A Fateful Wind Read online

  No, thought Trystan irritably. There will be no way I will be swayed into traveling thousands of miles from my homeland and, even worse, taking Jenna and myself away from our families that need us.

  And Jenna, he felt certain after the stress of the wedding preparations were over, she would be back to her normal self. True, her mother’s death left the whole Penworthy family in a state of shock. This past year proved even more painful as rumors circulated around the parish that perhaps Mrs. Penworthy’s drowning appeared more an act of suicide than accident. Jenna had been crushed by the callousness of those around her who let their imaginations embrace the ludicrous gossip.

  The events of the latter twelve months and the fragility of Jenna’s emotions led Trystan to love her more and wish to protect her. She often seemed as innocent as a child to him, only wrapped in a woman’s body blessed with breathtaking beauty. He knew he tended to smother her with his love and protectiveness, but he only wanted her to feel secure. Surely any husband would aspire to that job?

  Trystan jolted from his thoughts at the sound of voices near the mine entranceway. He walked over to the opening of the mine, blinking in the bright summer sunlight to see Lord Edwin standing next to a fine figure of a man. He could scarcely remember Sir Jack, himself being only a boy of twelve when Jack left Cornwall, but by the looks of him, his time in America served him well. The Lord, in comparison seemed even more repulsive than normal. A squat figure of a man, his French imported trousers clung to his pudgy posterior in a most embarrassing manner. His face beamed rosy and shiny beneath the top hat balanced precariously atop his egg shaped head. He rubbed his fat little hands together with glee as the mine captain pointed to the cartloads of tin ready for shipment. It seemed to Trystan the only small thing about Lord Edwin was his lips, constantly locked together in a tight, mean little smile. He rarely visited the mines, preferring instead to delegate his duties and was often heard lamenting ‘I don’t keep a dog and bark myself’, which summed up Lord Edwin’s opinion of those around him. A man like Lord Edwin had little time for his workers. He knew without the employment he offered they would succumb to the tragedy of Bodmin Workhouse where there would be no escape from the ever downward spiral of poverty.

  * * * *

  “You have a profitable mine here cousin.” Sir Jack gazed over the cartloads of tin being strapped to the Shire Horses ready for their journey northward. “I think Penrose Mine is one of our most profitable in Cornwall?”

  “Cornwall and beyond!” Lord Edwin beamed, lapping up the praise like milk to a young kitten.

  “And your workers, they seem to be the best I have seen anywhere.”

  “Well, they’re Cornish. They are the best miners in the world, but there are plenty more where they came from. No one is indispensable.” He winked slyly.

  “Then you won’t mind if I recruit a few for our mines in America, will you, cousin? As I said this morning, we will need a good thirty to start with. They can of course train the local workers, but initially I need their expertise.”

  Lord Edwin shifted. He still needed to speak properly with Jack over exactly what was in it for him. It was all very well for his cousin to jaunt back over to Cornwall requesting financial investment and a few workers here and there, but what would Edwin receive in return? He decided Jack could, and would, have enough men to get the venture up and running, but definitely not his best men and definitely not Trystan Trezies. That boy showed promise. Furthermore, his wife-to-be showed even greater promise. No, Lord Edwin had plans for Trystan Trezies and even more delicious plans for the beauteous young Jenna. He needed them both to remain close to home and under his and Lady Emmeline’s employment. As much as he hated to do it, he needed to provide Trystan with some incentive to stay and that could only mean a small financial one.

  Bidding farewell to an eager Jack who was busy taking a tour of the mine shaft with one of the foremen, Edwin hurried back to Penrose Manor and to his study.

  Edwin surveyed his favorite room in the Manor. Running his hands over the worn leather seating, he eyed the portraits of his ancestors. He hung them with pride atop the bookcases which lined the entire four walls of his study. His well stocked library was intercepted only once by the French doors leading out to a secluded terrace framed by bountiful rhododendron bushes. The view from the terrace swept out across the traditional manicured gardens, over Lady Emmeline’s well tended and rather famous rose garden. Beyond the gardens of Penrose House, the view continued toward the windswept cragginess of Sharptor, which rose up from the barren moorland draped in granite and the rust colored hues of the afternoon sun.

  The eyes of the Penrose men in the portraits before him gazed down upon Edwin as he seated himself at his fine oak desk. The same desk his father and grandfather struck many a profitable business deal and made love to many a pretty maiden. His thoughts once again rested on the curvaceous figure of his wife’s personal servant. How her young breasts beckoned from atop her lacey blouse as she hesitantly accompanied him to retrieve the wine from the cellar. Her timidity only heightened his overpowering desire for her. He felt her fear of him. It gave Lord Edwin a sense of great power over the young beauty. Alas, his energy had been spent from his earlier escapades and Lady Emmeline’s startling reproof. Good grief, he could have strangled that loathsome countess for calling into account his lusty folly. He reminded himself Lady Emmeline provided him with the aristocratic ties necessary to advance through England’s social circle. She had been a good choice of wife, but as a bed partner, she left much to be desired.

  "Trystan, Trystan, Trystan," Edwin mumbled to himself, leafing through a stack of papers on his desk. "Trystan Trezies. Ah, there he is."

  The name brought to mind the vision of the young Trystan. A flock of jet black hair crowned a dark, swarthy face. His raven eyes flashed with the temperament of a fiery Cornish rogue belying the true gentle nature lying within. Trsytan's appearance was a false one. He possessed a fighting look which led men to turn in the other direction whenever he entered the tavern and retreat in haste whenever a sly word was directed at him. But Edwin paid no heed to the profile his young foreman portrayed for he knew his face well. Trystan bore the same Trezies looks as his father, a man Edwin came to respect over the years he had been in his employment. From the looks of things, young Trystan also carried with him the same hardworking spirit and dependability crucial for the continued success of Penrose Mines.

  No, Edwin most definitely wanted Trystan here in Cornwall, not gallivanting off to America to aid the lining of Jack’s pockets.

  Standing up in his study, he made his way down to the kitchen quarters. The smell of Cornish pasties wafted seductively through the stone corridors. Jack requested his favorite meal, bemoaning there wasn’t a decent pasty to be had in the whole of America.

  No doubt he will also try to lure one of the Penrose household’s cooks back with him across the Atlantic, thought Edwin miserably.

  Jack had only been home for less than a week and already his insurmountable enthusiasm proved irritating to Edwin. And Lady Emmeline, well, she seemed captivated by Jack’s stories, encouraging him to talk well into the night of his adventures. Blah! The whole thing left Edwin feeling very left out. As for his hopes of taking Jack on a gentleman’s excursion to the docklands of Plymouth to indulge in the very proficient hands of the ladies of the night, well, he wondered where his cousin’s professed zest for the opposite sex went.

  “Soon,” Jack chided him when asked. “Soon, my rapacious cousin! Let me sort out the business end of my trip first. The ladies will always be there won’t they? For the right price, of course!”

  The smell of the oven caused Edwin’s stomach to growl as he pushed open the kitchen door. Hopefully Cook would have a special treat for him before dinner. As he surveyed the steaming hot plates of pasties atop the table, his gaze fixed on the voluptuous backside bending down before him. He felt a quiver of excitement curse through his portly body, the familiar rising of lust in his
groin. He licked his thin lips with expectation. Jenna, exactly the young lovely he hoped to find. He looked around the kitchen, pleased to see it empty apart from his victim.

  * * * *

  Jenna jumped as she felt Lord Edwin move closely behind her, grazing his body harshly against hers. She stood up with a fright, feeling his breath against the soft flesh of her neck. Fear penetrated her body as one of his greedy hands delved its way in between the warm soft mounds of her bosom, whilst the other fumbled underneath her petticoats and into her bloomers. He breathed heavily against her neck, running his fingers up along the length of her thigh. She tried to scream out, but her voice choked in her throat. His rotund fingers eased their way inside her, prodding and stabbing against her virgin flesh.

  “Shush,” he whispered in her ear, his low voice causing the hairs on her neck to stand up in terror. He pushed himself up against her, grunting and groaning. She could feel his manhood, hard and threatening through the material of her woolen dress. His hand fixed upon her breast, expertly rubbing her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Gathering all the strength she could muster, she shoved backwards, causing him to move away from her. But he was not to be denied. Angrily, he threw her back against the table, his fingers once again finding the warmth between her thighs.

  “Don’t you dare deny me, you little vixen! How dare you be coy with me girl!” he whispered, his breath hot in her ear. “Remember your place in this world, Jenna. I can make or break you…you and your beloved Trystan. A man with no work in this part of the world is a workhouse man. Do you understand?”

  Jenna quivered with fear, the unsettling mixture of anger and fright halting her voice. She felt the bile in her throat. She was going to be sick. She felt Lord Edwin retrieve his hand from her breasts, bringing them down to unbutton the front of his trousers. He breathed heavy now, raspy and abrasive as pressed his member against her thigh.

  Oh good God, he’s going to rape me, Jenna thought fearfully, her gaze scanning the table in front of her, searching in vain for anything with which she could fend off her employer. He halted suddenly as the sound of Cook’s footsteps coming down the hall led Lord Edwin to hastily retreat, doing up his trouser buttons and moving to the other side of the kitchen. With one lecherous look in Jenna’s direction, he grabbed one of the pasties from the table.

  “Ah, yes. I almost forgot.” He laughed with a wink. “When you see that lucky fiancé of yours, please tell him I wish to see him here at sundown on Sunday eve.”

  * * * *

  Jenna pressed her forehead against the cool granite wall and wiped her mouth. Her stomach wretched over the thought of Lord Edwin’s fingers against her skin. How she longed to bathe or throw herself in the brook to cleanse her body of his memory. She cursed herself. She knew of his perverse ways and, whilst at Penrose Manor, she always tried to make sure she was never alone with the brute. Wearily, she stood up from behind the hedge and made her way back to the house, trying to steady herself as a light-headed feeling of faintness swept over her body.

  “Jenna!” Lady Emmeline’s voice shrilled through the still evening air. “Jenna, you look as weak as a lamb!” She rushed over to where Jenna clung weakly to the hedge. Her face filled with concern as she wrapped her arms around Jenna in an apparent effort to steady her.

  “What is it, Lady Emmeline?” A man’s voice preceded heavy footsteps running along the gravel path.

  Jenna wished they would all go away, leave her here to lie on the cool ground. She wanted to die. She still felt Edwin’s hand upon her breast, heard his bullying words in her ears, felt the frigid fear as he pressed his manhood against her thigh. Clutching her stomach, she rushed once more to behind the hedge unable to keep the bile down.

  “Oh, Jack. Thank goodness you’re here. Help me carry the girl inside. It seems as though she has been stricken with a sickness.” Lady Emmeline removed her lace handkerchief from her pocket and began dabbing around Jenna’s mouth, smoothing the hair away from her forehead with her lace gloved hands.

  “Why, Emmeline, she is as cold as night.” He removed his woolen tailcoat, draped it across her shoulders and took her tiny hand in his as he knelt down in front of her. “Can you walk?”

  Jenna nodded, comforted by the expression in his eyes. Wearily, she got to her feet, only to fall once more into the strangers arms.

  “Here, reach into my pocket, Emmeline, and retrieve my brandy flask.” Slowly, the stranger brought the silver flask up toward Jenna's mouth. The cold metal felt good against her lips. She swallowed the brandy, its warmth permeating through her body.

  “Oh, Jenna,” Lady Emmeline soothed, brushing the hair away from Jenna’s face. “Is it something you have eaten perhaps?”

  Jenna nodded, resting her head against the stranger’s chest. She could feel the softness of his silk puff tie against her cheek, the comforting smell of the stranger’s pipe lulling her into a false contentment.

  Lady Emmeline lifted the brandy flask once more to Jenna’s lips. “The color is returning to her cheeks, Jack. But I think she ought to be taken home. Goodness knows she may be contagious. I will order Humphreys to load up the carriage.”

  Jack looked up at the sun. It had just disappeared beyond the peak of Sharptor, casting shadows over the moorland that lay below.

  “No, Emmeline. It will soon be dark. Let me take her on my horse.” He turned to look at Jenna, whose tired arms hung loose around the stranger’s strong shoulder. “Are you strong enough to hold on to me?”

  Jenna nodded. She had never seen this stranger before. She could only surmise it to be Sir Jack Bartholomew. Whoever he was, she felt grateful to him and to Lady Emmeline for taking her home to the safety of her bedroom. She wanted to be well away from Penrose Manor and well away from the manacles of Lord Edwin.

  The stranger lifted her atop his horse.

  “Miners cottages, Jack, and please do hurry back. It will soon be dark.”

  Jack rode expertly across the moors. Jenna could feel the horse’s hooves pounding over the moss laden pathway shaking her whole body. It took all her might to hold onto the reigns. She feared at any moment she might loosen her grip and fall from the stallion. Instinctively, as though knowing her fears, Sir Jack held her frail body closer to his, his masculine scent and soft encouraging words making her feel safe. Relief swept over Jenna as he slowed his stallion down and she could see the low stone terrace cottages at the foot of Sharptor. Weakly, Jenna pointed to the middle one and saw her father answer the door.

  “Jack Bartholomew.” He introduced himself as he carried Jenna into the warmth of the tiny cottage.

  Her father lifted his hat.

  “Your daughter seems to have eaten something that has not agreed with her. Lady Penrose wished her to be taken home. She seems to be doing better, more color to her cheeks and she was able to hold on whilst I galloped here.” Sir Jack’s voice spoke quickly as he tried to catch his breath from the exhilarating ride.

  * * * *

  Jenna’s father led the way to her tiny bedroom and Jack placed her down upon the small wooden bed. He scarcely noticed her face before, being more concerned with her apparent faintness, but under the glow of candlelight his breath caught in his throat. Even under her current condition she looked to be the most beautiful creature he ever laid eyes upon. Her silky raven hair splayed out across the pillow, pale skin intercepted only by the full ruby softness of her lips and the slight rosy color returning to her cheeks. Her nose held an aquiline quality as though she were more aristocratic than just a common country girl and her cheekbones pushed prominently through the youthful skin. As she opened her eyelids he was met with a startling turquoise blue that shook the very core of him.

  “Thank you,” she whispered wrapping her small hand around his. “I am sorry to have caused you such inconvenience.”

  Sir Jack shook his head, unable to speak. He hovered over her, basking in the beauty of the strange girl. Suddenly, noting his impropriety and the nature of his thoughts
, he rose shyly and, shaking her father’s hand, took the silver flask from his pocket and laid it on the mantelpiece. “This brandy may help.” He nodded as he left.

  * * * *

  Edwin enjoyed the feast Cook had put on for his cousin, even more so he enjoyed the whiskey Jack had smuggled back from America. “Far tastier than rum!” he exclaimed, pouring himself another glass, whilst reaching for his fifth pasty of the night.

  After dinner they settled in the drawing room where a large platter of regional cheeses was placed before them.

  “Can I offer you some crackers and cheese Jack? You barely ate anything at dinner?”

  “Thank you, but no, it seems my appetite has vanished. I think I may retire early, if you don’t mind?”

  “But Jack!” Lady Emmeline sounded disappointed. “I thought we were going to play cards?”

  “I’m sorry, Emmeline. I am afraid the whole transatlantic voyage has finally caught up with me. Do you mind if we play another night?”

  “Yes, my dear,” Lord Edwin intercepted. “The poor man looks absolutely fatigued. You must let him rest.”

  For once, he felt pleased to be alone with Emmeline. A night away from the constant story telling of his younger cousin would be most pleasant. Plus he meant to ask whatever happened to her young servant. He hoped that sly harridan Jenna had not exposed his earlier fondling of her. He consoled himself with the fact she seemed a smart girl. Not only she, but her betrothed love and indeed her father, relied on Penrose for their employment. She would know better than to run the risk of them all being thrown into the workhouse. Hopefully his afternoon liaison with Jenna would be the first of many. He lifted his hands and smelled the sweet scent of her still lingering on his fingers. He remembered the feeling of her full young breasts. Her warm thighs protecting the moist entryway he longed to taste. Good God, this damsel was having an effect on him. He breathed, trying to quell his racing heart.