by Jane Jackson
‘Thank you,’ Melissa managed. As the door closed behind him, she pressed her napkin to her mouth, burning with the sudden heat of realisation as she pictured, with stark clarity, the stone shack, its roof of ancient canvas and branches weighted by stones tied with elm-bark cord.
After breakfast, she rode to the yard, oblivious to the scenery as she rehearsed what she would say. As she turned in through the gateway she saw Tom coming up from the slip.
‘Good morning, Tom. I’m going into Truro later and I need to know how many wagons –’
‘You’ll have to talk to Gabriel about that, miss. Only he isn’t here. He’ve taken the gang up the woods to start clearing a track down to the road. Want me to send someone up for ’un, do you?’
‘No. You’re short-handed enough already. Don’t worry, I’ll find him.’
‘You shouldn’t have no trouble, not with the row they lot will be making.’
Following the path toward the source of the noise, she noticed various trees marked with different signs in yellow paint. If Gabriel had done this alone – and no one else would have known which trees to mark – he must have been walking the woods each evening until the light faded, having already worked a full day at the yard. She must ensure his wages reflected the extra time he had worked. Sudden fear clenched icy fingers around her heart. The wages. She had found no money in her father’s desk. How was she to pay the wages?
The shouts of the men, the crash of saplings falling, the crackle of wood burning and sharp scent of drifting smoke were making Samson increasingly restless. By the time Melissa reached the men the huge horse was skittering sideways on the path, tossing his head as he fought the bit.
In the middle of the clearing a large bonfire surrounded by powdery grey ash had been newly capped with a fresh heap of undergrowth and wood débris. Hungry flames licked around the edges of the pile while clouds of thick blue smoke belched from the top. She was about to call out when Billy saw her.
‘Dear life, miss! Made me jump you did.’ He turned. ‘Gabe! Miss Tregonning’s here.’
Gabriel emerged from a dense thicket, a large axe dangling from one hand. He knuckled his forehead.
‘Miss Tregonning.’
Her increased nervousness communicated itself to Samson, who plunged and snorted. She saw Gabriel tense. But before he could move she turned the horse in a tight circle, using the brief hiatus to collect her wits.
Then, lifting her leg over the pommel, she quickly slid to the ground, holding the bridle with one hand while she stroked the horse’s sweat-darkened coat with the other. Horribly aware of her heightened colour, hoping he would attribute it to her battle with the fractious horse, she swallowed to moisten her throat.
‘I’m sorry to interrupt. I know you have a great deal to do and I won’t keep you. But as I’m going into Truro shortly it would be an ideal opportunity to order the wagons. But I’m not sure –’
‘Of course, miss. If you’ll give me a moment.’ While he turned to Billy with brief instructions, Melissa took a folded sheet of paper from a pocket in her skirt. As Billy loped away toward the lower side of the clearing where most of the activity was taking place, Gabriel faced her again. ‘If you are selling direct to a timber merchant, miss, then they will supply the wagons. But they may try using that fact to negotiate a lower price.’
She nodded slowly. ‘How did your master deal with this? Did he use the merchant’s wagons or hire an independent haulier?’
‘Both, miss, it was a much larger enterprise. But you would be wise to compare prices.’
‘I will, Gabriel. Thank you.’ She hesitated, reluctant to reveal the extent of her ignorance. Yet without the necessary information, how was she to do business at all? She took a breath and hurried on, ‘I – I’ve written out a list of the different types of wood to be sold, but I have no idea about current prices. What is the correct procedure in matters of negotiation?’
He bowed his head, but she had glimpsed his frown. As he scuffed the freshly bared earth with the toe of his boot, she could not see his eyes or read his expression. A dark tide of panic threatened to choke her. She had depended on him to tell her. Surely he must know? If he didn’t she would be – not lost, but certainly at a grave disadvantage.
He glanced sideways, still frowning. ‘You must deal with this yourself?’
She stiffened. ‘I do not wish to bother my uncles. Naturally, as soon as my brother returns he will take over. In the meantime, I must act for him.
‘No offence intended, ma’am. But it is not usual. You might find the wood merchant – surprised, possibly reluctant.’
Her chin lifted, determined and defiant. ‘His prejudices are of no interest to me. If he wishes to buy our wood he will overcome them.’
‘Indeed, ma’am.’ His lips quivered. ‘May I make some suggestions?’
‘If you please.’ She gave him a brief, tentative smile, a spilling over of relief and gratitude.
He looked away. ‘First: say as little as possible. You tell him what you told me, that you are acting on behalf of your brother. You have wood to sell. Does he wish to buy? He will ask what you are selling and the prices you want. You tell him –’
‘Oak, elm, beech, alder, ash, and larch,’ Melissa read from the list.
Gabriel nodded. ‘You ask him what price he is offering. When he tells you, you thank him for his time and prepare to leave.’
‘What? But –’ She bit her lip. ‘Forgive me. Please go on.’
‘Before you have reached the door, or the gate, he will stop you. He will be full of apologies. He may claim he was distracted by this unprecedented situation, or by your beauty.’ As her cheeks flamed, Gabriel warned, ‘While this may indeed be true, it will also be a ploy to distract you. So be prepared. Then he will ask if you have a price in mind.’
Melissa gazed at him, fascinated by this insight into aspects of commerce she had never imagined. ‘Do I?’
Gabriel nodded. ‘Twice what he offered.’
She gasped. ‘He’ll never accept that.’
‘You don’t expect him to.’
‘I don’t?’
‘No. He will then suggest a price perhaps a quarter above his original offer. You regret that is unacceptable. He will suggest you wish to ruin him, and take the very bread from his children’s mouths.’
As Melissa’s hand went to her mouth he continued, ‘Do not react. Above all, do not speak. Smile. You have a lovely smile.’ His gaze flickered as her blush deepened once more. He cleared his throat. ‘He might also ask why he should be expected to pay such a price for wood he has not seen. At this you allow yourself a small frown of impatience. You point out that –’
‘He would take imported wood on trust, if it were available. I suggest that perhaps he would prefer to wait for ships bringing new supplies to find a way through the blockade? If so, I will not take up any more of his time. I have other merchants to see in – in Falmouth.’
Her triumph evaporated into uncertainty as she studied his face. ‘Was that not right?’
His lips twitched, but his tone was grave. ‘Indeed, miss, it was excellent. For perfection might I suggest a touch more detachment? A coolness of manner?’
She drew herself up, and, thinking of visits by her aunts, succeeded in blanking all expression from her face. ‘Like this?’
His eyes narrowed fractionally. ‘Just so. Now he will make his final offer: a sum halfway between his original price and your demand.’
She nodded. ‘What do I do then?’
‘Do you wish to accept it?’
‘Oh yes. Indeed.’ She hesitated. ‘Don’t I?’
‘It will be a fair price. One he is unlikely to improve on. You request that his clerk set out the agreed terms as a contract with both of you signing and retaining a copy. As that document will take a little time to prepare you could offer to complete your other business in town first, then return for it before you come home.’
‘Right. Thank you.’ As she tried
to remember all he had said, her misgiving blossomed into mouth-drying fear. ‘Gabriel, considering your experience in these matters, would it not be more sensible –?’
‘No.’ His interruption and its forcefulness took her by surprise. ‘No, miss,’ he repeated more gently. ‘That wouldn’t do at all.’ His features softened. ‘You addressed the men: you can do this.’
Melissa moistened her lips. ‘When will the first wagonload be ready?’
‘Depends on the weather, but, all being well, in about two weeks.’
So long? She tried not to let her disappointment show. ‘Thank you, Gabriel. I-I’m very grateful.’ Preparing to mount, she gathered up the reins.
‘I wish –’ he began, and stopped abruptly.
Startled by the intensity even his hoarseness could not disguise, she glanced back, oddly breathless as her heart gave an extra beat. ‘Yes?’
The brooding, troubled expression faded, leaving his face blank. It was like watching an ebbing wave wipe footprints from sand. ‘Nothing. Good luck, miss.’ He had retreated, his whole manner different. No less polite, but deliberately distanced.
He knuckled his forehead. ‘Help you up?’ Bending forward, he linked his hands. She placed her booted foot in them and he tossed her up into the saddle. Without waiting for thanks, and avoiding her eye, he gave a final salute and strode away across the clearing.
‘Miss, you can’t. It wouldn’t be right nor proper.’ The groom’s glare was a mixture of anxiety and defiance.
‘For goodness’ sake, Hocking, I’ve driven myself into Truro countless times.’
His gesture encompassed her black habit, white brocaded waistcoat, and black beaver hat. ‘Not wearing full mourning and your dear father laid to rest only days ago you haven’t. I know you don’t care what others think, and most times I’d say you was right to ignore them –’
‘But not this time.’
‘No, miss. Not this time, especially not with your mother away. Don’t you go thinking it don’t make no difference. You know as well as I do there’s some spiteful tongues in Truro. Appearances is more important than ever just now.’ He met and held her gaze.
Melissa was the first to look away. Which appearances did he mean? Surely she hadn’t betrayed herself? Her reaction to Gabriel Ennis was so deeply unsettling she had taken particular care to hide it.
Or was he referring to the truth about her father? About the family’s situation? Did all the servants know? But how could they? And if they did, how had they found out? She couldn’t ask, for to do so would only alert him to the very facts she wished to remain hidden. Discretion left her no choice but retreat.
‘You’re right, Hocking. I wasn’t thinking.’
‘No wonder, miss. Some time you’ve ’ad of it these past weeks.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I think it best if I drive you myself, miss. No reflection on young John, he’s a good lad. But seeing this is your first visit to Truro since … Well, I just think it’s best.’
Touched by his concern, Melissa nodded. ‘Indeed, I think so too. People will see that not only I am observing all the proprieties, but that I have proper protection.’
He shot her a dry glance. ‘You aren’t that much taller than me when we’re both sitting down. I’ll bring the gig to the front door, miss.’
‘You won’t be long, will you? Only I have –’
‘Two shakes of a lamb’s tail.’
Returning to the house, she went to her father’s study and closed the door. Opening the glass-fronted bookcase, she pulled out the fourth volume from the end of the second shelf and retrieved from behind it a velvet-wrapped package. As she was in mourning, her action should remain undiscovered for several weeks at least. Meanwhile the contents of the package would, she hoped, buy her what she most needed: time.
Chapter Ten
Melissa sat straight-backed in the gig alongside Hocking, too absorbed in what lay ahead to take note of the countryside through which they drove.
‘Where to first, miss?’ the groom enquired as they reached the bottom of Lemon Street.
‘The timber merchant on the Quay.’
‘Which one, miss?’
Melissa’s heart sank. She should have asked Tom which merchant her father purchased wood from. Perhaps he had bought from more than one. When checking the bills she had been concentrating on the amounts owed rather than the names of the suppliers. What if the timber yards were owed money? If they were, she would find out soon enough. Despite the sunshine, she shivered.
Why had she not thought to ask Gabriel if he knew the best one to approach? What was she doing here? She had believed herself so well prepared. But the truth was – the truth was she had no choice. She was here because a timber merchant offered the only hope of protecting her father’s good name and saving the boatyard from closure.
‘Which is the largest?’ Surely that would be the one most in need of fresh supplies?
The groom thought for a moment. ‘Nankivell’s, miss.’
‘You wouldn’t happen to know if my father bought from them, I suppose?’
The groom whistled through his teeth. ‘That I can’t say, miss. Not my line of work, see?’
‘Never mind. Take me there, please.’ Though she glimpsed Hocking’s glance out of the corner of her eye, she continued to gaze straight ahead. Whatever questions were trembling on the tip of his tongue, he took the hint, remaining silent as they turned into Boscawen Street, then along Princes Street until they crossed the broad junction and drove onto the open area of the quay. The tide was out and the foul stench of sewage-tainted mud was thick in her nostrils.
‘Come in with you, shall I, miss?’ Hocking enquired, clearly expecting his offer to be accepted.
‘No, thank you,’ Melissa replied, stepping down onto the cobbles. ‘I shouldn’t be above quarter of an hour. But if I am, then please walk the horse. It will do him no good to be standing –’
‘Never mind the horse,’ Hocking blurted, as concern got the better of him. ‘You shouldn’t be going in such places alone. What would mistress say?’
‘I would very much prefer,’ Melissa said deliberately, ‘that for her peace of mind she doesn’t ever hear of it.’
‘What are you doing down here anyhow?’ he growled, his leathery face creased with anxiety.
‘I’m hoping – no, I intend to sell Mr Nankivell timber from our woods. As I haven’t conducted business with him before –’ they both knew she hadn’t conducted business with anyone before ‘– I am a little nervous. So please don’t make it any more difficult for me.’
‘I don’t want to cause you no trouble, miss. ’Tis just –’ He broke off as she raised a coolly enquiring eyebrow. ‘Beg pardon, miss, I’m sure. No doubt you know what you’re doing.’ His tone implied the opposite.
‘Of course,’ Melissa responded with a calm completely at odds with the apprehension that had loosened her knees and gripped her stomach with sharp claws. She walked briskly across the quay to the Queen Anne building. On one side of it an alley led to the timber yard.
It occurred to her that for Mr Nankivell to operate from such imposing premises his business must be thriving. For it to continue doing so in these troubled times he needed wood to sell. Clinging to that thought and clutching the list, she stepped inside.
She emerged half an hour later, her face flushed, her heart thudding against her ribs. She stood for a moment in the wide doorway, smoothing her gloves as she tried to control an elation that fizzed and bubbled like champagne and left her feeling as light-headed.
When she introduced herself he said he recognised the name. Having heard of her father’s demise he offered his condolences. Then, to her immense relief – for it meant Tregonning’s did not owe him money – he asked how he might be of service. Thereafter the interview had proceeded exactly as Gabriel said it would.
When the merchant, unable to entirely conceal his annoyance, had suggested that the price she was asking seemed to indicate a lack of understanding of t
he current situation, Melissa had derived intense pleasure from telling him, with exquisite politeness and a dazzling smile, that, on the contrary, she understood perfectly. If he preferred to wait for ships presently delayed by the blockade to arrive, she would take her leave and offer her timber elsewhere.
Accepting his final offer, on condition that it included transport, she had watched his initial frozen shock melt into reluctant admiration.
‘You drive a hard bargain, Miss Tregonning.’
Not sure whether it was proper to thank him, or if his remark was intended as a compliment, Melissa decided to play safe, and simply inclined her head. Then, recalling the last of Gabriel’s instructions, she asked the merchant to be kind enough to have a paper drawn up specifying the agreed terms. To spare him any inconvenience she would complete the rest of her business before calling back for it in, say, two hours?
His expression as he took her proffered hand had been one of bemusement. But she had not lingered to enjoy her triumph, all too aware that without Gabriel’s coaching her chances of success would have equalled those of a lamb trying to persuade a wolf that grass was tastier.
‘Everything go all right, miss?’ Hocking enquired, as she settled herself on the gig’s padded seat. His anxiety evaporated in the glow of her delighted smile.
‘Yes, thank you, Hocking. It went perfectly. Mr Nankivell is going to buy all the wood we can supply.’
‘Glad to hear it, miss. Where do you want to go now?’
‘To see Mr Rogers, my father’s lawyer.’
Turning the gig, the groom pointed it back toward Princes Street.
‘Hocking, you’re acquainted with the gentlemen my father used to hunt with. Do you think you could find out, tactfully of course, if any of them might be looking for new mounts for the coming season?’
He darted a look at her. ‘Selling the hunters, are you, miss? You won’t have no problem there. Master was known to keep only the best blood and bone. A word in the right ear and you’ll have buyers queuing up. Be long with Mr Rogers, will you, miss?’
