Old Sins Long Shadows (4 page)

Janey pricked her finger and looked up, trying to stem the bleeding by popping it into her mouth.

‘Rumour had it Daniel did it to get the farm,’ added Mary. Mrs Friggens made a face but didn’t say anything to disagree with the comment.

‘
He’s a murderer?’ asked Charlotte with horror.

‘
He was never charged, but where there’s smoke, there’s fire. Daniel and Zachariah were the only ones on the farm that day. There were no witnesses and who benefitted from his death? Daniel did,’ replied the cook, placing the dough on a baking tray. She picked up the tray and spun around towards the range, ‘I’m not saying anything or accusing anyone. All I’m saying is steer clear of Daniel Kellow, like everyone else does. He’s trouble.’

Janey continued sewing, images of Daniel Kellow building the stone wall on the day of her interview invading her concentration
. She had been alone with him, what if he had attacked her or killed her?  No one would have known what had happened to her. She shivered at the thought. Yet, she concluded as she continued to sew, there was something about the man that drew you in by an invisible force. His dark eyes seemed to hold a hidden story waiting to be told. A man who’s presence could change from being one of a threat, to one of boyish charm, in a wink of an eye. There was no doubt about it, Daniel Kellow was trouble and she would do well to stay clear of him.

‘
I think he’s handsome,’ said Mary, ‘and nothing was proved. The villagers keep away unless they want his help.’ Janey saw Mary looking out of the window again, watching the wagon being driven away in the distance. Janey returned to her sewing with renewed vigour.

The day had finally arrived that James Brockenshaw returned from his summer stay in Bath. He arrived late in the morning, striding into the hall like a prince returning to his castle, confident in his welcome and his position within the household. His friends were to arrive later in the day, a guest list that had extended to six more than the original number. Mrs Friggens was informed of this shortly after his arrival, following his casually imparting of the news to the butler. On being told of the changes she almost fainted in shock for the number had doubled in size. She soon set to work but her usual relaxed manner was no longer evident until the guests left two days later.

The heat of the kitchen was evident and the tension palpable on entering and
best avoided if you had no place to be there. It was for this very reason that Janey found herself standing at the top of the stairs to the hall when he returned home. She had just settled Lady Brockenshaw in the drawing room with her husband, Lord Brockenshaw. He was a short, round, gouty man with a bald head and large sideburns. He had never acknowledged her, as his philosophy was servants were there to serve and not to have conversations with. She was no exception, even though Lady Brockenshaw had a more intimate relationship with her than would normally be required. She had left them both waiting for their only son’s arrival and was returning to the mistress’ bedroom to tidy up when the main entrance door opened and Master Brockenshaw entered.

She heard his voice first, it was friendly and cheerful as he politely asked after the butler’s family and his health whilst handing him his top hat and coat
. Janey turned to see him, intrigued to see the writer of those loving letters to his mother and of which she had the pleasure of reading. He was aristocratically handsome, tall and slender with blonde straight hair and noble features. He had the gift to converse with ease to a member of any class and with a friendliness that for some people takes years to establish yet James could do it within a minute of meeting someone. He was charming and in turn one was charmed by him. Janey Carhart drank in the vision of him and was captivated.

His father entered the hall and they shook hands
. Jovial laughter wafted up to Janey who sat on the top step to watch. Shyly she observed him through the banister exchanging some pleasantries on nothing of importance and then he followed his father into the drawing room where Janey imagined a happy embrace from mother to son. She sat for a moment alone on the step, the hall below seemed empty without him. Already Janey wanted to see him again, to be able to watch him move and hear him talk. Was this love at first sight, she wondered naïvely, her heart was pounding and her mouth had turned dry. A mixture of desperation of wanting to see him again, yet terrified she would make a fool of herself in his presence, caused her stomach to ache inside her. These feelings would never come to anything, he was the son of a Lord, she a lady’s maid, yet she felt in her heart that any man she would meet in the future would be compared to James Brockenshaw and found wanting.

‘Lady Brockenshaw wants her blue shawl. She said you would know which one,’ said Charlotte entering the servant’s hall where Janey had retired to starch some collars. Janey hesitated, then went up stairs to fetch it and made her way to the drawing room. She had wanted this to happen all afternoon yet dreaded it too. She entered the ornately furnished room, made cosy by dark red fabrics and numerous leafy green plants, and took the shawl to her mistress. She shyly looked about the room to find Lord Brockenshaw and his son reading the papers and drinking whisky by the fire. James’ long legs were stretched out before him, crossed at the ankles. The men did not acknowledge her entrance. While she was attending to her mistress, her lapdog, Charlie, jumped over his legs to greet her and she was aware James sat forward to follow the dog’s movements. He saw her out stretched hand gently fondle the dog’s ear in greeting. His gaze ran up her arm to meet Janey’s, rested there for a second longer than was necessary then, sitting back into the leather chair once more, returned to his paper. Janey left the room upon her dismissal by the mistress, heart thudding yet again, she let out the breath she had been holding. This was quite ridiculous, she told herself, this affect he has upon me and I hardly know him. She returned to her work but his eyes stayed in her mind. The memory banished all thoughts of another pair of eyes that belonged to Daniel Kellow, as now James Brockenshaw had entered her world and he was everything she had imagined him to be.

Janey stepped back to admire her work.

‘
Finished, ma’am,’ she smiled. Lady Brockenshaw carefully felt her hair, the decorative comb and the tendrils by her ears and at the nape of the neck. Her hair was pleated and lifted high at the back of her head to mirror the shape of her new dress which incorporated a fashionable bustle. She stood and felt the line of her dress and the beading on her bodice. Instinctively knowing what her mistress needed, Janey described the dress to her.

‘
Your dress is silk taffeta. The colour is a deep blue, like the sea on a sunny day. The folds and fabric reflects the light as it falls and drapes to the ground. The glass beads look like drops of drew held by an invisible cobweb. The comb in your hair is blue to match your dress. You look lovely, ma’am.’

Lady Brockenshaw was smiling.

‘I feel lovely, thank you, Janey. You are a dear.’  A knock sounded on the door and Lord Brockenshaw entered to take his wife downstairs. Janey was left to tidy the room but upon hearing carriages drawing up at the entrance she stopped to watch the guests arrive. The evening celebrations were about to begin for the upper classes while the domestic staff worked frantically in the depths of the house to ensure all ran smoothly and the evening was a success. Janey stood watching all alone, not for the first time she felt she belonged to neither one group nor the other.

The guests were shown into the drawing room where introductions were made and polite conversation struck up. Each lady was escorted into the large heavily decorated dining room. The table was laden with china, silver and crystal glass stemware, with an elaborate floral arrangement in the centre accompanied by bowls of fresh fruit on either side. The remaining space was taken with bowls of olives, celery and radishes. The six course meal included asparagus soup, salmon, chicken, ham, mousse, pastries, sorbets and ice cream. Their voices and jovial laughter grew over the course of the evening, in part to the fine wines served, and wafted through the halls and corridors of the manor. There was a constant flurry of activity to and from the kitchens to the dining room as courses were brought and removed. Servants hurried down the passage to reach the destination of the over heated noisy kitchen where pots and pans were hastily washed to be ready for reuse if required. In the midst of the activity stood Mrs Friggens, hot, red faced and exhausted. Miss Petherbridge strolled around the workforce inspecting the presentation of the servants and pointing out a hat that had become unpinned or an apron that required changing. Food that had not been served up at the table was set aside for the servants to eat later in the evening. Finally the ladies took their leave to retire to the drawing room while the gentlemen smoked their cigars and talked of politics.

Janey entered the drawing room where five ladies were seated around the mistress of the house
. They were beautifully dressed in creams, olive greens, blues and deep reds, making Janey feel uneducated, dowdy and clumsy. She held in her hand a book Lady Brockenshaw wished to lend to one of her guests and made her way over to her to let her know she had arrived. She did not miss the exchange of glances between the women when Lady Brockenshaw called her by her first name rather than her surname of Carhart. She also saw the raised eyebrow when Janey touched her mistress’ hand to let her know where she was standing. Such informality was needed to make use of the other senses and communicate where sight would normally suffice but this was not obvious to the young, privileged guests seated in the room. They looked Janey up and down, openly assessing her and then just as quickly ignored her. She was dismissed from their world if not from the room. They praised Lady Brockenshaw’s home, her dress, her gardens. They praised her husband’s collection of art and her son’s riding skills and good looks. Janey was much relieved when she was finally allowed to leave the room. She left her mistress surrounded by the gushing women. Each one hoped to become a favourite of Lady Brockenshaw, for they had all come to realise the best way of obtaining the title of
Lady
in the future was through the present one who sat amongst them.

Chapter 3

At the end of the three days the guests took their leave and waved goodbye from their carriage windows to James and his aging parents. Calmness descended on Bosvenna Manor once more and Mrs Friggens, the cook, finally reclaimed her sense of humour again.

Where once the day had been filled with picnics, th
e playing of cards or lawn croquet the manor now felt empty, quiet and, to James’s mind, boring. In Bath his day had been filled with attending balls, going to the theatre and visiting his club. He knew his return to Bosvenna would require a transition and to prepare himself for the change he had invited his friends to Cornwall. Now they had returned to Bath and he was left with his aging parents, in the middle of Cornwall, living the life of a country bumpkin. To top it all his favourite horse had become lame.

‘
It’s good of you to drop by Daniel,’ James said greeting his neighbour with a handshake. ‘I hear you have a way with animals and thought you could advise me.’ 

Daniel hadn’t wanted to come over
. He had just finished stacking the hay into his barn ready for winter when a breathless lad had come running over the hill saying he was needed at the manor for a sick horse. He was just about to send a message back saying he was busy, that he had work to do and that they should spend their considerable wealth on employing one of the new veterinary surgeons when he suddenly changed his mind. He unhitched his horses from the wagon, led them to a field to graze and followed the boy back to the manor. He told himself it was the thought of an animal in distress that had changed his mind. It was, however, only a half truth. There was also another reason which brought him to Bosvenna Manor on that sunny afternoon, which he refused to acknowledge to himself. That other reason was the possibility of a glimpse of a certain girl who happened to work there.

He had found James in the rear courtyard surveying his equine pride and joy, with a worried frown upon his face which disappeared on seeing Daniel
. They shook hands and Daniel acknowledged his greeting with a nod and one word,

‘James.’             

‘
How are things at that farm of yours?’ asked James with a friendly smile, ignoring the fact that Daniel had used his christen name rather than ‘sir’ or ‘mister’ which was due his station. Daniel did not believe he was subordinate to any man, least of all James. However, James did not take offence as Daniel knew about horses and it was his knowledge he needed.

‘
Summer was busy but things should settle down now autumn is almost here.’

‘
I see the reapers are at Pendrift Farm today.’ Daniel nodded in agreement.