Pengelly's Daughter (10 page)

My heart leapt. ‘You did only what you thought best – it's me that's at fault. I've never been the daughter you deserve.'

She swung round to face me, her face full of anguish. ‘Don't ye say that, not ever. Yes, ye may've been more of yer father's daughter – and perhaps we've not shared as much as we could've shared, but ye've got strengths I could only dream of having. I love all yer learning and clever thoughts – the way ye're so quick and have such spirit. Honest to God, I couldn't be more proud of ye.'

Mother had never spoken to me with such passion before, relapsing into the speech of her youth and I realised I hardly knew her. I felt suddenly so sad, as if I had never heard her speak her mind before. Bathed in the glow of the evening sun, her lovely face had pain deep in her eyes. ‘Did you love Father very much?' I asked.

‘Yes. Though, sometimes I wish…' She paused, looking away.

‘Wish what?'

I watched her choose her words with care. ‘I wish yer father hadn't been so taken by his anger – always ghting 'gainst those in authority. It weren't easy, living with someone so set against the Corporation, every day thinking he'd be arrested. I know ye've got his passions but I think Madame Merrick's right – yer father was wrong to encourage ye. Women can't defy men, especially powerful men – ye know that. Everything we do, or have, the beds we sleep in, the clothes on our backs, the food in our mouths, the wood in the grate; everything depends on them.'

A shadow fell across the sun and I shivered. She did not need to tell me something I knew so well. ‘Come,' I said, ‘it's getting late – let's go home.'

From halfway up the hill we could see something was wrong. The door to our cottage was open, Jenna pacing backwards and forwards, wringing her hands in great distress. She saw us and ran towards us, clutching her skirts so high we could see her ankles.

‘Oh, Mrs Pengelly, Miss Rosehannon, thank Jesu ye're home…There's been thieves. Two men – I caught the back of them when I came in. They've thrown everything all over the place – mattresses, beds, the trunk…They stripped the larder, broken pots, pulled up the oorboards – they've took the washing out the bucket and dripped it all over the oor. They emptied the hens from the henhouse…broke eggs…I've been that busy clearing up the mess, but I'm feared they'll be back.' She held out her hands, grabbing us both, pushing us rmly through the door before fastening the latch.

‘What have they taken? Not that there's much to take. Did they steal our money?' Mother rushed to the dresser, taking down the pot that once held calf's foot jelly, relief ooding her face as it rattled reassuringly in her hands.

‘That's what's odd – they had hold of the jar but they didn't take it. They took nothing. That's what's wrong – they'll be back.'

I was worried sick at the mention of the washing. Grabbing Jenna by the arm, I pulled her into the kitchen, shutting the door so Mother could not hear. ‘Were your brother's clothes in the tub? Did they nd the clothes?'

‘Course not. Couldn't hang them on the line for fear of wagging tongues, could I? I hung them at Mam's. I had them with me but the men ran out the back.'

‘Oh, Jenna – you're the most wonderful…clever…girl!'

Jenna's look of pleasure turned to suspicion. Hands on hips, she looked at me severely. ‘Ye know more about this than ye're telling. Who're those men?'

‘Never mind those men. It doesn't matter who they were – they won't be back. Not now – not thanks to you.' I caught hold of her hands and began spinning her round the tiny kitchen. I felt so relieved, so happy. She looked surprised and remained reluctant to dance, but I could not help it. Taking the clothes to her mother's had just saved my life. Round and round we spun until the room became a dizzy blur and we collapsed, spread-eagled on the oor like rag dolls.

Mother opened the door, her eyes wide with astonishment. ‘What's going on, girls – all this laughing and dancing?' Could one of you please explain?

In time, the light from the candle showed Mother's frown fade and her smile return. She was never happier than when she was sewing with Jenna. It was as if they became one, each intuitively knowing what the other wanted. I pretended to read, but the reality of how close I had come to being caught left me reeling. If Jim had not stolen the ledgers, my life would be over.

The light was fading. To save on candles, Mother and I always retired early to bed. I could hear Jenna talking to someone at the front door but took no notice, pulling the bedclothes round me, glad to be safe. I was surprised to hear her footsteps on the stairs and even more surprised by her knock on my door. She was holding a candle in one hand and a basket of cherries in the other. ‘I'm to give these straight to you and no-one else,' she said.

‘Who're they from?'

‘Mrs Tregony's third youngest but could be the fourth youngest. I can never tell. Could be the third oldest, him being so small – but it wasn't Jimmy…'

‘Never mind which child it was – they clearly aren't from him. Who gave them to the boy?'

Jenna looked annoyed by my sharp reply. ‘How'd I know? All I know is there's a note inside.'

A note? It must be Jim's demands. I slipped out of bed, running to her side. As she handed me the basket, I caught the twinkle in her eye. ‘Go to bed…' I whispered. ‘Take the cherries but leave the candle. And don't say a word to Mother.'

It was only a small note, folded in three and secured by red wax. There was no formal seal, just the imprint of a thumb. Slipping my nger under the wax, I could hardly believe my eyes. There was just one word –
Midnight
– and beneath that a sketch of a rose. Nothing else – no date, no place, no name – just
Midnight
and a sketch of a long-stemmed rose with three leaves, exactly like the one I had found by the tree. I stared at the rose, the symbol of love, inching at his deception. The candle ickered, the note in my hand trembled. It was strange. For once, it was not anger I was feeling, but loneliness. Not fury, but regret. Even the irony of knowing he had saved my life could not take away the hurt of his betrayal.

But this was nonsense. I took a deep breath, lling my lungs with much-needed courage. I was Rosehannon Pengelly, made of sterner stuff. I understood what he meant. I would meet this thief and I would do whatever I needed to get the ledgers back. I would show him I was not to be played with.

Searching the trunk, I found my borrowed clothes washed and pressed, hiding under several layers of greying petticoats. The church bell had just chimed eleven.

It was going to be another late night.

Chapter Eleven

J
enna would be lying awake. She slept in the kitchen, her straw pallet crammed in the scullery by day. She would be listening, waiting for my footsteps, and I knew I could not risk her hearing me leave. I stared out of my window. The drop was only shallow, hardly any distance at all – why not? Without giving it a second thought, I slipped the casement open, lowering myself gently out of the window.

Dropping the short distance to the outhouse was as easy as I thought and I waited, holding my breath, the only sound, the barking of a distant dog. The slates held rm and I made no noise, inching quietly across the roof, lowering myself onto the ground next to the henhouse. I crossed the yard, closed the gate, and started quickly along the cliff path, the moon as clear as daylight. The leaves in the hedgerow were silver-grey, the stones on the path glinting as I walked.

He was waiting by the tree, dressed in the sailor's clothes he had worn at our rst meeting. Putting his nger to his lips, he took hold of my arm, pulling me quickly into the shadows beneath the tree. ‘Expect to be followed – from now on, don't trust anyone,' he said.

‘That's a bit rich – coming from a thief,' I replied. ‘Where are my ledgers, Jim?' Despite my bravado, his words had sent a chill straight through me.

‘They're safe. An' I haven't stolen them – you can have them back when you're out of danger,' his voice was brusque, almost curt.

‘Did you suspect Mr Tregellas would search our cottage?'

‘Of course.'

‘Is that why you took them?

‘Of course, William Tregellas is a dangerous man and we need to keep ahead of him.' The urgency in his tone scared me, making the blood rush from my head. Jim took my arm. ‘I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fright you,' he said, more gently, ‘an' I'm sure you've not been followed. Come, sit over there.'

He led me to a boulder with just enough room to sit side by side. Taking off his jacket, he placed it over the rock, his eyes never leaving my face. I was surprised by his obvious concern. ‘I'm ne, honestly I am. It's completely unlike me – I never faint.'

The night was warm, only the slightest westerly blowing against my cheeks. I breathed in the scent of honeysuckle, watching the moonlight dancing on the black sea. It was too beautiful to quarrel, too peaceful to taint with anger. Jim took his hat off and looked up at the stars, ‘The sailor's friend,' he said pointing to the pole star.

‘Yes. But you're not a sailor, are you? And you're not a stranger to Fosse.'

The muscles in his jaw tensed. ‘What gave me away?'

‘The way you rowed the river.'

He glanced up, the corners of his mouth lifting to a eeting smile. As if a mask lifted from his face, I saw pain in his eyes, anguish, a tenderness I had not expected. ‘You're really quite remarkable, Rose,' he whispered.

I hardened my heart. ‘You've lied to me and you have my ledgers. What is it you want?'

All trace of emotion vanished. ‘D'you remember a man called Sulio Denville?'

‘Yes – he was the night watchman the night Father's ship was stolen. He was a sailor recovering from a broken leg – he'd only been with us a few weeks. He begged for work and Father felt sorry for him – but I never liked him. When the cutter was stolen, he was beaten badly, covered in blood and close to death – everybody thought he'd die. Then one day he vanished. Nobody saw him again.'

‘Didn't you think that odd? Didn't anyone think him involved in the theft?'

‘I did wonder – and still have my doubts, but he was cleared by the authorities. When he disappeared, we thought he'd been scared off. Why d'you ask?'

‘Sulio Denville's the man I've come to nd.'

‘Why d'you want him?'

He hesitated, his tone hardening. ‘I'm a condemned man, Rose. If they nd me, they'll hang me. The charge is robbery with violence, based on the lies of that man – lies and false witness but enough to get me hanged. I need to nd him an' when I do I intend to make him take back every word. Until then, I remain a dead man.' The hatred in his voice sent a chill through me. I had thought him to be running from the gallows but, somehow, I did not want to believe it. ‘That blood you saw on Sulio Denville was pig's blood – they used the same ploy on me, the night I was accused.'

‘Of course, pig's blood, but if you've come looking for Sulio Denville, what's your interest in Mr Tregellas? You can't just be helping me.'

‘That night I hid in the tree, I'd been asking people for the whereabouts of Sulio Denville – I said I'd a score to settle. It didn't take long before I was followed an' you know the outcome – but I lied to you about not knowing my pursuers. One of them was William Tregellas.'

‘And one Sulio Denville?'

‘No, but I heard them talking. I was right above them an' heard every word. Mr Tregellas was angry as hell – his exact words, “
We might have to move him. If necessary, I'll arrange for it
”. It's my guess they were talking about Sulio Denville.'

My head was spinning. I took a deep breath, trying to clear my thoughts. ‘Is Mr Tregellas protecting Sulio Denville?'