A Lady Abroad E-Book

Carol Ann Hoyle

• Herausgeber: WS
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Serie: Historical Romance
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 196

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

Arabella Richelieu, a young woman of noble birth, embarks on a perilous sea journey to Penzance, escaping a harsh guardian and an impending arranged marriage to the cruel Kenwyn Quintrell. Accompanied by her loyal maid Valere, Arabella encounters the charming sailor Corbett, who offers them guidance and protection. As the voyage progresses, Arabella grapples with her fears about her future husband and the ominous circumstances surrounding her journey. Despite the stormy seas and her apprehensions, Arabella's courage and the unexpected kindness of strangers offer a glimmer of hope for a new beginning​.

Leseprobe

A Lady Abroad

Author: Carol Ann Hoyle

Illustrator: Sarah Holliday

A Man Of Principle

Treve Pollard straightened up. With his hands resting on his hips he arched his back and winced as a sharp pain shot up and down his spine. The relentless Cornish drizzle had soaked him to the skin. It was dark, gloomy and his stomach was telling him it was time to eat.

As he walked into the warm farmhouse kitchen, two small boys shot across the room and threw themselves into his arms, heedless of his drenched clothes.

“Davy, Jacca, leave father go, can’t you see he’s done in,” their mother chided them.

“Don’t fuss, Morwenna, it’s good to be home. It’s good to see you little tackers, too.”

He ruffled the boys’ hair as he sat down at the table. Morwenna put a bowl of stew and a wedge of bread in front of him. She put smaller portions out for the boys, and lastly some for herself.

“Well, boys, how was school today?” Treve asked, looking from one to the other.

They both started talking at once.

“One at a time.” Treve laughed. “I can’t hear either of you if you blather away at the same time.”

“I came top of the class at spelling,” Jacca said proudly.

“And I got all me sums right, Dad,” Davy joined in.

“Well done, both of you.”

Treve was proud of his boys. He loved his family but found it difficult to make enough money from their small farm to feed and clothe them well. They had a decent squire that didn’t bleed them, the rent wasn’t too high, but it was a tough existence just the same.

Now Morwenna was having another baby it was going to be even more difficult. Still, they would manage, they always did.

Treve was a man of strong faith. He truly believed that if he worked hard and led an honest, decent life then God would, in some way or another, provide for them.

“We both got wet feet today, we’ve got great holes in our boots,” Jacca said, more subdued.

“I’ll look at ‘em later – see if I can fix ‘em up.”

Treve looked across at Morwenna as he spoke, but she kept her eyes down.

“Dad,” Jacca asked, “what’s principles?”

“Why are you asking that?”

“Some of the boys at school were laughing at me and Davy, cause our feet were wet. They said it were your fault, Dad. They said your principles were more important to you than your family was, and that your principles stopped us having new boots. What did they mean, Dad?”

“Leave it go, Jacca, can’t you see your father’s tired?”

Treve looked at his wife. Her lips were pressed tightly together in a thin line. He thought how her pretty face was spoiled by this irritated expression.

When they had finished eating, Morwenna cleared the table while the boys went into the yard to do their chores. They put the chickens away for the night, and stacked some wood by the door. Then they swept the yard before going back inside. Once indoors, Jacca went to the cupboard and took out the large family Bible. It was heavy and it dropped on to the table with a loud thud, making Morwenna jump.

“Jacca, quiet! Can’t you do anything that don’t make a noise?”

“Sorry ,Ma, it slipped out of my hands. It’s heavy.”

“Just be more careful,” Morwenna said, softening the tone of her voice.

Treve smiled across at his son. He opened the Bible to Matthew Chapter Six, Verse 25 and started to read.

“Therefore I say to you, be not solicitous for your life, what you shall eat, not for your body, what you shall put on. Is not the life more important than the meat and the body more than the raiment?”

He read right through the rest of the chapter, finishing with:

“For your Father knows you have need of these things. Seek ye therefore first the kingdom of God and his justice: and all these things shall be added unto you. Be therefore not solicitous for the morrow: for the morrow will be solicitous for itself. Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof.”

Treve looked at Morwenna, trying to catch her eye, but she kept her head down.

“Do you know why I read that chapter today?” he asked, looking at the boys.

“There’s big words in there, Dad, and I don’t know what they mean,” Jacca said.

Davy nodded in agreement.

“What it means is that we shouldn’t worry about food and clothes, because God knows we need ‘em. If we do the right thing and live good lives, he will make sure we have what we need.”

“So me and Jacca must be good, then?”

“We must all be good, tell the truth and not hurt anyone. Now off to bed with both of you – we have an early start in the morning.”

They kissed their mother and father and climbed the ladder to their loft bedroom.

Treve picked up their boots and looked at the soles.

“They’re past mending, Treve,” Morwenna said, as she sat knitting by the light of a smoking oil lamp. “They need new boots, both of ‘em.”

Treve sighed.

“Morwenna, you know we don’t have money for new boots. I’ll fix ‘em up. They’ll be right for a bit longer.”

“Other children in the village have new boots. ‘Tis true you put your principles afore your family. ‘Tis time, Treve. You will watch your children starve if you don’t join the others.”

Treve looked at his wife. He knew she was a good woman, a God-fearing woman; it was the daily grind that made her tetchy.

He thought about how excited she was when they were first married and how proud he was as he carried her across the threshold. He thought back to when Jacca was born, such a beautiful baby and so good. How her eyes shone every time she looked at him.

Then Davy came along. He had been a sickly baby and they had both lost a lot of sleep during the first few months of his life. But Davy had grown out of it and was now a lively happy boy. This time when Morwenna had told him she was expecting another baby, there was no joy in her eyes, just worry. He wished he could make things better for her.

“The good Lord will provide, Morwenna.”

“That’s just it, he does provide. When a ship gets struck, and the crew is dead, what harm do it do to share the spoils? Everybody does, except you and your principles. Why should we be different and go without? It don’t hurt anyone, does it?”

“Morwenna, you know as well as I do that most of those ships wouldn’t get struck, without a helping hand from the villagers. I couldn’t live with the souls of they poor sailors on my hands.”

“No, but you can live with your wife and children in want,” Morwenna muttered under her breath.

Treve knew his wife well enough to know that it wouldn’t help to try to reason with her, so for the sake of peace he held his tongue. He knew it was love for her boys that was behind her anger.

* * * *

The next day dawned bright and clear and Treve was in his fields as soon as the sun was up. He had some good crops growing this year, and if he had a good harvest they should get through the winter well. He would make sure the boys had new boots before the bad weather set in.

Treve had done his best to fix the boys’ boots, but they were glad that it was a dry day. Sadly the dry weather didn’t stop the taunting and Jacca and Davy had to put up with it all over again. Perran Vincent pointed to his new boots.

“You could have new boots like mine,” he said, “if your dad thought more of his family and less of his principles. That’s what my dad says, anyway. He should go down the cove at night like my dad does, and the other men. I think your dad’s too scared.”

“My dad says that, too,” Jago Penberthy put in.

“He’s too scared, your dad,” the other boys chorused. “Scared of the dark – he’s scared that the piskies will get him.”

Jacca and Davy tried to ignore their taunts, but Davy found it harder than Jacca to hold his tongue.

“I don’t care what you say, my dad does care about us and anyway my dad’s not scared of anything. If you say that again I’ll punch you on the nose.”

Jacca held on to Davy to stop him pitching at the laughing boys. The teacher rang the bell. Playtime was over and the children went back to their classroom, saving the boys from any more teasing.

As Jacca and Davy were walking home they were talking about what had happened at school.

“Perran used that word again, Jacca – principles – I wonder what it means?”

“I don’t know,” Jacca said, “but we’d better not ask Dad again, it made Ma really cross last night.”

“Jacca, what do you think Perran and the other boys mean about Dad not going down to the cove and about him being scared? Do you think Dad’s scared of the dark? Is he frightened of going down to the beach with the other men?”

“I don’t think Dad’s scared of the dark, Davy, and I don’t know why he won’t go to the beach when it’s dark. I don’t know why Perran’s dad goes down to the beach at night or how they get money.”

“Do you think they might be fishing and selling the fish and that’s how they get money?”

“No, Davy, they wouldn’t fish on the beach in the dark. There are too many rocks around Porth Cove for fishing in boats. I know that fishermen do go out in their boats at night, but that’s from the harbour. I think we should go down one night and have a look, just you and me.”

“Dad wouldn’t want us to do that, Jacca.”

“We’ll have to be careful not to let Dad find out, then. If we don’t go we will never find out why Perran’s dad and the other men go there at night. If Dad won’t tell us, we shall have to go and find out for ourselves.”

* * * *

There was an air of excitement and anticipation at the manor house. The master’s son, Kenwyn, was to be married to Mademoiselle Arabella Richelieu. She was the orphaned daughter of a French aristocrat. Her guardian and Madern Quintrell, Kenwyn’s father, had arranged the marriage. There would be people staying at the house and there was a lot of work to be done.

Below stairs everyone was bustling around. Menus were being planned, store cupboards checked. The cook had started to make a special cake for the wedding. She was also practising making ice-cream as a special treat at the wedding feast.

The housekeeper was busy checking the linen and organising the chambermaids. She was making sure they were cleaning every room thoroughly, mopping the floors and polishing, until you could see your reflection in every surface.

The wedding was four weeks away. The ceremony was to be held at the local church and the wedding breakfast at the manor house. Arabella was due to arrive in two or three day’s time, along with Valere, her lady’s maid, her dowry and her wedding trousseau. A carriage had been prepared to pick her and her maid up from Falmouth, which was a few hours’ drive away.

The local people were anticipating the event, too. Madern Quintrell was a generous man and had promised to lay on a banquet for the villagers. There would be plenty of food and drink, music and dancing.

Although Madern Quintrell was popular, his son Kenwyn wasn’t. Kenwyn was a mean-spirited man. He was often seen whipping his horse as he galloped along the beach or across the heathland. He liked to drink, too, and the villagers often saw him drunk. He was unkind to the servants, and cruel to the family’s dogs. He was seen on more than a few occasions drinking with and in deep conversation with Melor Goldsworthy, the local customs man. Melor was as unpopular as Kenwyn.

* * * *

Arabella was making her way by coach to Havre, and her new life. Her guardian was a harsh man who couldn’t wait to hand over the responsibility of Arabella to someone else. Her parents had died before she had reached her teenage years. Now, aged just sixteen, she was being sent to a foreign country, to marry a man she had only met twice and who spoke a language that she didn’t understand.

“Are you all right, Arabella?”

“I wish I could avoid this wedding, Valere.”

“It won’t be too bad, I will be with you. At least your husband-to-be is young, handsome, and rich.”

“I have a bad feeling about him. I feel that he is not a nice man, not kind. There is something about his look that is cruel.”

“You are worrying too much. Nothing could be worse than living with that miserable guardian, could it?”

“I hope you’re right, Valere, for both our sakes.”

Arabella and Valere arrived at Havre the evening before the ship, Le Petit Nief, was due to sail. A room had been booked for them at the coaching inn. The ladies alighted from the coach and went in ahead of the coachman, who followed with their trunks.

The innkeeper greeted them.

“Ah, Mademoiselle Richelieu, I have some bad news for you, I’m afraid.”

“What is wrong?” Arabella asked, looking concerned.

“Le Petit Nief won’t be sailing tomorrow. She got holed on her way into port yesterday and needs some repairs before she can sail again.”

“Oh, that is too bad. What shall we do? When will she be ready to sail?”

“She will not sail for two or three days,” the innkeeper said, answering her second question first. “As for what you can do, you can stay here until she’s repaired.”

“Oh, Valere, what can we do here for two or three days?”

“There is an alternative, Mademoiselle. La Goudiyete is sailing tonight but she is sailing into Penzance, not Falmouth.”

“Is Falmouth very far from Penzance?”

“Not too far, and there are plenty of coaches.”

“What do you think, Valere? What will be the best thing for us to do?”

“I think it would be better to arrive early rather than late. Monsieur Quintrell will be worried if you are late.”

“I think you are right.”

Arabella turned to the innkeeper.

“We will sail on La Goudiyete tonight. Would you please inform the captain and have our trunks taken on board? Would you also kindly organise some refreshment for us while we wait?”

The innkeeper nodded and went through to the kitchen.

Cruel Sea

It was a bright sunny afternoon. Davy and Jacca went to the cove after school. They were collecting shells and pebbles, peering into the rock pools to see what they could find. They were so engrossed in their play they didn’t notice they were being watched. Lurking behind one of the big rocks close to the cliffs, were Talek Penberthy, and Digory Vincent, Perran’s dad.

“They’s Treve Pollard’s boys. What they doing?” Digory asked.

“Collecting pebbles and shells, I think. They lads look like they could do with a good dinner. Treve thinks he’s better than the rest of us. He would be better off thinking of his family rather than his principles.”

Digory Vincent chuckled.

“I’ve had a thought.”

He fished around in his pocket and pulled out a small gold coin.

“What you doing with that, Digory?”

“Just you watch, I’m giving ‘em something different to find – they’ve never seen one of these afore.”

Digory darted out from behind the rock and dropped the coin at the edge of a rock pool, just behind where Davy and Jacca were stirring up a pool with a stick. Then scuffing his feet to hide his footprints, he ran back behind the rock.

“They boys will go to that rock pool next, you watch. They will take the coin home. Treve won’t think anyone knows – look out for his principles then.”

Davy and Jacca headed towards the rock pool where Digory had just dropped the coin.

“Look, Davy! Look what I’ve found.”

Davy looked at the shiny coin lying in the palm of Jacca’s hand.

“Do you think it’s real gold, Jacca?”

“Looks like it. We’ll have to ask Dad, he’ll know if it’s real gold.”

“Do you think he’ll let us keep it, you know, because we found it on the beach?”

“I don’t know, Davy.”

“He might do, because we didn’t find it at night, did we?”

The boys headed home, pockets full of pebbles and shells, and Jacca clutching the gold coin tightly in his hand. The closer they got to home, the more excited they became and they quickened their pace.

“Where’ve you two been?” Morwenna asked as the boys rushed through the door.

“We’ve been to the beach, Ma,” Davy said.

“And look what we found down there,” Jacca said, putting the coin on the table. “Is it real gold, Ma, is it?”

“Well I’ll be . . . it looks real. Where did you find it?”

“On the beach, Ma, by a rock pool.”

“Was anyone else down there, someone who may have dropped it?”

“No, Ma, we didn’t see anyone else, did we, Davy?”

Davy shook his head.

“We’ll show your father when he gets in, see what he has to say about it.”

The boys were excited. They sat in the corner whispering to each other about where the coin could have come from.

“We found the coin on the beach, Jacca. Do you think that’s what Perran meant when he said that Dad could get us new boots if he went down the beach?”

“I don’t know,” Jacca said. “They did say that he should go down the beach when it’s dark.”

“Where do you think it came from, Jacca?”

“Dad has talked about ships from all over the world going past Porth Cove, on their way to Penzance. I think we should go down the beach ourselves tonight.”

“Yes,” Davy said excitedly.

“Not a word now, Davy.”

Treve came in through the door.

“Hello, boys, what have you been up to today?”

“We’ve been down the beach, Dad. Look what we found.”

Treve picked up the coin.

“Is it gold, Dad?” Jacca asked.

“Looks like gold. Found it on the beach, you say?”

“Yes, Dad, it was right next to a rock pool, just lying on the sand.”

“Did you see anyone else on the beach?”

“No, Dad, no-one. Can we keep it?”

“Well, it must belong to someone. I should take it to the customs man – he may be able to find out who it belongs to.”

“But Treve, we could buy so much with that money. What harm would it do? The boys found it, and no-one saw ‘em. Please, Treve.”

Treve looked at his wife. Her eyes were pleading with him. Then he looked at his sons’ excited faces and he felt his resolve weaken momentarily. However, his conscience wouldn’t let him keep the coin.

“I will take it down to the customs man after supper.”

When the boys were in bed Treve walked into the village. The sea mist clung to him like a damp blanket, but it didn’t slow him down. A lamp was burning in the window of the custom house. Melor Goldsworthy opened the door quickly at Treve’s knock. His look of surprise fading into recognition.

“Why it’s Treve Pollard, isn’t it?”

“That’s right, Mr Goldsworthy.”

“How can I help you?”

Treve held out the coin.

“My boys found this at Porth Cove this afternoon. I thought you might be able to find out who lost it.”

“That’s very honest of you, Mr Pollard. Thank you. I will see what I can find out about it.”

He closed the door as quickly as he had opened it. Holding the coin under the lamp he examined it carefully.

I wonder where that came from, he thought, putting it in the drawer of his desk.

Treve huddled down in his jacket as he set off home. He didn’t notice the two men who had been watching him from outside the tavern. They had seen him hand over the coin to Melor Goldsworthy and they were angry because their plan had failed.

“Look at that! He had to come and hand in a coin that his boys found on the beach. Can you believe it, Talek?”

“I’ve a mind to teach him a lesson.”

“Come on, I’m with you,” Digory encouraged him.

The sea mist had reached the village and its damp chill caused Treve to shiver.

“I’ll be glad to get home,” he muttered under his breath.

He heard a noise behind him and as he turned he felt a heavy blow to his jaw. He fell to the ground and felt several kicks in the ribs. Curling up in a ball to protect his ribs he felt another kick in his back. A kick to the head and everything went black.

Treve didn’t know how long he lay there. When he came round his vision was blurred and he felt the cold right through to his bones. He pulled himself up and leaned against the wall for a minute. His ribs were hurting with every breath.

He hoped they weren’t cracked or broken, for he needed to work. He tentatively tried putting one foot in front of the other and staggering and stumbling he eventually reached home.

Morwenna gasped as he fell in the door.

“What’s happened to you?” Her eyes were wide with fear. “Who did this to you, Treve?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t see who it was, but there where two of them. They knocked me to the floor and started kicking me, and I passed out.”

He flinched when Morwenna touched his head.

“Why would they do this to you?”

“I don’t know, I really don’t know.”

Morwenna bathed his wounds, and after a hot drink they both went to bed. They lay awake for a while in the darkness, not talking, both of them trying to make sense of what had happened.

Treve thought that someone must have been watching him and that maybe they thought he was telling Melor Goldsworthy about what went on at Porth Cove.

Morwenna was the first to fall asleep. Treve became aware of her soft even breathing, and before too long he was asleep himself.

A while later Jacca climbed down the ladder from their loft bedroom, followed by Davy. They pulled on their ganseys and boots and let themselves quietly out of the house.

“This mist is really thick, Jacca. Do you think we will be able to see anything?”

“I don’t know, Davy, maybe nothing will happen tonight. If we can’t see nothing then I don’t suppose anyone else can.”

They found their way to the cliff top and lying flat on their stomachs peered down on to the beach. The mist was thick and swirling around.

“I think I can see people moving around down there, Jacca. Listen – voices.”

“No, Davy, it is just the noise of the sea.”

They lay there very still, their eyes and ears straining, until they could bear the cold no longer.