Page 17 of The Cornish Widow

Chapter Nine

Three days passed before the weather improved enough for Harriet to declare they would walk over to call on their neighbors at Roskilly house, as Talwyn Trevelyan had suggested. When she got up that morning, the low clouds had cleared at last, the wind and rain had ceased, and a blue sky was in evidence, promising a good day.

She helped Bertha clear the table of their breakfast things. “There’s a path along the cliffs we’ll need to follow to Morgelyn beach, I believe. Mrs. Trevelyan told me that would be the way to take.”

Bertha snorted. “Along o’ those cliffs? You mind you keep well back from the edge then. We don’t want you a-fallin’ over to your death.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “Are you certain sure you know the way?”

If only Bertha possessed a slightly more positive attitude. “Of course I won’t be going anywhere near the edge of any cliffs. And neither will the children. I’ll make sure of that.” She shot a determined glance at where her two offspring were still seated at the table. Theo, who’d been out exploring over the last few days in between bouts of pouring rain, sported a milky mustache on his upper lip. Should she send him over to the farm first to fill their milk can, or let Bertha, who’d made firm friends with the farmer’s wife, Mrs. Voas, go instead?

Bertha would see it as a privilege, unlike Theo who saw it as an unwelcome chore, designed to take him away from his favorite undertaking—exploration. Best to let Bertha go if she wanted to be away soon. Theo, when tasked with a chore he didn’t like, would not be quick about it.

Harriet smiled at Bertha’s concern. “I do indeed know the way. Mrs. Trevelyan told me we’re to pass one beach that you can’t get down to easily, then a high headland with mine buildings on it, called Penmar Head, and down to a much bigger beach, Morgelyn, which is the one we want. Roskilly House is halfway along and up a track through the sandhills. She said it shouldn’t be hard to spot.”

“Are you sure the cliffs are safe?” Lydia asked, wrinkling her nose and frowning in distrust as she reiterated Bertha’s sentiments. “Suppose we fall off them like the old man who used to live here did? It can’t be safe, or he wouldn’t have done that, would he?”

Theo emulated Bertha and snorted in mockery. “I shall walk right by the edge so I can look for gulls’ nests like Bronnen showed me the other day.”

“I don’t like gulls,” Lydia snapped. “They make such an awful noise with all their shouting.”

Theo rose to the attack. “Gulls are really useful seabirds. You can eat their eggs in spring, and they show you where to fish. Bronnen told me. Only someone silly would say they didn’t like them.”

Lydia, never one to ignore a challenge, opened her mouth for a tart reply.

Harriet cut her off. “I expect the old man fell off because he was old, or ill, or something like that.” Best not to suggest he might have been in his cups. She knew all too well what men could do when in that condition. “I doubt very much he just fell off without a reason. And of course gulls are very useful birds, Lydia. But Theo, you are not climbing down any cliffs to look at their nests. That would be far too dangerous.”

Lydia pulled a face at Theo. “Haha.”

Theo sprang to his feet, but this time Bertha interrupted, planting a heavy hand on his shoulder and pushing him back down onto his chair. “Probably the old man was the worse for the demon drink.” She had no qualms about suggesting that. With her free hand, she wiped the crumbs off the tabletop. “Like as not, everyone round these parts is, there being an alehouse within spitting distance.” Bertha, a Methodist from birth and lifelong abstainer from all things alcoholic, frowned on anyone she considered had debased themselves enough to take to the drink and had soon discovered the proximity of the alehouse. Ben’s liking for strong liquor on his infrequent visits home had done nothing to persuade her otherwise.

Lydia sniffed. “All the same, I think I’d rather stay here with Bertha, if you don’t mind, Mama? I don’t like the idea of walking along the edge of a cliff. It’s still quite blowy out.”

Harriet eyed her daughter. Lydia had reached the age of straining for some independence long before she’d expected. Best to make certain she stayed around the house and didn’t go wandering off on her own. Who knew what might happen if she did. This whole area, bar Rosudgeon House and possibly the old farmer and his wife, who seemed very pleasant, was an unknown quantity, and Harriet intended to explore it herself before allowing her daughter any kind of liberty. Theo, being a boy, was different. Plus, he was of a more boisterous nature, and she’d been happy to let him out of the house to expend some energy over the last few rainy days. “Of course you may stay with Bertha,” she said. “There are lots of chores to be done, and you can help her.”

Lydia’s face fell, but a satisfied smile spread over Bertha’s. “That’ll be grand, young Lydia. I’m not so young as I was, and an extra pair of hands’ll be a godsend this morning. We’ll start upstairs.”

Theo shot his sister a smug smile, and Bertha removed her hand from his shoulder. “Best get your coat on if you’re goin’ with your mama.”

Harriet nodded. “You can be my escort, Theo, as you are now man of the house.”

Bristling with pride, Theo forgot all about his sister and ran to find his coat.

*

A bare quarterof an hour later Harriet, suitably bonneted and gloved, and Theo, left Keynvor Cottage behind and set off along the same route Harriet had seen Captain Trevelyan take on the first day of the bad weather. At the end of their own track, Harriet turned right, curious to see what might have drawn him that way.

She soon found out. The coast path led right past what had to be the alehouse, where it nestled under the low roof she’d seen when she’d walked up to Rosudgeon House. However, at this time of the morning, nothing appeared to be happening within its stone walls. Not even any smoke issued from the two chimneys. And if she peered over the cliffs in front of it, what little she could see of the small cove was empty, with not a person in sight. The whole place seemed deserted.

“That’s Bessie’s Kiddley,” Theo said, with an air of pride that he knew something she didn’t. “Bronnen told me about it, and so did her ma, Mrs. Voas the farmer’s wife. Mr. Voas goes there every evening.” He pointed to a side entrance. “I met the boy that lives here. His name’s Cado and he’s as tall as me but only ten. He showed me the way down to the beach, and we went crabbing with a bit of string and a meaty bone he fetched from the kiddley kitchens. He had a bucket and we put them in there until it was full.”

So that was where he’d been going off to and who he’d been with. A boy from an alehouse, no less. Was he quite the sort of companion Theo should have? Maybe if she asked Theo to bring him home, she could meet him and form a judgement. That would be best.

Oblivious to her thoughts, Theo grinned. “Bronnen says everyone round here comes to drink brandy in the kiddley. Only Bronnen doesn’t, because she’s too young and her ma would wallop her if she did. She told me her ma says only loose women go there.” He paused. “What are loose women, Mama?”

Harriet tightened her grip on his hand and hurried his reluctant steps past. “Not very nice women,” she said. “It’s not nice for any woman to go into a common alehouse—”

“A kiddley,” Theo interrupted.

“—a common kiddley, if that’s what you have to call it. No lady with any sense of decorum would go into such a place unescorted, and I doubt even if she had a gentleman with her.”