat, draped it across her shoulders and took her tiny hand in his as he knelt down in front of her. “Can you walk?”

Jenna nodded, comforted by the expression in his eyes. Wearily, she got to her feet, only to fall once more into the strangers arms.

“Here, reach into my pocket, Emmeline, and retrieve my brandy flask.” Slowly, the stranger brought the silver flask up toward Jenna's mouth. The cold metal felt good against her lips. She swallowed the brandy, its warmth permeating through her body.

“Oh, Jenna,” Lady Emmeline soothed, brushing the hair away from Jenna’s face. “Is it something you have eaten perhaps?”

Jenna nodded, resting her head against the stranger’s chest. She could feel the softness of his silk puff tie against her cheek, the comforting smell of the stranger’s pipe lulling her into a false contentment.

Lady Emmeline lifted the brandy flask once more to Jenna’s lips. “The color is returning to her cheeks, Jack. But I think she ought to be taken home. Goodness knows she may be contagious. I will order Humphreys to load up the carriage.”

Jack looked up at the sun. It had just disappeared beyond the peak of Sharptor, casting shadows over the moorland that lay below.

“No, Emmeline. It will soon be dark. Let me take her on my horse.” He turned to look at Jenna, whose tired arms hung loose around the stranger’s strong shoulder. “Are you strong enough to hold on to me?”

Jenna nodded. She had never seen this stranger before. She could only surmise it to be Sir Jack Bartholomew. Whoever he was, she felt grateful to him and to Lady Emmeline for taking her home to the safety of her bedroom. She wanted to be well away from Penrose Manor and well away from the manacles of Lord Edwin.

The stranger lifted her atop his horse.

“Miners cottages, Jack, and please do hurry back. It will soon be dark.”

Jack rode expertly across the moors. Jenna could feel the horse’s hooves pounding over the moss laden pathway shaking her whole body. It took all her might to hold onto the reigns. She feared at any moment she might loosen her grip and fall from the stallion. Instinctively, as though knowing her fears, Sir Jack held her frail body closer to his, his masculine scent and soft encouraging words making her feel safe. Relief swept over Jenna as he slowed his stallion down and she could see the low stone terrace cottages at the foot of Sharptor. Weakly, Jenna pointed to the middle one and saw her father answer the door.

“Jack Bartholomew.” He introduced himself as he carried Jenna into the warmth of the tiny cottage.

Her father lifted his hat.

“Your daughter seems to have eaten something that has not agreed with her. Lady Penrose wished her to be taken home. She seems to be doing better, more color to her cheeks and she was able to hold on whilst I galloped here.” Sir Jack’s voice spoke quickly as he tried to catch his breath from the exhilarating ride.

* * * *

Jenna’s father led the way to her tiny bedroom and Jack placed her down upon the small wooden bed. He scarcely noticed her face before, being more concerned with her apparent faintness, but under the glow of candlelight his breath caught in his throat. Even under her current condition she looked to be the most beautiful creature he ever laid eyes upon. Her silky raven hair splayed out across the pillow, pale skin intercepted only by the full ruby softness of her lips and the slight rosy color returning to her cheeks. Her nose held an aquiline quality as though she were more aristocratic than just a common country girl and her cheekbones pushed prominently through the youthful skin. As she opened her eyelids he was met with a startling turquoise blue that shook the very core of him.

“Thank you,” she whispered wrapping her small hand around his. “I am sorry to have caused you such inconvenience.”

Sir Jack shook his head, unable to speak. He hovered over her, basking in the beauty of the strange girl. Suddenly, noting his impropriety and the nature of his thoughts, he rose shyly and, shaking her father’s hand, took the silver flask from his pocket and laid it on the mantelpiece. “This brandy may help.” He nodded as he left.

* * * *

Edwin enjoyed the feast Cook had put on for his cousin, even more so he enjoyed the whiskey Jack had smuggled back from America. “Far tastier than rum!” he exclaimed, pouring himself another glass, whilst reaching for his fifth pasty of the night.

After dinner they settled in the drawing room where a large platter of regional cheeses was placed before them.

“Can I offer you some crackers and cheese Jack? You barely ate anything at dinner?”

“Thank you, but no, it seems my appetite has vanished. I think I may retire early, if you don’t mind?”

“But Jack!” Lady Emmeline sounded disappointed. “I thought we were going to play cards?”

“I’m sorry, Emmeline. I am afraid the whole transatlantic voyage has finally caught up with me. Do you mind if we play another night?”

“Yes, my dear,” Lord Edwin intercepted. “The poor man looks absolutely fatigued. You must let him rest.”

For once, he felt pleased to be alone with Emmeline. A night away from the constant story telling of his younger cousin would be most pleasant. Plus he meant to ask whatever happened to her young servant. He hoped that sly harridan Jenna had not exposed his earlier fondling of her. He consoled himself with the fact she seemed a smart girl. Not only she, but her betrothed love and indeed her father, relied on Penrose for their employment. She would know better than to run the risk of them all being thrown into the workhouse. Hopefully his afternoon liaison with Jenna would be the first of many. He lifted his hands and smelled the sweet scent of her still lingering on his fingers. He remembered the feeling of her full young breasts. Her warm thighs protecting the moist entryway he longed to taste. Good God, this damsel was having an effect on him. He breathed, trying to quell his racing heart.

“Edwin, you look flushed.” His wife snorted. “It may be wise to lay off the whiskey for one night don’t you think?” She fixed her gaze on him, the look of utter resentment filling the room with a chilly air.

Lord Edwin smirked. The impudence of the woman! To even look at her made him irksome, that superior gaze of hers as though he were no more than a school boy! He surveyed his wife as she stood before him, a figure of elegance in her fine violet silk dinner gown, her ashen hair pulled back in a bun accentuating the aristocratic features he once found faintly appealing. Now he found them harsh and stern. If only she had been able to conceive, perhaps things would have been different for them, but after three miscarriages and a stillbirth, Edwin gave up any hope of producing an heir. Now, he supposed, his fortune would be passed to Jack, the next in line to the Penrose dynasty. Sometimes, in his very infrequent moments of unselfishness, he wondered if he could have been more forgiving of Emmeline’s ineptitude in the childbearing region. Then he quickly told himself, is that not what a woman is there for, to have children and provide an heir in a proper fashion? As there were no other ties linking Edwin and Emmeline, their relationship grew more and more distant over the years. Now they shared little, no bed, no bedroom, no laughter, no companionship, no respect, and no love. Only a grand house and a fabulous party façade which disappeared as tiredly as the last guest left.

Chapter Four

Sleep did not come easily to Jack that night. He lay in bed willing his eyes to close, but every time his lids shut, the delicate face of the servant girl filled his thoughts. She portrayed an innocent pure beauty he never saw before. Jack tried hard to understand just what it was about her. The moment he lay her head upon the pillow and she gazed at him with those magnificent turquoise eyes, he felt as though a spell had been placed upon him. Eventually admitting defeat, he stretched his long legs out of bed and opened the window. The night air held a balmy quality Cornwall was famous for in the summertime. It was a false allure for this part of England faced many a severe wintertime gale when the wind and pelting rain would ravage across the moorland beating anything or anyone in its path.

Jack gazed out into the distance. Under the light of the moon, he could see the outline of the Miner’s cottages that lay beyond. His gaze eked out the middle cottage. Was that a faint glimmer of candlelight or just his imagination? She would be sleeping by now, he hoped. Would she be well enough to return to Penrose Manor to work? He wished it were so. Having little medical experience he found it hard to gage what was wrong with the girl. Food poisoning seemed most probable, but diseases still ravished the impoverished population and it could be something more serious. For all he knew the girl could be pregnant!

He closed the creaking window frame and climbed back underneath the thick eiderdown. He could not remember the last time a woman had this effect on him. The whole thing left him feeling very vulnerable indeed. Emotions were something Jack never enjoyed dealing with and fortunately they didn’t surface very often. He consoled himself with the fact the girl looked so ill. He was probably just overly concerned, hence the reason the young woman now occupied his thoughts. That and Lady Emmeline had been so worried. In fact, the more he thought of it, Lady Emmeline’s extremely uncharacteristic reaction to her servant’s illness belied the icy aloofness she normally used when handling her staff.

The next morning the sky was amass of blue. The sun’s rays beamed into Jenna’s bedroom. For a brief moment, she forgot the previous trauma of the evening before, until the memory of Lord Edwin’s perverted encroachment of her came sharply to the forefront of her memory. Jenna’s body, which yesterday quivered with terror and rapprochement, now became ablaze with anger. How dare he? Who was he to take advantage and lay a finger on her? Who was he to think he had any right to push his body upon her just because of her position in life? She would rather starve, be cast out on the streets to fight vermin, disease and destitution than ever let Lord Edwin Penrose folly with her.

She lay back in bed with a sigh, her throat sore and dry from the vomiting of the night before. If she possessed a hastier disposition, she would have stormed up to Penrose House and given her notice, but sense prevailed. What good could that possibly do? She thought of her father still working the mines shackled to the lecherous Penrose for his daily bread. And Trystan, oh God, her thoughts turned to her betrothed and Lord Edwin’s summons of him at sundown. Whatever could that beast want with Trystan? Was there no way out of having to succumb to the Penrose's monetary power? Was there no other employment either she or Trystan could find?

Anxiously, Jenna sat up, looking out of the window. She surveyed the countryside that splayed out in front of her. Nothing except tin mining or farming stretched as far as the eye could see— the latter a precarious livelihood at best, even for those brought up in a farming family. It was no good. She would just have to persevere and this time she would make sure she was never, ever left alone with the perverted brute.

As she rose, her eyes caught the dark woolen tailcoat draped over the chair. Jenna lifted it to her nose and breathed in. The comforting smell of tobacco and something she couldn’t quite place her finger on filled her with warmth. So, that was the illustrious Sir Jack Bartholomew the village buzzed with news about? Closing her eyes, his face came into view. The warmth of his green eyes hooded under strong brows creased together with concern. The disarming way his hair flopped lazily over his face as he bent to lift her. The strength of his arms as he lifted her atop his stallion, rode expertly across the moorland path to her cottage, and placed her on top of her bed. And that look he gave her before he left. She found it perplexing. Even now she felt an unfamiliar longing in the pit of her stomach. How she wished to have lifted her fingers and gently brushed back the rich walnut hair from his eyes.

She climbed back into bed and lifted her face, basking in the warmth of the morning sun as it shone through the window. She daydreamed of how life would be were she born into a different class where she would never be beholden to anyone or any man for her livelihood.

Voices outside her bedroom interrupted her thoughts. She heard her father explain how she had been brought home by
the
Sir Jack Bartholomew, how he left his flask of brandy and how ill Jenna had been. The voice outside sounded full of concern. Trystan. He knocked on the door and Jenna, pulling the rough blanket up to her chin, indicated to him it was safe to enter.

Trystan stood in the doorway clothed in his best Sunday church suit faded slightly at the sleeves, the material threadbare through the elbows and across his shoulders. Shyly, he lifted his cap, exposing the swarthy features lying hidden underneath. He looked pensive as he eyed Jenna.

“Jenna, oh, Jenna, whatever happened to you?”

She eyed him silently, pondering whether to tell him of Lord Edwin’s unwelcome advances to her, but thought better of it. Trystan was a man slow to anger, but once the flame of rage ignited he was a force to be reckoned with. She worried he may do something foolish. Instead, she patted the bed beside her and, taking Trystan's hand in hers, told him a very compelling story of something she ate which obviously disagreed with her.

“So it’s not me? It’s not the wedding or jitters over becoming a married lass?”

She shook her head and smiled at him. If nothing else, he was a perceptive man, but his tenderness touched her. He loved her. Surely over time she would grow to love him back. He would make a good husband and a good father. And once she had a baby there would be no need for her to continue working at Penrose Manor.

Feeling happier over this prospect, Jenna realized perhaps marrying Trystan wouldn’t be so terrible after all. If, in the near future after the wedding ceremony, she were to fall with child then her days as a servant would end.

“No, Trystan! It’s not that. I am so happy, so excited to become Mrs. Trystan Trezies. In fact, this afternoon when I am well, Tamzin will be here to finish the gown, so you’d better be off for the day in case you see it. It’s bad luck you know!”

Trystan grinned. “I worry so, Jenna. I just want you to be happy.” He bent down and kissed her on the forehead. “Are you hungry at all? Bread and milk? It will do you the world of good.”

She nodded. All of a sudden, she felt much better about everything and about getting married. Soon she would be a mother with an infant strapped to her breast, unable to work under the auspices of Lord Edwin. No, he would have to find another maid to fixate upon. Hopefully after the birth, should she have to return to work, she would get lovely and fat, just like her sister Tamzin, and Lord Edwin would no longer find her so desirable!

Trystan brought her in the steaming hot bowl of bread and milk doused with sugar. Jenna guzzled it greedily. “Oh,” she remembered suddenly between bites. “Lord Edwin wishes to see you at sundown today.”

“To see me?” Trystan asked.

Jenna nodded, wiping a piece of bread from her lips, noting the confusion on Trystan’s face.

Trystan shook his head and sighed. “I won’t go. I won’t leave here…ever.”

“What do you mean you won’t go? Won’t go where?”

“To America. That’s what this whole thing is about. That’s why Sir Jack Bartholomew came back so suddenly to Cornwall, to round up workers for the new Penrose Mines in America. But I won’t go. I won’t take us away from our families and our homes for some pie in the sky dream they try and lure us away with.”

Jenna dropped her spoon into the bowl, milk splashing over the rough hewn blanket. “America!” Her eyes widened and thoughts of never having to face Lord Edwin again dashed through her imagination. “But Trystan, it would be a chance for us to make a better living, have an adventure, see something of the world!”

He rose from the edge of the bed, anger clouding his face. “I would have thought you of all people would have understood. Has it not been eighteen months since my own brother fell prey to these tales of supposed fortune and left these very shores to make a better living in Australia? And what living? We haven’t heard from him since! We’ve no idea whether he’s alive or dead. It’s pie in the sky, Jenna. We belong here in Cornwall and that’s the end of it. I will tell Lord Edwin I won’t leave. I can’t leave and I will suffer the consequences of that be there any.”

Jenna nodded, feeling too exhausted to argue. What good would it do anyway? She knew the apprehension Trystan and his family felt when Peter left for Australia and the extreme sadness his apparent disappearance caused the whole tight-knit Trezies clan. The thought of being on the other side of the Atlantic as far away from Lord Edwin as she could get had gotten the better of her. She spoke without thinking of Peter and the possible tragedy that may have befallen him.

“I know," she said softly. “I know. I probably wouldn’t like America anyway and leaving father and Tamzin and Karenza, well, I would be so homesick for Cornwall I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. I miss Karenza so much as it is and she’s only in Bodmin!” At the thought of her middle sister, she felt sad. She did miss Karenza. She never understood why Karenza moved to Bodmin. It may have been only ten miles southwest of her, but it may well have been on the other side of the earth for all she got to see of her favorite sister.

Smiling, Trystan’s anger vanished. “Well, I best be off. Don’t want to risk any bad fortune by seeing that dress of yours.” He laughed, obviously amused by her superstitions.

That afternoon, Jenna felt well enough to rise from her bed, dress and join her father by the fire. He lifted the copper kettle from the coals and made tea. They sat together in quiet contentment, watching the orange flames rise up through the narrow stone chimney. How she wished her father didn’t have to work so hard. His back stooped over from the years spent in the small mine shafts. His chest succumbed numerous times to the dampness of a life spent underground and he could barely talk without a cough interrupting his sentences. Still, she would only be a few cottages away from him and, between her and Tamzin at the other end of the village, her father would be well taken care of.

The noise of her elder sister bursting through the front door with her gaggle of scruffily clad children interrupted their peaceful interlude. Jenna’s father’s eyes lit up at the sight of his grandchildren. He always loved to have a house full of children and laughter. Having little boys to teach and laugh with was a welcome novelty for a man who had borne only girls.

“Hear!” Tamzin shouted above the din of the children. “I hear you had a run in with Sir Jack Bartholomew last night and he rode you home on his stallion.” Jenna’s sister buzzed with excitement.

Jenna shook her head. Gossip traveled quickly in a small village. “It was not a run in. I ate something and felt terribly poorly up at the Manor. Lady Emmeline asked him to take me home before it got dark. I think she feared I was contagious.”

Tamzin looked disappointed. “But he did ride you back on his stallion, didn’t he?” she asked expectantly, whilst smacking her youngest boy on the backside for trying to light her father’s pipe. “Behave yourself laddie or there’ll be no supper for you!”

Jenna nodded, knowing full well her exuberant mother hen of a sister would be basking in this latest village gossip for the next week. Were Karenza here, Jenna would have confided in her about Lord Edwin’s attack. But Tamzin sported a loose tongue and a quick temper. She would have marched up to Penrose house, her stout physique barging past the butler and servants until she came face to face with the weasel and given him a good piece of her mind…Lord, or no Lord. Tamzin held no regard for any member of the aristocracy, nor did she need to rely on the Penrose family for her family’s paycheck having married a local farmer. As the days and month’s flew by, Tamzin looked more and more the epitome of the farmer’s wife. Her once slender figure now bore the brunt of carrying and giving birth to four healthy and strapping baby boys. Her chubby, but pretty face gleamed rosy pink. She was a force to be reckoned with, full of energy, bossy, domineering and gossipy, but with an open heart. She kept the family together after the untimely and suspicious death of their mother. She posted a notice on the bulletin board of the parish church in an attempt to quell the cruel talk that circulated, stating that the death of Mrs. Penworthy was an unfortunate accident—nothing more, nothing less. And she spent her evenings sewing Jenna’s wedding dress and working on it as though Jenna was indeed Queen of England.

Jenna stepped into the ivory lace and silk, whilst Tamzin set to work pinning the waistline in and folding pleats around the hips and bustline, working the delicate material expertly between her fingers.

“You look like a princess,” Jenna’s nephews chorused. They fell silent as they sat cross legged in front of her, entertained by the role their mother took on as seamstress. Jenna’s father nodded with pride, taking the pipe from his mouth and wiping a tear from his eye.