Pengelly's Daughter Page 11

  ‘And mine you, Mr Scantlebury. I shouldn’t have left it so long.’ I must have been frowning because a shadow fell across his face and he looked at me sadly.

  ‘No doubt you’d your reasons.’ The muscles round his jowls slackened and I thought how much older he looked though he was still a ne man with a powerful frame for his fty years. He and Father had been apprentices together and he had been Father’s foreman and senior shipwright ever since we moved to Fosse.

  ‘Tell me about this lugger,’ I said. ‘She’s a lot fancier than anything we used to build – she’s quite a painted lady – but no doubt under all that paint she’s as good as anything we ever built.’

  ‘Oh, aye, the craftsmanship’s the same – though there’s been many changes since your father left us.’ He put out his arm and I took it, grateful for a sign of our old friendship. ‘Aye, many a change and not all for the better, I can tell you. But it doesn’t do to hanker for the past – we must look to our future.’

  ‘Are you getting good contracts?’

  ‘Oh, aye, plenty of work, though mostly repairs. This is the only boat we’ve built this year. She’s for a consortium.’

  ‘All Corporation men I take it!’ I could not hide the disgust in my voice. When Father found out, he would spit with fury.

  ‘Aye, each and every one of them! They’re the ones with the money.’

  A young lad came tentatively forward, unsure whether he could interrupt. He was wearing a leather apron and carrying a varnish brush. Mr Scantlebury nodded and the boy approached, stopping at a respectable distance to take off his hat. Trying to swap hands, he fumbled and dropped the varnish brush. As he bent to retrieve it, his hat fell off and landed on the brush, sticking to the varnish. In an agony of embarrassment he wrung his hands together, ruining the hat. Finally, he made a polite bow, his face glowing like the tip of Mr Melhuish’s poker.

  ‘This is Tom, my sister’s youngest – I’m hoping to make an apprentice of him. Tom, this is Miss Pengelly.’

  ‘Good mornin’, Miss Pengelly,’ Tom replied, smiling shyly. ‘Our Elowyn says yer the cleverest lady in England.’

  ‘Your Elowyn?’

  ‘She works for Madame Merrick. She says ye add up in yer head and ye’re never wrong.’

  ‘That’s enough, lad – go to the sailmakers and tell them we’re ready. And put that brush down – no, not there.’ As Tom’s lanky frame crossed the yard, Mr Scantlebury shook his head. ‘I don’t hold out much hope. Mr Tregellas’s taken against him and his word’s nal. Tom’s a good lad but he’s all ngers and thumbs and hasn’t enough learning. I can’t bear to tell my sister for she’s pinning her hopes on me.’

  ‘Is your sister well?’

  ‘Aye, now she’s left that vicious drunk and moved in with me. They’re welcome to all I have but I can’t promise an apprenticeship.’ There was a heaviness about him which had never been there before. If only I could tell him about Father.

  ‘Is she your design?’ I said looking back at the Dolphin.

  ‘Ha!’ His frown returned, ‘I only build boats now. No, if she were mine I’d have stepped up her foremast and steeved up her bowsprit –’twould allow for plenty of sail but keep her shorter. Not just for harbouring, but for the dues as well.’ It was not like him to be so bitter.

  I smiled. ‘Corporation men don’t pay harbour dues – you should remember that!’

  We walked back across the yard and reached the ofce door. The boatyard leased the ground oor of the warehouse, Madame Merrick leased the rst oor, the sailmakers the large loft above. Mr Scantlebury hesitated. ‘I can’t offer you tea or anything as genteel as that,’ he said with a wink, shades of his former self showing through, ‘but if you’ve a minute, will you come in? I could show you a new design I’ve been working on – though it’s between you and me, mind – Mr Tregellas is not to know.’

  He rolled out the plans and I could see it was his most ambitious design yet – a one hundred and twenty foot brig. I could hardly believe it. Made from oak and deal, she would have elm for the keel and r for the two masts. His plans detailed everything, even the cordage which was often left to the sailmakers. ‘She’ll be nigh on four hundred tons. See the extra studding sails – and the spanker aloft on the gaff?’ I nodded, following his nger as he pointed out the details. ‘She’ll turn with ease. She’s broad in the beam and sits deep in the water – she’s heavy, mind, and will withstand any sea. I reckon she’d do eleven knots.’

  ‘You really think you could build her here?’ Excitement made my heart race. It was always like this when I saw new plans. Turning dreams into reality, at drawings into solid ships that would plough the waves and keep their crew safe. I felt so alive.

  ‘Aye, we can build her right enough – we’ve the skill and the space.’ He looked up as if he dared not raise his hopes.

  Frustration welled inside me. I could not bear the thought that Mr Scantlebury’s plans could go to waste or, worse still, be built by another yard. I would clear Father’s name. I would get this yard back and we would apply to the Admiralty to build this brig.

  ‘Where’s that old Admiralty list?’ I asked, rushing to the cabinet. ‘The one we used for that navy repair commission?’ It felt so good to be back in the ofce. Nothing had changed; everything was in exactly the same place. ‘Here it is, look, Mr Robert Steppings – Navy Board’s Surveyor of Sloops.’ I waved the list triumphantly in the air.

  ‘What’re you up to, Miss Rosehannon? You’ve that look in your eye, like old times.’

  Like old times – how good that sounded. I stuffed the list down my bodice and put my ngers to my lips. ‘What list? I see no list. Keep these plans well hidden and promise me you’ll not show them to anyone else. I’ll tell you everything when I can, but for the moment it’s our secret.’ I could not wait to tell Father.

  Mr Scantlebury’s smile faded and his look turned grave. It was as if he knew I was concealing something. ‘I’d trust you with my life, Miss Rosehannon, but be careful not to cross Mr Tregellas. He’s not a man to meddle with. Cross him and you’re in dangerous waters.’

  ‘I know,’ I said, smiling back at him despite his warning. I was almost at the door, ‘Mr Scantlebury, I can’t promise anything but send Tom to me on Saturday and Sunday morning – I’ll see what I can do to help his learning.’ I turned to go but another thought struck me. ‘And tell Tom to bring Elowyn too – let’s see if I can get them both adding up in their heads.’

  He nodded but his smile said everything. I even think his back looked straighter and, for some unaccountable reason, mine seemed to be, too. My courage had returned. Whatever it took, I would get our yard back and see justice done for Father.

  It was a beautiful, bright morning with clear blue skies. A sudden bright ash caught my eye and I glanced up at the window to see Madame Merrick studying me through her lorgnettes. The sun had caught the glass and though she turned hurriedly away, she saw I had seen her. My heart froze. How long had she been watching me? Worst still, had she seen me study the plans?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Madame Merrick made no mention of seeing me in the yard but seemed preoccupied, pacing round the room several times before returning my greeting. ‘Miss Pengelly, I have placed those invoices you wanted on the bureau – they are all in order and dated correctly and, as you will notice, they have the correct excise stamp on them.’ There was something very tense about the way she was watching me.

  I walked over to the bureau and studied them. Some attempt had been made to make them look older than a few days, but they would fool nobody. We all knew, however, that the person they were meant to fool had just issued them so no questions would be asked. I just wondered how much she had had to pay. Smuggling, though rife, was still a dangerous pastime. ‘I’m glad you found them, Madame Merrick,’ I said, with just a touch of sarcasm.

  ‘Indeed. Now everything is in order.’

  ‘Where’s Mother?’

&n
bsp; ‘In the tting room. Elowyn is making some adjustments to her gown.’ I smiled politely and would have gone through to the sewing room, but Madame Merrick put her exquisitely manicured hand on my sleeve, ‘One moment, Miss Pengelly…if you please.’

  She crossed to the table and pulled forward two rolls of material and several boxes of lace and brocade. I was astonished when she beckoned me over as I had never discussed fabrics with her, nor knew anything about them. ‘This pale-cream material is cambric and you can see it is very light, easily laundered and comfortable to wear,’ she said. ‘This fabric, on the other hand, is the last of the sprig muslin and is particularly superior. You can tell by the very ne selvedge that it is delicately woven and therefore more expensive…and consequently I would usually reserve it for more important clients. However, both fabrics could be made up into a simple chemise gown with perhaps a little brocade at the neckline or lace – or even a chiffon frill.’

  I watched her caress the material, carefully trying the various combinations, holding the different brocades and lace against the fabric, dismissing one and then another until she had the best combination. ‘This would make a very pretty gown. I like this best. What do you think, Miss Pengelly?’ She pointed to the green sprig muslin, a length of white cotton brocade and some green satin ribbon which exactly matched the sprig. I was astonished she was talking to me in such a way and felt rather unnerved.

  ‘Yes, I like that best too. Who is it for, Madame Merrick?’

  She held herself very upright. ‘For you, Miss Pengelly, I would like you to have it as a present. Elowyn can make it up as she can do with the practice.’ Her voice was pleasant enough and a smile crossed her face, but her eyes remained watchful. Was she buying my silence? Smuggling or not, she must know I could be no threat to her business.

  ‘That’s really very generous,’ I replied, ‘but why would you want to give me so much?’

  ‘By way of a thank you. I heard how you defended my money when you were attacked and I know any lesser person would have handed the money straight over. You put yourself at great risk and I have to thank you for that. There was a lot of money in that purse, as well you know.’

  So that was it. I put my hand to my bodice front. ‘Yes, I was very scared. It was dreadful when he tried to force it from me.’

  ‘It must have been, but that is now over and you will have a beautiful new dress.’ She remained smiling and I wondered if I had judged her too harshly.

  The thought of a new dress, however I came by it, lled me with joy. I had never been particularly interested in dresses, yet, as I looked at the material, I felt a thrill of excitement, imagining, for the rst time, what it would be like to wear something so delicate and feminine. I unrolled a few yards of the beautiful soft sprig, holding it against my cheek, feeling suddenly shy and self-conscious. ‘It’s really very beautiful, Madame Merrick. D’you think it will suit me?’

  ‘Very much, Miss Pengelly – that is why I chose it: jewel green to compliment your fiery looks and auburn hair.’ She pursed her lips, dgeting with the lace, drawing herself up to her full height. ‘Miss Pengelly, there was absolutely no reason for you to go to St Austell. I insist only my fabrics are worn in my establishment.’ I felt suddenly winded. Only one person could have told her that and the thought of her spying on me in the boatyard made my stomach tighten.

  Mother came through from the back room, clearly overwhelmed by Madame Merrick’s offer. Wiping away her tears, she repeatedly thanked her, her radiant smile almost breaking my heart. I left them to go through the various combinations of materials and lace, taking up my position at the bureau so I could begin my letter to Mr Steppings.

  England’s war with France was likely to take a heavy toll. Already a yard in Mevagissey was tting out ships for troop transport and more ships would be needed. My letter was short and to the point. I reminded him we had already won one of his contracts and informed him that, should he be in our area again, or should he be willing to make the journey, we would be able to furnish him with very accurate and detailed plans of a fast new brig which we were planning to build. I assured him of our best attention and signed it with my name, making sure that Rosehannon was illegible, but Pengelly was clear. No-one would suspect it had been written by a woman. Sealing it quickly, I hid it down my bodice, condent that neither Madame Merrick nor Mother had seen me write it.

  A young messenger was struggling up the stairs, carrying a huge parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. Balancing it precariously on his knee, he almost toppled onto Madame Merrick as she opened the door. ‘For Miss Pengelly, Madame.’

  ‘Miss Pengelly? There must be some mistake.’

  ‘No M-m-madame,’ the boy managed to say. ‘I w-w-was told to bring it here.’ He waited expectantly, but as Madame Merrick seemed turned to stone, and I had no money, Mother searched her purse and produced a coin. The boy seemed pleased, bowing several times as he backed out of the door.

  Madame Merrick remained incredulous, handing the large parcel over to me, and I knew I would have no privacy in opening it. I started to undo the knot but she leant forward, brandishing the small pair of silver scissors she kept hanging on a chain from her waist. ‘Are you expecting a parcel, Miss Pengelly?’ she asked as she cut the knot.

  ‘No,’ I replied, as surprised as she was.

  As I unfolded the paper, we gasped. Wrapped in soft gauze was the most beautiful ivory silk I had ever seen. It was light and delicate, so nely woven it looked like it had been spun out of air. I released it from its folds and it lay shimmering in the sunshine. Underneath the silk were layers of exquisite lace, rolls of delicate satin ribbons and at least a dozen beautiful pearl buttons.

  Madame Merrick looked as if she had swallowed a lemon. Her mouth puckered, her colour drained and she gripped the table in an effort of self-control. ‘That is Italian silk,’ she said, ‘…from Mantua…and that is the nest Belgian lace – Point Duchesse, to be exact – though I do not expect you to recognise either.’

  Mother had paled. ‘There’s a letter,’ she said, handing it to me. ‘Who’s it from?’

  I looked at the handwriting, my heart sinking. ‘It’s from Mr Tregellas.’

  ‘But how could he come by such beautiful silk?’

  I caught the indignant fury in Madame Merrick’s face. ‘No doubt he has his sources,’ I replied.

  ‘Read the letter. What does it say?’ urged Mother.

  I broke the seal and began to read, but I had hardly got past the rst line when my voice faltered.

  Dear Miss Pengelly,

  Please accept this silk as a token of my sincerest regard.

  Madame Merrick will no doubt be delighted to attend to you in person and will, I am certain, make this gown her priority.

  With great expectations, I remain your obedient servant.

  William Tregellas

  Mother reached for a chair and I stared at the letter, wondering what would be more hurtful to Madame Merrick – his hint of our marriage or the fact he had kept back the best silk, not passing any through her hands. With silk as ne as this, even Lady April Cavendish would be beating a path to her door. Madame Merrick was gripping the table, trying to swallow the unpalatable truth. She cleared her throat, her voice uncharacteristically thin.

  ‘Mr Tregellas has always been very good to me and it will be my pleasure to sew your dress – in fact, I will make a start straight away.’ For all her imperious ways, I felt sorry for her. I would gladly have given her the silk there and then. I knew I would never wear it.

  Mother remained seated, her eyes sad. ‘My dear, does this mean what I think it means?’

  I wanted to tell her. I wanted to shout to the rooftops that I did not give a g for the silk; that I would never marry Mr Tregellas, but I could say nothing. Nor could I lie. I took her hand in mine and I held it tightly. It was trembling. ‘We’ll be just ne, Mother,’ I said softly. ‘You mustn’t worry. Things will work out, I know t
hey will.’

  ‘Well, what a day this has turned out to be! First one dress and now another!’ Madame Merrick was clearly rallying. No doubt she was already thinking how she could turn this to her advantage. Besides, it would not do to quarrel with the next Mrs Tregellas. Holding up her lovely sprig muslin, she leant towards me, her voice strangely conspiratorial. ‘I can see you will not be wanting this now, Miss Pengelly.’

  ‘Oh, but I do want it – very much,’ I found myself pleading. ‘That’s…that is if you don’t mind.’

  Madame Merrick looked astonished. I had not meant to sound so passionate, but for some reason I wanted the new dress more than anything, and the thought of not having it was suddenly too awful. I looked away, embarrassed by my outburst, a furious blush spreading over my face.

  My red cheeks were not lost on Madame Merrick. ‘Then you shall have it, Miss Pengelly,’ she said, slowly studying my face, a half-smile playing on her lips. ‘I will ask Elowyn to start making it for you straight away.’

  Madame Merrick had the uncanny knack of making me feel she knew exactly what I was thinking. I could not afford to make any more mistakes.

  Chapter Eighteen

  It was past nine o’clock. The evening was as hot as the day had been: even the usually damp kitchen was humid and sticky. Jenna was tight-lipped and ustered. Honestly, sometimes she was just like Mrs Munroe.

  ‘Have there been any messages, Jenna?’

  ‘Not since last time ye asked.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Course I’m sure.’

  Waiting to hear from Jim was driving me to distraction. My beloved father was in need of my attention, yet I could do nothing until Jim contacted me. He had all the evidence and he had Father, so why had he not got in touch? It was almost too much to bear. Pinching off a bit of pastry, I tasted it raw.