The Cornish Lady

by Nicola Pryce

  ‘It’s obvious I don’t know him at all!’ I breathed deeply. I had never, ever begged before and I would never do so again. ‘I had him down as a gentleman but he clearly isn’t. We need to find someone in authority – someone who can override his unlawful arrest.’

  Private Evans ambled towards us, slipping the kitten back into his pocket as we followed him across the rough grass. At the gatehouse, Private Mallory was waiting to sign us out. ‘Will you come again and grace us with that lovely smile of yours, Mrs Bohenna?’

  ‘Indeed I will, Private Mallory. And I’ll bake you some potato bread – to remind you of home.’

  Once over the drawbridge, she put her hand on my shoulder, drawing me back. ‘If you mean Lord Entworth, I’d advise you against it. And it’s no good looking so shocked, Kitty told me.’

  I stared back at her. ‘She wasn’t meant to tell anyone.’

  ‘Well, I’m not anyone, am I? I’m her best friend – of course she’s going to tell me. And you were very good in the play, by the way – very good. Just like your dear mamma… Now, about Henry Trevelyan – the truth, please, Angelica.’

  We picked our way down the path, my burden lifting with every step. She said nothing, grateful for my hand when the path was slippery, resting on a boulder as I finished. ‘And that’s the truth.’ Well, half the truth; she did not need to know about the moonlit walk in the gardens of Trenwyn House.

  ‘So, Henry Trevelyan was commissioned by Sir Alex Pendarvis to investigate the robberies and he thought to pose as a coachman to be in the very thick of things. I’d say that’s clever, wouldn’t you? And your brother and Sir Jacob hired him – so he knows your brother frequents opium dens. He refused your offer of a bribe to keep quiet about both the play and being kidnapped and he clearly disliked you offering to pay for Edgar’s release. I’d say not a dishonourable man, then, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘He clearly is – don’t you see he was threatening us? If I go to anyone in authority, he’ll hand them the dish and the necklace and Edgar will be arrested again.’

  ‘Well, yes, I agree he has us over a barrel, yet keeping Edgar’s name secret is in itself a puzzle. Why’s he done that? He knew Edgar’s identity the moment he saw him, yet he chose to file the arrest under Mr Ellis?’ Her soft blue eyes looked remarkably sharp. ‘You’ve told me absolutely everything, have you, my dear? There’s no reason why Mr Trevelyan might be protecting Edgar – or someone close to Edgar?’

  ‘No, no reason at all.’

  My answer had been quickly said and she raised her eyebrows. ‘Well, we’ll just have to wait for Edgar’s head to clear so he can tell us his side of the event. Come, we must hurry. But let me assure you, my dear, I’m going to get that boy back to health if it’s the last thing I do.’ She drew a deep breath, wiping away a tear. ‘I was wrong not to come back. I should’ve come back the moment your poor mamma died – what kind of woman abandons her best friend’s children? You poor bairns – you were left motherless to face the world and I should’ve taken no notice of your father.’

  ‘I always thought you two had quarrelled…’

  She stopped to catch her breath, staring down at Fortitude now moored alongside the quay. A line of soldiers guarded the empty dock, the cranes straining under the weight of huge sacks. ‘We did, my love, and it saddens me greatly.’ The hurt in her voice wrenched my heart. ‘I wrote to tell your father that as Luke was well settled in St Bartholomew’s Hospital, I’d be more than happy to come back to look after the pair of you…I told him, plain and simple, that I didn’t like the idea of you going to that fortress of a boarding school so soon after your poor mamma left you…and that I’d be happy to come back to Truro to be with you both. But he was adamant. He wrote back – in no uncertain terms, mind – saying that you were very well cared for and that I was to stay in London with Luke. He said you were getting on as well as could be expected without your dear mother.’

  ‘That’s because they censored our letters. I used to write each letter at least four times. In the end, I just gave up and wrote what they wanted me to write.’

  She pulled me to her, holding me tightly. ‘Oh, you poor wee child. You weren’t happy there, were you? And there I was believing you didn’t write because you’d settled in so well and had such smart new friends – like Miss Carew and Lord Entworth!’

  ‘We could only write to close family. Anyway, you changed your lodgings – when I did write, my letter was returned. You didn’t leave a forwarding address…’

  Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh, my dear love, how can you say that?’ She retrieved her handkerchief, wiping her sudden tears. ‘I sent my new address straight away. You must believe me – it was the very first thing I did.’

  Seagulls were screeching across the rocks, their haunted cries tearing my heart; both of us so wounded, both trying to hold back our tears. ‘Yes, well. Father probably didn’t want you to come back to Truro because he was too busy with his fancy woman. He didn’t love Mamma. He was carrying on with a woman before Mamma died.’

  I knew it would shock her but I could not stop myself. She had asked for the truth and after years of hiding behind my mask and not showing my true feelings, I was telling her every last grain of it. All the people I loved – her, Luke, Edgar, even Kitty and Theo Gilmore – swept conveniently far away so Father could pursue his wealth and keep his fancy woman.

  She blew her nose. ‘Well, they should marry – seven years is quite long enough. And it’s time you called me Mary, my dear.’

  The breeze blew against my cheeks, the sun sparkling on the vast blue waters of Carrick Roads. In the distance, I could see the curve of the river and the bay below Trenwyn House. ‘It’s all over – he finished with her three months ago.’

  ‘How do you know that? I hope it’s not servant gossip.’

  ‘No, it’s not. It’s all neatly entered in Father’s accounts. Did you know if you press a key into warm wax, they can cast you another? A friend of mine in the smelting house did it for me. Of course, I said it was my key, not one for Father’s desk!’

  ‘Angelica!’

  ‘Well, I like to know what’s going on – and I noticed the payments stopped three months ago but that’s hardly surprising. It had to end because Lady Boswell has now got her beautifully manicured nails into Father. They left together – the two of them alone in the carriage all the way to her sister’s house – if that was where they were going. Molly’s convinced they’re going to come back married. Are you all right, Mary, only you don’t look very well? Is it the heat? Let’s get you to some shade.’

  The pain left her face, in its place, steely resolution. ‘Angelica, you and I are going to go straight back, and you, my dearest child, are going to write a very long and detailed letter to your father.’ Her lips pursed. ‘You’re to tell him everything – about Edgar but most especially about Jacob Boswell’s atrocious behaviour. If Lady Clarissa has expressed her doubts about the Boswell family, then we must act on them. Make sure you tell him about Kitty Gilmore and that you were excellent in the play. No more lies.’

  She looked distraught, fighting back her tears, and a lump caught my throat. ‘No more lies. I’ll tell him everything.’

  She blew her nose. ‘I don’t believe Henry Trevelyan’s a wicked man, Angelica – I think he’s just doing what he believes is right. It can’t have been easy having you plead with him like that – a weaker man might well have given in.’

  ‘It would have shown great strength, not weakness.’

  ‘Well, whether we like it or not, he speaks the truth – if Edgar had been arrested by anyone else he’d be facing the gallows by now.’

  An icy hand gripped my heart. ‘But it’s only his word against Edgar’s – what if his precious Transport Board just wants to stop the rumours about escaped French prisoners? Henry Trevelyan would need to arrest an Englishman, wouldn’t he? He’d need to bait a trap to catch some poor, misguided man with an opium addiction who can’t answer back. That’s what
we’re facing. He set a trap and he caught his man.’

  The town was uncannily quiet, groups of people huddling together with anxious frowns. The market had been cleared, the children playing hopscotch, their mothers looking over their shoulders with furtive glances. Mary opened her front door and picked up a beautifully written invitation from the silver dish on the table.

  ‘Well, this is very kind – I’m honoured, to be sure. And so will Luke be – look, Angelica, Lady Clarissa has invited us to her musical evening tomorrow. How very kind of her.’

  My bonnet changed, my shoes rubbed free of mud, and I stood on the doorstep ready to leave. I turned with a jolt. Horace was crouching at my feet, looking up at me with cocked ears and wagging tail, and I turned in delight. ‘Amelia, Charity, what perfect timing! This is my friend Mrs Bohenna. We bumped into each other and I lost all sense of time. Mrs Bohenna, may I introduce my very good friend, Miss Amelia Carew and her sister-in-law Mrs Charity Carew?’

  They curtseyed, their open parasols shielding them from the sun. ‘Elizabeth told us Benjamin had said you’d met each other so we knew you were safe. What a terrible to-do. It’s all quiet now but it sounds like there was a terrible free-for-all. Major Basset called in the Dragoons. Apparently there was such a crowd he read the riot act…and we’ve heard he’s had four people arrested. Mamma’s furious and so is Elizabeth. She said the whole affair was heavy-handed and conducted in very bad spirit.’

  Mary stooped to stroke Horace’s head. ‘A terrible business indeed – poor starving men…Well, we can only hope and pray they show some mercy and set them free. But, seeing as you’re here, Miss Carew, I’m thrilled to accept your very kind invitation. Dr Bohenna and I will be honoured to attend your mother’s musical evening – it’s very kind indeed of Lady Clarissa to invite us. I’ll write to her, of course, but just while you’re here.’ She smiled. ‘You have a very fine dog, Mrs Carew. A wolfhound of some sort?’

  ‘A wolfhound of all sorts, Mrs Bohenna, but he has a very endearing character and is highly intelligent. He adores my son and never leaves my side. My husband brought him home after a walk. Apparently the dog was starving and just got up from the ditch and walked by his side. That was that. He hasn’t left mine or my son’s side since.’

  Mary Bohenna straightened. ‘What a dear dog. I wonder, would it be possible for me to see Angelica again tomorrow? I know we’ve spoken all morning – but we’ve still so much to catch up with. I was a great friend of her dear mother. We lived in Truro before we moved to London.’

  Amelia slipped her arm through mine. ‘Of course it would. Would eleven o’clock suit you, Mrs Bohenna? We can drop Angelica off on our walk with Freddie.’

  Sunbeams streamed into the room, lighting the whirls on the carpet, glinting on the silver ink pot on the desk in front of me; Charity and Amelia were singing, Mrs Penrose accompanying them on the piano. Lady Clarissa and Freddie were rolling oranges to each other across the floor and I had nearly finished my letter. I reread the last paragraph.

  Jacob Boswell’s conduct towards me in the coach confirms he is both dishonourable and a bad influence on Edgar, yet my concerns go deeper than that. Jacob Boswell neither drinks nor takes opium. He remains in control of his actions, never stepping out of line, yet I witnessed him lead Edgar straight into an opium den when he should have been seeing him safely to bed. I believe he encourages Edgar to take the substance. The more Edgar loses control of his senses, the more money Jacob can squeeze out of him. Lady Clarissa speaks of severe debt, a history of gambling, and I truly believe it was Jacob Boswell who stole Lady Clarissa’s silver dish.

  I had never spoken so freely to Father, nor ever admitted to myself how much I wanted to. But Mary was right. From now on, everything would be different. No more lies, no more play-acting. No pretending to be someone I was not – truth, not artifice, as Lady Clarissa had put it.

  Amelia drew her cloak around her, gazing up at the starlit sky. There was no wind, just the fresh smell of salt and the sound of a lonely fiddle. ‘The town’s very quiet – and you’re very quiet, too. You’ve hardly spoken all evening. No one expects you to sing, Angelica. Why don’t you read a poem – or say one of those long soliloquys you were made to learn as a punishment? Circe isn’t expected in tomorrow. We’ve another day to wait – poor Charity can hardly bear it.’

  Moonlight danced on the black water; my best friend, yet I knew I must keep silent. I could not tell her Edgar lay shaking in a prison cell, watched over by a man I had once thought honourable. ‘This must be so hard for you,’ I whispered.

  She swallowed, shrugging her shoulders, clasping her hands together. ‘I don’t know – I thought it would be. I was dreading it yet…’ She hesitated, as if not wanting to say the words she was about to say. ‘I saw his mother today and her grief is still so raw, yet mine…my grief’s still there – it will always be lodged deep inside me – but I was talking to her and I suddenly realized I had no memory of his face. I can’t see him in my mind any more – I’m losing his memory and that saddens me almost more.’

  I reached for her hand. ‘He wouldn’t want you to be sad. He’d want you to be happy.’

  ‘That’s what Mother says.’ She forced a smile. ‘Mrs Bohenna seems a very pleasant lady. Her bonnet was particularly pretty and she has such a warm smile. She’s Irish, like your mother?’

  ‘She’s so like Mamma, I didn’t realize how much I missed her until I saw her today. Mary and Mamma were friends in London – Mary married an apothecary and came to Truro and Father used to visit their shop. Mary thought Father would be perfect for Mamma so she asked him to deliver a parcel to Mamma when he next went to London.’

  ‘She brought your parents together?’

  I nodded. ‘I’ve known Luke all my life and I’m so happy for him. He’s where he should be, doing what he always wanted to do. I used to goad him into misbehaving but he never did! He was too upright – he always wanted to be a doctor and now he is one.’ I reached for my handkerchief, the tears I had been trying to hold back flooding my cheeks. Luke was there for Edgar, he would get him better. ‘I’ve always adored Luke. Wait until you meet him – I know you’ll like him.’

  She reached for my hand. ‘Angelica – don’t cry.’ I could not answer, the kindness in her voice making it worse. ‘Is it seeing Luke again? You love him, is that it?’ She lifted my chin, forcing me to look at her. ‘Is that what this is all about? You don’t have to marry Lord Entworth, you know.’

  I shook my head, pulling the lace on my handkerchief. ‘I don’t know what I feel about Lord Entworth. He has such a powerful presence…when I stand next to him my heart races, but I think it’s fear, not love. He’s utterly charming but I keep thinking I might say or do the wrong thing.’

  She squeezed my hand. ‘You silly goose – you never say or do the wrong thing. But fear’s not a good start to a marriage – especially you who are so fearless. Tell him you’d want to race gigs down that long drive of his – that you’re passionate about plays and reading – that you’d want all your servants to learn to read and write. Let him know of your generous gifts to the library and hospital.’

  ‘Anonymous gifts are meant to remain anonymous, Amelia!’ I looked up. ‘And what do you mean…fearless?’

  She smiled, smoothing a tear-soaked curl from my cheek. ‘Standing up to Miss Mitchell? Leaving her in no doubt about how she should be educating us, not just teaching us how to embroider or get in and out of barouches? Angelica, we won’t leave you alone with Lord Entworth if it’s making you uncomfortable. If you feel the need to be rescued, just swap your fan into your left hand and we’ll come running. That’s the signal I always use.’ She closed the shutters. ‘Come, we really do need to get some sleep.’

  You who are so fearless. The gingerbread pig lay flung in the waste bin, the pain of Henry Trevelyan’s betrayal still cutting like a knife. I had been too free with him, both times completely myself: no mask, no biting back my words, the real Angelica Lilly s
tanding so defiantly, the horses’ hooves thundering beneath her. Laughing at the danger, flinging away the key; the real Angelica Lilly slipping from the house by moonlight, glancing up at the ladders she knew would take her back to her room.

  I had exposed myself so completely. Well, let him know the real me, let him take heed. Let him understand just how fearless I would be in my brother’s defence.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Falmouth

  Tuesday 9th August 1796, 11:00 a.m.

  Charity and Amelia turned to wave goodbye. ‘What a lovely little boy – as blond and bonny as his mother.’ Mary turned, picking up a basket, handing me another. ‘This one’s for Edgar, the other’s for the men at the gate – poor souls, so far from home and most of them unwell.’

  We followed the well-worn path, the seagulls calling from their wide circle above us. ‘I left Edgar as comfortable as I could. The dear boy’s just skin and bones, and I’ve learned words I never knew possible – dreadful they were.’

  I grimaced, raising my eyebrows. ‘Mamma called it foundry language. Luke never let us teach it to him.’

  ‘I should hope not! I’ve brought a rabbit pie and plenty of oranges – Henry needs feeding just the same as Edgar.’

  Private Mallory was waiting for us, his coat tightly buttoned, the last wisps of his grey hair oiled neatly across his forehead. ‘And a very good morning it is, Mrs Bohenna. Well, now then, you shouldn’t.’ He beamed broadly as Mary reached into her basket. ‘Cherry jam – would you believe that, Private Evans? And a wee drop of whiskey? You’re too good to us, Mrs Bohenna. I’ll sign you in. Just you follow young Evans – no need for paperwork.’

  ‘And how is Lily today, Private Evans?’

  ‘Purring like a tiger, Mrs Bohenna.’ We crossed the grass, the sheep bleating loudly as a group of choughs strode angrily among them. The sea was calm, a ship with white sails entering the harbour. Private Evans shielded his eyes from the sun, wheezing as he smiled. ‘I’ll be waiting for you, ladies. Just you take your time.’