Pengelly's Daughter by Nicola Pryce Page A

voice was at, lacking all emotion.
    But what are words when actions speak so much louder? The knot in my stomach gave one further wrench. He said nothing, but his hands went straight to his chest, pressing against his heart. I remembered the gold chain, the beautiful ring that shone with such brilliance and the taste in my mouth turned sour. There are some things a woman need not be told. Cursing my weakness I turned quickly away, walking briskly back through the undergrowth.
    Whatever emotions I had begun to feel, whatever notions I had started to harbour, I pushed aside as roughly as I pushed aside the gorse that snagged my clothes. He was not doing this for me. He was not helping me with my struggles – he was doing this for her.
    We had an enemy in common, that was all.

Chapter Twelve
    Saturday 29th June 1793 7:30 a.m.
    M other looked anxious. She had obviously dressed in a hurry as her mobcap was slightly askew. Wisps of hair framed her face, the dark shadows under her eyes accentuating her pallor. She was wringing her hands against her chest. ‘I think we should tell Madame Merrick you’ve changed your mind. I’m sure she can nd someone else to go.’
    â€˜I’ll be ne – I’ll be back before dark. Stop worrying. Besides, I’m really looking forward to a little trip across the moor.’ I hoped I sounded convincing. I had not slept either.
    We had spent the previous day in deep discussion. Madame Merrick had shown great surprise when I offered to pick up her consignment of cotton, studying me keenly through her beady eyes, almost as if she suspected something. Mother immediately dismissed the idea, but when Madame Merrick conded she was worried someone else would steal it from right under her nose, Mother had given way and nally relented. I was to ask my friend Ben to borrow his father’s cart and if we left early enough, we could get there and back before dark.
    â€˜Jenna’s packed this basket with a loaf and some potted crab. She says you didn’t eat anything at all yesterday and you’ll fade to nothing the way you’re going.’
    â€˜Jenna’s just fussing.’ Food was the last thing I felt like.
    â€˜No she isn’t. It’s a long way to St Austell.’
    â€˜It’s only seven miles – and I’ve done it twice already when I went to buy timber with Father. It’s not the end of the world!’
    Mother had been born in St Austell. She had been six when she left and had never been back. In fact, Mother had not left Fosse or Porthruan since, so I knew the thought of my journey scared her. ‘Take your cloak and this rug – and take this cushion…it’ll be that uncomfortable sitting on the cart all day and, before I forget, Jenna’s given you this agon of ale for Ben, though whether he should drink ale, or not, I don’t know.’
    An early morning mist hung in the air and the warehouse felt cold as we waited. It was already half past seven and if we were to leave in time, we had only a quarter of an hour to get everything sorted. My anxiety was increasing by the minute as I knew Jim’s plan depended on us leaving at exactly quarter to eight.
    â€˜I think I should come with you, Rosehannon. I’d be that happier, coming with you. It’s not right for a young woman to go alone. In fact, the more I think on it, the more I’d love to see St Austell after all this time.’
    My heart plummeted. ‘But, Mother, we discussed this yesterday. The jolting would make your back worse – it would be far too uncomfortable for you.’
    Madame Merrick was crossing the courtyard, mounting the steps. She looked impeccable in a green velvet gown with matching jacket. Taking off her hat, she greeted me with a half-smile. ‘Remember, Miss Pengelly, three threads in the selvedge. Do not accept it if there are only two. I will not be fobbed off with imported