Page 71 of The Cornish Widow

Chapter Thirty-One

For a moment, Jack hesitated on the threshold of the bedroom before him. Then he stepped inside and closed the door firmly on the woman in the corridor. The four people already in the room, arrested in their movement by his arrival, made a dramatic tableau.

The bedroom was huge, the walls lined with oak paneling that combined with the thick curtains drawn over the long windows, rendered it dark and gloomy. In the center of the wall opposite the door, a large four-poster bed stood, hung with heavy drapes of green and gold brocade. What little light there was came only from the plethora of candles that had been lit. They cast an eerie glow over the whole motionless assembly.

A rise in the bedcovers marked where Jack’s father lay, his head upon a heap of pillows. To the right side of the bed sat two women clad in drab, dark colors, one of whom, easily recognizable as Lady Trengrouse, clutched his father’s hand. The other had to be her youngest daughter. The only pretty one. On the other side of the bed, Dr Rescorla hovered in his somber black consulting coat, resembling nothing more than a thin crow come late to the feast.

For what felt like an eternity, nobody said anything and no one moved. Then, Lady Trengrouse, her spiteful face, as much like a pig’s as his mother had suggested, made to step towards him, but Sir Austin’s hand pulled her back. “No,” was all he said, his weak voice carrying in the silence.

They were all staring at Jack. If Lady Trengrouse’s look could have killed, he’d have been dead on the floor right now.

“What are you doing here?” she finally managed to spit out. The girl, his sister, on the other hand, was nothing but curious. Perhaps she’d long wondered about the half-brother who she must have known didn’t live far away.

It was up to Jack to do something. To break open the ominous silence. “I’ve come to pay my respects to my father.” Refusing to shrink under the accusing stare of Lady Trengrouse, Jack stepped up beside Dr. Rescorla and stood looking down at the figure in the bed.

Sir Austin peered back up out of eyes that should have been so like Jack’s own, but now were exhausted, bloodshot and ringed by dark shadows. “You came.” The side of his face nearest to Jack was pulled down and sagging and the words emerged slurred and difficult to hear. A trail of saliva ran from the downturned corner of his mouth.

Jack stared down at the man he’d always wanted to be closer to. Now it was too late. How could he be angry with a dying man? That his father had been so weak as to allow himself to be bullied into bigamy shocked Jack to the core, but the man was dying, and this was not the time for recriminations. It never would be.

A stool stood beside the bed, so Jack took it, drawing it close enough that he could take the pale hand where it lay on the covers, lifeless and chill, just a glove with loose bones inside it.

Across the bed, Lady Trengrouse released her husband’s other hand and sat up straighter. “You have no right to show your face here.”

Jack ignored her.

Dr. Rescorla cleared his throat. “Captain Trevelyan. I am afraid your father has lost the use of the right side of his body. His apoplexy has caused it. I’ve bled him, but there’s nothing more I can do. It’s just a matter of time, now. You are lucky he’s retained the power of speech.”

Sir Austin shot his medical man a venomous glare. So he wasn’t as feeble as he looked. “I know I’m dying, man. You may go, all of you. I wish to be alone with my son.” This time the words were clearer. He waved his left hand at Lady Trengrouse and Lavinia. “Go. All of you. Now.”

Rising to her feet, Lady Trengrouse turned to her daughter, catching her arm. “Come, Lavinia, we must allow your papa his vagaries.” The glare she shot at Jack could have had him in a smoking heap of embers on the floor.

The girl rose, but hesitated. “Might I not stay, too, Papa? I am your daughter as much as he is your son. You must know how much I love you.”

The old man’s eyes swiveled to take her in. “Very well. Not your mother. She must go.”

Lady Trengrouse looked as though she would have liked to have argued the point, but Doctor Rescorla, who knew Jack well and had treated his mother on occasion, took her arm, tucked her hand into his elbow and ushered her out. “Your husband has little time left. You need to allow him his final wishes, my lady.”

Did he know anything of the contents of the letter? He could only have been a boy at the time of Sir Austin’s marriage to Jack’s mother, but his father before him had been a doctor in Penzance. And the letter had said they’d married there. Someone must have stood as witnesses for them. Someone must have carried out their wedding. And yet no one had ever come forward to say so. Whoever those people were, they must have been in Jack’s father’s pocket not to have betrayed him as a bigamist.

The door closed behind them, and Lavinia returned to the far side of the bed, retaking her seat. Sir Austin’s eyes had closed. “Papa, I am here.” She took his one responsive hand in hers. “We both are.”

Sir Austin opened his eyes. “My children.”

“Mama has sent for Honoria and Horatia as well, only as Honoria is in a delicate condition, Mama fears she won’t be able to travel.”

Jack watched Lavinia with interest. This was by far the closest he’d been to her and now they were facing one another, he could see even more clearly how much she resembled their father. Unlike her two rather sturdy sisters, she was slender and curvaceous, with a pale, oval face and the wide golden eyes of Sir Austin. And Jack himself.

She stared back at him in open interest. “So,” she said, “you are my brother.”

“Half-brother.”

“I have always wanted a brother.”

Jack bit his lip. If he were to speak the truth he’d have to say that he’d always wanted a sister, but he wasn’t about to appear vulnerable in front of her. He was here to steal her name and her inheritance, and she’d not forgive him for that, brother or not. Not that it had ever been truly hers.

Sir Austin stirred. “I have not much time. Do you have the letter?”

Lavinia’s brow furrowed. “The letter? What letter?”