Pengelly's Daughter (8 page)

‘Long after I was meant to be in bed, I would sit on the cold stairs looking into Father's study, watching his grief, getting angrier and angrier I wasn't born a boy. I knew I could be as good as any boy – I just needed to prove it. I'd watch the boys rowing the river and I was determined to join their races. It didn't take long to devise a plan to dress in breeches and row against them.'

‘An' it meant climbing in and out of your bedroom?'

‘Yes. You saw how easy it was.'

‘An', don't tell me, you found you were good at rowing.' There was more than a hint of irony in his voice which annoyed me. I sat forward, preparing to leave.

‘Well, yes, I was. And I still am, as a matter of fact. I'm a very good rower. I don't see why women are meant to be weak and feeble – some of us are very strong and able. We don't all like sitting about watching men doing things we're perfectly capable of doing ourselves.'

Jim put his hand on my arm. This was the second time he had stopped me leaving. ‘Rose, I've no doubt you're capable of a lot more besides – tell me about the rowing, did you get found out?'

I leant back against the wall. ‘One evening I returned to my room to nd Father waiting for me. He was surprisingly calm and hadn't told Mother, but he demanded an explanation. I was eleven years old and suddenly very angry. I said if he treated me more like a boy, I wouldn't have to prove I was as good as any boy.'

‘How'd he take that?'

The memory saddened me. What a hurt, lonely child I had been. ‘He asked me what I proposed and I said I wanted to help him in the yard. I wanted to learn the business.'

‘Did he agree?'

‘Yes. From then on, I joined him every day. He set about teaching me to read and write. He taught me all about boat-building and, over the years, I couldn't learn enough. Boats, books, bookkeeping, I was like a sponge, absorbing everything. He was a self-educated man and he taught me how to learn.'

‘Didn't your mother mind her only daughter spending so much time away from her?'

‘No, well…perhaps. I don't know…she had Jenna to keep her company – Jenna became her companion.' Jim looked up at the catch in my voice. ‘Mother taught her to sew and Jenna's much better at that sort of thing. Mother would've wasted her time trying to teach me, and besides…' I stopped.

‘Besides what?'

‘Nothing.' I had stopped in time. I would never tell anyone my dreams of managing my own yard.

Jim could see he had annoyed me. ‘Don't let's quarrel. Tell me about your father, he seems an interesting man.' Our shoulders were touching, the warmth of his blanket pressing against mine. It felt comforting, strangely reassuring. Yes, Father had been an interesting man and I wanted Jim to know that. I wanted him to understand his actions would help clear the name of a good man. I pulled the blanket round me, the coarse wool rough against my chin.

‘He was a master shipwright. He was honest and honourable. He cared so much for the men who worked for him and for those who needed his yard. I used to warn him about it, but he took no notice.'

‘Of the accounts?'

‘Yes. He insisted on paying the men weekly and he'd always extend credit to those in need – even though there'd be no chance of getting paid until a catch came in. Even then, there was sometimes no money to be had.'

‘He was in arrears, I take it?'

‘It's not so much the amount you're owed, it's who owes it. Seine boats are good business because they're owned by wealthy men and you eventually get the money, but Father never turned away drift shermen. He knew they'd neither cash nor credit but what could he do? If he didn't mend their boats he'd be condemning their families to starve.'

‘If he expected losses, why'd he not put enough by to cover them?' Jim's tone seemed suddenly dismissive – as if he thought Father foolish.

‘Of course he'd have liked to! But it's not like that. Boat-building's political – it's about power and bribery. It's about greed and election promises. Contracts are awarded through political favour as opposed to any merit. You only mend or build if the Corporation lets you. You can only use Corporation-approved businesses and every member takes a cut – everything's controlled and if you challenge the system you're nished.'

‘Surely contracts came his way?'

‘Father would grovel to no-one, so he made many enemies. That's why he agreed to build the cutter – because his men needed work. He knew building a fast ship for the Revenue would make him unpopular with the Corporation. Their income from smuggling would be at risk, but Father wasn't put off. He took the contract to keep the yard going. He was determined to stamp out the ever increasing corruption of the Corporation…and the greed of the two big estates.'

‘Then your father was a political man – a Radical?' Jim's voice sounded suddenly cold.

‘Only those steeped in corruption would call him radical – others would call him a free thinker, a man of the future.' I pushed aside my blanket and knelt on the oor, gathering up the letters, pulling the cloth into a bundle.

‘Others? There are others like him in Fosse?'

‘In Fosse? Maybe not, but he belonged to a Corresponding Society. They believe all men are born free and have a right to live without oppression and enslavement.'

Jim's laugh was bitter. He knelt on the ground next to me, his strong hands tying the knot with ease. ‘No man's free. Every man has his price – sounds like your father was a revolutionary – perhaps he'd have liked to see heads roll.'

I stared at him in horror. ‘Father'd never sanction violence. He wanted democracy, that's all – the right to choose who represented him in parliament – not have some spoilt aristocrat foisted on him.'

A veil seemed to pass over Jim's eyes, his mouth tightened. ‘It's a dangerous world out there, Miss Pengelly, an' thoughts like that lead to trouble – you'd do better distancing yourself from your father's politics.'

I was stunned. How could he? How dare he criticise me, or Father? ‘Who are you to give me advice?' I retorted, my cheeks burning, ‘An educated man, wasting his life like you? Drinking in the worst sort of taverns? Who relies on his knife and breaks into houses? I hardly think I need your advice.'

I was furious with him, but even more furious with myself. What had I been thinking? I had let him prise out my secrets. I had let down my guard and he had thrown it back in my face. Who was he anyway? And why was he now dressed as a townsman?

‘Why've you come to Fosse?' I said angrily.

He caught my glare. ‘I'm searching for someone.'

‘And what will you do when you nd him?'

‘That's my business.'

I stared at his stony face, the hate in his eyes, and suddenly felt fearful. I was a fool. I had said too much. He was a dangerous man and I could not afford to have him as my enemy. I tried to smile, soften my voice. ‘Thank you for helping me, I'm very grateful, but we'll part and go our separate ways now – our paths need never cross again.'

In the east, the grey haze was streaked with pink. Before long, dawn would break, the huer would soon return. The cockerels would soon be stretching out their long necks and shaking out their feathers, ready to herald the new day. I had to hurry. Picking up the heavy bundle, I lifted it carefully onto my shoulder.

Jim was leaning against the door, his eyes following my every move. As I brushed past him, I caught his whisper. ‘We will meet again, Rose. Can't you see it's our destiny?'

Jenna had not been fooled by the blanket in my bed – she had left the back door unlocked. I pushed it open, my relief so great I wanted to cry. I suddenly felt so scared. What I was holding in my hands was enough to hang me. No, it would hang us all, Mother and Jenna alongside me. I looked round, my fear mounting. They must not nd it – they must know nothing about it, or they would be implicated. I crept back into the yard. I would hide it in the henhouse; it would be safer out of the cottage and I would search for a safer place in the morning.

The church clock was striking four as I tip-toed up the stairs, quarter past the hour, as I lay in bed. I felt sick with anxiety, more worried by Jim's unpredictable attitude than the theft itself – one moment he had seemed trustworthy, the next hostile and dangerous. I had no way of knowing if I could trust him to keep silent. I shut my eyes, courting sleep.

I was back in the boat, sea spraying my face. The wind was whipping the waves, the oars creaking as they dipped beneath the water. Jim was watching me, staring at me with that hungry look that had taken my breath away. Suddenly, I sat bolt upright.

I had been so preoccupied with the way he had looked at me, I had not thought how he was rowing the river. Newcomers found the tide treacherous in a southerly wind, local people knew how to do it – local people used the rips and eddy of the fast-owing current to make the crossing safer. Jim had taken the exact course I would have taken. He rowed like a local. Like someone who had done it many times before. I remembered how quietly he had followed me to Coombe House. What an idiot I was.

I jumped out of bed, running barefoot across the yard, throwing open the henhouse. I began rummaging through the hay, desperately searching for the old sack. I drew my hands backwards and forward, loud squawking disturbing the silence. All along, I knew my search would be futile. The sack was still there but, no matter how hard I searched, the evidence had disappeared.

Chapter Nine

Thursday 27th June 1793 11:00 a.m.

J
enna pinned back the shutters, letting sunshine stream into the room. ‘Honest to God…what was ye thinking, waking us all up at four this morning? Mrs Pengelly nearly died of fright…I banged me head and the chickens still ain't settled…! We never get foxes in the yard. Ye know that, I know that, yer mother knows that…and now everyone's wondering what ye were up to…Drink this and don't complain – I'm not having ye come down with a fever.' She handed me a steaming cup of nettle brew and stood, arms crossed, staring at my tangled hair. I made a face at the pungent brew, waiting for the next scolding. ‘I was worried sick last night – worried sick and in two minds to tell Mrs Pengelly.'

‘Don't tell her anything. Don't ever tell anyone anything.'

‘Well how was I to know if ye was safe or not?'

‘I am safe. And I won't be doing it again.'

‘Then I'll take them clothes back.'

I looked hurriedly round the room. There was no trace of my sodden clothes. Jenna had whisked them away before Mother could see them. ‘No, keep them – just in case.'

‘Then ye've not nished.'

‘Oh, for goodness sake, stop fussing! You do nothing but fuss. I'm ne; I'm safe and I'll keep out of any more trouble. Satised?'

I had to make do with a sniff and a cold shoulder, but I was not in the mood to be scolded. My head thumped, my mouth was dry, I ached all over and I was furious with myself for my lack of foresight. The fact that Jim had outwitted me so easily left me boiling with rage. ‘What's the time?' I asked grudgingly.

‘Just past eleven.'

‘Has Mother gone to Madame Merrick?'

‘Yes, but she's that worried, says she'll be home at twelve to see how ye are.'

I could tell Jenna was more than usually upset and it was not fair of me to vent my anger on her. ‘I'm sorry,' I said softly, ‘I'm very grateful you didn't tell her and I've no right to snap. Are we friends?'

‘Could be,' she replied, ‘if ye sit still enough so I can do yer hair.'

The river was intensely blue, completely still, the sun glinting so brightly it made my eyes water. Why had he stolen the evidence? What did he hope to gain? I was deep in thought as I stepped into the ferry. Either he was going to demand money from me, or he was planning to blackmail Mr Tregellas. He knew I had no money, so that was not the reason and if he blackmailed Mr Tregellas, he would be in too much danger of exposing himself as the thief. What would someone like Jim do?