Pengelly's Daughter Page 8

  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.

  Mother 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.

  With all the owers and my red dress matching the cart, we made a colourful spectacle pushing our way through the crowd. We were certainly drawing our share of attention, but somehow I did not care what people thought. Ben’s obvious delight was catching and now we were on our way, I began to relax slightly. It was such a rare chance to get away from Fosse and I was longing to see the moor again. Besides, we were only going to be a distraction – Jim had promised we would be in no danger.

  We clattered slowly out of Fosse, Jupiter almost as excited as we were. The sun was breaking through the morning mist and I watched the town fall away beneath us, the ships’ masts rising like a forest of winter trees. It was going to be a beautiful day. Ahead of us lay the twisting road, above us kittiwakes screeched as they dived to their nests and, for the rst time in a very long while, I began to feel free. I held the bouquet of wild owers to my nose, breathing in their scent, smiling at Ben. ‘Did you grow these yourself?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I thought so. They’re lovely.’

  Ben was one of life’s gentlest creatures. He was thin, no taller than me. His jacket was too small, the sleeves ending well above his wrists, his breeches clearly too big for him.

  Without the string tied several times round his waist, they would have slipped off long ago. He looked shyly across at me, through the long lashes of his watery eyes, ‘I’ve me own garden now,’ he said, smiling.

  ‘Have you, Ben?’

  ‘Yes, and I’ve put stones round…to protect it from the wind. Yer can grow anythin’ out of the wind.’

  ‘That’s clever. Where’s your garden?’

  ‘Up here on the cliffs.’

  My heart froze. ‘But this is Polcarrow land, Ben – they’ve enclosed it. Surely you know that?’

  ‘I’m nnn…not doing no harm.’

  ‘I know, but you must be careful. If they nd your garden, they might hurt you. They’re very severe if they nd trespassers.’

  A cloud crossed his face. ‘I’ll be careful – I’ll keep it secret.’

  His words had frightened me but I did not want to scare him. He was looking so proud driving the beautiful cart and I did not want to spoil his day. Besides, he was concentrating on the track, which had thinned considerably the steeper we climbed. It was now very rutted with deep holes, sending the cart lurching from side to side. I held on with both hands, grateful for Mother’s cushion, watching the other travellers sharing our route. Several carts had pulled ahead, but we were caught behind a heavily laden mule pack, carefully picking its way over the stones in front.

  We followed slowly, skirting the side of the hill, going inland towards the bend in the river, climbing steadily to above the tree line. Thick shrubs and gorse now lined the route, the air beginning to smell of heather and wild thyme. ‘That’s better!’ I said, watching the mule pack turn to the left, branching down the ancient path traders and pilgrims had used for a thousand years. Our path lay straight ahead, steep and very narrow, leading to the last copse before the moor. Behind us, I heard a carriage rumble.

  We entered the copse, the trees merging in a canopy over our heads, making it cold and dark. Jupiter seemed to hesitate, pulling back his ears, reluctant to proceed. Ben urged him on, soothing his fears, coaxing him through the tunnel of trees. We were almost through. Suddenly, a loud crack lled the air and a huge tree came crashing down in front of us, the branches ripping and splitting as it hit the ground.

  ‘Hold tight, Ben!’ I shouted as Jupiter reared high in the air, the whites of his eyes stark with terror. I gripped the seat, watching Ben haul on the reins. The cart was jolting from side to side, I was sure I would fall. Nothing seemed to calm Jupiter. The branches were shaking from the impact, swaying in front of us, and he stayed bucking and kicking, twisting in his harness with fear. He may have been old but his strength was considerable and we watched in horror as he broke free of the harness, bolting into the woodland, dragging the reins behind him.

  A wheel jolted loose and the cart lurched to one side, balancing on the axle as I clung to the seat. Ben jumped to the ground and I thought he would right the wagon but he stood, transxed, gazing ahead, too frightened to move. A highwayman stood on the trunk of the fallen tree, his long black cloak falling round him, his head covered by a large hat. His eyes were hidden behind a mask. Round his face was a black scarf and over his shoulders hung a large coil of rope. He stood tall and dark, like an avenging demon, holding a pistol in his outstretched hand. I screamed in fright. Ben fell to his knees, shaking in terror.

  The highwayman jumped from the trunk, pointing his pistol in my direction. ‘Get up…or she gets hurt.’ Ben lay crouched on the ground, whimpering and moaning. He was shaking with fear, unable to move. ‘Get up!’ the highwayman repeated. Ben lurched to his feet, blind and stumbling, and I watched, petried, as the highwayman grabbed his collar, forcing him towards the wood. I had to save him. I jumped from the cart and I tried to run but my foot got caught by the broken harness and I tumbled forward, grazing my hands. I looked up. Ben was nowhere to be seen. I felt frantic, looking everywhere, not knowing which way to follow.

  But already the cloaked gure was striding back, his pistol pointing at my chest. With one kick he pushed over the wagon, the huge yellow wheels spinning in the air, Jenna’s basket crashing to the grou
nd. Ben’s owers lay crushed and spoiled. Reaching for his rope, the highwayman grabbed my arms, twisting me round. Instantly I recognised that iron grip.

  ‘It has to be this way, Rose,’ he said coldly.

  ‘No, it doesn’t!’ I yelled as I tried to free my arm. ‘What’ve you done to Ben?’

  ‘Ben’ll be ne.’

  ‘If you’ve hurt him…’

  ‘Of course I haven’t hurt him and I won’t hurt you.’ He was breathing hard, holding my arms behind my back, forcing me down against the wagon and I screamed in fright, struggling with all my might against him. He took no notice and I felt my wrists burn as he bound my hands against the cart.

  ‘For God’s sake – why are you doing this?’

  ‘Because those men building the enclosures over there are watching and they’ll be called as witnesses. It must look real.’

  ‘Don’t do this to me,’ I cried, tears lling my eyes. Again he took no notice but continued tying his rope round my outstretched arms. In the distance, I could hear coach wheels approaching, the crack of a whip, the beating of hooves. I thought he would stop, take shelter in the woods, but he came closer, kneeling on the ground, his huge cloak spilling over my crumpled dress.

  ‘Forgive me, Rose. If I could think of any other way, I wouldn’t be doing this.’ He untied the bows of my bonnet, freeing my hair. With a tug, he loosened my chu, pulling it from me. His face was close to mine, his scarf almost touching my cheek. I could smell the leather of his mask and I turned my face in disgust. ‘Believe me, if there’d been any other way…’ he said, loosening my top lace, his hands brushing against my breast.

  ‘How dare you!’ I screamed, writhing in fury.

  ‘I’m sorry, Rose.’ He sprung to his feet, vanishing soundlessly in the wood behind.

  Almost immediately, the coach came hurtling round the bend, the horses thundering to a frightened stop. Dust and stones ew everywhere. The leading pair reared high in confusion – huge, great beasts, sleek and powerful, reaching high in the air, jolting the coach from side to side. ‘God’s teeth…Whoa…’ the driver pulled frantically on the reins, trying to calm them.