Daisychain Summer. Elizabeth Elgin

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      ‘Now mind what I’ve told you,’ she called to his blithely retreating back. ‘Watch your step, son – or else …’

      Of course he would watch his step, Elliot Sutton promised the mirror image he so often gazed upon. Didn’t he always – or almost always? And hadn’t his mother as good as promised that as soon as he was married and had provided a couple of sons for Pendenys, he could please himself what he did?

      He frowned, wondering what it would be like, getting sons with Anna Petrovska. A virgin, his mother said; an aristocratic virgin. Yet there had been a challenge in her eyes, a promise. She might make him a tolerable wife in spite of her careful upbringing. He must now, he admitted sadly, forget about the servant in black, next door. Too near to home. Best he should concentrate on establishing himself with Anna – with Lady Anna. All things considered, he’d had a good run for his money. He must watch himself for a while; be on his best behaviour until he had done his duty by Pendenys and earned his reward for doing it.

      He sighed, pleasurably. Anna Petrovska, he supposed, would do very nicely; better, indeed, than some of the mare-faced daughters of English aristocrats with their lumpy, childbearing hips. It pleased him to think that the Almighty had created women in man’s image, but had had the good sense to create them sufficiently different to make them interesting and pleasurable – and infinitely accommodating. It was his unshakable belief, his gospel.

      He hoped the girl next door would not put on the required show of modesty and refuse him twice before she accepted him. And more to the point he hoped she would be there, tonight. She had very kissable lips. And very exciting breasts. It mightn’t be half bad, married to her.

      He began to think of expensive motors and a bank account credited with an amount equal to his mother’s approval. Aleksandrina Anastasia Petrovska. Would she – or wouldn’t she? More to the point, when she did, would she prove fertile? His own virility, he knew without doubt had already been established. There was nothing wrong with the breeding prowess of Sutton males. Even his cousin Giles had surprised him, getting the servant pregnant. A sly one, that sewing maid; pretending modesty, fighting for her honour. Like a wildcat she had clawed him, that first try in Brattocks Wood. If it hadn’t been for the damned dog things might have been different, like the second time. At a place called Celverte, hadn’t it been? Very vague, that second time. He’d been well in his cups that night. Pity he couldn’t remember more about it.

      Yet think – could he have had anything to do with that child Julia hawked about with her? Could he, had Giles lived, have challenged him?

      But the child Drew was everything a Sutton should be; was fair, as Giles was. He supposed he should give credit for that begetting to Giles who, after all, was dead whilst he, Elliot Sutton, was gloriously alive – and that was all that mattered.

      But it was a thought, for all that!

      ‘Take her will you, Tom?’ Alice withdrew her nipple from her daughter’s lips. ‘Asleep, already. Put her over your shoulder, just in case there’s any wind to come up. Don’t want her waking, soon as she’s put down.’

      ‘What is it, love?’ Tom gathered his daughter to him. ‘Got a bad head?’

      ‘No.’ She rarely got headaches. ‘Just that – oh, it’s nothing!’

      ‘Then why’ve you hardly said a word since I came in, tonight? Summat’s bothering you.’ He knew her too well to accept denial.

      ‘It’s something or nothing. I suppose. When I went to Willow End –’

      ‘To see if she’d got herself settled …?’

      ‘Settled – yes. She put the kettle on and we had a chat. And then she said – oh, I’m daft, even to think it, but –’

      ‘But best you tell me, for all that.’

      ‘Well, like I said, I thought I’d push Daisy down the lane – give Keth the sweeties I’d bought for him in the village – just trying to be friendly. Polly Purvis is a worker, I’ll say that for her. She had a stew cooking and the windows cleaned and bread rising on the hearth, when I got there.’

      ‘She was in service in these parts, I believe, when she met Dickon. But you knew that.’

      ‘I did, Tom, though Polly reminded me of it. Said she’d soon get the family on its feet again, now they were together and money coming in regular. Said she had contacts around these parts from way back and would be looking for work, to help out.’

      ‘But what about that little lad?’

      ‘She isn’t going out to work. She intends taking in washing, if there’s nothing to stop her doing it. I said I was sure Mr Hillier wouldn’t mind, if she hung it out of sight at the back.’

      ‘Nor will he. But it isn’t the washing that’s bothering you, is it, Alice?’

      ‘No. It’s more something she said. “We’ll manage all right,” she said. “And once Keth goes to school, I’ll be able to go out mornings, scrubbing.” And had you thought, Tom, that she’ll even have to dig that garden of theirs; Dickon can’t use a spade with one foot near useless, now can he?’

      ‘Come to think of it, he can’t – though there’ll be plenty who’ll give a hand. But go on?’

      ‘Well – I wished her luck, told her I was sure there’d be work. And then she said it. Said she looked like Mary Anne and that any woman in their family who’d ever looked like Mary Anne inherited her luck, too.’

      ‘Mary Anne who?’ All at once, Tom was uneasy.

      ‘Mary Anne Pendennis, that’s who! I couldn’t believe it at first, so I said – casual as I could – that Pendennis is an uncommon name but she said no, it isn’t. Not around Cornwall, it seems.’

      ‘But there’ll be a fair few Mary Anne Pendennises in Cornwall.’

      ‘So there will, I grant you. But how many by that name married a northerner – a foundry worker, by name of Albert Elliot? Polly had all the family history off pat.’

      ‘Too much of a coincidence.’ Now Tom knew the reason for his unease.

      ‘Is it? Think on this, then. Didn’t Mrs Clementina call her house Pendenys Place, and name her first son Elliot – her maiden name? And Nathan and Albert she called for her father and grandfather. Coincidence, Tom? And Polly Purvis was Polly Pendennis, before she married Dickon. She’s actually related to Clementina Sutton. Polly’s grandfather was a Pendennis. She told me he had two sisters; one of them called Sarah Jane – the other –’

      ‘Don’t tell me! The other was Mary Anne! But what luck did that great-grandmother of Elliot Sutton’s ever have? Took in washing, didn’t she, and worked as a herring woman. You think that’s lucky?’

      ‘Look, Tom – Polly said it. Mary Anne’s luck, because Mary Anne’s husband ended up with his own foundry and their son got even richer.’

      ‘All right, then. Polly Purvis – Pendennis – is cousin twice removed to that Elliot? Can’t hold that against the woman!’

      ‘No, but there’s her son – that little СКАЧАТЬ