The Cornish Lady

by Nicola Pryce

  The crew began hauling in the sails. ‘Mind ye heads – take a step back…steady as she goes.’ They held the ropes tightly, letting the sails out on the other side of the ship, and we watched them fill, feeling the sudden pull as the power of the wind took hold.

  ‘Without your mother we’d have been destitute. I’ll never forget her kindness. My mother took in sewing and we scraped by.’ There was no seeking pity in his voice. No reproach. No sense of injustice or anger, just stating the facts like Mamma used to state them.

  ‘Mother had no shoes when she was young. She stole a pair so she could stowaway and leave Ireland.’ I had never said those words before, yet they slipped from my tongue before I could stop them. ‘She risked getting hung but she was determined to escape the beatings.’ I stopped. I was telling him too much. Like the night in the shrubbery when I had talked to him as a friend.

  ‘I’m glad she got away. Unlike your mother, my childhood had been happy. My father was a clerk as my grandfather was before him and I believe we would have prospered, but unaccounted losses were found in the company where my grandfather kept the books. Large sums had gone missing and the blame was placed squarely on my grandfather’s shoulders.’

  ‘That’s terrible – I assume he was innocent.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you, Miss Lilly – others presumed him guilty. He was charged with fraud and false accounting and they demanded he repay the missing sum. It was a substantial amount of money and he obviously couldn’t pay so he was imprisoned for debt. My father then spent every hour God sent him working to repay the losses.’

  ‘But he didn’t succeed?’

  ‘He did succeed – finally. In time for my grandfather to come home to die.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Thank you, it was a bitter loss. Gaol fever had my grandfather in its grip but we got him home and that pleased my mother. My father’s heart was never sound and the very next morning he failed to rise from his bed.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘He’d used up all his strength to clear our name. My mother had just given birth to my second sister and all Father’s earnings had been used to pay the debt. We’d moved from a comfortable home to the rooms by the tannery. We had nothing. My mother was still weak from childbirth and found herself alone with three small children to feed and clothe. But for your mother’s goodness we’d have been on the streets.’

  I was grateful he stayed staring ahead and did not look at me. The smell from the tannery had been so foul: I had sat fighting my nausea, counting down the minutes, impatient to leave. Yet that was the home of Henry Trevelyan – a boy too proud to cry at the sight of a basket, too ashamed to let me see he was wearing no shoes.

  The river was widening, narrow strips of mud glistening down either side of the wooded banks. Herons stood silently at the water’s edge, cormorants stretching out their wings to dry. There was salt in the air and I breathed deeply, freeing myself from the smell of the tannery. Soon we would cross to the right side of the river and navigate the tight bend below Trenwyn House. Henry’s jacket was warm around my shoulders.

  ‘You think me profligate, don’t you? You think Edgar and I are spoilt.’

  He did not answer, then his voice hardened. ‘On the contrary; I became your brother’s coachman because I owed it to your mother to see Edgar came to no harm.’

  A shiver ran down my spine. He had known Mamma – he held her memory in his heart and I stifled my tears. I wanted to tell him I was glad he had made good, that Mamma would have been thrilled that the family had risen from their misfortune, but I could not. He was my brother’s gaoler. ‘If you really mean that, you’d free Edgar…’

  His mouth tightened. ‘I can protect his identity but I can’t set him free. The robberies must be accounted for – I owe that to Sir Alexander Pendarvis.’

  ‘Please, Henry. For Mother’s kindness – for Molly…’

  He stared ahead. ‘Your mother’s generosity kept us alive but I owe everything else to Sir Alexander. I was one of his Foundation Boys. From the age of eleven he fed and clothed me and spared no expense on my education. My debt to Sir Alexander knows no limit and neither does my admiration for him. The prisoners in Kergilliack could only dig that tunnel because files had been smuggled into the gaol. The same prisoners are in my care and we have a series of reported robberies. I have no idea who is out there or what their plan is but your brother is the only link.’

  The captain bellowed from the tiller: ‘Slowly does it…keep watching…shout when we’re clear.’ A notorious mudbank reached far below the waterline, grounding unwary ships who failed to give it a wide berth. Silence fell among the passengers as we watched the ship edging closer to the right-hand bank; the crew were running along the deck, peering over the side, shouting back to their captain. ‘Two feet starboard.…starboard. That does it…the pole’s passin’ to port.’

  The wind was lost behind the trees, the sails jolting on their slack ropes, but for the fast-flowing current, we would have been in irons. The ship kept its course, inching slowly round the bend, and we caught the wind again, the sails filling, sweeping us towards the wide waters of Carrick Sound.

  On the rise of the hill, Trenwyn House came slowly into sight. Rowing boats were moored against the jetty, laughter ringing across the sweeping lawns. They could not see me, but I saw them – a tall blond man in naval uniform, three small boys running rings around him. Charity was clapping her hands, Amelia clutching a cricket bat, Lady Clarissa poised to bowl. A second man in naval uniform stood awkwardly by the wicket, Jethro showing him how to hold the bat, and from the deck of the ship we saw bemusement in the shrug of the Frenchman’s shoulders.

  Henry’s smile turned to sudden laughter. ‘Eighteen months at sea and straight out to play cricket. The poor man – he can’t possibly have bargained for that.’ Our eyes caught, and a visceral pain seemed to tear me apart.

  ‘That’s Captain Pierre de la Croix – he’s given his parole to Frederick but I expect you already know that. You probably had to give your permission.’

  His shoulders stiffened as he lifted his chin. ‘Yes, as a matter of fact, I did give my permission.’ A new harshness entered his tone. ‘Miss Lilly, I understand how difficult this is for you. I know you may want to elicit the help of your influential friends—’

  ‘May want to? Of course I want to – but you threatened me, if you remember, Mr Trevelyan – the necklace and the silver dish that you’ll hand over at the first sign of interference? I’ve only agreed to come with you because I want to help my brother – please don’t think I trust you. The first sign of any danger to Edgar’s life and I’m going to elicit the help of—’

  ‘Lord Entworth? Yes, Miss Lilly, I’m fully aware of your situation – Molly made it quite clear how proud she is of your imminent rise to the highest echelons of society.’

  I felt crushed by the bitterness in his voice. ‘Molly had no business telling you.’ I was going to say Matthew Reith, the foremost barrister in Cornwall, but if he thought I was to marry Lord Entworth then so much the better. Let him believe Lord Entworth would throw his weight behind me: let him understand I would do anything in my power to save my brother from the gallows.

  ‘Edgar and Sir Jacob Boswell often spoke of your engagement – I think there are very few who haven’t heard, but I must warn you, I know Lord Entworth and I know his methods – he and Sir Alex have locked horns on many occasions. Lord Entworth may be all powerful, but in your brother’s case, we have the law on our side.’

  My heart froze. ‘Is that another threat, Mr Trevelyan?’

  His voice was like iron. ‘Merely stating the truth, Miss Lilly.’

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Awkwardness fell between us. He held his shoulders stiffly, firmer lines forming around his mouth, and I took off his coat, no longer wanting it around my shoulders. He took it back, protesting I must not get cold. There was tension in his voice, formality in his movements, and we stood wat
ching the deepening waves in frosty silence.

  ‘Would ye like an apple, sir?’ Dirt smudged the pale face of the boy holding up his basket; the sleeves of his jacket were turned at the cuffs, a rope keeping his trousers in place. Henry nodded, choosing two of the reddest apples and handed him a coin. The boy stared as if turned to stone. ‘I’ve…I’ve no change.’

  Henry shook his head, turning round, throwing one of the apples in the air and catching it with a smile. The boy’s mouth gaped, his eyes filled with tears. ‘Thank ye, sir…thank ye… thank ye.’ He almost tripped over his feet as he ran to his mother.

  Henry swung his leather bag from his shoulders, opening the buckles to put the apples inside. The chequered cloth must have caught his attention and he glanced at me. ‘Shall we eat, Miss Lilly? Molly’s packed us a very fine meal.’

  ‘I’m not hungry. You may eat if you like.’ It had been a sovereign – a gold sovereign.

  ‘Are you sure? This all looks very appetizing.’ He laid the cloth out on a wooden crate, arranging the food carefully. ‘Let me at least give you a slice of Molly’s home-cured ham…oh, look…how wonderful – she’s given us some of her home-made cheese. And look, some rather lovely apple tart – this is a real feast.’

  He sounded like an excited child and I had to turn away. He had known Mamma. He had loved her. Any other time, any other situation, and I would have warmed to this man who took such delight in simple fare – a man who recognized hunger in a young boy’s eyes. I took his proffered plate, staring at the ships that were pulling away from us.

  ‘I wonder where those ships are going? When a ship slips her moorings, my curiosity is always aroused.’ The corn bread was freshly baked, the cheese unlike any other; the jar of chutney lay untasted in the bag.

  ‘So’s mine,’ he replied, smiling but not looking at me. He was eating his meal carefully, savouring every bite. ‘I believe your father has a fleet of ships – I believe he imports coal from South Wales and uses the same ships to export his ore. Useful to have his own wharf.’

  ‘He doesn’t have his own wharf. He wishes he does – competition for space is fierce. He has constant rows with the harbourmaster. He gets fined for blocking the quayside…yet delays happen all the time and where else is the coal meant to go once it’s unloaded? The penalties for blocking a wharf have become very costly.’

  ‘And rightly so.’

  ‘Yes, rightly so – but the quays are too crowded. There’s insufficient space for the demand and the increased mooring fees add greatly to the cost of the cargo. The low tide delays too many ships…too many vessels have deep drafts and those who time the tide wrongly risk getting grounded. Many have to stop in Malpas – then they miss their place on the quayside and that also attracts a fine. Father uses the wharf further up, but the costs are crippling.’

  ‘Surely it’s good for the town to have a busy port?’

  ‘But it’s not good for businesses that have to pay the spiralling harbour dues. Some ships aren’t insured against blocking the quayside. There’s a very fine line between profit and loss. Father’s decided to build his next smelter in Sir James Polcarrow’s new harbour. The sea lock will ensure a quick turnover and there’s plenty of space for his ore.’

  Henry uncorked the ale, pouring it into two pewter cups. ‘Sir James is very far-sighted. But tariffs and taxes change by the week – it’s not always the fault of the harbourmaster.’

  ‘I know – it’s because we’re at war. Truro’s problems are nothing compared to ports like Falmouth or Plymouth.’

  His eyes pierced mine. ‘You take a great interest in ships, Miss Lilly.’

  ‘Women don’t just like to sew and read novels, Mr Trevelyan – we’re just as interested in newspapers. We’re an island nation – ships are in our blood. This war is about protecting our shipping interests as much as anything. Our trade routes need to be maintained.’

  He handed me a pewter cup. ‘Those who control the trade routes hold the greater power. Crush your enemy’s prosperity and you crush your enemy’s ability to fund wars.’

  ‘Exactly. Trade brings prosperity and prosperity funds hospitals and schools as well as war. We need all the prosperity we can get.’

  ‘Yet France has opened her ports to neutral trade.’

  ‘France can do what she likes. I believe Britain must look to her own interests. We must protect our trade routes – allow unrestricted trade like the French and we’ll lose our advantage. If ships are allowed to trade with countries prohibited to them before the war, then Britain’s trade will suffer, and probably very badly.’

  ‘I see you’re a protectionist, Miss Lilly. You believe Britain must protect her interests at all costs?’

  ‘Why not? Would you have us hand everything over to the French?’

  ‘No. But those forbidden to trade with British colonies think very differently. Many view your protectionist policies as discriminating against countries who are struggling to make their way – imposing shackles on the weak. What about the countries striving to trade without the benefit of colonies?’

  ‘The French have colonies – the Spanish – the Portuguese – the Dutch. Britain’s not alone in owning colonies – nor in wanting to protect her home markets.’

  ‘Yet the new regime in France thinks differently. Their Republican idealism fuels a desire to embrace free trade. Allow a country to trade with whom it wants and you liberate it from tyranny and oppression. And many would argue they have a point.’ He took off his glasses, cleaning them with a freshly laundered handkerchief. ‘Take America, for example; she’s no longer protected by Britain – she fought hard for her independence only to find her ships barred from every British port – every port in every British colony is now lost to her. Her prosperity is threatened.’

  ‘Some may argue that those terms were made very clear when they fought for independence.’

  ‘Indeed they were. Yet it was a risk they were willing to take. They had hoped for better terms – they view Britain’s imposed trade restrictions as gross discrimination.’

  ‘I understand that, Mr Trevelyan. The states of America are calling for reciprocity – what we might call an equal playing field. Britain’s hampering their prosperity and they’re demanding we improve our treatment of their ships in their home market. The spiralling tariffs and high import duties are crippling their new government and in order for them to flourish they need to establish new trade routes or negotiate better deals with the British colonies – trade routes they’ve previously used, but now find themselves barred from. Of course they’re fighting for free trade.’

  ‘Indeed, Miss Lilly. You have it in a nutshell.’

  The approbation in his smile jolted me into smiling back. I had never talked so freely – certainly never with Father. If only he would not smile at me like that: if only he would shout, or argue, not speak so eloquently. I turned away, biting my bottom lip. There was so much more I wanted to discuss. I felt suddenly envious, imagining Luke and Mary and Edgar sitting round the table, having thrilling conversations about commerce and philosophy. Was this how he talked with Edgar long into the night? Reading poetry as the dawn broke?

  ‘If the ship’s neutral then aren’t the goods neutral? Only, I’ve heard neutral vessels are being seized.’

  He looked up, obviously delighted I wanted to continue our discussion. ‘Neutral ships should be safe, Miss Lilly, but the truth is they’re not. We’re at war – no ships are safe.’ He smiled again and I knew to look away. ‘To sail French waters you need a signed piece of paper – a rôle d’équipage – or the cargo will be confiscated. Yet how to obtain a French-issued pass without entering French waters eludes most people!’ He laughed and I tried not to laugh with him. My heart was ripping in two. For the first time in my life a man was speaking to me as an equal, as if he valued my opinion. He looked down at the last piece of apple pie. ‘Miss Lilly, may I tempt you with another piece of pie?’

  He smiled again and I hated the way his eye
s held such brilliance; intelligent, laughing eyes – the eyes of my brother’s gaoler.

  ‘Molly will have put it in for you,’ I said sharply. ‘She always expects men to have second helpings.’ I stared at the riverbank, watching the ship’s wake disturb the ducks swimming among the reeds.

  He frowned, shaking his head. ‘That hardly seems fair. May I suggest we go half and half? Here…’ He cut the remaining piece in two, quickly handing it to me to stop it breaking into pieces. He licked his finger and the icy grip resumed its clutch.

  ‘I presume Sir Alex secured you your job with the Transport Board? What do you do? Supply the prisons – organize their food and clothes? They must need boots and hammocks and you must have to keep everyone updated in London.’

  ‘Should I be employed by the Transport Board then yes, that would be my job.’ He wiped his mouth with one of the napkins and started returning everything to his bag. ‘As it happens, I didn’t take up Sir Alex’s offers of employment – it was against his advice but I was too restless.’ The tension in his jaw returned. ‘My mother had remarried and my family were well cared for…a ship was leaving for New York and I boarded it.’

  ‘You went to America?’ I had to hide my sudden envy.

  ‘I was twenty-one.’ He did up the buckles on his leather bag, replacing the strap over his shoulder. ‘I needed to be out in the world.’ He stood up, staring stonily across the riverbank across the vast gardens of Carrick Hall and I knew I, too, must glance along the line of Greek statues.

  I must let my eyes linger on the rills and fountains. He must see me smile, as if remembering some whispered intimacies in the folly. I must incline my neck, gaze across the splendid gardens to the imposing façade of the Palladian mansion. He would be watching from the corner of his eye and I would not disappoint. First a shallow intake of breath, then the slightest flicker of my eyelids – I knew exactly what to do; I had it to perfection.