Pengelly's Daughter (16 page)

‘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 they 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

I
t 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.

‘Miss Pengelly, if ye don't mind, ye're getting under me feet. If I'm to nish making this pie ye must let me on with it.' She threw a scrap of brawn to the cat who was sitting by the open door. Devouring it, he looked up for more.

‘I can see what you mean about the way that cat looks at you. D'you think he lost his ear in a ght? We could call him Scrappy…or Pesky…or how about Mr Pitt? He's going to need a name – I think we should call him Mr Pitt.'

‘Miss Pengelly, unlike ye, I've
a thousand and one
things to do. Now, if ye don't mind...'

‘Can you remember how to add up thousands, Jenna? Would you like me to go over it again? You used to love me teaching you calculations.'

‘No, Miss Pengelly. I've enough of calculations.'

‘Then I'll read you my latest pamphlet.'

‘I've enough of Miss Mary Wolfstonecroft.'

‘Wollstonecraft.'

‘Enough of her, too.'

‘Jenna, she's important. You should know all her views on the rights of women.'

‘Ha! Like I've time for all that!'

‘Just imagine what it could be like – a proper education for women and the right to contribute to society.'

‘Perhaps ye'd like to contribute to society by passing that rolling pin.'

‘You shouldn't mock – one day it'll happen.'

‘Now I know ye're piximazed.'

It was no good, when Jenna was in a huff she could be very uncommunicative. Finally I plucked up the courage to ask what I had wanted to ask all afternoon. ‘Has anyone left a basket of fruit – cherries, perhaps?'

She slammed down the rolling pin and Mr Pitt ed in alarm. Placing both hands on the table, she leant forward in triumph. ‘I knew it – ye may've fooled your mother but ye can't fool me. All that nonsense – fawning and simpering – like I'd fall for that! Ye're up to something, Miss Rosehannon Pengelly. Ye're waiting for another love letter and it ain't from Mr Tregellas.'

‘Of course I'm not! I'm a little hungry, that's all, and I wondered if there were any cherries.'

‘Like I believe that! Ye've been restless all afternoon, sighing and gazing out the window – as jumpy as Mr Pitt…I know ye too well. Ye're waiting for another love letter.'

‘I'm not. Anyway, that rst letter was not a love letter.'

She was watching me closely and I knew she could see my face burning. This waiting was making me jumpy. Jumpy and cross. Where was Jim and why had he not contacted me? It had been such a hot day. The corridor was stuffy, the stone walls warm to the touch. I opened the front door, peering one way, then the other, vainly searching for Jim or any sign of a message. I knew he would not come in person, nor would he leave anything unattended, but he must surely contact me soon.

Dusk was gathering, women sitting in clusters outside their doors, their bobbins ying, their tongues wagging. Children played hopscotch in the dying light and in the west, a beautiful red haze was promising yet another hot day. My whole life had changed, yet nothing seemed different – just the same people doing the same things, continuing their lives with no thought of my plight. Suddenly, I caught a faint wisp of tobacco smoke wafting across the lane from the alley opposite. Tobacco smoke would not normally catch my attention, but this was a particularly distinct brand, full of vanilla and cinnamon. The exact brand I had smelt once, no twice that very day – once when I left my letter in the posthouse, once in the ferry crossing back to Porthruan. The man smoking the pipe had kept his back to me, his large hat concealing his face. I had thought nothing of it, but it could be no coincidence. Whoever was smoking that pipe was watching me, probably at that very moment.

I shut the door. How could I have been so stupid? Of course I had not fooled Mr Tregellas – he was having me watched, hoping I would lead him straight to Father. What if Jim came? What if they followed him and got back the evidence? What if they found Father?

I climbed the stairs to nd candlelight showing under Mother's door. She was usually so frugal with candles. I knocked gently.

‘Come in.' She was sitting up in bed, sewing the hem of her new dress.

‘Is the light good enough?'

‘Not really – it's just I'm so nearly nished.'

‘It's beautiful – your loveliest dress ever. I love those little pin-tucks and the mother-of-pearl buttons.' I wanted to be with her. I needed her company.

‘Thank ye, my dear. Madame Merrick's been that generous to me. And now it seems ye're to have
two
new dresses.' I loved the way her tone grew so intimate when we were alone, stretching back to earlier days before the veneer of Father's education and prosperity kept her from being herself.

‘I know…I can't believe it,' I said, lifting the edge of the gown and sitting on the bed next to her, my feet tucked under me as if I were a child.