Trevennor's Will by Gloria Cook

Author:Gloria Cook
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Canelo Digital Publishing Ltd
Published: 2022-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

Gyver Pengelly shambled his sweaty hulk into Gwithian. He’d just spent some time with Nellie in the hovel she lived in and been told Deborah Kempthorne wanted to see him. Pengelly was in an expansive mood; Nellie had been good to him, the wreck of The Bountiful had been good to him and a meeting with Miss Kempthorne probably meant yet more money was in the offing.

He passed Trevennor House at noon, whistling a local jig and stopping to give attention to one of his huge dirty boots, the signal he was to give to show that he had received the message. Deborah was watching discreetly for him from an upstairs window. She moved away and sent for her cloak and hat.

‘I’m going out, Edmund,’ she told her brother, who had just risen from bed. ‘I need a little fresh air to clear a headache before Nick arrives.’

‘Mind how you go,’ Edmund returned breezily. ‘And if you see any of the villagers, Debs, try being civil to them. We won’t make much of an impression if you keep your nose stuck up in the air all the time.’ Deborah left the house on heavy feet and a loud, ‘Huh!’

She met Pengelly at the appointed place, a lonely piece of dirt track, turning off to the left several yards further up the village street. The ground was wetter and more slippery than she thought it would be. She’d muddied her cloak and was in a foul mood.

‘Why have you taken so long to see me!’ she went straight in on the attack. ‘I told that stupid girl to give you a message days ago.’ Deborah was a little afraid of Gyver Pengelly and always used this aggressive tactic with him to disguise it and keep the upper hand.

‘Sorry, miss,’ Pengelly said, sounding anything but sorry. He knew the Kempthorne woman was likely to need him more than he did her and he held no respect for class, particularly pretenders to the title. ‘So, what is it yer wantin’?’

‘Do you want to earn some money?’

‘Course I bleddy do! I ain’t daft.’

‘A lot of money.’

Pengelly ruffled his bush of a beard. ‘Wantin’ somebody else dead, are ’ee?’

Deborah glanced around to make sure they were quite alone. If anyone happened along she would scream and accuse Pengelly of dragging her here and molesting her for money. She had the evidence of muddy clothing to prove it. ‘I’m worried about that girl, Nellie. She’s a moron. She could spell trouble for us, talk about the real reason Isabel Hampton’s coach went off the road.’

‘No, not Nellie. She’s a mite soft in the head but she went say nothin’. She only talks to folk I says she can.’

‘She spoke to my brother last week and I’ve seen her talking to the village cats. Someone might overhear her saying something incriminating. And she spends a lot of time with that curate’s sugar-sweet wife. I want you to get rid of her, Pengelly.’

‘Get rid of Nellie!’ he roared.

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