The Chain Garden (24 page)
Authors: Jane Jackson
‘Permanently?’
Grace nodded. ‘The thing is – Edwin, she’s given her cottage to me.’
His brows rose. ‘What a remarkably generous gesture.’
‘You’re wondering why. So did I. I’ve never – I mean – I simply couldn’t imagine why she would.’ Grace’s cheeks grew rosy and she broke off, shaking her head.
‘She gave you a reason?’ Edwin enquired gently, already suspecting what it was and moved by the loneliness implicit in the gift.
Grace’s colour deepened as she nodded. ‘She said I was the only genuine member of the entire Damerel family. I don’t think she meant to include the twins, do you?’
‘I’m sure she didn’t.’
‘Anyway, she had always enjoyed my visits and the gift was a small token of her esteem. She said that though I will live in other places –’ Grace broke off. ‘How could she possibly know that?’
‘Mrs Renowden was an artist. Artists are acutely sensitive observers. In all honesty, I don’t think there are many people to whom our engagement will come as a complete surprise.’
Grace darted him a shy glance. ‘Mary guessed weeks ago.’
Edwin smiled. ‘She is a lady of exceptional good sense. What else did Mrs Renowden say?’
‘That the cottage meant I would always have a home in Cornwall to come back to, and she wished us every happiness.’
Cold February rain driven by a gusty wind lashed against the office windows. Henry Damerel slumped against the button-back brown leather, his hands hanging loosely over the arms.
Flames danced in the small grate but made little impact on the chilly draught creeping in under the panelled door.
Wearing expressions that matched the sombre formality of their black coats and striped trousers, his solicitor and bank manager sat on the far side of a table covered with neat piles of documents.
Sunk in bitterness he barely listened as procedures relating to his bankruptcy and the closure of
Wheal Providence
were explained.
A lifetime’s work: decades of juggling, of strain, of effort, and for what? He had lost everything. All saleable machinery had been auctioned off to raise money to pay some of his creditors. Everyone blamed him. Yet of all of them he had lost the most. What more did they think he could have done?
The house and estate were being sold to some industrialist from the Midlands who wanted to retire to Cornwall. The damned upstart had even wanted to retain the servants. Not one, God rot them, had refused. Bitterness, hot and acid, burned in Henry’s gut. So much for loyalty.
At least he was free of his mother-in-law. John Ainsley had found her a small town house in Truro and dealt with everything from legal arrangements to transferring her furniture.
Resentment curled Henry’s hands into fists. John was safe, untouched. His life was continuing just as it always had. He was even staying on at the lodge: the industrialist only too delighted at the convenience of having a doctor at the top of the drive.
Henry rubbed his aching forehead. Six months ago he had been a man of property and substance. The situation had been difficult, even precarious. But with Mary’s money he could have turned it all around. He could have made
Wheal Providence
profitable again. He’d been willing to give her what she had wanted. Just because he’d forgotten to tell her about something that was none of her damn business anyway – now all he owned were his clothes. Even the roof over his head belonged to his daughter.
If Dorcas had told him she had come into money he would never have taken up with Mary. He had been doing his utmost to save the mine, and they had both deserted him.
How had Dorcas found out he had mortgaged the cottage to the bank then been unable to keep up the payments? To learn that she had bought the cottage had been shock enough. That she should have given it to Grace – that news had stunned him.
Why Grace? He longed to know. But he wouldn’t ask. He had his pride. Besides, he wasn’t sure how much Grace knew about his relationship with Dorcas. Not that it was any of her business.
All Grace had said was that the gift had been unexpected and a great shock. Then she had told him he could, if he wished, live with her at the cottage until her wedding. When she moved into the manse with Edwin he could stay on and Rose would come in three times a week to cook for him. He’d agreed. Where else could he have gone?
Grace had changed. It wasn’t just her marriage. Ever since Louise’s death she had been different. He couldn’t imagine what Edwin Philpotts saw in her. She had none of Zoe’s sparkle or beauty. Her only talent was taking care of the village’s lame ducks.
In the past when he had reminded her of her responsibility to the family she had always apologised and made additional efforts to please. Now when he complained of her neglect or pointed out her shortcomings she simply waited until he’d finished then asked him to excuse her and left.
What really infuriated –
unnerved –
him was the expression in her eyes. She tried to hide it. But he wasn’t blind nor was he stupid. How dare she look at him like that? With
pity.
‘Mr Damerel?’
He looked up. Both men were observing him over half-moon spectacles, clearly waiting for his response to a question he hadn’t even heard.
He flapped a hand. ‘Do what you like. I don’t care.’
Chapter Twenty Four
Freshly bathed, wearing a loose light robe of pale pink double-layered muslin with ribbon ties and trimming, Grace sat at the breakfast table, enjoying a second cup of tea while she ran through in her head all she hoped to do that day. She glanced up as the door opened.
‘Fetch some more toast, shall I?’ Violet enquired as she set down a small pile of mail by her mistress’s empty plate. ‘Eating for two now, you are.’
‘Honestly, Violet, if you and Rose had your way I’d be the size and shape of a rain barrel.’ She smiled up into the maid’s concerned face. ‘I’m fine, really.’
‘Ben Hooper have sent down a great basket of fruit and veg.’
‘That was kind of him. He really shouldn’t though. All the produce belongs to the new owner now.’
Violet snorted. ‘He got more’n enough. Anyway, I reck’n Ben want to say thanks for all you done for Kate while she was mourning her grampa. She do still miss him something awful. Shame he never seen the babby.’
‘At least he lived long enough to see Kate married. He promised he would. He even walked her down the aisle.’
Violet’s normally dour features softened. ‘Get on, Kate near enough carried him. Still, he didn’t weigh no more’n a handful of feathers. I tell you, Rose and me stopped breathing. We was both afraid he’d never get so far as the front pew.’ She looked round as the door opened again.
‘Here’s master. If you’re sure you don’t want nothing else I’ll go and get on.’
‘I’ll see you later, Violet.’
Grace felt her heart swell with love as her husband passed the maid with a nod and a smile. She raised her face as he dropped a kiss on her forehead then bent to lay a gentle hand over the curve of her stomach.
‘How are you both?’
‘Blooming. Mrs Endean?’
‘She died an hour ago. It was very peaceful. Her sister was very upset so I stayed with her while her daughter went for the undertaker. George Penrose has had a busy time since Christmas.’
Grace laid her hand over his in silent sympathy. ‘Sit with me for a moment. Would you like a cup of tea?’
Shaking his head he pulled out a chair and sat close enough to hold her hand. His open affection for her was something she treasured and gave thanks for every day.
‘No, I’m awash with tea.’ He glanced at the mail beside her plate. ‘Anything interesting?’
‘Lots.’ Grace sifted the pile. ‘Bryce and Tarun are off to Tibet again. In fact as the letter was written a month ago they are probably there by now. There’s a postcard from Mary.’
‘Where is she?’
‘Scotland. She says the scenery is absolutely glorious.’ Grace touched his face with loving fingers. ‘I am so very grateful for you.’
Catching her hand he pressed his lips to her palm.
‘There’s also a summons from Granny Hester,’ she pulled a wry face. ‘She says she’s had a letter from Zoe but complains no one ever goes to visit her.’
‘You went to see her the week before last.’
Grace nodded. ‘I expect she’s forgotten. Her memory isn’t what it was.’
‘It’s selective, certainly,’ Edwin said. ‘Tell me when you plan to go and I’ll come too.’
Grace felt a rush a gratitude and relief. ‘Would you? I’d really appreciate it. But you’re already so busy –’
‘Hush,’ he scolded. ‘I know if you don’t go you will only worry. But I’m not having you bullied or upset, especially now.’
‘You’re so kind to me.’
‘I love you,’ he said simply.
‘I’m worried about Zoe.’
‘Why? Your grandmother’s descriptions paint a picture of a young woman at the top of her profession enjoying all the lavish trappings of stardom.’
‘I know. I truly wish I could believe Zoe’s life is as perfect as she says it is. But – haven’t you noticed? Everything is always wonderful. Nothing ever goes wrong. Perhaps it really is like that. I do hope it is. Only …’
‘You don’t think so.’
She shook her head. ‘Granny Hester might know more. Though even if she does, she’s unlikely to tell me.’
‘She might tell me, especially if she’s worried. And after last time she knows I won’t let you visit her on your own.’
Grace gazed at him in dawning comprehension. ‘So this letter is a ploy to get
you
to visit her?’
‘It’s possible. We’ll find out when we go. Perhaps we’ll call in on your father on our way home. I know he’s made it clear he doesn’t want to see anyone. But John’s worried about the amount he’s drinking.’
Grace sighed. ‘I wish there was something I could do.’
‘There isn’t, Grace,’ Edwin interrupted gently. ‘One of the many things I love about you is your generous heart. But when people choose how they live their lives they must also take responsibility for the results of their choices.’
Twining her fingers in his she smiled at him. ‘I am the most blessed woman I know. I am also keeping us both from our work.’
He helped her to her feet. ‘I’ve been down to the hall. Edna and her ladies have already made a small mountain of cheese sandwiches to go with the soup. Mrs Laity had set up three long tables to display the clothes, one each for men women and children. Judging by the amount on each, people have been incredibly generous.’
‘I hoped they would be. Since
Wheal Providence
shut down the miners and their families have had a desperate time. Helping with food and clothes is all very well but what the men really need is work. I saw a piece in the paper about a place that opened in London recently. It’s called a Labour Exchange. Employers who need workers send in information about vacant positions. While men looking for work go there to find jobs. I was just wondering if we might be able to do something similar here in the village.’
The adoration on her husband’s face warmed her heart and her cheeks. ‘What?’ she laughed as he slowly shook his head.
‘You,’ he said simply. ‘It’s an excellent idea.’
Hearing the heavy thud of the front door knocker they exchanged a wry smile.
‘Go on,’ she said, releasing him.
‘We’ll talk about it later,’ he promised.
Tapping briefly, Violet popped her head around the door. ‘Mr Angove to see you, Reverend. Put him in your study, shall I?’
‘Thank you, Violet.’ He smiled over his shoulder and followed the maid as she clumped out.
Grace stood for a moment, her hand on her belly, thinking of how far she had come. Though the journey had been hard, it had been infinitely worthwhile. The baby kicked and she smiled. It was time she got dressed. There was work to do.
