Pengelly's Daughter (11 page)

‘I thought that at rst, but not any longer. I think they used him. Instead of giving him safe passage – which I'm sure they promised – I think they had him arrested for some trumped-up charge. It's my guess he's been rotting in gaol since the day he went missing.'

Mention of the gaol made me wince. The stench, the lth, the inhumanity of the place still seemed so vivid. Jim was watching me. He put his hand on my arm. It felt warm and strangely reassuring. ‘Are you alright, Rose?' he whispered.

I nodded. ‘That awful place brings back such pain. But why d'you think he's in gaol?'

Jim's voice took on a new coldness. ‘This morning, I hid outside Tregellas's house. I knew the rst person he'd go to would need to know about the theft, so I followed him. He went straight to Polcarrow – to Mr Roskelly.'

‘Mr Roskelly? No wonder poor Father didn't stand a chance.'

‘We've disturbed a vipers' nest, Rose. Mr Tregellas was at Polcarrow for nearly an hour – then he went straight to the gaol. From there, he went to Hoskins' Bank, then straight back to the gaol, carrying something under his jacket – no doubt a purse full of coins.'

‘Bribery – or payment for services rendered.'

‘When he left the gaol he leant against the wall, loosened his collar an' wiped his brow – hardly the actions of an innocent man. Then, I believe he graced you with his company.'

‘He was furious. I know he suspects me.'

‘But he's no proof an' never will – so long as I keep the ledgers safe. He'll not nd them, Rose, have no fear. He's got nothing to go on but suspicion.'

‘Were you watching him when he talked to Madame Merrick?'

‘Yes.'

‘Did you hear what they said?'

He shook his head. ‘I couldn't catch their words. Why?'

‘I think Madame Merrick and Mr Tregellas are part of a smuggling gang.'

He did not seem surprised, but his eyes sharpened. ‘Have you said anything to your mother?' I shook my head. ‘Good, then make sure you don't say a word. I believe she's very close to Madame Merrick.'

His words stung me. I resented his implication Mother would side with Madame Merrick. ‘Well, if Sulio Denville's in gaol, you'll not get near him,' I snapped.

He met my anger with a half-smile, ‘Maybe, maybe not, but they're planning to move him to Bodmin on Saturday morning.'

‘How d'you know that?'

‘I've had it on good authority.'

‘Who?'

‘Bess – the serving lass in the Anchor Tavern.'

‘I hardly call that good authority!' Which one had she been? The one running her hands under his shirt or the one stroking his thighs?

Again, the half-smile. ‘Her father's the gaoler. She took some persuading, but I got her to tell me the new orders.'

‘I'm sure she took no persuading at all – I'm sure your charms were well received!' Suddenly the night seemed less beautiful, the air somewhat cooler.

‘They're moving a prisoner from Fosse to Bodmin Goal on Saturday morning and it's my belief it's Sulio Denville. Once he's in Bodmin, there'll be no getting near him, so we've got to get him between Fosse and the moor. If we free him, we might be able to strike a deal – it's got to be worth the chance.'

I could not believe what I heard, but his face was deadly serious. ‘No, Jim. You can't mean that. It can't be done.'

‘It can be done – if we use you as a distraction.'

‘It's far too dangerous.'

‘For me, maybe – but not for you. You'd be nothing but an innocent bystander an' take no part.' His black eyes were full of danger.

‘D'you have a plan?'

‘Can you get a horse and wagon, or a hay wain? Something with four wheels not two? We need to get you up on the moor for a day out on Saturday morning.'

Despite my horror, I burst out laughing. ‘Are you mad, Jim? What would I be doing going for a day out on Saturday? I never go anywhere. I can't go borrowing a cart and setting off on a jaunt – I've only been across the moor a handful of times. Everyone would suspect me. If your plan hinges on me nding a cart, then it's a stupid plan.' I was suddenly very cross. Cross and disappointed. He was asking too much of me. I turned my back, scowling into the darkness.

A cart! A trip across the moor! Suddenly my mind cleared. I remembered Madame Merrick and her dilemma about collecting her cotton from St Austell. If Madame Merrick needed to be at Mrs Hoskins' for a tting on Saturday, then I could offer to collect the cotton for her. ‘Wait…I think I can do it,' I said a little breathlessly.

‘I knew you'd think of something,' he said, the hard lines down his face softening into a half-smile. I could feel myself beginning to burn under the glow of his approval and turned my face towards the sea, hoping the breeze would cool the heat from my cheeks. ‘Can you be ready to leave Fosse at a quarter to eight?' I heard him ask.

‘Yes.'

‘Take the top road out to the moor.'

‘And?'

‘Make sure you leave at a quarter to eight. Can you go alone?'

‘No, of course not!'

‘Then only one other person – but not your mother. And can you wear a red dress.'

‘Why?'

‘Because the colour will stand out.'

His words scared me. Had he done this before? A knot began tightening in my stomach and instantly I regretted my decision. I knew nothing about him. He could be leading me straight to the gallows and I did not even know who he was. ‘Who are you?' I asked sharply.

He turned his back, staring across the shimmering sea, his shoulders broad in the moonlight. ‘I told you – my name's Jim. Until recently, I've been working at the household of the Governor General of Dominica. While I was there, circumstances arose making it necessary I return to England.' His voice was at, lacking all emotion.

But what are words when actions speak so much louder? The knot in my stomach gave one further wrench. He said nothing, but his hands went straight to his chest, pressing against his heart. I remembered the gold chain, the beautiful ring that shone with such brilliance and the taste in my mouth turned sour. There are some things a woman need not be told. Cursing my weakness I turned quickly away, walking briskly back through the undergrowth.

Whatever emotions I had begun to feel, whatever notions I had started to harbour, I pushed aside as roughly as I pushed aside the gorse that snagged my clothes. He was not doing this for me. He was not helping me with my struggles – he was doing this for her.

We had an enemy in common, that was all.

Chapter Twelve

Saturday 29th June 1793 7:30 a.m.

M
other looked anxious. She had obviously dressed in a hurry as her mobcap was slightly askew. Wisps of hair framed her face, the dark shadows under her eyes accentuating her pallor. She was wringing her hands against her chest. ‘I think we should tell Madame Merrick you've changed your mind. I'm sure she can nd someone else to go.'

‘I'll be ne – I'll be back before dark. Stop worrying. Besides, I'm really looking forward to a little trip across the moor.' I hoped I sounded convincing. I had not slept either.

We had spent the previous day in deep discussion. Madame Merrick had shown great surprise when I offered to pick up her consignment of cotton, studying me keenly through her beady eyes, almost as if she suspected something. Mother immediately dismissed the idea, but when Madame Merrick conded she was worried someone else would
steal it
from right under her nose, Mother had given way and nally relented. I was to ask my friend Ben to borrow his father's cart and if we left early enough, we could get there and back before dark.

‘Jenna's packed this basket with a loaf and some potted crab. She says you didn't eat anything at all yesterday and you'll fade to nothing the way you're going.'

‘Jenna's just fussing.' Food was the last thing I felt like.

‘No she isn't. It's a long way to St Austell.'

‘It's only seven miles – and I've done it twice already when I went to buy timber with Father. It's not the end of the world!'

Mother had been born in St Austell. She had been six when she left and had never been back. In fact, Mother had not left Fosse or Porthruan since, so I knew the thought of my journey scared her. ‘Take your cloak and this rug – and take this cushion…it'll be that uncomfortable sitting on the cart all day and, before I forget, Jenna's given you this agon of ale for Ben, though whether he should drink ale, or not, I don't know.'

An early morning mist hung in the air and the warehouse felt cold as we waited. It was already half past seven and if we were to leave in time, we had only a quarter of an hour to get everything sorted. My anxiety was increasing by the minute as I knew Jim's plan depended on us leaving at exactly quarter to eight.

‘I think I should come with you, Rosehannon. I'd be that happier, coming with you. It's not right for a young woman to go alone. In fact, the more I think on it, the more I'd love to see St Austell after all this time.'

My heart plummeted. ‘But, Mother, we discussed this yesterday. The jolting would make your back worse – it would be far too uncomfortable for you.'

Madame Merrick was crossing the courtyard, mounting the steps. She looked impeccable in a green velvet gown with matching jacket. Taking off her hat, she greeted me with a half-smile. ‘Remember, Miss Pengelly,
three
threads in the selvedge. Do
not
accept it if there are only two. I will not be fobbed off with imported cotton – though, of course, if it were
French
, that would be different. Check through
all
the roll, not just what you can see on the surface – they have a habit of putting good quality on the surface and poor quality underneath. They will try to
trick
you – especially when they see you are so young.'

‘I won't let anyone trick me, Madame Merrick.'

‘No, I do not believe you will – that's why I am prepared to trust you. And remember, I will
not
pay more than ten shillings a roll. They agreed eight, but no doubt they will try and sell it to you for more. Start with an offer of seven and six and act as if the cotton is not worth more. Do not let them cheat you, Miss Pengelly.'

‘I won't.'

Madame Merrick opened her silk purse and counted out thirty-ve shillings. Putting the coins back in the purse, she held it out to me, ‘Hide it well, Miss Pengelly…no, not in the basket – put it down your bodice.' I stuffed the silk purse down my bosom and she nodded in approval.

We were still waiting for Ben. I was worried he had forgotten, or had gone into one of his trances. People were spiteful where Ben was concerned, saying he was mazed and with the pixies most of the time, which was nonsense of course. But it was true he was not like other boys. He lived in his own world – a simple world. Some actually called him simple, some said he was soft in the head and many of the boys were cruel to him, taunting him and goading him until he cried. Cruelty sickens me and ever since I found him crying in a pigpen, his feet tied together, I have tried my best to shield him.

A wagon came clattering across the courtyard and I looked up. Ben was dressed in his Sunday best, his face and boots polished to a shine. He was clearly pleased to see me, beaming his wonky half-smile, his teeth jutting from out of his crowded mouth, a bit of spittle glistening on his chin. I stared at the wagon. It was so beautiful, every inch of the painted red cart festooned with owers. I rushed down the steps clapping my hands. ‘Oh, Ben! It's so beautiful – I've never seen anything so lovely.'

Garlands of bindweed, honeysuckle and dog roses hung over the yellow wheels. Huge bunches of owers cascaded over the sides of the cart. It was breath-taking. Ben steadied the old nag and jumped down, his smile lling his face. He handed me a bouquet of wild owers smelling of sage and thyme. ‘Fff…for yer, Miss Rose'annon,' he said shyly.

‘Ben – they're beautiful.'

I was so delighted I almost forgot the time – it was a quarter to eight. I threw the basket of provisions onto the cart and swung myself onto the bench. Ben climbed next to me while Madame Merrick and Mother stood watching. ‘It's like a bridal cart,' I heard Mother say. ‘…that boy adores her.'

‘Then he should be warned,' came the quick retort. ‘Rosehannon would eat him alive.'

‘Oh no,' replied Mother, ‘She's devoted to Ben. Ever since they were bairns, she's looked after him. Honest to God, I've watched her see off some of the biggest bullies just by crossing her arms and glaring at them – you know, the boys were that scared of her! They knew she was a force to be reckoned with.'

Madame Merrick was staring at me. ‘She still is, Eva,' I heard her say.