A Fateful Wind (16 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Jenna did not realize how much time passed until she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. She tried to pry herself away from the cold, lifeless body pressed against her, but she held on to it fervently, her tears mingling with the blood dried up on the facial wounds. Trystan’s hand was still in hers, except now she felt nothing of the life that once pumped through his veins.

“Come on, Jenna. Come on. You must get up.” Lady Emmeline’s voice sounded soft and gentle as she smoothed Jenna’s back.

“I can’t,” Jenna murmured, her voice muffled. “I can’t. Leave me alone. I just want to stay here.”

“I know you do,” Lady Emmeline soothed.

Slowly, Jenna lifted her face. “Why? Why did this have to happen to us? Why here? Why did God do this to us?”

Lady Emmeline shook her head. “God has his purpose. We may not always understand it. Everything is for a reason.” She took her handkerchief from her pocket and handed it to Jenna. “I’m sorry my dear, but the doctor needs to move Trystan’s body. His mother is here and, well, you understand.”

She nodded, glancing to where Mrs. Trezies sat, her head in her hands, her body shaking uncontrollably with grief. “I understand.” She loosened her grip on Trystan’s hand. With one last heavy sob, she kissed him on his forehead and climbed to her feet, her body heavy with shock, sadness and despair.

“Your sisters are over there.” Lady Emmeline pointed to where Karenza and Tamzin stood, a heavy woolen shawl and a bottle of brandy in their hands. She placed a hand on Jenna’s shoulder. “I am here for you if you need anything. Just ask. Remember, anything.”

Jenna nodded despondently, making her way to where her sisters stood, their eyes clouded over with concern. Wrapping the shawl around her, they walked her over to a low stone wall and handed her the bottle of brandy. She sat down, feeling the syrupy warmth permeate through her tired, distraught body.

“We’ll be right back,” Karenza said anxiously. “Stay right here. We won’t be long.”

Jenna watched her sisters go as though she were in a daze, a patron at the theatre watching the terrible scene of carnage in front of her as though played out on the stage. She felt removed from it. She felt nothing anymore. No sadness, no tears, just an overwhelming dull feeling as though she wasn’t really a part of it.

A distant conversation disturbed her thoughts as the sound of Lord Edwin’s low voice became barely audible. Wrapping her shawl tighter around her shoulders and taking another sip of the brandy, she moved further along the wall toward where he and the mine boss crouched down talking.

“It can’t be due to the rain,” Lord Edwin whispered. “There had to have been an explosion of some sorts.”

“The witnesses are saying they heard none,” the mine boss replied, gazing around fretfully.

“What are they saying?” Lord Edwin asked anxiously.

“That the beams leading into the mine shaft all of a sudden collapsed causing an avalanche back down into the mine.”

Lord Edwin shook his head solemnly. “This is bad, very, very bad.”

“I did not see reason for the shaft opening to be replaced as eagerly as the mine inspector suggested. We have not had much rain, nor were the beams particularly old. I thought it a wise decision of yours, my lord, to hold off until the autumn.”

“Indeed,” Lord Edwin replied, his forehead furrowing in thought. “But this could be detrimental to our operation if news of a preventable catastrophe such as this is made public.”

“And many jobs would be on the line, including mine?”

Lord Edwin glanced over to where the constable and villagers gathered. “Who else knows of the inspector’s report?”

“No one,” the mine boss replied. “Except for young Trystan Trezies, but I have heard notice he passed away in this tragedy.”

Lord Edwin’s barren face quivered with emotion. “We must ensure this news remains secret and that we have confirmed through our investigations an explosion caused the disaster. It must be seen as an unfortunate, terrible explosion which couldn’t be avoided. Do I make myself clear?”

“Very much so, my Lord. I will ensure the investigation provides no clue as to any part played by rotting timbers and crumbling shaft walls.”

“Good man,” Lord Edwin said, clapping him firmly on the shoulder and shaking his hand. “Now, we must move our endeavors down to the Trebecca Mines until we get Penrose up and running again and, most of all, safe. We can’t afford to have another disaster such as this on our hands.”

Jenna watched out of the corner of her eye as Lord Edwin strode confidently across the moorland to where the bodies of the dead miners lay, Trystan now one of them. Anger and repulsion consumed her. She could barely believe what she just heard. The cowardice of it all! The cunning deception conceived by two men whose love of money overpowered everything. She eyed them both, her mind reeling with hatred.
The blood of all these dead and dying men is on your hands, Edwin
, she thought. And I am going to make sure, for Trystan’s sake and all the poor, indigent miners who follow in his footsteps, that eventually the truth will come out and people will see you for the murderous fool you are.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Jack glanced up at Charlie as the boy stood on the chair, his arms stretched out on either side as the tailor set about cutting and pinning the fine cotton material that would soon be his new suit. As he worked, the tailor mumbled to himself, making note of the measurements to his assistant.

“I think this will be a superb suit for a fine young man,” the jovial tailor said at last as he indicated Charlie could finally relax. “You’re a lucky young man being given employment by Sir. Jack Bartholomew.”

Charlie nodded enthusiastically. The feeling of a full belly, clean skin and the promise of new clothes seemed to fill him with a different sort of confidence.

“I will have the first set of clothes sent over first thing in the morning, Sir Jack.” The tailor packed away his measuring ruler and scissors in his leather carrying case.

“Excellent, Mr. Devillier. We shall look forward to it.”

“When can I start work, Sir Jack?” Charlie asked as the tailor closed the door behind him.

“Not until you get your clothes. You can’t walk the streets like that can you?” Jack laughed, looking at his shirt swimming on Charlie. “Now, as part of your employment I will arrange for you to have a small room here at the hotel.” His sudden generosity and paternal feelings toward the boy surprised him. The boy reminded him of himself as a child, only Charlie’s innocence had been marred by living a life on the London streets without even an elder brother to protect him.
The boy has probably had to scavenge his meal where he could
, he thought sadly. And I have so much. Strange how this old world works.’

“How about a game of cards?” Jack pulled a set of playing cards from his trunk. “I will teach you how to play the game of poker.”

Charlie seated himself excitedly at the table, rolling up the long shirt sleeves to expose his thin bony arms. Hours passed in friendly camaraderie as Jack taught the boy all about gambling, telling tales of his life in America and the characters he met there. The boy was smart and eager to learn, asking so many questions Jack’s concentration of the card game began to slip.

“Hah! I win!” Charlie laughed happily.

Jack eyed the hand of cards Charlie held between his little fingers and sighed. “Not again?”

As the afternoon wore on, Jack learned of the unfortunate demise of both Charlie’s parents and his two siblings.

“Was the pox,” Charlie informed him that led to the young boy becoming an orphan with no one left to help him.

Jack learned the young boy had been sent with the other pox orphans to the workhouse where they were put to work for ten hours a day, scarcely given enough food to survive, let alone proper clothing.

“So I left,” Charlie continued. “I ran away and I ain’t going back. So, if you think one day you may call the authorities or the constable on me, just know they’ll send me back there and I won’t be ‘appy about it.”

“I won’t be calling on anyone.” Jack poured himself a large glass of tonic water. “Unless you do something naughty like stealing from me, for instance. If you do your work for me properly without resorting to vagrancy I shall make sure you do not return to the workhouse.”

“Is there a Lady Bartholomew?” Charlie asked, as he dealt out another hand of cards.

Jack shook his head, adding a slice of lemon to his tonic water.

“Not even a lady friend?”

“My, you’re inquisitive aren’t you?”

“Well, do ya?”

Jack took a sip of his drink and shook his head. “Not anymore.” He thought of Jenna and his heart filled with sadness.

“Did she die?”

“No.” Jack smiled sadly. “She didn’t die, but her love for me did. You’ll understand that one day when you’re all grown-up and fall in love.”

Charlie smirked. “I don’t like girls. They’re too prissy and bossy.”

Jack laughed. “One day you will, but just remember my words to you today. Don’t let them get too deep in here.” He patted his chest, pointing to his heart.

“Did you tell her you loved her?”

“I did,” Jack admitted. “But when she told me she didn’t want to be with me anymore I’m afraid I did a rather foolish thing and told her things I didn’t mean.”

“Well, that’s silly. If you still love her why don’t you tell her?”

Jack shrugged. Oh, to be a child again! “It’s not as simple as that Charlie. Relationships are never simple. Sometimes it’s best not to love at all.”

“Well, I fink you should write her a love letter and I’ll deliver it fer ya, in me new suit if yer like.”

Jack chuckled, imagining whatever the Cornish villagers would make of the dressed up street urchin. “She’s not in London,” he said finally. “But maybe one day I will write to her, when things have calmed.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Dusk cloaked the countryside by the time they made their way home in an awkward, tired silence. The three sisters walked along the narrow country lane leading down from Penrose Mine to the village. Karenza and Tamzin placed their arms around Jenna holding her tired, weak body upright. Her mind reeled from the conversation she heard Lord Edwin having. She needed to leak it somehow, but was too tired and emotionally deadened to even think about that now. The sister’s halted as they came to the small cottage Jenna shared for the brief time since the wedding with Trystan.

“I don’t want to stay there tonight,” Jenna said. “I want to stay with papa.”

Tamzin nodded, walking her the few doors down to their father’s cottage. His anxious face peered through the window, waiting for their return. As he opened the door, Jenna fell into his arms, the tears and emotions of the day drenching her face, as she leaned weakly against him.

“Oh, papa,” she sobbed. “Promise me you won’t go back down the mines again? Please, promise me.”

Her father held her close to him, smoothing down her hair and leading her to the small fireside chair. “Jenna,” he said, his voice tight with emotion. “I don’t know what to say. I want to make this better for you. As your father, I want to make all this pain go away. I don’t want to see you suffer like this.”

He looked at her, tears staining his face, his hands trembling as he stroked her soft cheek. “You are my youngest and the one who suffered most at such a young age. It’s just so unfair, so very, very unfair. If your mother were here she would know what to say, what to do. I am sorry. I just don’t know how to make this all go away, make your suffering stop.”

Karenza and Tamzin knelt down beside Jenna. Tamzin defiantly wiped away the tears now falling from her eyes.

“You have us,” they both said in unison.

“You and papa have us. We will all see to it that papa never returns to the mines ever again, Jenna. You have my word on that. We’ll make it work,” Tamzin said. “Won’t we Karenza?”

Karenza nodded adamantly. “Absolutely.”

Jenna looked at her middle sister, realizing she thought nothing of her sister’s pregnant condition whilst everything was happening. “Oh, Karenza.” She placed a hand on her sister’s swollen belly. “All of this trauma can’t be good for the baby.”

“I am fine, just tired. I think I will head back to the Inn now, try and get some sleep, though God knows how any of us will sleep tonight.”

Jenna found some comfort as she returned between the sheets of the small single bed she slept in since childhood. She sat upright as Tamzin seated herself on the edge of the bed and handed her a hot whiskey.

“I think you need something to help you sleep.” Tamzin tucked the sheets tighter around Jenna.

“Do you think I’m being punished by God?”

“Punished? Whatever for?”

“For falling in love with Jack when it was Trystan I should have been in love with.”

“Oh, Jenna! That’s just plain nonsense. God doesn’t punish people for falling in love. It happens. We can’t choose who we fall in love with, just try and fall in love with the people who are right for us.”

“Jack wasn’t right for me. But he is never far from my mind, from my thoughts. Even today…” She trailed off sadly.

“Listen to me. Of course you will think of him. But as the days turn into months and the months into years, he will disappear from your thoughts.”

Jenna nodded “I hope so. And Trystan… Poor Trystan. He will always be in my thoughts until the day I die. I did love him, Tamzin. I do love him, but in a different way. Maybe that’s why he was taken away from me, so I would realize it.”

Tamzin took Jenna’s hand in hers. “You must stop thinking like that or you’ll drive yourself crazy. Trystan was taken away from you today, just as many men were taken away from their wives, children and mothers today. You had nothing to do with that. You must have more faith in God. Promise me you will banish such thoughts.”

“I’ll try. Thank you, Tamzin.”

Tamzin kissed her goodnight on the forehead and blowing out the candle left Jenna alone in the darkness with her thoughts.

* * * *

The next morning, Jenna rose at the crack of dawn and sat on the edge of the bed gazing at the letter from Trystan’s brother and the ticket to Australia that accompanied it. She had no intention of using it and toyed with the idea of giving it to Mrs. Trezies along with the letter from her son. Instead, she tossed the ticket in her pocket and quickly left the cottage to deliver the letter to Trystan’s mother.

When she reached the Trezies house she didn't see any sign of Mrs. Trezies.
She must be at the church
, thought Jenna sadly, placing the letter under the door.

She turned and walked up toward the small cottage her and Trystan shared. She hesitated outside the door, afraid to open it, afraid to smell the memories of Trystan and the new life they never had chance to begin together. Slowly, she turned and walked back down the pathway, vowing to leave it for another day.

The village seemed unusually quiet as she made her way toward the small chapel. The villagers, lulled into a shocked silence by the happenings of the previous day, now gathered at the church faced with the unappetizing task of burying the dead.

Jenna pushed open the heavy wooden doors to the chapel and slid unnoticed into the back pew. The same place she had been married a few days earlier was now the place of her new husband’s departure. The irony of it caused her more pain. She glanced up toward the front of the church, her breath catching in her throat as saw the outline of Lord Edwin’s plump figure perched sanctimoniously in the very front pew.

The audacity of it
! Jenna thought bitterly, as he rose from the pew and walked up to the sermon table in front of the altar, his voice firm with no sign of emotion as he read the eulogy for the dead miners. She fought the desire to jump to her feet in the packed church and scream from the top of her lungs that Lord Edwin Penrose was no more than a murderer. Instead, she sat there, reeling with anger, longing to rush out of the door and keep running from all the memories and the heartache.

As the church service ended and the heart weary parishioners poured into the still morning air, she stayed seated in the pew, not wanting to move or leave the familiarity of the small chapel. She watched as each parishioner passed by her, nodding in sympathy. She froze as Lord Edwin finally approached. Perversely, he looked her up and down, stopping momentarily where she knelt. As her eyes met his, she noticed the lewd note of desire as he smirked at her, his lascivious gaze piercing through her, sending a shiver of hatred down her spine.

I’ll get you
, she thought, as she watched him lick his thin little lips. I’ll get you. I’ll make sure the whole world knows what you’ve done and I won’t finish until I’ve destroyed you and Penrose Mines.