BooksBarbecue
Back Pengarron Dynasty
Chapters (50)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. One
  4. Two
  5. Three
  6. Four
  7. Five
  8. Six
  9. Seven
  10. Eight
  11. Nine
  12. Ten
  13. Eleven
  14. Twelve
  15. Thirteen
  16. Fourteen
  17. Fifteen
  18. Sixteen
  19. Seventeen
  20. Eighteen
  21. Nineteen
  22. Twenty
  23. Twenty-One
  24. Twenty-Two
  25. Twenty-Three
  26. Twenty-Four
  27. Twenty-Five
  28. Twenty-Six
  29. Twenty-Seven
  30. Twenty-Eight
  31. Twenty-Nine
  32. Thirty
  33. Thirty-One
  34. Thirty-Two
  35. Thirty-Three
  36. Thirty-Four
  37. Thirty-Five
  38. Thirty-Six
  39. Thirty-Seven
  40. Thirty-Eight
  41. Thirty-Nine
  42. Forty
  43. Forty-One
  44. Forty-Two
  45. Forty-Three
  46. Forty-Four
  47. Forty-Five
  48. Forty-Six
  49. The Pengarron Sagas
  50. The Harvey Family Sagas

There was really nothing for him to do at home. He would likely be an old man before he came into his inheritance, and even then there would be no challenge left for him. In the few years before his marriage, his father had rebuilt the estate from near ruin, and although Sir Oliver was many years senior to his mother, he wore them like a man of youth and vigour.

The one dream Luke kept in his heart, that did not involve the Pengarron estate or any of his expected duties, and which only Jack knew about, would be ridiculed if he ever brought it to light. He could not bear that.

Ignoring the anguish of his burns, Luke felt about in his coat pocket and brought out a letter from Cordelia. It would be good to see his little cousin again. He had missed her, but pray God she had found herself a husband and wasn’t about to resume shadowing his heels like a faithful puppy. The adolescent playfulness and demands of a puppy could so easily become tiresome.

Hell’s teeth! Hot-faced and grinding his teeth, he stalked on to the hump of the bridge and stared down into the waters. They swirled bracken-brown, thick and dull. No bed of weeds or stones was visible, nor the dark reddish earth of this fertile county of Devon. Why not spare himself all those naked grey years ahead? Leap in, let the river carry him away to be dashed to death on some blessed rocks or to drown in its deceptive depths. He was going to drown anyway. In despondency. In nothingness.

He was going home. To the same old frustrations and his sense of worthlessness.

Four

With a sense of irony, Clem Trenchard looked out of the window of the ivy-clad parsonage at Perranbarvah. Before his marriage to the parson’s sister he would have had to enter by the back door, and this was the very room where Kerensa had stayed in the month leading up to her enforced marriage. He had spent many desperate hours staring up at this small-paned window pining for her.

Clem heaved the window up on its protesting sashes and stuck his blond head out. The smell of the sea. Wonderful! How he had missed it. Gazing down the steep hill to the fishing village, he listened to the steady drag of the tide creaming over and then receding from the shore. Gulls chattered and showed off their expertise on wing. He had missed the gulls too, but the moor he now lived on offered an interesting variety of bird life.