The Thief's Daughter

by Victoria Cornwall

  Jack laughed. ‘Masquerading as a relative to a politician would be the nearest I would ever get to entering politics. I find the prospect tempting, but I would not wish to spoil his dinner party.’

  ‘Sometimes young people do not know how to enjoy themselves,’ Enoch teased.

  ‘Eating to excess at a table laden with silverware is not high on my list at the moment, Enoch.’

  Jack’s words sobered them and Enoch became serious.

  ‘Have a care, Jack. Do not place yourself in unnecessary danger. Unpaid taxes on tubs of French brandy are not worth a man’s life, especially someone like you.’

  Jack swallowed down the emotion that rose quickly in his throat. Unable to voice his appreciation at the kind words, he nodded and curtly bowed his head goodbye, before walking briskly away.

  Jack had heard those words before. They caught him off-guard and stirred memories that he preferred to forget. Suddenly he was a boy of seventeen again, hearing them whispered through his father’s bloodied lips. The feeling of holding him in his arms, and the smell of his blood at the back of his nose, came rushing back to him as he walked.

  As a boy he had tried to be strong and attempted to comfort his father as he lay dying. He had felt useless, knowing that his words of reassurance were lies. When his father died, Jack’s composure abruptly abandoned him. Alone, he broke down and wept over his body, until his throat felt raw and his body ached. On that day the youth became a man and he vowed that he would cry no more. Sorrow was replaced by a desire for revenge, and it was this familiar companion that drove him now.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jenna felt as if her insides had been taken over by snakes. Anxiety always had this effect, making her restless, queasy and prone to hand wringing. To calm her nerves she busied herself cleaning the cottage from top to bottom. It worked for a while. Cupboards were emptied, dusted and refilled, floors were brushed and mopped, and windows washed until they glistened in the November sun. However, the cleaning chores were insufficient to fill the hours spent waiting for Jack’s safe return. Her pent up energy made short work of them and soon everything was clean and in order.

  At midday she began looking around for another challenge to occupy her and stop the snakes in her belly tying themselves into knots. Rolling up her sleeves, Jenna started to bake and within hours she had made a golden-crusted onion pie in the bake kettle, cooked turnip soup over the fire and prepared a dish of apples and bacon. Jenna surveyed all the food laid out on the table. She had been excessive, and although it looked and smelled delicious, she had no appetite for any of it.

  Her gaze wandered to the window and the darkening sky outside. The day had turned to night and soon Jack would be on the beach. Remembering his instructions, she carefully pulled the drapes over the windows, ensuring there were no gaps to allow the light from her candle to shine through. There was no more she could do. The wringing of her hands began again as she sat by the dying fire and waited for his safe return.

  The first time Jenna heard the faint knocking on her door she dismissed it as a branch tapping against the window nearby. The second time was louder and there was no mistaking the sound. She scrambled to her feet, almost tripping on her skirts, and ran to the door.

  A boy with a runny nose stood shivering on her doorstep.

  ‘I have a message for Mrs Kestle,’ he announced.

  ‘I am she.’

  ‘A gentleman wants you to go to Lanros Inn as quickly as you can.’

  His message delivered, the boy immediately turned and ran away, disappearing into the night like a ghost.

  Was Jack in trouble? Was he injured and needing her help? Without hesitating further, Jenna grabbed her shawl, a lantern and followed the route the boy had taken.

  Jenna did not see the boy again. She felt quite alone as she ran along the cliff path towards the village of Lanros. The distant roar of the ocean was her only company, as the sea wind wrapped her skirts around her legs and dragged at her shawl. It was only when she saw the lights of the village lamps in the distance did she know for certain she was running in the right direction. With red, windswept cheeks and tangled hair, she entered Lanros Inn in a flurry and was greeted by the sudden warmth of a large, roaring fire.

  Situated on the main coastal route of Cornwall, the inn at Lanros was a popular resting place for travellers. Faces briefly looked up at her entrance, but quickly dismissed her. The inn was busy with people drinking and eating, whilst others stood waiting to take delivery of their trunks before retiring to their rooms for the night.

  Jenna looked round the crowded room searching for Jack. No one looked familiar and she began to feel a sense of unease.

  A man, dressed in fine clothes and partially in shadow, called to her from the adjoining room. He sat alone at a table laden with dishes, his hand beckoning to her to come forward.

  Jenna stepped into the room, her eyes squinting in the low light. The room, set aside for patrons able to pay for solitude, was quieter, causing Jenna to shut the door on the noisier travellers behind her. She cautiously approached the gentleman, but it was only when she was close to him that she could finally trust what her eyes were telling her. The man in fine clothing did not have a fine pedigree running through his veins. He had the tainted blood of the Cartwright line.

  Silas smiled. ‘Do I not look fine, Sister?’ he said, smoothing his waistcoat.

  Jenna carefully sat opposite her brother and looked at him. His serviceable, but ragged clothes had been replaced with a three piece, beige suit made of fine wool and beneath he wore a white linen shirt that looked freshly laundered. She glanced down and saw that he wore woollen stockings on his legs and new leather shoes decorated with large, impractical buckles. Even his hair, which he often neglected, was now clean and tied back at the nape of his neck with a black, silk ribbon. The sense of unease grew inside her.

  Jenna looked around for Jack, hoping that he would saunter across the room with a smile on his face and explain how he had managed to pay Silas’s debts so quickly. His absence unnerved her. She looked back at Silas who had begun to eat.

  ‘How did you know where I lived?’ she asked him.

  ‘You told me when you brought the sweetmeats. Do you remember when we were children and we would pretend to have a feast like this?’ He lifted a chicken leg. ‘Now the feast is here and tastes better than any dream we had.’

  ‘Has Jack already paid your creditors?’

  ‘In a roundabout way. Come, Jenna, join me. I have bought enough for the both of us.’

  ‘And more besides. Where are Nell and the children?’

  ‘At her parents’. Eat, eat,’ he urged, his mouth dripping with chicken fat.

  ‘I would rather not until you tell me how you have suddenly come into so much money,’ she replied stubbornly.

  ‘Well, this is a fine greeting. I thought you would be pleased I was now free, rather than locked away in the prison all alone.’

  ‘You were not alone – you were with your wife and children.’

  Silas guiltily glanced up and for the first time stopped eating. Jenna grew suspicious.

  ‘They were with you, weren’t they?’

  Silas winced.

  ‘You lied to me!’

  ‘It was only a little lie.’

  ‘A lie is a lie!’

  ‘Would you have helped me if I told you the truth? Would you?’ he persisted. Jenna looked away. ‘I thought not, and I do not blame you.’ Silas began eating again. ‘It was no one’s fault but my own that I was in debt. When Nell found out that the landlord wanted us gone, she took the children and left me. I needed your help, Jenna.’

  ‘You should have told me the truth!’

  ‘Can you not look kindly upon me?’

  ‘I risked my life for you and I would have done it again.’

  ‘And I am ashamed for asking you to help in that way, but I was desperate.’

  ‘And I was a fool.’

  ‘You were never a fool. Kind, t
houghtful—’

  ‘—and easily taken advantage of.’

  Silas tilted his head and his eyes softened. ‘We have always been close, Jenna. For years there were just the two of us. Even Nell knew better than to come between us. I would never have asked you to smuggle if I did not think you could do it. You have a gift for melting into the background so no one notices you.’

  ‘It was no gift, just a skill I developed out of a need to survive.’

  ‘Whatever you think, we are both survivors.’

  Jenna snorted in reply.

  ‘I can see that I have hurt you. I promise, before God, I will never lie to you again.’

  ‘You should not jest about making promises before God, Silas.’

  ‘I do not jest. Now let us enjoy my good fortune with a glass of port.’ He poured her a glass and she reluctantly took it, cradling it in her hands, but unwilling to taste it.

  ‘Who paid your creditors, Silas?’

  He sighed and carefully put his own glass down on the table. The toast would have to wait.

  ‘My debts have been paid. It does not matter who paid them.’

  ‘We can play cat and mouse all evening, Silas, or you could just tell me.’

  He sat back and folded his arms. ‘I arranged my own payment.’

  ‘Which included fine clothes and all this food?’

  He lifted his chin in defiance. ‘Aye, and bed and board with a view of the sea.’

  ‘A pretty sum. How much did you steal and from whom?’

  ‘I did not have to steal,’ he said, leaning forward and tearing off some bread. ‘It was honest payment for honest work, so there is no need for you to worry.’

  Jenna’s eyes narrowed. Her brother did not know what honest work was.

  ‘It is the nature of the work that worries me, Brother.’

  ‘You are always suspicious when good fortune calls,’ he muttered, popping some doughy bread into his mouth. Jenna lifted an eyebrow but did not reply. Silas discarded the rest of the bread; it was difficult to enjoy his meal under his sister’s reproachful glare. ‘I had some information that someone was willing to pay for.’

  The sound of her own heart began to beat loudly in Jenna’s ears. ‘What information did you have that was worth so much?’ she asked. ‘What knowledge would a thief, smuggler and gambler have? Have you told the smugglers that Jack is an imposter?’

  ‘If I told the smugglers I had information to sell them they would use force to get it from me. No, best tell someone who could arrange my liberty.’

  Suddenly she knew what he had done. He had told how the smugglers communicated and where the next run would be.

  ‘Oh, Silas, no! Who have you told?’

  ‘The Head of the Land Guard.’

  ‘But the run is tonight! They will attack them!’ Now she understood why he had invited her here. It was not to share a feast with her but to keep her out of harm’s way and away from the beach. She felt no gratitude for his keeping her safe, only anger that he had placed Jack in such danger. ‘Jack will be on the beach tonight.’ Grabbing his wrist she whispered through gritted teeth. ‘He is risking his life for you!’

  Silas slipped his wrist free and continued eating. ‘Pity it is too late to tell him not to go.’

  ‘Don’t you care? He is doing this run to get money for you!’

  Silas scoffed. ‘He cares nothing for me. Either he is a fool or has reasons of his own. Is he a fool, Jenna?’

  ‘He is no fool,’ she replied, not trying to hide the tenderness she felt for him.

  Silas heard it too.

  ‘I see he has charmed you. The trouble with you, Jenna, is that you are charmed too easily. Henry saw that flaw in you and used it to his advantage. Penhale is doing it too.’ He picked up his chicken leg again and waved it at her. ‘Don’t trust him,’ he warned her. ‘It is people like him that took our brothers away.’

  Jenna got up and picked up her lantern. ‘I’m not staying here to listen to you any more.’

  Silas looked up surprised. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Where do you think?’

  ‘To him?’ Silas grabbed her skirt. ‘I have always looked after you, Jenna, and made sure you had enough to eat when our parents disappeared.’ Jenna tried to pull her skirt free from his grasp, but he held it fast. ‘It was me that comforted you at night when you dreamt of the thief-taker coming to get you.’

  ‘Let go, Silas.’

  ‘It was me you ran to when you needed help.’

  Jenna pulled her skirt free. ‘That was when we were children.’

  Silas stood and tried to take the lantern from her. Jenna refused with a jerk of her hand making the lantern swing precariously.

  ‘It’s too late, Silas. I am a grown woman now.’

  He grabbed her arm, halting her. ‘I looked after you and now you want to risk your life for a man you barely know.’

  ‘Let go,’ said Jenna, pulling her arm away.

  Silas’s grip tightened. ‘All I hear about is this Jack Penhale.’

  ‘Let go, Silas.’

  ‘Stay here and eat with me. Let us be friends like we used to be. It is not safe to leave now.’

  ‘I have to warn Jack,’ Jenna replied crossly as she wrenched her arm away. ‘You have betrayed us.’

  A muscle worked in Silas’s jaw.

  ‘There is too much food here. Sit and eat,’ he commanded.

  ‘I would rather starve than eat with you.’

  ‘I am your brother!’

  ‘You are no better than Judas!’

  ‘Now you are being foolish.’

  ‘I was a fool, but no more.’ Jenna turned to leave.

  ‘If you go there, you might be killed,’ he called after her.

  ‘Then my blood will be on your hands!’ she shouted over her shoulder as she walked away.

  Jenna left him with his dishes and opened the door. Remaining oblivious to the heat and noise that greeted her from the other room, she weaved her way through the crowd, stopping and starting as people crossed her path and trunks were placed in her way. Finally her frustration got the better of her and she pushed a portly man out of her way. He glared furiously at her, but she did not care. She had other things on her mind. She had to warn Jack.

  She left the muted sounds of Lanros Inn behind its closed doors and headed towards home. Her concern for Jack’s safety gave her a new spurt of energy and she ran quickly along the track leading out of the valley. However, the steep gradient soon took its toll, and to her frustration her pace began to slow. By the time she reached the top, she was exhausted and could go no further without a rest. She reluctantly stopped and allowed her chest to heave in the precious air her lungs craved. Only the stamping of her feet and her hands on her hips showed her frustration at having to wait. Gradually her breathing and heart began to settle, and as soon as she was able she picked up her skirts and began to run again.

  As she ran, she could hear the waves crashing on the rocks of Porthenys Cove below her. Tonight she knew it was empty. Free of men’s boots churning up its grains, its sand would remain tranquil, smooth and glistening in the moonlight tonight. Jenna saw Jack’s house in the distance, its black silhouette standing out against the inky, star-studded sky. She decided she would check to see if he had returned, before going further towards Tudor Cove.

  The house was empty, but for the buzz of a single stray wasp. Duped into remaining active by the unusually warm autumn, it busied itself feasting on her apples and bacon. She looked at the dish she had made for Jack, enjoyed by an insect that should have died weeks ago. Jack should be here, she thought, not risking his life for her. Tears threatened. She called Jack’s name, desperate, yet still hopeful, that he would appear safe and well. For a moment silence greeted her, until the loud buzzing of the yellow and black pest began again.

  Jenna found another candle to replace the one in her lantern and within seconds she was running along the narrow cliff path towards Tudor Cove. Ignoring Jack and S
ilas, she was heading for the place they had warned her not to go, and holding a lantern to light her way.

  By the time Jenna arrived at Tudor Cove the coastal wind had dropped significantly. An uneasy stillness had replaced it, while a palpable tension emanated from the sandy cove below. Yet, all was quiet, far too quiet, for smuggling activities to be in progress. In fact, if a casual passer-by were to walk the nearby road, he would be forgiven for thinking the cove was deserted.

  Concerned she had been duped, Jenna drew closer and looked down over the sand dune. The beach was far from deserted. The dune’s sandy walls had succeeded in muffling the sound of the smugglers below. There was a whole new world down there and Jack was amongst it.

  Jenna surveyed the scene. The packhorses had already arrived and waited patiently on the firmer sand. Some appeared exhausted from their day working the land and hung their heads low as they tried to rest. Two or three horses were less experienced. They stamped their muffled hooves and repeatedly tossed their heads to dislodge the rags their handlers had tied around their mouths to silence them. Small groups of men stood nearby, waiting for the arrival of the first load, their heads bowing and turning now and again as they whispered the odd word. But for the most part they stood in silence, watching, waiting and waiting some more.

  Jenna turned her head and peeped through the reedy grass, which had made the inhospitable dry sand its home. She searched for Jack. She kept her lantern hidden beneath her shawl as the cloudless sky above carried no barrier against the soft light of the moon. At least fifty men, with blackened faces, were waiting for one of the small rowing boats to arrive on the shore. Jenna could not tell which one was Jack as their merging, shadowy figures all looked the same in the darkness. For the first time, Jenna realised the enormity of her task. If she ran onto the beach to look for Jack and warn him of the imminent attack, she would soon be caught and questioned by the other men on the beach. They would want to know how she came by such information and why she chose to only warn Jack. She would not only risk her own well being by such a foolish act, but her brother’s and that of the man she wanted to help.