Pengelly's Daughter (9 page)

I jumped at the sound of my name. I had not heard the ferryman ask for his fare.

‘Gettin' out, Miss Pengelly, or are ye here for the ride?' It was Joshua Tregen. I remembered him as a thin, spotty youth who I used to row against in the gig races. I had not liked him then and I had no reason to like him now. ‘Perhaps yer just wanted to watch me row, Miss Pengelly? Yer like muscles on a man, do yer?' he said, pufng up his chest, exing his torso.

‘Admire your rowing? You know very well I can row every bit as well as you, Joshua Tregen,' I said, throwing my money into the boat.

I was angry with Joshua Tregen for speaking to me like that, but even angrier with myself – it was another man's muscles I had been picturing in my mind. Losing the evidence was my main concern but something else was making me uneasy. I had found discrepancies in Madame Merrick's accounts. Several invoices for silk and half a dozen rolls of velvet and satin were missing and I was not looking forward to telling her she would need them before she could clear her books with the Custom and Excise ofcials.

I climbed the steps to nd the shop in even more disarray than usual and Mother looking decidedly ustered. ‘Oh, Rosehannon,' she cried, wringing her hands, ‘thank goodness you're alright. I was that worried this morning. I wanted to send for Mrs Abbott, but Jenna said you'd just had a restless night. I suppose you were dreaming when you thought you heard a fox? Let me look at you. You look very pale.'

‘I'm ne, honest, Mother – it was just a bad dream.'

‘Good. I…I couldn't take it if anything was to happen to you.' She looked down at the oor, suddenly shy at her emotion and my heart ached. She seemed so fragile in her shabby dress, her spotless apron and her mobcap neatly pinned in place. Talking to Jim had made me realise how much I had shunned her as a child, always competing for my father's approval. I could see how very lonely she must have felt, left all day in a childless house, the hollow rooms echoing her empty heart. I felt terrible. She had a skill I had completely disregarded – no wonder she loved teaching Jenna to sew.

I took hold of her hands, determined to make amends. ‘Nothing will happen to me, I'm very strong.' She smiled and I dropped my voice. ‘You haven't told Madame Merrick I was tired this morning, have you?'

‘Dear Lord, no – there's no telling Madame Merrick anything today. She's in a terrible state.'

‘Is she still sulking about her precious patronage?'

‘Well, yes, but ye mustn't mock, Rosehannon. She's taken it into her head she needs Lady April Cavendish and nothing'll stop her. She's heard Lady April has four daughters and she's that determined. Just think what it would mean for her business.'

‘Four daughters, all as haughty and arrogant as their mother? The thought lls me with horror!'

‘Hush or you'll make her even angrier. She's in a right old state because Mrs Hoskins asked for tea and now she thinks we should serve tea to all her customers. But we don't have anywhere to boil the water and we can't risk a re – not with the fabrics in the storehouse. Madame Merrick's gone to Mr Melhuish to ask if she could keep a kettle on the boil in his forge.'

‘Sounds like an unnecessary fuss if you ask me – anyway she's going to be in a worse state when I tell her about the discrepancies.'

We watched Madame Merrick striding up the steps, frowning and muttering to herself. ‘Don't bother her, Rosehannon – least not yet,' Mother pleaded. ‘Wait awhile, and let me talk to her when she's in a better frame of mind – you know how angry you make her sometimes. This tiswas between you does us no good.'

Madame Merrick burst through the door, a look of thunder on her face. ‘Insolent man! I will
not
be spoken to like that…I am not a
seamstress
.'

Her new dress was more immaculate than ever. She strode angrily across the room, the beautiful silk robe with its ne lace underskirts swishing against the wooden oorboards. She was wearing a new lace cap threaded with satin ribbon and a beautifully embroidered chu, held in position by a ne silver brooch, a blue gemstone glittering at its centre.

‘I
will
serve my ladies tea,' she said with absolute determination. ‘I will show them what a
genteel
establishment we have here…whether that blacksmith likes it or not. We will just have to see what Mr Tregellas has to say – he will support me. After all, it is his yard and his decision will overrule that insolent,
half-dressed
brute.' At the mention of Mr Tregellas, she saw me inch. ‘Ah, good morning Miss Pengelly, you're very late this morning.'

‘Good morning, Madame Merrick,' I curtseyed. I wanted to remain in Mother's favour but I really needed to discuss the accounts. ‘I can see you're busy, and a bit preoccupied, but when you've a moment I'd like to discuss some invoices with you.' Mother let go of my hand, immediately seeking the safety of the storeroom.

‘Busy! Preoccupied!
Pah
! I have a hundred and one things to do today…That cotton shipment has gone to St Austell instead of coming to Fosse and I need it if I am to nish the bodice lining for Mrs Hoskins' gown. Mrs Hoskins herself can only come for her next tting on Saturday…though
why
I do not know as she surely has nothing better to do. When will
I
be able to go
all
the way to St Austell to fetch it? Preoccupied, you say? The lace alone will take another two days…' She stopped, her hawk eyes staring straight at me. ‘Which invoices?'

‘Several…Actually, there are quite a few – the rolls of blue silk, the red velvet…and that last batch of lemon satin. I can show you exactly which ones they are.'

‘Never mind which ones they are – I know which ones they are. You will nd them among the other receipts.'

‘Madame Merrick, I've looked everywhere for them. They aren't there.'

‘Then you are
mistaken
. If you look again, tomorrow, you will nd them.'

‘I can look now if you like but I know they're not there. You'll need them for next Tuesday.'

Madame Merrick looked horried at my insistence. ‘You will have them
tomorrow
, Miss Pengelly,' was clearly all she was prepared to say.

Mother came in from the storeroom, her eyes darting from one of us to the other. She was carrying a roll of soft grey cotton which shimmered in the sunshine. ‘Look, isn't this the most beautiful material?' she said, smiling shyly, obviously trying to make amends. ‘Madame Merrick's given it to me to make a dress. I can hardly believe it. See, I'm going to decorate it with this.' She laid a spool of Belgian lace gently against the cotton. ‘It's going to be that beautiful. Look.' She held up the fabric, her face glowing with pleasure. ‘Madame Merrick's been so kind…so generous, I feel that spoilt.'

Madame Merrick permitted herself a half-smile before turning brusquely away. I felt terrible. Mother had obviously wanted to keep things pleasant between us and my manner had been abrupt and insolent. Had Mother wanted to protect me from Madame Merrick or Madame Merrick from me? I hardly recognised myself any more. It was not my anxiety making me quick to anger; it was our poverty turning me so sullen.

I tried to make amends. ‘You'll both look so lovely in your new gowns – Lady April Cavendish is bound to agree to be your patron. I know I would, if I were her.'

‘Thank you, Miss Pengelly – that is very kind of you, but looking lovely is of no consequence if Lady April is never to see us.'

‘What've you done to attract her attention? Have you sent her your particulars? She can't be your patron if she doesn't know you exist.'

‘What
can
be done?
Everyone
is trying to attract her attention and no-one can approach her before she sends a calling-card. I am beginning to think having her patronage can only remain a dream.'

It was always the same. Madame Merrick was an accomplished dressmaker, yet her future depended on the whim of people who did not care one jolt whether she even existed – let alone prospered.

‘People like Lady April care nothing for the likes of you or me,' I replied. ‘They only care for their horses and dogs! You'd do better choosing your nest silk, embroidering it with your most delicate stitches and sending her a cushion for her hideous pug!' I had spoken in anger but, suddenly, I realised the truth behind my words. ‘Why don't you do that? Edge it with your best lace, thread it through with your nest satin ribbons and send it to Lady April with your
compliments
. Enquire after her dear dog's welfare. After all, the poor thing's had a long sea voyage and may be incapacitated by the upheaval! You never know, it might just get her attention.' Madame Merrick's eyes sharpened. She did not smile, but nor did she raise her eyebrows.

If I had seen him coming, I would have dived into the storeroom but it was too late. Mr Tregellas was mounting the steps, two at a time, his brows contracting in a frown. I was powerless to escape. ‘Good afternoon, Madame Merrick, Mrs Pengelly, Miss Pengelly.' His bow was curt, barely even noticeable.

‘Good afternoon, Mr Tregellas. What a nice surprise. I trust we nd you well?'

‘Well enough, Madame Merrick – but in very bad humour.'

Madame Merrick raised her eyebrows. Mother's hands gripped the back of a chair and I took a deep breath, trying to calm my fear.

‘What can have happened?' Madame Merrick said, closing the door before offering Mr Tregellas a chair.

Turning his back on her, he waved her brusquely aside. ‘Thieves broke into my house last night and stole something of great importance.' He was staring straight at me, his cold grey eyes accusing me of theft.

‘How
terrible
!' Madame Merrick sat down, fanning herself vigorously. ‘And have you caught them yet?'

‘No, but we will – they'll be caught and hung.'

‘How did they break in, Mr Tregellas?' Mother looked shocked.

‘Through a window in the back of the house – Miss Pengelly's old room, I believe.'

My heart was thumping, my stomach tightening.
He has no proof
, I kept repeating in my mind. I must not give myself away. He may have his suspicions, but he has no proof. I needed to keep calm, keep my breathing steady.

‘I hope you get everything back. Was it worth a lot of money?' Mother must have been wondering whether it was something that had once belonged to her. She looked wistful but Mr Tregellas ignored her, addressing me instead.

‘You look tired, Miss Pengelly. Are you unwell?'

‘No, very well, thank you.'

‘You look pale. Have you been overdoing things recently?'

‘No, I've been very quiet. I think it's the heat.'

‘Do you still row? I remember you used to scull with your father. I remember him telling me you were a powerful rower.'

I tried to laugh. ‘Oh no, my rowing days are long over.' I looked down in what I hoped was a demure fashion. ‘I don't imagine I'd have the strength to row these days.'

He stared at me, a pulse twitching in his forehead. His eyes were cruel, I could see that now – cruel and treacherous and dangerous beyond belief. He must have dressed in a hurry; his cravat was badly tied, his hair rufed. His movements were restless, the rolled-up paper in his hand constantly slamming against his thigh. Reaching for his fob watch, he checked the time. ‘Good day,' he said abruptly.

‘Good day, Mr Tregellas. I hope you catch the thieves,' I managed to say.

‘There's no doubt of that, Miss Pengelly. And I shall watch them hang.'

He was halfway across the courtyard before Madame Merrick remembered her need of a kettle. She ran quickly after his receding gure, calling him to stop. I reached for a chair, my legs no longer able to stand, and watched them through the window. They seemed to be arguing, Mr Tregellas shrugging his shoulders a number of times, Madame Merrick shaking her head and counting on her ngers. It did not look as if they were discussing the need to serve tea and, with a fast cutter at his disposal, my guess was that they were discussing the missing invoices.

Their conversation at an end, Madame Merrick walked sedately back up the steps. Arranging her chu more comfortably around her shoulders, the blue jewel glinting in the light, her composure seemed completely restored. A look of triumph ashed across her face as she stared down at Mr Melhuish.

‘From now on, ladies, we shall offer tea to
all
my customers.'

Chapter Ten

F
osse is a morning town. It faces east, catching the promise of every new dawn. By six, or seven, the sun dips behind the cliffs, leaving the town in cool, dark shadow. Porthruan is an evening town. It faces west, bathed in the setting sun, the warmth lingering on the houses, turning them a golden red. As we climbed the steep cobbles to the cottage, Mother and I were enjoying the last of the sun on our backs. The carefully cut pieces of her new dress were heavy and we stopped to catch our breath. She seemed preoccupied, turning to look down to the harbour, across to the cottage where I was born.

‘I can't imagine living anywhere else,' she said wistfully.

‘Nor me. Nor should we have to.' We watched the gulls swooping round the harbour entrance. I was desperate to tell her about the ledgers, but what could I say? I was a thief and had trusted a thief? No, I had to wait. I had to hope Jim's parting words meant our paths would cross again.

‘Rosehannon, I've been that worried, all day.' Mother looked serious, her voice slightly trembling. ‘I've been such a fool – getting us into debt to Mr Tregellas.' She put down her parcel, tucking a loose strand of hair under her bonnet. ‘I thought he was honest and decent, wanting the best for us but, this morning, I saw something in him I didn't like. There was cruelty in his voice and a look in his eye I'd not seen before. It's left me thinking I've been wrong to encourage your marriage.'