The Thief's Daughter

by Victoria Cornwall

  ‘Not for a while,’ Jack said, picking up his hat from the floor and brushing off the dirt. ‘He will not have the courage to tell the Blake brothers that he has failed in his task. He will keep his mouth shut and hope you will buy the ten kegs.’

  The men’s eyes met as Klemmo dabbed his bleeding nose.

  ‘How much do you already know?’ Klemmo asked warily.

  ‘Some, but not all. I need to know who finances the smuggling gang. When he is gaoled you will be free of them. Do you know who it is?’

  Klemmo shook his head. ‘No and if I knew I would not tell you.’

  ‘You do not trust me?’

  ‘I trust no one, Jack. People are not who they seem to be. I know of one who talks to both sides.’

  Jack’s eyes narrowed. ‘Who?’

  ‘I have said too much and have an inn to run. Go on your way, Jack. It is too dangerous here.’

  The landlord retreated inside, leaving Jack standing alone in the alleyway. He had thought Klemmo was about to unburden himself, but it turns out he was wrong.

  ‘He needs time,’ said a woman’s voice behind him.

  Jack turned to see Melwyn, leaning against the doorframe. She stepped into the alleyway, shutting the door carefully behind her. Despite a jagged scar upon her cheek and wearing a large sackcloth apron, her youthful looks still shone out from beneath its coarse weave.

  ‘I do not have time, Mel, and what I have seen here today shows me that they do not care who they hurt.’

  ‘Father is afraid for us. They have increased the prices every month and Father now makes little profit in it. They threaten us if we do not do as they say.’

  ‘And I can see from your face they do more than just threaten. Speak to your father and persuade him to tell me what he knows.’

  Melwyn’s eyes brimmed with tears. ‘He won’t, he is too afraid.’

  Jack put his arm around her to comfort her. ‘I understand. Fear is a powerful thing and it can cripple a man.’ He gave her a friendly hug and patted her shoulder. ‘Take courage, Melwyn. It will not be forever. I am here to stop it and I have every intention of doing just that.’

  Her lip began to tremble like a child’s so he reached for her again and held her close to comfort her. As her head rested beneath his chin he looked over her head to the street beyond the alley. He wondered what he should do next, until he realised he was looking right into the eyes of Jenna.

  So this is what he does with his time, thought Jenna. Feeling flustered, she turned around a little too quickly and started heading in the wrong direction. She heard him call to her. Realising her mistake, she abruptly changed course, narrowly missing a horse and cart as it passed her by. He called again, but she pretended not to hear him and surged on towards what she hoped was the stables.

  The woman looked too young for Jack, she thought as she marched along. The woman pawed at his chest like a needy dog and, despite the distance, Jenna was sure she had a simpering smile. How could Jack find her attractive? She would bore him quickly and he would soon look elsewhere. Jenna did not like feeling jealous, but there was no other name for the uncharitable thoughts that were rushing through her head.

  She heard him call again. This time she slowed her step. There was no point trying to outrun him, she realised, as they were to share his horse for the journey home. She had also forgotten the direction to the stables, although she would never let him know that. It was embarrassing to catch him embracing another woman, but to show him how much it disturbed her was far worse. She turned and smiled at him, ready to play the happy housekeeper pleased to see her employer.

  Jack walked calmly towards her, his dark eyes watching her steadily from beneath the brim of his hat. She could not decipher his mood. Was he angry she had disturbed him in his courtship? If she had not would they be kissing now?

  He has such a beautiful face, she thought, as he approached her. How could she bear another woman to kiss it? She felt sick at the thought and her brittle smile weakened. She must not let Jack know what she was thinking. She had no right to feel such loss at seeing another woman in his arms. He was not hers to lose.

  ‘Your silence is like the wrath of a scorned woman,’ said Jack from behind her.

  She could not argue with him. She tried to pretend she did not care, but a mile into their ride home she had fallen into a sulky mood. The image of him with his arms wrapped around another woman would not go away.

  ‘If you continue to avoid telling me what is the matter, I will have no choice but to guess.’ Hearing no answer, he added, ‘She is the landlord’s daughter and she was upset. I was comforting her.’

  Heat rose in Jenna’s cheeks. Was she so transparent to him? Despite her embarrassment, she could not stop herself wanting to know more about her rival, for that was how she saw her.

  ‘What was she upset about?’

  ‘I cannot say.’

  ‘You are at liberty to find comfort where you wish.’

  ‘I was not finding comfort, I was giving comfort.’

  It was more than mere comfort she was experiencing, thought Jenna.

  ‘You can call it what you like, it is no concern of mine.’

  Silence returned, but for the rhythmic beat of his horse’s hooves on the track.

  Eventually, Jack said, ‘She is sixteen. No more than a child.’

  ‘She is no child.’

  ‘To me she is. I do not wish to talk about her again.’

  ‘I am only two years older,’ muttered Jenna.

  ‘Are you?’

  She turned in the saddle to look at him. ‘You sound surprised.’

  ‘I thought you were older.’

  Jenna frowned; for a moment the landlord’s daughter was forgotten. It was hard to think of her when Jack’s face was so close to hers and a tilting smile curved his lips.

  ‘How old did you think I was?’ she asked, looking at his mouth.

  ‘I feel like I’m being interrogated,’ teased Jack.

  Jenna reluctantly turned around again to stare moodily at the track.

  ‘I thought you were forty.’

  ‘Forty!’ Jenna said, swinging around angrily to face him. He stifled a laugh. She turned away again, frowning furiously. He became quiet, although she could still feel his laughter through the movement of his body. She tried not to smile.

  ‘You are teasing me. That is unfair.’

  ‘But well deserved. I will not put up with moody sulks. It does not suit you, Jenna.’

  ‘I was surprised, no more. You did not tell me you were meeting a woman.’

  ‘I did not tell you because it was not a woman I visited. It was a man – her father.’

  And yet you were providing comfort to her, Jenna wanted to challenge. Instead she bit her lip and remained silent.

  ‘How was Silas?’ Jack asked.

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘You are the only woman I know who goes out for supplies with a basket full of food.’

  ‘I did not want you to know. I thought the less you heard about him the better.’

  ‘I see.’

  There was a short silence. ‘Why did you visit her father?’ she asked.

  ‘It is better you do not know why.’

  A sense of unease swept through her. His reply was a reminder of how little she knew about Jack Penhale. She wondered how well the other woman knew him.

  ‘Then I will not enquire further.’

  ‘Good. I am glad to hear it.’

  ‘Jack …’

  ‘Yes?’ he said, sounding content that his name came naturally to her now.

  ‘Do you really think that I look forty?’ She felt him move behind her, as he attempted to stifle more laughter. She waited patiently for his answer. Finally it came.

  ‘No, not forty,’ he replied seriously. ‘You look far too old to be forty.’

  Chapter Nine

  A late November gale howled outside the windows, rattling the salt-stained glass within their metal frames and sen
ding the occasional puff of black smoke back down the chimney. Outside, twigs and debris were tossed and rolled by the wind, littering the picturesque coastline and haphazardly flattening the lush grass in the fields beyond.

  To Jenna, the harshness of the weather outside only enhanced the sense of warmth, safety and peace within the house. Sitting at the table, practising her letters, a particularly strong gust broke into her concentration and made her glance up at Jack. Jack did not notice and continued to read his book before the open fire. His immersion into the words on the page was so complete that she noticed even his expression changed slightly as he absorbed their meaning. It was endearing and Jenna found herself smiling as she watched him.

  She dragged her gaze away from him and dipped her quill in the ink. Carefully, just as Jack had shown her, she touched the edge to let the excess fall back into the pot before taking it to the paper. J-e-n-n-a, she wrote carefully, her bottom teeth pinching her lip in concentration as the ink flowed onto the page. She sat back and looked at it. She had written her name several times, but this time the letters were smooth and shapely, just like Jack’s writing above them.

  ‘You look pleased with yourself,’ Jack said, abandoning his book so it lay half open in his hand.

  ‘I am. I have written all the letters in my name and it no longer looks a mess.’ He put out his hand and she immediately went to him.

  ‘You see,’ he said, taking the sheet to look at it. ‘You can write. You just needed to be taught.’ He handed it back to her with a flourish of the hand and a sincere smile on his lips.

  Feeling ludicrously happy, Jenna forgot about her lesson and sat down opposite him.

  ‘I have never been encouraged to learn, and I knew no one who could teach me.’

  ‘No one in your family could read?’

  Jenna arched an eyebrow. ‘No, if you knew my family you would understand.’

  ‘I know Silas. He thinks stealing is an honourable profession and would see no use for writing.’

  ‘My parents and four brothers are cut from the same cloth. They have quite a reputation and it is not for their intellect.’

  ‘Tell me about them.’

  Jenna sat back in her chair and looked at him. ‘And you will not judge me?’

  Jack held her gaze. ‘I will not.’

  Jenna cleared her throat nervously. She had always hidden her background from her employers before, but Jack’s gentle tones were encouraging.

  ‘I loved my parents, but they were thieves. I cannot pretend otherwise. They thought, by teaching their children to do the same, they were passing on a profession. They believed they were doing the right thing.’

  ‘Do you look like your mother?’

  Jenna settled herself into her seat. ‘People say there is a likeness. My mother did not look like a thief. She was pretty and claimed to have French blood. She did have a French name. Marguerite, but I suspect it was a name she chose to call herself, rather than one she was given. She spent her life deceiving people and my father was no different.’

  Jenna began to comb her hair with her fingers, unaware that Jack watched her. Her memories had taken her to another time, as she remembered the life she would normally want to forget.

  ‘I was the youngest of five,’ she continued. ‘There were twelve years between me and my two oldest brothers, David and Paul. When I was about four, they were caught stealing and taken to gaol. I never saw them again. Silas thinks they left the county after their release, but I do not know for sure.’

  ‘And your other brother?’

  Jenna smiled. ‘Mark was more like me and wanted a different life. When he was thirteen he ran away to sea. I often wonder what happened to him. I was young when he left and can no longer remember his face, but I often think of him.’

  ‘Many men do run away to the sea to escape the law. Fighting ships are littered with men from dubious backgrounds.’

  ‘And Mark will be one of them. I hope he has found his sea legs.’

  ‘What happened to your parents?’ asked Jack, leisurely stretching out his legs and crossing them at the ankles.

  ‘One night, when I was fourteen, they went out and never returned. Silas was the only one left. He did not desert me. We were always close, but after that day he took me under his wing and gave me a home. I lived with him and his new wife, Nell, for a few months until I could find live-in work. It was difficult to keep a job, when you have a family like mine, so I was often dismissed. Silas took me in every time. He was like a father and brother all rolled into one, but I felt a burden to him and his wife, so I married Henry, hoping it would solve all our problems. It did not.’

  ‘You have had a difficult life.’

  Jenna tilted her head to consider his words. ‘I don’t think I know how to live any other way. Life is difficult, isn’t it?’

  Jack’s eyes softened. ‘Not always,’ he replied, a slight smile curving his lips. ‘Life can be good too.’

  ‘Tell me about yours then. Who taught you to read?’

  Jack closed his book, although his finger remained on the page he was reading.

  ‘My mother was a governess until she married my father and became a farmer’s wife. She loved the farm, but I think she had fond memories of her time in employment so she used her skills as a governess to teach the only pupil she had, which was me.’ Jenna stopped hugging her knees and looked at him with a renewed curiosity. ‘You look surprised that my mother was a governess.’

  ‘I am surprised you are a farmer’s son. You have not bought a plough yet. The fields need to be ploughed if you want to seed them.’

  Jack laughed. ‘I am in no hurry to plant crops.’

  ‘How do you earn your money?’ The question was a bold one, even by her standards. A housekeeper had no right to ask her employer such a question, but then if things were as they should be, she would not be sitting opposite him now and he would not be offering to break the law for her.

  ‘I am employed here and there to undertake certain tasks and when they are done I am paid. I move around a lot.’

  This news did not surprise Jenna. The first thing she noticed when she arrived at the house was the lack of personal items that bring their own peculiar comfort to a home.

  ‘Do you like to travel?’ she asked.

  ‘No,’ he said sadly, but then he suddenly brightened. Lifting his book again he said, ‘But I like to read about it.’

  Never having read a book, his meaning was lost to her. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘When you read a book, you can be transported to another part of the world, even another time. I think you will enjoy the experience.’

  ‘Is that what you were doing before? You were sitting in front of the fire, but you appeared to be somewhere else in your head.’

  Jack nodded, pleased she understood.

  She leaned forward, her elbows balancing on her knees, her hands held together as if preparing to plead. ‘Take me with you,’ she asked him suddenly.

  His smile faltered as he looked at her expectant face. ‘Where?’

  ‘Anywhere.’

  ‘You must have a preference.’

  She shook her head. ‘I do not care where. I just want you to take me.’

  He did not answer at first. The fire continued to crackle in the grate and the wind still howled outside, yet the atmosphere had subtly changed, cloaked with his silence. Jack swallowed; his smile was gone and there was gravity in his gaze.

  When he finally answered his voice was softer than before and there was a stark absence of any irony or teasing in his words. He leant forward too, their knees almost touching as the fire warmed the sides of their bodies.

  ‘It is a request that would be hard to deny.’

  Were they still talking about reading? She was unsure of Jack and even less sure of herself.

  She spoke before she thought; she did not care how it might sound, it was what she wanted to say so she said it.

  ‘Then don’t deny me.’ Her own voice
had changed too. The words slipped from her lips like silk in a way she had never heard before. Their dance of words excited her and turned her voice to the throaty sweetness of a seductress. The book still lay in his lap, but neither thought of it.

  His lips look soft, she thought, as she imagined what they would feel like against hers. She found herself swallowing, just as Jack had done a few moments before. Was he sharing the same shameful thoughts as her? His gaze dipped and lingered upon her own lips. Yes he was, she thought, hardly daring to breathe, and she was being drawn to him like no other.

  The fire belched a small puff of black smoke into the room, coming between them and breaking the spell. Jenna tried to hide her smile as Jack cursed the fire and waved the smoke away. He poked at it needlessly and fed it more wood before finally settling in his chair again.

  ‘The chimney needs sweeping,’ he grumbled. ‘The view from here may be fine but the sea winds can be too strong.’ He was allowing his attention to remain diverted, she thought, as he made a show of finding his page. He did not want the intimacy they felt to return, or perhaps it was only in her mind and he was now embarrassed for her. She made to leave.

  ‘I will read you this chapter,’ Jack said suddenly. ‘The book is a diary of a man’s expedition.’ He looked up to see her standing. ‘I thought you wanted me to read to you.’

  She sat back down, feeling foolish. ‘Yes, I do.’

  Jack appeared not to notice her discomfort, as he noisily cleared his throat.

  ‘He has travelled to many islands to collect specimens for his scientific research, but by accident he has discovered a tribal village.’

  Jenna eased herself back in her chair to listen. She felt silly, yet Jack had dismissed their moment of madness and was back to normality. He began to read and she watched his lips move and his fingers caress the page, but she did not listen to his words. Instead she watched the man as his hair shone in the firelight and his eyelashes fanned his cheeks.

  His hair and complexion were dark, hinting at a line of foreign blood in his ancestry that she had not noticed before. She had heard tales of sailors from the failed Spanish Armada being washed up on the shores of Cornwall. Was he descended from someone like this? She could well believe it for he had the darkest brown eyes she had ever seen and the air of mystery of someone from a strange land.