Old Sins Long Shadows

OLD SINS

LONG SHADOWS

B.D.HAWKEY

This novel is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Cover image © B.D.Hawkey

Copyright © 2013 B.D.Hawkey

All rights reserved.

DEDICATION

A stable family life provides a firm foundation on which to build the rest of our lives.

This is for my family. Thank you

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to thank my daughter Jade

who, over a Cornish cream tea, listened to my story outline and gave encouragement.

Taken

He took my love
,

He took my trust
,

He twisted my common sense.

He took my silence,

He took a knife
,

And slashed my innocence.

B.D.Hawkey

Chapter 1

June, 1868

The cart creaked to a halt. The passenger discreetly arched her aching back to bring relief to her tense muscles and jarred spine.

‘
Here we are, Janey,’ said the old man sitting beside her. Holding the reins in one hand, he lifted a calloused finger. The young woman looked to where he was pointing. ‘If you follow that stone hedge over the hill it will take you out to a road, turn left and the entrance to Bosvenna Estate is on the right. This short cut will take two miles off the journey.’  Janey nodded but remained seated, she felt she had troubled him enough yet was reluctant to leave. He noticed her hesitation, ‘Don’t worry maid, if you stick to the stone hedge you won’t get lost on the moor. That hedge boarders Mr Trebilcock’s farm. He’s farmed here for years and if you get lost he’ll point you in the right direction. Twenty years ago I lived in this area and used to help him out now and then. He’s a nice enough man, although he must be pushin’ seventy now – if he’s still walking on this earth.’

‘
It’s very kind of you to give me a lift here, Jack. Are you sure it’s alright to leave my bags with you?’

Jack grinned broadly, his crumpled old face not hiding the twinkle in his eye.
‘Of course, and when I pick you up later you will come and stay with me and Betty for the night. Tomorrow you can either come back to Truro with me or start your new job, depending on how you get on today.’

‘
Are you sure your sister won’t mind me staying the night?’

‘
No, she won’t mind you.’ The old man at her side winked at her, ‘Not sure she will be so keen to have me though. Not seen her since I left St.Wenna.’

Janey climbed down from the cart and stretched her legs, tentatively bending her knees to encourage back the circulation
. The journey had been long and arduous, on an unforgiving wooden seat and with a daunting interview at her destination. They had been travelling for three hours and she felt exhausted. The road surface had been uneven in places, causing the cart to jolt and bump but at least the rain had held off for the journey. A vacancy for a lady’s maid at Bosvenna Estate had arisen and Janey was determined to make a good impression and take up the position.

Moments later Janey watched Jack drive away
. She shook out her blue dress, patted her hair into place and turned to follow the Cornish stone hedge. Looking around she realised she stood on the very edge of Bodmin Moor with its vast expanse of granite strewn moorland stretching as far as the eye could see. The Hawthorne bushes were in full bloom, their bright yellow flowers a stark contrast to the brown crunchy grass that swathed the undulations and stony tors of the moor. She had never seen anything so beautiful and wild. It seemed to beckon her with open arms, inviting her to explore its natural beauty and meander around the ruins of the Bronze Age settlements. Jane wished she had the time to walk among the telltale remains of roundhouses and long forgotten stony enclosures.

She took in a deep breath of clean fresh air which was so very different from the
city air of Truro where she had travelled from. With lightness in her step, she followed a track that ran alongside the stone hedge made by moorland cattle as they followed their daily route to graze the moor. Cattle, sheep and ponies, owned by the local farmers, were allowed to graze on the moor during the summer months. This practice, that went back hundreds of years, benefited not only the farmer by providing food and extra land for their animals, but in turn fertilized the land and kept the wild growth under check. As a result animals grazed at will in their herds, enjoying a natural existence unlike any other farm animal. Janey felt as if she had stepped into another world.

As she walked and enjoyed
the sun on her face, she gave thought to the interview she was attending. She had never held a position of a lady’s maid before and it was important she gave the right impression. At only twenty years old she knew she was much younger than the usual age of thirty years expected for the position, but Janey had ambition and a good education which she felt would be an advantage above any contenders for the position. She took the advertisement out of her reticule and read it for the hundredth time to reassure herself that, unusually, age had not been stipulated.

‘In a Gentleman’s family, near the village of St.Wenna, wanted one lady’s maid. She must be neat in appearance, literate, honest, trustworthy and proficient in needlework and the dressing of hair. For name and address apply to the office of this paper.’

Janey folded it neatly and replaced it inside her bag. While doing so she noticed for the first time the sound of granite stone on stone carrying towards her on the mild breeze. She looked for the origin and in the distance saw a figure of a man repairing the stone wall. Methodically he chose a stone from the pile at his feet and skilfully slotted it into place, continuing the pattern of the original builder. At first she thought it must be Mr Trebilcock, the owner of the farm, but as she watched she realised his body was more agile, athletic and younger than a man ‘pushin’ seventy’. Suddenly a loud bleat from a lamb caught her attention as a herd of sheep trotted passed her and settled nearby, their lambs chasing after their mothers to finally catch them and take comfort and milk by suckling at their teats. Janey had not seen such young lambs before or feeding so naturally and so close to her. She couldn’t help but gasp in excitement and pleasure at the vision and, with an unusual lack of decorum for her, she spread her arms out behind her, tilted her face to the sun and sighed in delight. I love it here, she thought, feeling the warmth of the sun on her face and the gentle breeze kiss her skin. The rhythmical stone on stone sound ceased.

The man had stopped in mid lift, a f
orgotten stone held in his hand and he was watching her. Embarrassment flooded her cheeks that a man had witnessed her abandonment of ladylike behaviour. Head down she marched on with purpose, focusing hard on her shiny boots that peeped out from under her dress at each hasty stride. She was aware from her peripheral vision that he dropped the stone and slowly stood up, as he continued to watch her walk towards him. She knew that the track would soon pass by him and the thought of being so close to him unnerved her, however, she concluded sensibly, if she diverted to give him a wide berth it would look ill mannered of which she had no reason to be. Yet this dark stranger, with his tanned skin and dark brown hair, heightened her senses and she felt like an animal being watched by a predator. Inwardly a little annoyed at his obvious appraisal of her, she could almost feel his eyes follow the curves of her body, she decided to look up and meet his stare. If he smiled a greeting she would too and all would be forgotten, she thought. If he did not she would glare back at his rudeness and discourteous behaviour. She took a deep breath and looked up.

He was no more than six feet away and she was soon past him, yet that moment in time would be forever etched in her mind
. His eyes were the darkest brown, with dark lashes and brows. They penetrated to the core of her soul making her heart lurch in her chest. It was as if a lightning bolt sizzled and crackled between them for they were connected in time and space and nothing around them existed at all. He was about twenty-six years old, serious and bold in manner. He did not smile or bid her ‘good day’ but continued to look at her unabashed. She dropped her gaze in shock at his poor manners and instantly admonished herself for doing so. She walked on but she could still feel him watching her until at last she followed the hedge around a corner. It was only then that she felt she could breathe again and try and make sense of what had just occurred. Why was her heart thudding in her chest and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment?  Nothing had occurred out of the ordinary to cause such an extreme reaction within her. She had not been in danger. He had not threatened her or attacked her, yet somewhere deep inside her she knew he was a bigger threat to her mind, soul and body than anyone she had ever met before.

Miss Petherbridge gave the finishing touches to the accounts for the day and sat back in her chair to study them. Master James was due to return from Bath at the end of August following a stay with his friends and Lady Brockenshaw wished to give a party to celebrate his return. She would have to find another source to provide the extra milk, pork and duck required. She was not impressed by the standard of produce delivered last time by her usual supplier. It would do them good to know they had competition.

She looked around the room with satisfaction
. No other member of the domestic staff had their own office, not even the butler, yet she had two. There was the housekeeper’s room, known as
her
parlour, where the upper servants would gather to take tea and this room, her very own office. A smile touched her lips but rather than brightening her bony features it made her appear sly. She ran her hand along the wooden desk where she undertook all her administration tasks, such as ordering food supplies, sorting the wages, completing the inventory of linen requirements and other household supplies. This was the room she administered the wages to the staff, interviewed domestic servants and, on occasion, dismissed them for some misdemeanour. Her pride in her position of housekeeper was palpable. It showed in how she dressed, spoke and carried out her duties. She walked the corridors of the manor like a strutting peacock, her uniform and keys were her feathers. She had worked her way up from scullery maid, kitchen and parlour maid, until finally she had obtained a position as housekeeper in a small townhouse in Plymouth. She gained immeasurable experience there and ten years ago she had taken up position as housekeeper to Lord and Lady Brockenshaw, one of the richest families in Cornwall and employing one of the largest numbers of domestic staff - of which she was in charge. She had declined marriage and children in order to achieve her ambition and although she was immensely proud and satisfied with the way her life was, her appearance did not convey this. Her tall skinny frame, serious bitter face and tight lips gave the impression of resenting her life and everyone in it. There was a knock on the door and Mary, one of the servants, popped her head around the door.

‘
Miss, the girl applying for lady’s maid is here. Shall I take her up to the mistress?’  Miss Petherbridge sat up and rested her forearms on the table. She was well aware that the lady’s maid position was the only servant to report to and be hired by the mistress herself; however she felt, under the circumstances, she should meet the woman before taking her up to Lady Brockenshaw. She picked up the letter the applicant had written, scanned the beautiful script and, looking over the top of it, asked for Mary to send her in to her.

There were several striking things that Miss Petherbridge noticed when the girl entered the room. She was a girl, not a woman and
therefore too youthful for such a position. She was very pretty with arresting green eyes. She was neatly presented, with a sense of fashion and what suited her but most importantly she represented everything she herself was not, causing her to instantly dislike the girl. She did not ask her to sit down.

‘
Miss Janey Carhart, I presume,’ she said.

The girl nodded,
‘Yes, Miss.’

‘
We received your letter. Your writing is beautiful but you appear too young for the position. I would not want you to get your hopes up.’

‘
I had hoped that what I lacked in years would be made up for by my education,’ the girl replied. Miss Petherbridge looked at the writing and admitted she was curious about this girl.

‘
Where did you learn to write so well?’ she asked, slowly waving her letter requesting an interview as if exhibiting evidence.

‘
My father was the headmaster of Truro Boys School, Miss.’ This did nothing to diminish the housekeeper’s curiosity and her expression must have showed this as the girl continued to explain further, ‘He believed education was important for everyone and taught me to a boy’s standard.’

‘
Yet,’ Miss Petherbridge queried, ‘you entered domestic service at thirteen years old.’

‘
When I was thirteen years old my father left the headmaster position.’ Miss Petherbridge lifted an eyebrow, encouraging Janey to continue, ‘…and us,’ she added sadly.

A smile
touched the housekeeper’s lips, ‘And I suppose the house went with the job and your mother was forced into poverty.’  Janey looked down at her feet momentarily then lifted her chin and looked Miss Petherbridge in the eye.

‘
Yes.’

Reluctantly the housekeeper admired her candour and told her so
. ‘It cannot be easy for you to admit to that, but I admire your honesty. A quality that is important in a lady’s maid.’  She got up, ‘Follow me. I will take you up to Lady Brockenshaw.’

Miss Petherbridge
led Janey along a passage towards the back stairs.  As she passed the servant’s hall she glanced into the room and noted the unfamiliar bonnet and shawl hanging on the coat stand. Mary must have taken the Carhart girl in there upon her arrival, she thought, and, no doubt, asked her many questions about herself. Mary tended to chat too much and work too little, something she was meaning to address in the near future. They climbed the servant’s staircase, a narrow flight of stairs which led to the main entrance hall on the first floor where the family and their guests entered the building. Once in the main hall, and a matter of habit, she ran a finger along the ornate hall table to check for dust and nodded to herself in satisfaction. The flowers in the vase, however, needed to be changed; she must mention that to Lizzy later. The only sound was their foot falls, and her keys and chain which jangled at her waist as she walked.