Pengelly's Daughter (12 page)

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 ground. 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.

There were three men. The youngest jumped from the seat, adding his volley of oaths to the noise and confusion. Grabbing the halters of the leading horses, he struggled against them as they tossed their heads. Their eyes were white with fright, their nostrils ared. ‘There's a bloody tree down,' he called. ‘That's why the bleedin' cart's over.'

Next to the driver, a guard sat with a blunderbuss across his lap. A thick-set man with heavy features, he seemed oblivious to the lurching of the carriage but remained chewing tobacco, slowly, deliberately, his eyes widening as he stared straight at me. I stared back, my heart sickening – it was the gaol coach, denitely the gaol coach. The front looked like any other coach but behind the driver's seat, a grid of iron bars formed a heavy cage. Small, cramped, bolted with chains. Someone was in there.

I tried twisting myself free, pulling frantically at my bindings. I arched my back, kicking, twisting, digging my heels in the dust beneath me, but nothing would loosen the ties binding me to the cart. Worse than that, the more I wrenched, the more my skirt rose up my legs, exposing my ankles. The two drivers stared with amazement and I watched in horror as they came gawping towards me, their eyes so incredulous they seemed to bulge.

‘Well, I'll be damned.' Their eyes travelled over my body, taking in every detail. They were smiling, licking their lips, appraising me like a cow in a market stall.

‘Untie me, you idiots.' My fear was mounting, my mouth dry. The men did not move, but stood as if statues, staring down at me, lust glazing their eyes. I was furious, so furious. Furious with them, furious with Jim, furious with myself. I had been so stupid to trust him. ‘Untie me now, or there'll be trouble,' I shouted louder.

As if in answer to my prayer, a donkey cart stopped behind the coach and a huge man with auburn hair jumped quickly from it. He came running towards me, pushing past the drivers who still stood gawping. Falling quickly to his knees in the dirt before me, he stretched forward, undoing my wrists. ‘Ye'll be alright now, miss,' he said quietly, ‘here, let me get ye untied…'

His kindness brought tears to my eyes. I could not speak but smiled my thanks and he smiled shyly back, averting his eyes as he straightened my dress and replaced my chu. His touch was gentle for such a huge man and as he leant over to undo my ropes, I saw the concern in his eyes. He must have been about twenty. He wore no hat, his hair tied loosely behind his neck, his complexion freckled by the sun. Over his working-man's breeches he wore a leather apron and large belt.

‘What's your name?' I said at last, wiping my eyes with my sleeve.

‘Joseph Dunn, miss,' he said courteously.

I rubbed the red marks on my wrists and found I was shivering. Joseph Dunn took off his jacket, placing it gently round my shoulders before helping me up. It was a thick jacket, smelling of horses and it swamped me completely.

The two drivers were still gawping. Joseph swung round to face them, his sts clenched by his sides. ‘What are ye staring at?' he said angrily. ‘Leave her be – ye should be ashamed at yerselves. And if that's yer coach – why's the door wide open?'

Chapter Thirteen

Porthruan

7:30 p.m.

M
other and Madame Merrick were both downstairs, still shocked by the terrible incident. Jenna had given them some camomile infusion and was sitting next to me, watching me drink mine. She looked incredulous. ‘Go on…his name was Joseph Dunn…what happened next?'

‘After he untied the ropes and set me free, he just turned to the drivers and asked them why the cage was empty.'

‘How frightening. Go on…'

‘They found the guard bound and gagged, lying face down in the dirt. The highwayman had taken the key and freed the prisoner. The two drivers searched everywhere but the highwayman and prisoner had vanished – there were no tracks – nothing.'

‘Why'd a highwayman take a prisoner?'

‘If I knew that, Jenna, I would have told the constable.' I sighed. It had been a long day of questioning and not all of it as well-meaning as Jenna's.

‘I'm sorry ye're upset – we're all upset. Even Madame Merrick's that concerned – well was concerned till she found someone else to collect her cotton!' She raised her eyebrows. ‘She blames herself – I heard her telling Mrs Pengelly it was her what made ye put the purse down yer bodice. She knows ye was only protecting her money – refusing to give it to the highwayman…What did he look like?'

‘Jenna, he was wearing a mask and had a scarf over his face. I didn't see him at all…but he was violent and cruel.' My voice broke, ‘And I hate him for what he did to Ben.'

‘How's Ben?' she said softly.

‘Terrible. Completely petried – and it's all my fault. He'll never trust me again.'

‘That's nonsense. How was you to know there was a highway man?' She pushed back the hair that had fallen over my face, wiping a tear from my cheek.

‘I should never have asked Ben to come.'

‘'T weren't your fault.'

It was my fault and I would never forgive myself. And I would never forgive Jim. I had found Ben in the wood, whimpering and shaking, tied to a tree. His best Sunday breeches soiled by his fear, his lovingly polished boots scuffed and spoilt. He had cried as I released him.
Couldn't do nothin', Miss Rose'annon
, he had sobbed.
Couldn't do nothin' – nothin' to save you
. I had led him straight into danger as if I had pointed the pistol and secured the ropes. I would never forgive myself.

We had tried to gather up as many of the owers as we could, but most of them were ruined. Joseph Dunn took us home and I had cradled Ben in my arms, trying to soothe his fears. ‘I'll never let anyone hurt you again,' I had promised. An empty promise. I knew I had no chance of protecting him, not now we were grown.

The evening sunshine was fading, the room beginning to darken. It had been a horrible, violent day – one I would never forget. And behind all the violence was Jim. ‘Jenna, you can take all your brother's clothes back,' I said, rubbing the marks still left on my wrists.

A look of relief ashed across her face. ‘Thank Jesu…it's about time ye came to yer senses.'

‘Yes,' I said. ‘I've come to my senses. I'll never need them again.'