The Cornish Lady

by Nicola Pryce

‘No, definitely not. I love it here. I want to be here.’

  The boat was gliding towards the jetty and we ran to catch the ropes. Daniel Maddox was standing at the prow, his wide-brimmed hat flopping over his forehead. He was wearing what looked like a new green waistcoat, a cream linen shirt and a smart red neck chief. He stood smiling shyly at Amelia as she expertly caught the rope.

  The boatman stepped ashore and took it from her. ‘Thank you, Miss. There, I’ve got her. Steady she goes.’ Another two men stepped ashore with ropes and we walked back down the jetty, watching them unload the last of the glass boxes.

  Daniel Maddox began fussing over them like a mother hen. ‘Thank you – over there. They’re very precious. They’re mainly glass…if you wouldn’t mind…it’s just that they’ve been especially made and…well, they’re very expensive. If the glass breaks they’ll be no use.’ He took off his hat, running his hand through his hair. ‘If you can take them one at a time, I can store them in the hothouse. Thank you… thank you most kindly. I appreciate your help. Steady as you go.’

  He walked in front of them, stopping at the wall where we were sitting. ‘Good afternoon, Miss Carew, Miss Lilly; a beautiful day.’ His eyes plummeted to his newly polished boots.

  Amelia smiled. ‘Indeed it is, Mr Maddox. Are those the last of your boxes?’

  ‘They are. I only hope they survive. I’m to pack them tight with straw…Nail planks over the glass to keep them tight. I’ve got the nails and the planks and I’m to do that once I’ve filled them with soil.’ He wrung his hands. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been so nervous about anything. Mr Fraser is very particular – I need to get this right.’

  Amelia slipped from the wall. ‘I’m sure you’ve done everything you can, Mr Maddox. He couldn’t have picked a better man for the job – you’ve an exciting adventure ahead of you.’ She looked at the solid oak box with the glass lid. ‘They look splendid – very sturdy. What happens when the plants grow more than two feet?’

  ‘Then we’ll prop the lids open. We won’t disturb the roots as there’ll be enough soil to sustain a year’s growth – we just need to get the plants established under glass, then we’ll gradually open the vents and introduce them to different temperatures.’

  ‘They’re very clever,’ I said. ‘Indeed, I almost envy you your journey.’

  He swallowed, pulling at his new neck chef. ‘Thank you. Yet the nearer it comes to leaving, Miss Lilly, the more reluctant I am to go. I love this garden…it’s…well…suffice to say it’s going to be hard to leave.’ He hurried up the path, my heart following him. The poor man had tears in his eyes. He turned at the entrance to the walled garden, reaching into his pocket. ‘Oh, Miss Lilly, I nearly forgot. Mrs Fox gave me this letter for you.’

  ‘Thank you.’ I ran to him, drawing a deep breath, slipping my finger beneath the seal, smoothing the letter against my lap. Her writing looked hurried: no formalities or pleasantries. Just a few scribbled lines and I thought I might faint.

  My dearest Angelica,

  The ship used by the prisoners is insured through us. The owner is Mr Edward Banks in Penryn. Robert wrote to him directly and we have just received his reply. I must warn you – the ship was commissioned and paid for by Mr Edgar Lilly for the week commencing the 10th.

  Written in haste,

  Your friend,

  Elizabeth

  Someone was calling, Bethany running down the lawn holding her skirt high. She doubled over, catching her breath. ‘Mr Carew’s back and Lady Clarissa wants ye both to come.’

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  They were in the drawing room; Amelia’s brother, William, standing with his back to the mantelpiece, Lord Carew by the open window. Lady Clarissa rose from her chair and just one look at her face made my heart plummet.

  ‘Come in, my dear. Shut the door.’ She held my hand tightly, drawing me next to her on the chaise longue. Amelia grabbed my other hand and we sat in a rigid row, staring back at William Carew, eldest son, William and Henry’s father, the next Lord Carew.

  His glance was awkward, his raised brows slicing across his forehead just like his father’s. ‘There’s no way of dressing this up, Miss Lilly, I’m afraid you must prepare yourself for a shock…I’ve just returned from Falmouth…Your brother – believe me, this is very difficult…’ He was stouter than Frederick and not so blond, with the Carew good looks and the bearing of a farmer. His cheeks were rounder than his father’s but he had his same ruddy complexion and hearty manner. His hair was worn short, his riding boots covered in dust. He glanced at his mother.

  ‘Angelica, you must be brave, my love. Your brother is in Falmouth. He is held prisoner at the castle under suspicion of helping the French prisoners to escape – he—’

  ‘I know…’ I whispered.

  ‘You know? Oh, Angelica! You know your brother’s being held in Pendennis Castle and you didn’t think to tell us? How do you know?’

  ‘Mrs Bohenna told me when we were in Falmouth.’ My hands were trembling, my heart hammering. ‘I wanted to tell you…I so, so wanted to tell you but I didn’t dare – Henry Trevelyan arrested him…’ I stopped. I needed to be careful. ‘I wrote to Father straight away, telling him what had happened and urging him to hurry…and I’ve been waiting… hoping, desperately praying he’d come. I was petrified of the scandal…petrified of shaming you…shaming my family. I thought if Father could only get here, he’d sort it out – get Edgar freed…’ Tears rolled down my cheeks.

  Amelia loosened my hand and reached for her handkerchief. ‘Oh Angelica – of course you were frightened, but you really should have told us.’

  ‘I just prayed and hoped no one would find out. Edgar wasn’t being held under his own name – he was being held as Mr Ellis so I thought there was a chance it could all be resolved and no one would ever know…I thought if Father came quickly he would resolve it…that it was all a prank… some silly, foolish prank…and Edgar would be freed. Just a misunderstanding – something that could be resolved and no one need ever know.’

  William Carew shook his head; he had kind eyes but his face remained stern. His voice was soft but firm. ‘It’s more than a misunderstanding, Miss Lilly.’

  I held out my letter. ‘I know, I’ve just this minute received this letter from Mrs Fox. I don’t understand it – it can’t have been Edgar.’

  Lord Carew left the window, pulling up a chair to read my letter. He handed it to Lady Clarissa and leaned forward, clearly shocked. ‘The ship was commissioned by Mr Lilly? When was this?’

  ‘The negotiations were done by post – the payment arrived the day after Mr Lilly’s arrest but was dated the day of his arrest. I’ve just been with Mr Banks, the owner. The ship was required for two weeks and was paid for upfront. The master went straight to Falmouth to await instructions – he believed the cargo was to be lime. Mr Banks vehemently denies knowing or suspecting it would be used as an escape vessel. I’ve read the contract letter. It was signed by Edgar Lilly.’

  The room was spinning. ‘It couldn’t have been my brother. We have our own ships…’ Even as I said it, I knew how lame it sounded.

  ‘Anyone could have signed that letter – it means nothing.’ The strength in Amelia’s voice gave me courage. ‘Why was he arrested? What for?’

  ‘Well, there you have it. Henry Trevelyan’s resolutely refusing to tell us anything. He won’t let anyone near your brother. He’s not prepared to say a single word. States categorically it’s a matter for the Transport Board and the Transport Board alone…says he’s under no one’s jurisdiction except Admiral Sir Alexander Pendarvis’ and insists he’ll speak only to him when he returns. No one can verify the signature on the letter. He’s refusing point-blank to answer any of Major Basset’s questions – or show him any paperwork. The man will say nothing. He’s refusing anyone access to Mr Lilly. No one can talk to him until Sir Alex returns.’

  ‘That’s outrageous! The man’s a bloody fool. Alex has been sent for?’

 
; ‘Yes, Lord Falmouth’s sent three expresses – all to different locations – but there’s more: the man’s clearly implicated. You’re right, he is a fool. He’s not been arrested, yet, but he’s confined to the castle. Major Basset’s taken command from Captain Fenshaw and set up headquarters in the gatehouse.’

  Lady Clarissa’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Henry Trevelyan is implicated?’

  ‘No question about it – he allowed in the wine, took himself conveniently off across the river where he had previously ordered a meal.’

  ‘Oh no!’

  William nodded. ‘Yes, Father. He sent a boy to order a meal and paid for it in full, just like the ship. But there’s more – much more. There was a lady with him and the description fits the exact description of the woman who brought the wine in the baskets. A Miss Martha Selwyn who’s now missing – her wig and bloodstained cloak were found on the quay.’

  ‘Bloodstained?’

  ‘I’m afraid so, Mother. The woman was clearly the murderer – or helped him, at least.’

  Amelia reached for her fan. ‘Mary Bohenna told you when we were in Falmouth? Before the escape?’

  The room was spinning. I was going to faint. I could hardly breathe. Nausea churned my stomach. ‘Yes…Luke recognized Edgar when he was looking after the other prisoners,’ I managed to whisper.

  ‘And that’s another man who’s not saying anything! He’s not implicated, of course, but Dr Bohenna’s claiming physician’s confidentiality. He won’t say a word other than to confirm he’s been attending the prisoners. It’s all very well this silence, but they’ll have to speak in the end. Come the trial, they’ll need to speak out loud and clear.’

  Lord Carew returned to the window, staring across the lawns to the distant castle. ‘Why kill the ship’s master and mate? That’s what I don’t understand. Someone – and I mean that most emphatically for there’s no guilt until proven – someone went to a lot of trouble to free the prisoners, yet if we’re to believe the prisoners, the two men were dead before they reached the ship. Why?’

  ‘There’s evidence they were drugged with the same wine. The prisoners were expected to sail the ship.’

  ‘Out of a crowded harbour and in full view of naval vessels? It doesn’t make sense. Unless they caught wind of the plan and refused the commission?’

  Amelia’s eyes sharpened. ‘Or they recognized the man who brought them the wine and he had to go back and kill them or else they could identify him on their return.’

  William looked up. ‘That’s a very good point, Mel.’ His voice softened. ‘Miss Lilly – it’s unthinkable your brother would hire the ship in his own name – Major Basset believes he may well have been set up as a target of malice. Have you any thought who might wish your brother harm? Are we looking at a simple case of extortion – a way of getting money from your father?’

  I shrugged my shoulders. ‘He must have been set up…’ I wanted to scream with the pain. Henry Trevelyan was protecting us and I needed to make that clear. I needed to speak up, tell them he was a good and kind man. That he was honourable. That he was fiercely loyal, doing his duty to Sir Alexander. That he would be exonerated, that he was far from implicated.

  I had to tell them that I was the woman in the cloak. That I had lied to them all.

  ‘Angelica, my love, did you hear me? I’m asking about Sir Jacob Boswell. None of us liked him – where is he now, with his friend held prisoner in the castle?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve had no contact with him – only when he came here…’

  ‘Could he be part of this? I only ask because it has to be asked. If his plans are for his mother to marry your father, then might it be convenient for the son to be implicated?’ She paused, shaking her head. ‘No, that doesn’t make sense, does it?’

  Amelia stared at her mother. ‘You wouldn’t release someone if the first thing they could do is follow the prisoners and raise the alarm.’

  ‘That’s what I was thinking.’

  ‘But what if something went wrong? What if they meant to kill him too?’

  I put my hand to my mouth and ran through the open window, bending over to retch on the grass. I was shivering, shaking, shards of ice piercing my heart – the opium had been laced. He was meant to take it. He was meant to be found dead.

  Amelia handed me the steaming cup and I breathed in the smell of lemon. ‘Drink this,’ she said, untucking the eiderdown next to me and slipping between the silk sheets. ‘It’s mainly lemon with a touch of brandy and a pinch of valerian to help you sleep. I’m staying with you tonight. Mother says you’re to have spinach and eggs between meals tomorrow and plenty of ale. And she’s ordered roast beef for supper for you to get your strength back.’

  I sipped the proffered brew, knowing there was more than just a touch of brandy in it. Amelia had drawn the curtains tightly shut and the room lay in darkness. ‘Now sleep, please. Close your eyes and go to sleep.’

  The icy fingers still clutched my heart – Edgar was meant to take that opium; he was meant to die. Who knew about his addiction? Who knew?

  Footsteps shuffled along the hall, a door creaked open. ‘We must sleep now – close your eyes and try.’ Amelia adjusted her pillow, moulding it to a better shape. ‘And just in case you’re too scared to tell us, Mother says a lot of people take opium…and before I forget, Mother says we’re to wear our best silk tomorrow…you’re to wear your diamond pin and those sapphires that match your eyes. Father says when you’re under attack you must go on the offensive.’

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Trenwyn House

  Tuesday 16th August 1796, 2:00 p.m.

  No flag flew from the flagpole and the garden seemed uncannily quiet. The spinach and buttered eggs lay uncomfortably in my stomach. I had finished my plate under their watchful eyes and my diamond pin was glinting, my best silk gown feeling restrictive and tight. Lady Clarissa had insisted we fill every vase in the house with flowers and had tidied away all trace of the treehouse she was building with Jethro; yet no one had called, only Daniel Maddox walking swiftly across the lawn.

  We sat straight-backed under the spreading oak, smiling as he held out a letter. ‘So, you are to depart before the cricket match, Mr Maddox? We cannot have that.’

  Daniel Maddox wrung his hat in his hands. ‘I’m afraid it’s beyond my control. The ship leaves from Plymouth but they’ve a number of provisions to pick up from Falmouth so they’re sending a boat to collect me and my boxes…I’m so sorry, I’d have loved to watch the match.’

  Lady Clarissa smiled. ‘I did not mean you to watch, Mr Maddox. I rather hoped you might play.’

  He looked shyly down again, the hat gripped tighter. ‘I can’t…I never seemed to get the way of cricket…I’m not… well, I think I’d let you all down.’ He looked up with sudden resolution. ‘Of course I’ll play…but if the boat comes in the morning, I’ll have to catch the tide.’ He reread the letter. ‘It says the morning of August the eighteenth…but if they haven’t come, then I’d be proud to walk out with Lord Carew and I’ll do my very best.’

  Lady Clarissa cast her eyes down the comprehensive list of instructions he had crammed on to three pages. ‘I believe you have thought of everything, Mr Maddox. We shall follow these instructions to the very last detail. Thank you for this – and thank you for all the work you have done for us. You must come back and visit us – to see the fruits of your labour. You have an open invitation to visit any time and if we can be of further assistance to you, then you need only ask.’

  He seemed suddenly overwhelmed, looking down, nodding, crushing his hat as he backed away. ‘Thank you…you’re very kind. And the cereus…? You’ll have the cereus in the house? Only it doesn’t like draughts…’

  Amelia smiled from beneath her bonnet with its mass of yellow silk flowers. ‘I will treasure your cereus, Mr Maddox. I promise it will come to no harm.’

  He backed further away, smiling painfully, turning to hurry across the lawn. He hardly saw Jethro, or
if he did he was too upset to stop.

  ‘Ah, Jethro, is everything in hand for the match?’ Lady Clarissa beckoned him nearer. He held a rolled-up newspaper in one hand, patting it against his open palm like a bat.

  ‘Ready as we’ll ever be, my lady – though we’ll be fielding more boys than men this year. And we’ve no twelfth man unless Young William can play – but it’s not about the winning, is it? It’s about the playing.’ He batted the newspaper against his palm again, his smile belying the frustration in his eyes.

  ‘What’s Trelawney’s side like? You must have sent spies?’

  ‘They’re down to nine men and two youths – but they’re good. They’ve got neither Mr James nor Mr Ewan because they’re still at sea, but they’ve got a new groom and he’s got a powerful bowl. Bats well, too – he’s the one we’ve got to watch.’

  Amelia shrugged her elegant shoulders. ‘I don’t see why we can’t play. I caught Frederick out the other day and I made thirty runs – and Angelica can play just as well. You need to change the terms of engagement, Jethro – it should read the annual cricket match between the men and women of our neighbouring estates. Add those two words and you’d field a complete team.’

  Jethro smiled, slapping the newspaper harder. ‘One day, perhaps, Miss Carew.’ He looked back across the lawn to the house. ‘I believe I’ve missed Lord Carew…I thought to show him this.’ He unrolled the creased newspaper. ‘’Tis only a day old but this caught my attention – ’tis an advertisement for a single-wheel plough…here, it looks flimsy, mind, like it should be fer pressing gowns but if ye read what it says, they claim they’re using them in France and they work well in wet pastures.’

  He smoothed the paper on the table, pointing to an advertisement he had ringed in black ink. ‘See, here. They’re pulled by horses, not oxen. Big horses, mind – not the mares in the stables – big strong shire horses…and they’re lighter in construction so they don’t sink so deep…says they harrow as well as they plough.’