HIGH TIDE AT MIDNIGHT (17 page)

did Laura never tell you the story of Morwenna Trevennon? I can

understand her reticence. It isn't a bedtime story for a child, after all, but it

always fascinated your mother, so it's no wonder that's the name she chose

for you.'

'No wonder at all,' Dominic Trevennon said from the doorway, and

Morwenna had to resist an impulse to shrink back in her chair. He came

forward, his eyebrows lifted, and looked down at his uncle. 'What's this,

Nick? More family history?'

Nick grunted, 'Past, present and future, I hope.' His hands almost caressed

the folder in his lap.

Dominic glanced at it, his dark face sardonic. 'You employ strange

messengers for your errands at times, Nick. Why all the mystery?'

Nick lifted a shoulder. 'I have my reasons.'

'I hope so.' Dominic's voice was grim. 'I won't even try to guess what they

are. But you do realise that you put Miss Kerslake in a damned difficult

position this afternoon?'

'She's forgiven me,' said Nick. 'She may even forgive you in time. And why

so formal? Her name's Morwenna, remember.'

'I'm not likely to forget,' Dominic said not quite under his breath.

Morwenna's chin went up in defiance. 'I suppose my appropriation of the

family name must seem like adding insult to injury to you, Mr Trevennon.'

'Well, don't lose any sleep over it, Miss Kerslake. Not at this late stage.'

'Oh, I shan't.' Her smile was cool, even slightly provocative. Anything to

conceal the truth—that because of this man with his dark, taunting smile, it

might be many a moon before she closed her eyes in peace again.

She turned slightly desperately to Nick. 'Isn't anyone going to tell me my

namesake's story at last?'

He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes as if to aid his concentration. 'It

doesn't take long to tell. She was the only daughter of Matt Trevennon who

ruled the coastline hereabouts in the name of Elizabeth the First, but for the

greater honour and glory of Matt Trevennon. His wife had borne him several

sturdy sons, but Morwenna was the last of the brood and the sole girl, and

he—like many another strong man—worshipped her from the moment she

was laid in the cradle. When at last she came to her teens and it was time to

think about her marriage, there wasn't a match good enough for her.' He gave

a slight chuckle. 'Hardly to be wondered at, I suppose. As well as being a"

considerable heiress, she was a lovely thing, even taking artistic licence into

account.'

Morwenna stirred in her chair. 'Is there a portrait of her somewhere?'

'A portrait exists,' said Dominic Trevennon. 'Although it hasn't been seen for

some considerable time.'

Nick grunted something and sat hunched irritably in his chair with his lips

pursed. Then, with an obvious effort, he took up the story again. 'At last a

betrothal was arranged, with the son of an earl high in favour at court, and

Matt crowed over this the length and breadth of the Duchy. But the marriage

itself was postponed because England was on the brink of war with Spain. In

fact, it was said a great fleet had already been dispatched to invade England

and all thoughts of weddings and celebration had to take second place to the

national emergency.' He shrugged. 'What happened next is history, of

course. Various factors, including the weather, contributed to the downfall

of the mighty Armada and its ships were scattered. One of them came to

grief on the rocks not far from this house.'

'Spanish Cove,' Morwenna breathed.

Nick nodded. 'And on the morning tide, clinging to a spar, came the only

survivor of the wreck, as far as we know—Don Esteban de Aldobar y Vaga.

It was Matt Trevennon that found him, and that probably saved 'his life.

Anyone else would probably have quietly knocked him on the head and put

him back in the sea after emptying his pockets, but Matt knew from his

clothing that this was no ordinary Spanish sailor and he had him taken up to

the house."

He sighed. 'He saw the lad was young, dressed like an aristocrat and with

gold in his pockets, and the thought of ransom filled his mind to the

exclusion of all else. What he'd forgotten was that waiting in his house was

his daughter, his own flesh and blood, as wild and wilful in her own way as

he was, facing a loveless although brilliant marriage with a man she'd met

about twice." Nick grinned from Dominic to Morwenna. 'It must have been

like setting a match to a fuse. Particularly when news came that young Matt,

the son and heir, had been wounded aboard one of Drake's ships and was

lying at Plymouth, and Madam Trevennon together with the old nurse, who

was still technically in charge of Morwenna, went flying off to look after

him and bring him home as soon as he was well enough.

'So she fell in love with this young Spaniard? Even though he was her

country's enemy?' Morwenna could not keep a note of surprise out of her

voice.

Nick smiled faintly. 'She was Cornish, remember, and it's a moot point

whether the Cornish have ever genuinely regarded themselves as part of

England. It's been suggested that a number of sailors from the Armada made

their way ashore and settled down quietly, intermarrying with the locals and

never a word mentioned to the authorities. Certainly Don Esteban's presence

at Trevennon was kept mighty quiet from the powers that be. If any benefit

was to accrue from it, it would have to be for Matt Trevennon alone. So in

the absence of her mother and the nurse, Morwenna looked after the lad

herself and, of course, the inevitable happened.'

'But didn't her father notice?'

'Apparently not." It was Dominic speaking. 'But her mother did as soon as

she returned with her convalescent son in tow, and she recognised what her

husband had taken for an attack of ague as the early symptoms of

pregnancy.' He shook his head. 'It's not difficult to imagine the scene that

ensued—Matt shouting and blustering and Morwenna defying him,

swearing that the earl's son could end in perdition and that she'd marry Don

Esteban or no one. As if the choice was ever going to be hers.'

'So what did they do?' Morwenna prompted.

He gave a faint shrug. 'They were cruel times. Don Esteban's fate was sealed

even though the ransom from Spain had not arrived. But they fed the girl a

tale. Matt appeared to capitulate—to accept that the grand London wedding

would never take place. But he imposed a condition: Don Esteban must go

back to Spain to ensure that his family would receive his bride with honour

and consent to the marriage. Later Morwenna would be sent to him.'

'And she believed him?"

'He was her father and she had always been his spoiled pet. She had no

reason to believe he would deny her the wish of her heart. When you've only

ever looked for one side of a person, it's hard to realise that another may

exist that you've never glimpsed. So Morwenna said goodbye to her

beloved.'

'And she never saw him again?' Morwenna asked soberly.

'Indeed she did. Heaven only knows how she was tipped off. Perhaps one of

her brothers dropped a hint. Maybe she overheard a snippet of conversation

not intended for her ears. Perhaps a servant told her the truth. It seems that

none of the Trevennons wished to soil their hands with Esteban's blood.

They reasoned that as the sea had brought him, the sea could take him again.

So they trussed him up and left him in Spanish Cove for the tide, and that's

where Morwenna, flying to the rescue, found him, just before high . tide at

midnight.'

'So they escaped after all.' Morwenna was surprised at the outcome. The

story up to now had been told on a sombre note which had suggested

otherwise.

'No,' Dominic shook his head, 'they didn't. The ropes that had been used had

swollen in the damp and she could ■ neither cut them nor free him. In the

end, so the legend had it, when she saw it was no use, she lay down on the

sand beside him and let the tide take them both.'

'Dear God!' After a pause, Morwenna moistened her lips. 'That's quite a

story. No wonder my mother never told me. It's hardly fairytale material.'

'You've come to the wrong place for fairy tales, my dear.' Dominic's voice

was suddenly harsh. "The Treven- nons don't go in for happy endings.

Haven't you heard enough of the family history to know that by now?'

Their glances met and locked. She said, keeping her voice very steady, 'You

make that sound almost like a warning—Mr Trevennon.'

'Perhaps it is at that,' he said quietly. He laid a hand momentarily on his

uncle's shoulder, then turned and went out of the room.

She watched him go, a pain like a sword stabbing at her heart. She needed no

warning, she thought achingly. She already knew that loving him could

guarantee her nothing but heartbreak, not when Karen Inglis moved at his

side with her tall dark beauty in all the confidence of possession.

She realised Nick's eyes were on her, filled with anxiety, and resolutely

fought back the tears that were threatening to overwhelm her. She could not

cry now, not without giving herself away, and she could not do that if she

was to leave Trevennon with the rags of her pride intact. So she would cry

later, when she was alone. And it was the prospect of that loneliness, she

knew, that would be the hardest to bear.

But the day was not finished with her yet. They worked for the remainder of

the afternoon, largely in silence. Morwenna did not have to speculate what

occupied Nick's thoughts as he pored over his drawings and figures. Her

own musings followed much the same complex lines, she thought as she sat

at the desk staring at the notes she was supposed to be transcribing with

sightless eyes.

Somehow she had to come to terms with this new pain, this new yearning

which had beset her. She lifted a hand and brushed it against the softness of

her mouth as if her fingertips were capable of recapturing his kiss, but at the

same time she despised herself. Hadn't she learned sufficiently from that

transitory experience with Guy of the deceit of physical passion? She knew

without conceit that she was attractive and desirable, so there was little

wonder that Dominic should have taken advantage of their proximity for a

little casual lovemaking. More than that, she had practically invited the

situation by her own foolish remarks at their first meeting, although she had

believed the provocation, the attraction she had dimly sensed between them

even then had been cancelled, neutralised by the anger and antagonism

since.

And Dominic was wrong. Hate was no substitute at all for love. Passion on

those terms might be momentarily beguiling, but it would leave a bitter taste.

It was strange how she knew this even though she had never given herself

and tested the truth of her reasoning. She loved him, but that would have to

remain a secret in this house where too many secrets had been nursed in

bitterness and regret.

From the other side of the room Nick said abruptly, 'I shall have dinner

downstairs this evening.' He looked across at her with something of a

challenge in his eyes. 'Well, nothing to say?'

She smiled with an effort. 'Would any comment from me really affect the

decision either way?'

'Not really.
I
've remained passive too long. It's time
I
took a hand in my own

affairs.'

She said wryly, 'Well, you started today when you sent me to the boatyard.'

'That was only a beginning.' His smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. 'Now

go and tell Inez the good news. She mentioned something earlier about roast

duck. We can have a little celebration feast to mark my return to the land of

the living.'

His tone was bland, but she was not deceived. She said:

'What are you planning, Nick? I have to know.'

'You'll know soon enough.' His eyes glinted at her, then he transferred his

attention deliberately back to his papers. 'Now do as I ask, there's a good

girl, and then go and pretty yourself for this evening.'

Inez received the news that there was to be a party tranquilly enough. She

was sitting at the table peeling apples.

' 'Bout time there was summat to look forward to,' she remarked rather

cryptically. 'I'll get Zack in to clean up the good silver.'

'I could help,' Morwenna offered.

'No need for that. Though if you'd finish these apples for me, I'd be grateful.

I'll see about something special in the way of a pudding.' Inez pushed the

remaining fruit and the paring knife over to her. 'Whatever is it, maid? You

look a bit down jn the mouth.'

Morwenna concentrated on the apples. 'I suppose I'm a little worried about

Mr Nick,' she said at last. 'Worried that he'll overdo things.'