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The Bonbon Girl
Linda Finlay


A heart-warming tale from the queen of West Country sagas, LINDA FINLAYIn a tumbledown Cornish cottage, with an alcoholic father, Colenso Carne works with the Serpentine stone from the local mine. When she catches the eye of the new factory manager, her father insists she rejects her beloved Kitto in order to marry Fenton.Forced to flee the village when Fenton turns nasty, she is taken under the wing of wise woman Mara and travels to local fairs, learning to make bonbons to pay her way.But she never gives up hope of being reunited with Kitto…Set against the dramatic Cornish coastline, this tale of triumph and tragedy will delight fans of Rosie Goodwin and Dilly Court.







LINDA FINLAY trained as an Image Consultant and has an avid interest in people, especially the synergy between appearance and perception and the effect it has on self-esteem. She has always loved writing, her first success was winning a competition in the local paper in Surrey. A move to the spectacular Devonshire coast combined with her passion for local history inspired her to write her novels.


Also by Linda Finlay (#ulink_37614961-085c-5388-bb85-738832dfceec)

The Royal Lacemaker

The Girl with the Red Ribbon

A Family For Christmas

The Sea Shell Girl

Monday’s Child

Orphans and Angels

The Flower Seller








Copyright (#ulink_70e7c53f-c29f-5d78-bbb7-f5c8bb3528ac)






An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2018

Copyright © Linda Finlay 2018

Linda Finlay asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © December 2018 ISBN: 9780008262969


To my Bonbons, Jack, Heather, Darcey and Chloe.

With special thanks to Darcey for naming this novel.


Contents

Cover (#u80baa681-b0fd-5bef-88c4-6f1bec4d8a1d)

About the Author (#u18aa7635-8d20-54d8-b242-f3b0e7fa9573)

Also by Linda Finlay (#ulink_dfa1d0c0-fef3-5dae-855e-74a4866d9d5a)

Title Page (#u6113d5eb-feaf-537a-a400-68ef784f03cc)

Copyright (#ulink_8790423f-112a-5456-a410-a7a1bd93f40b)

Dedication (#u31da06ef-69dc-50c3-9693-531b5cd540d7)

Prologue (#ulink_f95df246-c788-5af4-8b16-4b5c30cdee7c)

Chapter 1 (#ulink_df52c217-3fc9-5909-a903-a2aa02fa5780)

Chapter 2 (#ulink_295c7f47-3ead-56e2-a7e6-a316c7b6a8b8)

Chapter 3 (#ulink_acf77ce8-7d4e-5aaf-8f39-ae14286b0eab)

Chapter 4 (#ulink_01058683-f440-5d91-80a0-651af722144c)

Chapter 5 (#ulink_5751bc45-46b2-5eb4-9d6d-a04f6edeb138)

Chapter 6 (#ulink_a92724ee-ea8b-5468-b3c8-d2c43e8b0bcc)

Chapter 7 (#ulink_fcaf4ce2-32f6-592c-86c9-24efb56f5fd0)

Chapter 8 (#ulink_1e96abb1-3d61-5a86-bfce-a7b33d5b3f1c)

Chapter 9 (#ulink_87120966-a42c-574a-99b3-67bd5dfb898b)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 29 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 30 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 31 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 32 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 33 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 34 (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Acknowledgements (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)


Prologue (#ulink_61b4d8bf-48cf-52dd-8c5b-8fe0f176bbe2)

Colenso watched as the rising tide advanced towards the Devil’s Frying Pan. The turbulence created by rough seas surging through its entrance was legendary. Her father had chosen his spot well. Desperately she tugged at the ropes binding her hands, only to wince as the damp hemp tightened, cutting deeper into her flesh.

As white-tipped waves swirled ever closer to her feet she shuddered. In the distance she could hear the sounds of the organ from the travelling fair. Loud and brash, its purpose was to attract the crowds, and judging from the shrieks of laughter coming from the villagers on the green it was doing its job. Nobody would hear her screams and Kitto, dear unsuspecting Kitto, would be waiting for her.

The light was fading, the wind rising, bringing with it a thick bank of rolling mist. She licked her salt-coated lips. The crescendo from the waves pounding the tidal cave and reverberating around the serpentine rock was deafening now, blotting out all sound of the fair. Her father had promised to return for her decision before the tide was in full spate but, intent on his mission and wishing her scared witless, she knew he was deliberately cutting it fine. He’d have a wasted journey though, for she had no intention of changing her mind. Her heart belonged to Kitto, and without him her life would serve no purpose. She would take her love to the grave if need be. And if it was deemed to be a watery one then so be it.

Spray from the advancing swell covered her feet before receding to allow her respite, albeit momentarily, and she gave a laugh that came out as a high-pitched shriek. How ironic that her name Colenso should mean ‘from the dark pool’ for now it looked as if she would be returning to it much sooner than she’d thought.


Chapter 1 (#ulink_b849dd28-7584-5239-9035-25de4275eb63)

Cadgwith, The Lizard, Cornwall

‘An’ it harm none, do what thou will’

Wiccan Rede

With these words ringing in her ear, Colenso put the bread to bake then set about making the pastry for her pasties. Today was a special day and she had a plan. Excitement bubbled up as she mixed swede, potato and onion with the scraps of meat old Buller the butcher had given her in exchange for helping him earlier that morning.

‘Don’t forget the herbs, Colenso. Marjoram for love, rosemary to stimulate the heart, sage for wishes, and best put in a pinch of parsley for lust.’

‘Really Mammwynn,’ Colenso chided, colour flooding her cheeks. Her grandmother believed her beloved herbs were the answer to everything, nurturing varieties that by rights shouldn’t even grow let alone flourish on this wild peninsula. Then she remembered and looked up with a start. Sure enough, the room was empty for her beloved Mammwynn had passed on at Samhain last October. Being the festival that marked both the end and beginning of their year and a time of celebration for those who’d gone before, Mammwynn would have thought it perfect timing. But Colenso had loved her grandmother dearly and still felt her loss keenly.

‘Oh Mammwynn, I do miss you so,’ she murmured, dashing a tear from her eye. ‘The weather’s been bitterly cold this winter and many of your plants are lying dormant so I’ll have to use the ones I’ve dried.’ As she reached up to take a handful from the clothes pulley above her head, she felt the slightest of touches on her shoulder and knew her grandmother approved. Crumbling them into the mixture, she finished making the pasties adding a decorative finish to the biggest with a flourish. She hoped Kitto, her beloved, would appreciate it.

As the aroma of baked dough filled the air, she removed the loaves to cool, added the pasties to the tin and slid it back into the hot recess of the Cornish stove that was her mamm’s pride and joy. It had been her father’s wedding present to her and about the only thing he’d ever bought her, she thought, staring around the room with its hand-me-down dresser and rickety table and chairs. The tiny window let in very little light even on the brightest day and there wasn’t enough space to swing a rat. Imagine the luxury of living somewhere with room to put her things, not that she had many, Colenso sighed, as she set about tidying up. Mamm worked on call as the Sick Nurse and after sitting in with old Mrs Janes would appreciate returning to a clean room with their evening meal prepared. Her Father and elder brother, Tomas, laboured long hours at the works and were forever hungry.

She wondered how her younger brother William was faring. How she missed him. With only thirteen months between them, they’d always been close until the dreadful night he’d taken their father to task for squandering his entire weekly wage on drink. The fight that had ensued still made Colenso shudder and she didn’t blame Will for running off to make a better life for himself. Tomas was hardly home these days either.

Pushing the door of their tumbledown cottage closed, Colenso shivered and pulled her bonnet down tighter as a gust of February wind threatened to send it spinning down the lane. Checking the cloth was still covering the pasty, she hefted her basket over her arm and made her way down the rutted track and on past the huddle of thatched cottages. Their thick serpentine, stone and cob walls were designed to keep out the worst of the squalls and misty weather that frequently swept over The Lizard. The shoemaker’s shop with its array of boots, rang with the sound of scutes and nails being hammered into heavy leather soles. She stepped over the wooden bridge that spanned the stream and across the Todden, which divided Little Cove from Fishing Cove. It was a fair walk to Poltesco and the serpentine factory where Kitto was employed as a trainee marble turner, but if she hurried she should be in time to join him for his noontime break. She’d have to dodge her father though, for he disapproved of their association, wanting better things for his daughter. However, she had an excuse for visiting the works as she’d been told there was a new batch of cuttings waiting to be collected. Extra money to eke out the family budget was always welcome, and with Kitto’s help she would fashion them into buttons and souvenirs ready to sell to the visitors that swarmed to the area in the summer months.

Since Queen Victoria and Prince Albert had purchased items of serpentine for their Osborne House home on the Isle of Wight, the local stone, which displayed the brightest colours of green and red when polished, had proved popular.

Waves pounded the shore and she wrinkled her nose at the oppressive odour of fish and bait emanating from the cellars below. Gulls screeched as they circled the few fishing boats bobbing in the bay, their nets cast wide. Thankfully it was too early in the year for the pilchards to arrive. She far preferred working the Lizardite, as the rock was known locally, to salting and pressing the silver fish that, whilst providing the necessary food and oil for lighting, tainted her hands and clothes.

‘Morning, maid. ’Tis a fine day for it.’ Colenso jumped as the West Country burr broke into her thoughts.

‘Good morning, Mr Carter, Mr Paul,’ she replied, stepping to one side to let the two fishermen pass carrying their gulley laden with nets and baskets. Dressed in their customary blue ganseys and flat caps, they eyed her quizzically.

‘Taking your young man something nice, I ’spect, this being a special day an’ all,’ the second man grinned, sniffing her basket appreciatively.

‘Really, Mr Paul, I’m not sure what you mean,’ she demurred, feeling her cheeks colouring. The two men gave her a knowing look.

‘Listen to ’em birds, maid,’ Mr Carter called. ‘They be choosing their mates too.’

‘Wish I were a youngster again. Give him a good run for his money for a beautiful maid like thee, I would.’ As their guffaws of laughter rang around the cove, Colenso felt her cheeks growing hotter.

‘If you’ll excuse me, I must get on,’ she muttered, hurrying on through the village and out the other side. Honestly, was nothing around here secret? She remembered Mammwynn saying you only had to sneeze at the top of the hill for someone to be enquiring after your health by the time you reached the bottom. Her hand strayed to the star-shaped necklace at her throat.

‘Heed what it tells yer, maid, ’tis never wrong,’ her grandmother had whispered, fixing her with that gimlet stare before her eyelids fluttered closed for the last time. Well, it hadn’t told her anything yet, she thought climbing the steep hill towards Ruan and skirting the ancient church dedicated to Saint Rumonus, nodding to villagers as she passed. Hearing the clock chime the half hour, she quickened her pace, her mind racing along with her steps. She and Kitto had been walking out for some months now and although he’d been loving and more attentive of late, he hadn’t mentioned taking things further.

‘Just needs a bit of encouragement.’ Mammwynn’s voice urged. Well hopefully today would give him that.

Hurrying down through the wooded valley, she rounded the sweep of the cliff and saw a schooner anchored off shore waiting for the shallow draught barges to transfer their loads of stone. The sprawling works were set in the cove below and plumes of smoke curled their way upwards from the tall chimney adjoining the machine shop. Passing the mill and gurgling stream that drained most of the Goonhilly Downs, she began descending the steep track the horse-drawn wooden carts used to transport their blocks of quarried stone. Her ears were assaulted by the sound of saws, chisels and hammers mingling with the rumbling and splashing of the waterwheel. The clamour from the grinding and sanding of the stone got ever louder. Men shouted orders, though how they could be heard above the noise of the sea beating on the shingle was beyond her.

Suddenly, at the blast of a hooter, the clanking of the machinery ground to a halt, workers downed their tools and the valley was filled with the blissful sound of silence. Ignoring the descending dust, men squatted on slabs of stone to eat their noon pieces, eyeing Colenso speculatively as she picked her way through the dirt and debris towards the workshop. However, before she reached it, Kitto appeared in the doorway. Dark-haired and handsome despite the dust covering his working clothes, Colenso’s heart quickened at the sight of him. When he spotted her, his face broke into a wide grin, and, heedless of the jeers and catcalls from the others, he ran over to join her.

‘Well, you’re a pretty sight to brighten a fellow’s working day,’ he greeted, wiping his hands on his apron.

‘I heard there were cuttings to be had,’ she told him, trying to keep a straight face.

‘And there’s me thinking you’d come just to see me,’ he sighed, shaking his head.

‘Actually, I’ve brought something special for your noon piece,’ she told him, unable to keep up the pretence.

‘Something special, Cali?’ he asked using his pet name for her. It meant ‘beautiful’, and that he should think of her that way still surprised her, for she had the same dark colouring as many others on The Lizard. However, her delight soon turned to despair for he’d clearly forgotten what day it was. ‘Come on, let’s find somewhere quieter to eat,’ he suggested, taking her arm and leading her towards the thicket, away from prying eyes.

‘If My Lady would care to take a seat,’ he said, sweeping aside a low branch and gesturing to a felled tree trunk. ‘Something’s smelling good,’ he added, looking hopefully at the basket on her lap as he squatted beside her.

Colenso hesitated. Suppose he thought her gesture stupid? But he was waiting expectantly and lifting the cloth she passed him the pasty she’d so painstakingly decorated. He stared at it for a long moment then his lips curled into a grin.

‘You did this for me?’ he asked, tracing the pastry heart with his fingers. Then, unable to resist, he bit into the pastry and sighed. ‘Delicious and meat in it too?’

‘Well, I thought with today being … I mean …’ her voice trailed off uncertainly as she saw him quirk his brow questioningly. Yet he could no more keep a straight face than she. ‘I love it and I love you, Colenso Carne,’ he declared, reaching out and squeezing her hand. ‘Happy Valentine’s Day. I’m famished and you must be too so let’s share this before it gets cold.’ She started to refuse but it had been a long morning and she was hungry.

The outside world receded as they ate in companionable silence, their eyes meeting then quickly drawing away again. Along with the fragrance of herbs, the air between them was filled with suppressed excitement.

‘My, that was good,’ he declared, wiping the last crumbs from his lips. ‘I shall be a lucky man coming home to … that is … I’ve been thinking it’s time …’ He thrust a package into her hands. ‘Look, I’m no good with fancy words but hopefully this will explain.’ He stared at her, brown eyes shining with emotion.

Heart soaring, she smiled, running her fingers over his gift. It seemed they had been thinking along the same lines after all. But just as she began to unfold the wrapping, the hooter sounded. ‘Not now,’ Kitto groaned. ‘I’d better look sharp, the new manager started today. We’re turning pillars for a large shop up country and he’s ordered they be shipped out tonight. Goodness knows what time we’ll be working till. Sorry Cali, this isn’t the way I’d planned to do this,’ he shrugged, pointing to her present. ‘Can I see you tomorrow? After I’ve finished the Sunday chores for Mother. I know how your father likes a nap after his noontime meal so perhaps we could meet on the Todden? Talk about …’ Again, he gestured to the package before darting a quick peck on her cheek. Then, at a shout from one of the others, he turned on his heel and ran back to the workshop.

Disappointment mingled with excited anticipation as she stared at the package in her hands. She was tempted to open it right away but knew if she didn’t collect the cuttings others would. Bending to retrieve her basket, she felt the point of the necklace stab her chest. Gazing ruefully down at her ample bosom, she sighed. Why couldn’t she have been born dainty like Mammwynn and Mamm?

Lifting her skirts, she picked her way through the dirt and debris until she reached the factory office. She could hear her father shouting orders to other labourers further down the valley, but luckily could see no sign of him. However, as she left the building, her basket heavy with the cuttings, she again felt that stabbing in her chest. Looking up, she saw a man of middle years, stroking his moustache as he stared at her intently. Dressed in a dark suit, cravat at his neck and sporting a bowler hat, he stood apart from the others with their grime encrusted aprons and rough working clothes. But it was the look in his eyes that sent shivers slithering down her spine.

‘Might I enquire who you are, young lady?’ the man asked, lowering his glance until it was addressing her chest. His voice was brisker than the local dialect she was used to.

‘Colenso Carne, sir, daughter of Peder, labourer here. Why do you ask?’

‘I saw you leaving my office and want to know what you were doing there.’

‘Your office, sir?’ she replied, wishing he’d stop gawking at her body. Finally, he raised his face, his lips lifting into some semblance of a grin.

‘Indeed. I am the new manager here,’ he declared, moving closer. ‘And as such I insist on knowing what you have in your basket, Miss Carne.’

‘Only cuttings, sir. They were left for me to collect.’ She lifted the hessian back for him to see.

‘You mean you have been pilfering our fine English marble?’ he asked, quirking a brow. She opened her mouth to protest but he ignored her. ‘Be sure we shall meet again, Miss Carne,’ he added, the steely glint in his eye belying his smile. With a curt nod, he strode inside, leaving her seething. What an obnoxious man. Meet him again? Over her dead body. She’d make sure she had nothing more to do with him, she thought, hefting her basket over her arm and stomping her way back up the hill.


Chapter 2 (#ulink_7f4401b2-31c0-5aee-9caa-aa621116d1e3)

Colenso stamped her way back up the track and had reached Ruan before she’d even begun to calm down. The new manager’s high-handed attitude was unnecessary and uncalled for. Pilfering indeed. Why, she’d been collecting bits of trimmings and offcuts for months now, spending her precious spare time fashioning and polishing items for the nascent tourist trade. Although she failed to see why people would want to holiday on a peninsula which, at this time of year, was often shrouded in swirling mist, the trees bent and twisted like little old men by the prevailing winds. Still, if they were keen to purchase souvenirs to take home, why shouldn’t she provide them? It was satisfying and contributed much-needed money to the family food pot at the same time.

Realizing she was passing Mammwynn’s final resting place, she felt her spirits rise. What better place to open her present from Kitto, she thought, hurrying through the rickety gate that led to the sheltered piece of land where her grandmother had grown her beloved herbs. She settled herself on the wooden bench that stood as if waiting for its owner to reappear, and stared at the cairn of stones sited on the exact spot Mammwynn had insisted she be placed. Not for her a plot in the churchyard. ‘Why waste good money?’ she’d cried. ‘My spirit will have long since returned to the Summerlands. I shall be reflecting on lessons learned here and finding out what is yet to come, not worrying where my old body’s rotting. Better it be returned to the ground here where it can help nourish all these,’ she’d said, her hand making a sweeping gesture around her cherished plants. Colenso sighed as she took in the sad state of them, all withered and wasted. Then she recalled how Mammwynn had explained they were merely resting and would thrive again. There’s a proper time for everything and everything has its season, she’d said.

‘Tell me all.’ It could have been the wind whispering in the rowans that bordered her patch but Colenso felt sure it wasn’t.

‘Kitto loved his pasty Mammwynn, and guess what? He had something for me too,’ she cried, taking the package from her basket and holding it up for the woman to see. Then unable to wait any longer, she tore off the wrapping and smiled. Fashioned out of the serpentine stone was a heart, carved with their initials. It must have taken him ages, she thought running her fingers over the gleaming red surface.

‘Oh, Kitto,’ she murmured. No wonder he’d been dismayed when the hooter sounded. ‘It seems we were thinking the same, Mammwynn,’ she announced excitedly. The rowans rustled vigorously, as though dancing for joy, and she felt warmth steal through her chilled limbs.

‘Before I leave, I know you like to be kept up to date with what’s happening. Well, there’s a horrid new manager at Poltesco. He’s got an upcountry voice and doesn’t look you in the face, just sneers like he’s better than us. Not only that, he accused me of stealing his rotten old offcuts,’ she sighed, but as she got to her feet, she again felt that stabbing at her chest. ‘Oh Mammwynn, I’m too large to wear your dainty necklace,’ she cried. The rowans stopped their rustling and everything went still. Suddenly the air felt oppressive, as if a storm was brewing and grabbing her things, she hurried for home.

Hoping to share her news with her mamm, she burst into their living room, disappointed to find it empty. She dumped her heavy basket on the floor then busied herself adding wood to the range and setting out the plates ready for their family supper. Although family was a somewhat of a misnomer now that William had left home and Tomas spent as much time as possible away from their domineering drunk of a father.

When she was satisfied everything was prepared, she rummaged through the bag of trimmings to see what could be used to fashion into trinkets. As ever, most of them were too small to be of any use although a few looked promising. Then, she spotted the paper package and clutching it tightly to her, ran upstairs to the room she shared with Tomas.

It was cramped, containing two beds, a tiny chest and the tattered curtain strung up along the middle to protect her modesty. Placing the heart on the shelf, she threw herself down on the woollen blanket and thought about her meeting with Kitto earlier. He’d clearly been trying to say something. Had he been summoning the courage to propose? Although he was kind and loving, he wasn’t given to sentiment. Suddenly she heard the back door clatter open.

‘Colenso, get down here now.’ As her father’s angry voice carried up the stairs, she quickly hid Kitto’s present under her pillow. Goodness, she must have dreamed away an hour or more, for it had grown dark and she hadn’t even noticed.

Slowly she descended the stairs to find her father had lit the lamp and was sitting in his chair drumming his fingers on the table. Grim-faced at the best of times, he was looking positively severe.

‘What you bin up to?’ he snarled, hazel eyes eyeing her suspiciously. ‘Mr Fenton pulled me aside as I was leaving work.’ Frowning, he clamped his mouth over his pipe. Nervously, Colenso watched the curl of smoke disappearing into the clean clothes hanging beside the herbs on the wooden airer.

‘Mamm not back yet?’ she asked, knowing how much her mother hated him smoking in her kitchen.

‘Don’t change the subject,’ he growled, his eyes narrowing. ‘Don’t know what you’ve done but you’re to come to his office with me first thing Monday morning.’

‘But I haven’t done anything wrong. I only collected the cuttings you said were waiting,’ she said, gesturing to her basket.

‘Well, you’ve to take them back and samples of them gifts you make,’ he added. Just then, the door clattered open again and Colenso’s mother hurried into the room. ‘You’re late, woman,’ he barked, turning his attention to his wife. ‘And not for the first time this week.’

‘Sorry, Peder,’ Caja puffed, clearly out of breath from hurrying up the lane. ‘Mrs Janes took her time passing and then I had to lay …’

‘’Tis supper I want, not excuses,’ he grumped, drumming his fingers on the table again.

‘Yes, Peder,’ she replied, scuttling over to the range.

‘It’s all right, Mamm, I baked pasties this morning,’ Colenso said seeing how tired and drawn she looked. Not for the first time, she wished her father would show more consideration for her mother, especially as it was his spendthrift ways that caused her to work all the hours she could. ‘I’ll make a brew to go with them.’

‘You’re a good girl,’ Caja replied, smiling gratefully.

‘Pah, you won’t think that when you hear what she’s been up to,’ Peder scowled.

‘I only collected the cuttings as usual,’ Colenso explained as her mamm looked askance. ‘It’s not my fault that nasty new manager took exception.’

‘Well, old Coxie never minded. Perhaps he was just exerting his authority, him being a new broom an’ all,’ Caja mused.

‘This one’s horrid. He’s got probing eyes and a nasty sneer. Reminds me of a ferret …’ Colenso began, only to be interrupted by her father.

‘We’ll have no more of that talk. You’ll show respect to Mr Fenton come Monday morning, my girl, or you’ll feel the weight of my belt. Now, where’s my food?’

Knowing from experience that his threats weren’t idle, Colenso snatched up the pot and hurried out to the pump. There wasn’t anyone to stick up for her either, for Tomas had taken to staying out until their father had gone to bed. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be long before she’d be free from her domineering parent.

✳

The next day, as soon as they’d finished their midday broth, her father slumped in his chair and closed his eyes. When his snores and snorts rang out, setting the bowls on the dresser banging together, Colenso tidied her hair then removed the apron protecting her Sunday-best blouse. Although it was far from new, its gold sheen brought out the amber flecks in her dark eyes. Kissing her mamm goodbye, she threw her shawl over her shoulders and headed towards the Todden. She was so excited, she hardly noticed the sea fret hanging over the headland or the biting wind keening in from the east. Hunched in his heavy serge jacket with his flat cap pulled tightly over his head, Kitto was pacing the green impatiently but, as soon as he saw her, his face broke into a wide grin.

‘Thought you were never coming,’ he murmured, taking her arm and leading her away from the fishermen’s cottages where the windows stood staring like prying eyes.

‘I said I would, silly,’ she smiled.

‘’Tis silly I am, is it?’ he grinned. Then he became serious. ‘And is silly what you thought of my present?’ She pretended to consider, but he was staring at her so anxiously she shook her head instead.

‘I thought it was lovely,’ she told him. ‘In fact, it’s the nicest one I’ve ever received,’ she teased. To her surprise, instead of bantering back as normal, he just nodded. Arms linked, they wandered up the lane, strides matching with the ease that comes with being comfortable in each other’s company. A couple of times he cleared his throat as if about to speak before shaking his head. For once Colenso remained silent, knowing he would say what he wanted in his own good time. As if by instinct they found themselves in Mammwynn’s little garden and Colenso settled herself on the seat.

‘Colenso.’ His voice was gruff with emotion and she turned to face him. Except he wasn’t beside her. ‘Colenso.’ This time she realized the voice was coming from her feet, and looking down she saw Kitto on bended knee staring up at her. ‘Will you marry me?’ he asked.

‘Why Kitto, of course I will,’ she cried. ‘Now get up off that damp grass before you take a chill.’ Grinning, he sprang onto the seat beside her and held out a ring. She had to stifle a giggle when she saw it was one of his mamm’s brass curtain rings, but let him put it on her finger anyway.

‘This is just a token, Cali,’ he murmured. ‘I love you and promise to save hard for a proper ring.’

‘All I want is to be your wife, Kitto,’ she smiled leaning closer. As his lips came down on hers the rowans rustled their approval and she felt a deep sense of contentment.

‘We can have our handfasting ceremony right here,’ she murmured happily.

‘Of course, where else? Although you do realize we won’t be able to wed until I’ve seen my siblings settled.’ He stared anxiously into her eyes and, knowing how seriously he felt the responsibility for his family’s welfare, she sought to reassure him. It wasn’t his fault his father had been caught sheep-rustling and deported two years previously. His mamm had borne the humiliation of losing both her husband and farmhouse home with dignity, making the best of life in a dilapidated hovel on the outskirts of the village. Although she took in washing and cleaned at the hostelry when needed, it was Kitto’s wage that paid the rent and being apprenticed, that wasn’t much. However, provided he continued putting in the long hours required, his prospects at the serpentine works were good.

‘I understand, Kitto,’ she assured him. ‘Still, Alys is applying for a position as scullery maid at Bochym Manor next month. She’ll live in, get well fed and who knows, she might even get to see our dear Queen Victoria and Prince Albert should they decide to stay there again.’

‘She’d love that,’ he grinned. ‘It was them that popularized our local stone, you know.’ Colenso shook her head. Everyone knew it was the royal visit and their subsequent purchases that had breathed new life into the industry. However, Kitto was still musing. ‘Give anything to see that serpentine ha-ha in the grounds, meant to be a right feature, it is.’

‘Well, Cury is only a few miles away so if Alys gets the job you can offer to take her.’

‘That’s a thought, but there’s still Wenna and Daveth.’

‘Who are growing up fast,’ she assured him.

‘Mother always looks on the bright side too,’ Kitto smiled. ‘I can see why she loves you almost as much as I do.’ He leaned closer, his lips claiming hers once more.

‘And Mamm thinks the world of you too,’ Colenso murmured when she’d recovered sufficiently to talk again.

‘I shall need to ask your father’s permission,’ Kitto grimaced. Colenso nodded and swallowed hard.

‘It will be fine,’ she assured him.

‘Do you really think so?’ he asked, doubt furrowing his brow.

‘Of course,’ she replied, crossing her fingers and hoping hard. ‘I’ve to see this new manager of Poltesco with him tomorrow so will try and pave the way for you then.’ But the thought of facing her father must have been playing on his mind, for he didn’t even ask why she’d been summoned.

‘Best not tell anyone till I have spoken to him, though.’

‘Don’t worry, only Mammwynn knows and she can’t say anything, can she?’ Colenso chuckled. The rowan rustled harder, making her laugh even more. ‘Or perhaps she can,’ she spluttered. ‘She always said you were a devilish rascal, Kitto Rowse.’

✳

The next morning didn’t get off to a good start as Caja was sent for to help with a birthing.

‘But I ain’t been fed yet,’ her father grumbled.

‘Don’t worry, Father. I’ll see to it,’ Colenso assured him as her mamm, torn between her duties as wife and sick nurse, dithered uncertainly.

‘Best keep your news to yourself, the mood he’s in,’ she whispered.

‘But how …’ Colenso began, staring at her mamm in astonishment. Caja gestured to the ring on her finger and winked before scurrying out of the door.

On the way to the works, hurrying to keep up with her father’s long stride, Colenso waited for an opportunity to broach the subject of Kitto. Despite the damp mist that clung to her clothes, she was so happy she felt like a soap bubble ready to pop.

‘Don’t know what you’re smiling about, Colenso Carne. Being summoned before the manager ain’t nothing to be proud of. ‘Specially a new one,’ he snapped. ‘Years I’ve been trying to gain a rung up the ladder. Toiled long hours, I have, earning enough to make a better life for you and your mother.’ Colenso bit her tongue. That he earned a reasonable wage might be true, but them seeing any of it was quite another matter. Mamm was forever saying the hostelry was her father’s mistress, swallowing his money like a bottomless pit, leaving them scrimping to pay the rent man and put food on the table.

‘Ouch.’ She jumped as yet another stone stabbed her foot. As ever, a new pair of boots or at least decent soles were long overdue, for she’d long outgrown her brother’s old ones.

‘Stop wittering and get a move on, maid,’ her father snapped, glaring at her over his shoulder. It would help if he carried her laden basket, but should the thought even cross his mind, which she doubted, he would consider it beneath him. Her breath rose in little white puffs in the cold morning air as she endeavoured to keep up with him. They were joined along the way by other bleary-eyed workers carrying knapsacks over their shoulders, the scutes on their boots ringing out on the rock-strewn path as they tramped towards the mine. Some called out in greeting and Colenso waved back, but her father sullenly ignored them. Colenso sighed. Mamm was right, it certainly wasn’t the right time to tell him about Kitto.

Finally, as the straggle of workers rounded the corner, the mist lifted and they saw another schooner waiting in the bay.

‘God knows how he thinks we’ll cut enough stone to fill that. We only sent one off Sat’day,’ her father grumbled as he stamped his way down the rough track to the factory and its adjacent workings. ‘Bet he’ll dock my pay for taking you to his office, an’ all.’

‘I can go by myself,’ Colenso assured him.

‘Pah, you’re female,’ he spat. ‘What would Fenton make of that? Managers deal man to man,’ he added, squaring his shoulders.

‘Yes, Father,’ she replied, hefting her heavy basket onto the other arm as they picked their way carefully towards the office.

To her father’s annoyance, rather than be shown inside, they were told the manager was busy and they should wait.

‘Who the hell was that?’ he asked, frowning at the dapper little man who, after imparting his message, scuttled back inside leaving them shivering in the freezing cold of the early morning.


Chapter 3 (#ulink_df6c39cf-4b4d-5478-b8d6-76c94e40936d)

‘Costing me money, this is, Colenso,’ her father snapped, staring at the work going on around them. They’d been waiting outside for ages and Colenso’s hands were red with cold while her ears rang with the constant noise of sawing and banging. ‘I’ll dock it from your allowance,’ he growled, clamping his mouth on his pipe.

‘My what?’ she exclaimed, staring at him incredulously. But footsteps crunched on the stones behind them and he’d already turned away.

The funny little man reappeared and beckoned them into the office, almost bowing to the manager before scurrying away. As the door closed behind him, Peder’s scowl turned to a syrupy smile.

‘Good morning, Mr Fenton, sir. I have brought my dear daughter Colenso to meet you, like you asked,’ he gushed.

Henry Fenton looked up from the papers he’d been studying, a gleam sparking momentarily as his eyes drew level with Colenso’s chest. Gripping her basket tighter, she quickly looked away and stared around the room, which seemingly overnight had turned from a dingy dumping ground to a neat and tidy office. Even the windows had been wiped, although they wouldn’t stay clean for long with all the dust and grime that was constantly blown around.

‘Correction, Carne, I ordered you to bring her to see me,’ Fenton pompously pointed out, bringing her back to the present. Picking up a pen with his soft, white hands, he sat and studied them. Evidently he didn’t intend doing any manual work, Colenso thought, taking in the cut of his charcoal suit and matching silk kerchief in his top pocket. And his manners were sorely lacking too for, despite there being two other chairs, he didn’t invite them to sit.

‘I hope you are settling in …’ her father began.

‘I didn’t ask you here to talk about my well-being, rather to discuss the matter of theft from my premises,’ Fenton replied crisply.

‘I’ll have you know I am not a thief,’ Colenso cried. ‘I only took the cuttings I was told I could have.’

‘Quiet, girl,’ Peder ordered.

‘Quite, Carne. Now,’ he said turning to Colenso. ‘I’m in charge here and do not recollect giving you permission to remove anything from the premises.’ The eyes that surveyed her were as grey and forbidding as the granite cliffs. Clearly grey was his colour, she thought and would have laughed if her stomach wasn’t tying itself into knots. ‘The first thing I did when I arrived was to have all the materials checked, and it would appear there are quantities unaccounted for. Now, empty out your basket,’ he ordered, gesturing to the space in front of him. Colenso looked at her father, who shrugged. Slowly she placed the small sack of cuttings she’d collected on Saturday, plus brooches and buttons she’d recently fashioned, on the desk before him.

‘As you can see, there are only a few offcuts and trinkets …’ her father began.

‘You can go about your work now, Carne,’ Fenton cut in. ‘An important order needs shipping out tonight so you’d better look sharp. You don’t want your wages docked more than necessary, I’m sure.’

‘Yes, sir. No, sir,’ Peder stuttered. Three bags full, sir, Colenso thought as he hurried from the room like a schoolboy anxious to please his teacher.

Once the door had closed behind him, Henry Fenton sat back in his seat and studied Colenso thoughtfully.

‘Tell me a bit about yourself, my dear,’ he said, his voice softer now. Colenso frowned, suspicious at the change in his demeanour.

‘Do you have any brothers and sisters?’ he asked.

‘Um, five, sir.’

‘Five?’ he repeated incredulously.

‘Well, two brothers living and three sisters in the churchyard.’

‘Your sisters live in the churchyard?’ he asked, his brows rising.

‘Yes, sir, two were born dead and one lived for six months.’

‘Oh, I see. And you live at home with your parents and brothers?’

‘Yes,’ she replied, wondering where this was leading.

‘How old are you, Miss Carne?’

‘Seventeen but I don’t think …’ she began, but he continued speaking.

‘I expect a handsome young lady like yourself has many followers?’ he asked, nose twitching as he looked her over like she was a prize filly. Buxom she might be but handsome? Was he having a laugh at her expense? But that gleam sparked in his eyes again, making her shiver.

‘Only the one,’ she mumbled.

‘Goodness, the young men around here must be blind,’ he exclaimed, leaning forward and picking up one of the trinkets she’d fashioned. As he did so, she noticed a shiny spot on the top of his head. Why, he was going bald, she thought, stifling a giggle.

‘You find all this amusing, Miss Carne?’ he asked brusquely, his eyes turning hard again.

‘No, sir, I’m just feeling a bit faint, having been stood outside in the cold for so long.’

Impatiently he gestured for her to take a seat. Her eyes widened in surprise but she did as he bade.

‘I see some of these have been turned – and expertly too,’ he said, studying a rounded stone fashioned into a brooch. ‘Tell me, are you a marble turner perchance?’ His lips curled into one of his sneers and she knew he was mocking her.

‘No, sir, but you …’

‘So presumably you have help from one,’ he cut in. ‘And presumably that person is employed here at the works?’ He turned his penetrating gaze upon Colenso but determined not to give anything away, she didn’t reply.

‘I see,’ he replied. ‘Well, Miss Carne, you should be aware that as manager, I will make it my business to find out everything about the people employed here. In the meantime, perhaps you’d tell me what you do with these, er, trinkets,’ Fenton asked.

‘Sell them to the tourists,’ she murmured.

‘Indeed. And do these tourists pay well?’ he asked, sitting back in his chair and eyeing her speculatively.

‘Quite well, sir,’ Colenso replied, not sure where this new line of questioning was leading.

‘And tell me, Miss Carne, how much of the sale price you receive do you give back to the works?’

‘Give back?’ she murmured. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘Well, it stands to reason that if you sell property belonging to Poltesco then any profit should be given back, should it not?’

‘But they are only odd cuttings you would otherwise dispose of,’ she sputtered, her nails biting into her hand as she strove to keep calm.

‘Cut offs, cuttings, edges, edgings, what’s in a word?’ he shrugged. Then he leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. ‘The fact remains that you have been taking materials that belong to the works here. Works that I am now managing, Miss Carne.’

‘But I was given permission to take them,’ she protested, rising to her feet.

‘Not by me, you weren’t. As far as I’m concerned, you have taken property that doesn’t belong to you. Worse, you have been profiteering from it. The question is, what am I to do about it?’ he asked. There was something about the way he was studying her, almost as if he was assessing her, that made her feel increasingly uneasy.

‘I don’t like the word profiteering, sir,’ she protested, endeavouring to keep her voice steady.

‘Nor do I, Miss Carne, and I shall have to give serious thought to the matter. Be on your way. You’ll hear from me further when I have decided what action to take.’

‘Action?’ she cried.

‘Indeed,’ he agreed, that gleam sparking in his eyes as he once again addressed her chest. Angrily she began to collect up the cuttings and trinkets, only for him to shake his head.

‘Leave those here where they belong,’ he added, before waving her away. Remembering the long hours she’d toiled polishing the rock until it gleamed with colour, she opened her mouth to protest, but he’d already turned back to the papers on his desk.

Feeling sick to the stomach, Colenso left the office, instinctively heading for the workshop. Then fearful that Ferret Fenton might be watching, she veered sharply towards the track. It wouldn’t do to get Kitto into trouble. Besides, it was Monday, the day she helped Emily Tucker with her sewing and she couldn’t let the old lady down. At least the work would be indoors, she thought. Like most women in the village, she was adept at juggling different jobs to earn a few extra pence, only knowing what day of the week it was by where she was meant to be.

As experienced dressmakers, Emily and Clara had built up a thriving business visiting ladies in their houses and measuring them for their new clothes. Sadly, Clara had recently succumbed to influenza, leaving Emily snowed under with unfinished orders. Knowing Colenso to be a dab hand with the needle, her mamm had offered her services in return for a few shillings and offcuts of material. Offcuts, the word kept sounding in her head as she sped down the lanes of Ruan. How dare that horrid man Fenton accuse her of stealing.

By the time she let herself into Emily’s stone cottage with its thatched roof badly in need of repair, Colenso was red with rage. The front room that best got the light had been turned into a sewing room, and Emily, silver tendrils escaping her bun, and customary tape around her neck, was already about her work, a roll of crêpe cloth on the stool beside her. She looked up from a swathe of black serge spread out on the table in front of her.

‘Ah, there yer are, Colenso. I thought yer weren’t coming,’ she muttered through a mouthful of pins.

‘I’m sorry but I had to …’ Colenso began.

‘Tell me later, lover. Got a new order, as if I haven’t enough already,’ she moaned good-naturedly. ‘Lady Carwell’s mother died at the weekend and I’ve been commissioned to make her mourning outfits. Her driver is calling for them later today so if yer can sew a veil to the back of that whilst I finish here that would be grand,’ she said, waving her hand towards a fur hat on the dresser that was somehow squeezed into the corner of the room.

‘Everyone wants things yesterday,’ Colenso grumbled, still out of sorts after her visit with Fenton.

‘Well, the poor woman didn’t ask to die,’ Emily replied with a reproving look.

‘No, of course not,’ Colenso murmured and, feeling chastened, settled down to her task. She began stitching, her needle stabbing in and out of the fabric as if she was poking that horrid Ferret in the eyes. She didn’t know what was worse, his creepy staring at her chest or being accused of theft. After a while, her nerves began to settle and she found herself sewing in time to the ticking of the little ormolu clock on the shelf above her.

‘Ther’s done,’ Emily said some time later, shaking out the folds of the mourning dress and eyeing it critically. ‘Her Ladyship’s going to wear her black fur over it for the funeral tomorrow. If yer’ve finished that, yer can add some tulle to the neck and wrists,’ she said, passing over the folded garment while casting a critical eye over Colenso’s work. ‘Now, I’ll makes us a hot drink and then yer can tell me why yer were fuming like a chimney when yer arrived.’ Colenso watched as the woman got awkwardly to her feet. Judging by her red-rimmed eyes and stiff back, she’d been up working for hours.

‘Would you like me to do it?’ she asked, feeling guilty for bringing her earlier bad mood into the room.

‘No, ta, me lover. It’ll do me good to stretch me old bones. Besides I need the privy,’ she added with a girlish grin.

As Emily shuffled stiffly towards the door, Colenso unfolded the tulle and began pinning it onto the dress. Even plain black serge could look attractive when it was good quality and nicely trimmed, she mused. Her thoughts turned to what she was going to wear for her handfasting ceremony. A deep red would be in keeping and complement her dark looks, or perhaps purple with flowing sleeves. The ties that would bind her and Kitto together could be made in matching material. Perhaps Emily would advise her, though of course she wouldn’t say anything until she’d spoken to her mamm. With any luck her father would spend the evening in the hostelry and they could begin making plans in peace. Although it would be some time before Kitto finished his apprenticeship and his siblings were settled, it was exciting to think that one day she would become his wife.

‘Here we are, lover, chamomile tea to soothe your mood, though yer looking brighter now,’ Emily said, eyeing her shrewdly as she set the tray carefully on the shelf. ‘Best put yer sewing down, don’t want Her Ladyship’s dress getting stained. ‘Made us a bit of luncheon while I was at it.’

‘Thanks, Emily,’ Colenso said, pushing the dress carefully to one side. ‘I’m famished.’

‘Yer always is,’ Emily laughed. ‘Come on, eat up then yer can tell me what’s wrong. Looked like a dog who’d had his bone took earlier, yer did.’

They ate their bread and cheese in peace, each lost in their own thoughts. From the way Emily kept glancing at the empty chair beside her, Colenso knew she was thinking of her sister. She was sipping her tea when Emily got to her feet again.

‘By the way, yer can have these offcuts, if they’re any use,’ she said, passing over some squares of material.

‘Oh,’ Colenso muttered, her eyes filling with tears as she stared down at them.

‘I thought yer’d be pleased not upset. Yer don’t have to take them if yer don’t want,’ Emily frowned.

‘But I do. It was the word offcuts that reminded me …’ she broke off as a lump rose in her throat.

‘What’s up, lover? Come on, yer can tell Auntie Em,’ the older lady said, patting Colenso’s shoulder.

‘The new manager at Poltesco, he … he … called me a thief cos I collected the offcuts on Saturday. But I was told I could take them like normal,’ she shook her head.

‘No wonder yer was hopping,’ Emily murmured, passing her a clean kerchief. ‘Wipe yer eyes, I’m sure yer father’ll explain he’s mistaken.’

‘Huh,’ Colenso sniffed. ‘He was there and didn’t stand up for me at all. All he did was grovel like the manager was some kind of god. Then, when he’d gone, that horrid man accused me of profiteering cos I sell the trinkets I fashion to the tourists.’

‘But if they was odd bits of no use to the works then they’d just be thrown out, surely? I mean, these offcuts of material here aren’t any use to me, but they’d be the start of a lovely patchwork quilt if yer has the time to sew them together. I mean, I guess yer’ll be thinking of yer own nest now,’ she said, grinning wryly at the ring on Colenso’s finger.

‘Nothing gets past you, Em,’ Colenso said, her spirits lifting. ‘But you’re right, I shall go and tell Mr Fenton exactly that tomorrow. Now I’d better get back to my sewing or you’ll be docking my wages too.’

‘Only when yer’ve calmed down, lover. I were worried poor Lady Carwell’s hat was going to be full of holes the way you were stabbing that needle through it. A word to the wise though, I’ve heard that new manager stops at nothing to get his own way.’

Colenso felt the necklace stab at her chest and that feeling of foreboding settled over her once again.


Chapter 4 (#ulink_046b58db-5dc4-5b43-856b-f42496d306fb)

Having stayed late to help Emily pack up Lady Carwell’s mourning clothes ready for her driver to collect, it was dark by the time Colenso arrived home. The candle was flickering in the window and, despite it having been a long day, her heart quickened at the thought of discussing Kitto’s proposal with her mamm. A cosy evening by the warmth of the range making plans for the handfasting would be a welcome pleasure. She might even heat some elderflower cordial as a treat for them both.

However, when she entered the room, her spirits sank for her father was sitting in his chair. To her surprise he greeted her jovially, a smile replacing his usual sullen look.

‘Ah Colenso, there you are.’ She darted a look at her mamm who shook her head. ‘That nice Mr Fenton called me into his office and we had another chat about them things you’ve been making and …’

‘Look, Father, I’m no thief,’ she cut in, her temper rising again. ‘I only took the offcuts you said I could have.’

‘Calm down, maid. Seems the manager’s taken a shine to thee and thought of a way you can make it up to him.’

‘Make what up? I’ve done nothing wrong. If anything, he should apologize to me,’ she frowned, slamming her basket on the table.

‘No need for that attitude, maid,’ he grunted, tamping tobacco into his pipe. Ignoring him, Colenso turned to her mamm.

‘Do you need any help with supper or have I time to sort out my things?’ she asked. From the appetizing aroma filling the room she guessed they were having root stew and her stomach rumbled in anticipation.

‘Finish listening to what your father has to say,’ Caja replied, shooting her a warning look.

‘You mean there’s more?’ she asked turning back to face him.

‘There is, maid. Mr Fenton is prepared not to call in the constable if you go for afternoon tea at his house on Sunday. Play your cards right and the Carnes could be on the up,’ he crowed, rubbing his hands together.

‘I have no wish to set eyes on that man again, let alone be entertained by him,’ Colenso cried.

‘Now listen here, my girl, it’s either that or be sent to gaol for theft. Take your pick. Fenton also let slip his friend were Justice of the Peace at Falmouth,’ he said, giving her a hard stare.

‘Like I said, I’ve done nothing wrong so I’ll take my chances.’ To her astonishment he smiled, his manner becoming conciliatory.

‘Look, maid, this is your opportunity. For some reason he finds you attractive. I’ve seen the way he stares at your …’

‘Father, please,’ Caja spluttered.

‘Well, if she has charms he wants then she should make the most of it. That’s how you women work, isn’t it? What’s that in your basket anyhow?’ he asked, leaning over and pulling out the bundle of material.

‘Offcuts, I mean remnants Emily gave me,’ Colenso said, making to take them from him.

‘Not so quickly, maid,’ he said, studying the cloth carefully. ‘This is good stuff. You can make yourself a nice top to wear on Sunday. Som’at to show off those, er, womanly assets,’ he leered.

‘I’ll have you know this material is to be the beginning of a quilt for when Kitto and I wed.’

‘Wed! You’ll not be wedding some apprenticed worker, not when there’s the chance of walking out with the manager of the works. Think about it, maid, you could be set up for life and see us all right too. After all we’ve done for you it’s the least you can do,’ he wheedled. Seeing the set of his chin, Colenso knew she was treading on dangerous ground but the subject was too important to let it rest.

‘Look, Father. Kitto is going to speak to you, ask for permission …’

‘Oh, so that’s what he wanted,’ he snarled, his demeanour changing. ‘Hanging around outside earlier, he was. Sent him packing with a flea in his ear, I can tell you. Told him never to darken my door again.’

‘But …’ she began then stopped as his eyes darkened, his hand going to his belt.

‘If you’ve been out sewing you’ll have been paid som’at, so give it here. All this jawing’s given me a thirst,’ he barked, holding out his hand.

Reluctantly, Colenso delved into her pocket and passed over the few precious coins Emily had given her.

‘Just look at them ’ands,’ Peder snorted. ‘You looks like a common washerwoman. Mother give her som’at to smooth them. A fine man like Fenton don’t want a woman with rough ’ands. And what’s this?’ he asked, his eyes narrowing as he took in the brass ring on her finger.

‘I told you, Father. Kitto and I are to be wed and …’ she began, snatching her hand back.

‘Over my dead body,’ he growled. ‘You can take that excuse for a ring off right now. You’ll marry who I says, maid, and that be final. Mother, talk some sense into this daughter of yours,’ he snarled.

‘Mamm …’ she began, looking imploringly at her mother, but her father shot out of his chair and seized her roughly by the shoulder.

‘Come Sunday, you’ll have a new top to wear, one a proper man like Fenton will find tempting.’

‘But I see Kitto on Sunday afternoons,’ Colenso protested. His grip tightened, making her wince. ‘It’s Fenton you’ll be seeing. Do I make myself clear?’ It was only when she nodded that he let go of her. As the door slammed behind him, banging the bowls together on the dresser, Colenso turned to her mamm. ‘I’ve never heard anything so despicable. I’m not an animal to be paraded around and sold to the highest bidder.’

‘I know that, Colenso,’ Caja sighed. ‘But it seems this is the only way to prevent Mr Fenton calling in the authorities.’

‘But I’ve done nothing wrong,’ she cried for what seemed like the hundredth time.

‘I know you haven’t, but Mr Fenton thinks otherwise and he’s the manager. Who are they going to believe, eh? Best you humour him, at least for now. We’ll take you to Fenton’s house on Sunday afternoon, be pleasant to the man and we’ll take it from there.’

‘But what about Kitto?’

‘I’ll let Mrs Rowse know you’ll be busy on Sunday. You really have no choice, Colenso. Besides, once you’ve visited Mr Fenton he might decide you’re not for him after all.’

‘Well, he’s certainly not for me. He’s old with a balding head, and the way he gawks gives me the creeps,’ Colenso shuddered.

‘You saw how determined your father was,’ Caja sighed. ‘Still, it’ll only be for an hour or so and we’ll stay with you. Now, I think there’s a pot of your grandmother’s calendula salve in here somewhere,’ she said, rummaging in the drawer.

‘Mammwynn wouldn’t insist on me going to Fenton’s house,’ Colenso cried.

‘No, but she didn’t have to live with your father, did she?’ Caja replied bleakly.

✳

Sunday, the day Colenso had been dreading, arrived seemingly in the blink of an eye. At her father’s insistence, she’d spent the past few days trying to improve her appearance. She’d been confined to the cottage and forbidden to fashion any trinkets from the rough offcuts of stone in case she scratched herself. Her hands had been slathered in thick salve and covered in cotton gloves to give it the best chance of sinking in. This had made sewing cumbersome, but when she’d complained her mamm had shrugged and said this was her opportunity, reminding her to brush her hair a hundred times and rub her teeth with the powder she’d mixed from bark, salt and liquorice root to whiten them. Then this morning she’d been made to bathe in water infused with the magnesium from ground-down serpentine to freshen her skin, and gargle with a tincture of clove to freshen her breath.

She’d pleated one of the squares Emily had given her and sewn it into the front of her best blouse, secreting the others away to make a quilt for when she and Kitto set up home together. Now she had to suffer the humiliation of standing in front of her father as he cast a critical eye over her appearance.

‘Shame she couldn’t have lost a bit of that podge, Mother, and why isn’t that top showing a bit more …’ he muttered, gesturing to her front.

‘I am not some prize filly,’ Colenso snapped, thoroughly disgruntled by the whole charade.

‘That you’re not, maid,’ he snorted. ‘Can’t turn pigskin into silk, can you? And I thought I told you to take that stupid curtain ring off.’ As Colenso opened her mouth to protest, they heard the sound of hooves outside. ‘Do it now, Colenso,’ he ordered. Seeing the set of his chin, Colenso reluctantly removed the ring and placed it in her pocket. ‘Let me escort you to our transport, Mother,’ he added grandly.

He led them outside to the waiting pony trap, where the driver, stiff-backed and straight-faced, touched his hat in deference.

‘See, maid, this is the life we could have if you acts right,’ her father grinned, climbing grandly up as though it was the finest carriage in Cornwall. Then, as they made their way down the lane, neighbours staring in surprise, he proceeded to nod and tip his cap like a country squire.

‘I hope you’ve got some good conversation ready, Colenso. Mr Fenton’ll expect some witty repartee, won’t he, Mother?’ Repartee? Since when had her father used fancy words, Colenso thought.

‘That he will, Father, but our Colenso’s a clever girl and won’t let us down,’ Caja told him. Dressed in her Sunday best with a new ribbon trimming her bonnet, she looked livelier than she had for a long time. ‘And this breeze will have added colour to her cheeks by the time we arrive.’

Colenso hardly heard them, for her stomach was churning like it was making butter. She was missing Kitto and couldn’t help wondering how he’d be spending the afternoon. They should be curled up together on Mammwynn’s bench, making plans for their future. Instead here she was, being bowled through the country lanes, past her grandmother’s final resting place and the church and cottages of Ruan, with her father crowing like a cockerel while Mamm simpered beside him. If Mr Fenton was expecting lively conversation then she’d make sure he got it, she vowed, remembering how Kitto had told her about the weathering of serpentine on the grand buildings of London.

‘The stone may be hard but for centuries it’s been exposed to blasts and storms. It is used to rain, fog and sunshine. Maritime climate exempts the area from extreme cold and there is serious question over its durability in the frosty conditions that prevail in the towns up country.’ Remembering how he’d become quite emotional about the action of a hard frost on thin slices of serpentine, she smiled. That should knock the sneer off the Ferret’s face.

As the cottages were replaced by stunted trees, the lane turned rougher and the trap began rocking alarmingly. She gripped the sides, wishing she was on foot, for this little conveyance would surely never make it down the steep track to Poltesco. However, before they reached the turning to the works, the driver veered sharply right. Tucked into the sheltered side of the valley was what looked like a huddle of cottages. As they drew to a halt, Colenso could see it was actually one large angular single-storey building, constructed mainly from dressed serpentine. Rows of square windows suggested numerous rooms inside, and plumes of smoke curling from each of the three tall chimneys hinted at grand fireplaces. It was a far cry from their humble home and, feeling somewhat overwhelmed as well as apprehensive, she clambered down, shivering as the wind blew in from the sea. The waves thudding on the rocks below echoed the pounding of her heart and once again she wished she was with Kitto, his hand holding hers as they made plans for their future.

Her musing was interrupted by her father digging her in the ribs as the door was opened by a tight-lipped housekeeper. Disapproval oozed from every pore as she looked them up and down with a sniff.

‘Do you want me to hang them, er, shawls on the stand?’ she asked, looking relieved when Colenso shook her head. Whether it was correct or not, she intended keeping herself as covered as possible. The housekeeper led them quickly down a hallway bereft of any pictures or ornamentation, and into the sparsely furnished front parlour. A fire crackled in the grate, lending cheer to an otherwise dreary room.

‘Your, er, visitors,’ she announced disdainfully then, with another sniff and rustle of starched petticoats, withdrew.

‘Ah, Mr and Mrs Carne, welcome,’ Henry Fenton said, putting down his newspaper and rising to his feet. ‘And you have brought your charming daughter, I see.’ His nose twitched, his eyes glittering as they greeted the swell of her chest. ‘Would you like to divest yourself of your wrap?’ Again, Colenso shook her head and was gratified to see a flash of disappointment before he smiled again.

‘Good of you to invite us Mr Fenton, sir,’ Peder said. ‘This is Caja, my wife.’

‘What a delightful name,’ he smiled.

‘’Tis the Cornish for daisy, Mr Fenton, and I’m pleased to meet you, sir,’ Caja beamed, bobbing a little curtsey.

‘And Colenso you have already met, of course,’ Peder said, giving her a nudge towards him.

‘Indeed. And what does your name stand for, my dear?’ he asked, giving her a wide smile. It was as if their previous exchange had never taken place.

‘It means “from the dark pool”,’ Colenso replied.

‘Very appropriate for your exotic colouring, my dear,’ he smiled, that gleam sparking in his eyes once more. Exotic? What did that mean, Colenso mused, returning his smile through gritted teeth. And as for names, with his twitching nose and piercing eyes, ‘Ferret Fenton’ was certainly appropriate.

‘Do take a seat. My housekeeper, Mrs Grim, will return with a tray in fifteen minutes,’ he told them. ‘Now, Caja – I may call you that?’ he asked.

‘Why yes, sir, of course,’ she simpered, settling herself daintily on the edge of a chair beside the fire. ‘What a charming home you have here.’

‘Thank you, although as you will see from the furnishings, or rather lack of, it sorely needs attention. Now, do forgive me if I discuss Poltesco matters with your husband. I’d like to dispense with business before we partake of refreshment.’ Without waiting for her to answer, he turned to Peder. ‘You were telling me about your ambitions, Carne.’

‘Yes, Mr Fenton, sir. I have been labouring at the quarry for many years now – my undying loyalty, your works have. Long hours I labour shifting them heavy blocks, even saw and rough-shape when time is pressing, I do. It’s down to me spurring your men on that Poltesco orders are met.’

‘Indeed, Carne?’ Fenton replied with the merest quirk to his brow. ‘Well, such loyalty certainly deserves recognition. And you, my dear,’ he said, turning his gaze on Colenso. ‘Tell me how you spend your time, when you’re not fashioning my offcuts, that is,’ he laughed.

‘First of all, Mr Fenton, I’d like to make it quite clear that I am no thief. Any bits of serpentine I have used for my trinkets have been given to me.’ He studied her for a long moment then grinned.

‘Bravo, well said, my dear. I like a woman who stands up for herself. As I have already intimated to your father, I’m a reasonable man and sure I can be persuaded to overlook the matter in return for …’ He stopped as the grandfather clock in the corner of the room struck the quarter-hour and the door opened.

The housekeeper strode into the room carrying a tray of crockery along with a plate of saffron buns, followed by a young girl of about six, staggering under the weight of a huge teapot. Deftly, she placed the things on the table then turned the full force of her glare on the girl, who flustered and tripped, spilling dark liquid on the rug. As her eyes widened in fright, Colenso jumped to her feet and took the pot from her trembling hands.

‘Lady guests don’t help,’ Mrs Grim snapped, her voice laden with reproach. ‘Do you wish me to pour, Mr Fenton?’ she asked.

‘As I’m holding the pot, I might as well,’ Colenso replied before he could answer. The woman’s lips pursed in disapproval as she looked uncertainly at her boss.

‘Thank you, Mrs Grim, that will be all,’ he replied. With a brisk nod, the housekeeper marched from the room. As the little girl scuttled after her, Colenso winked, gratified to see her smile back. It was only when her father glared that she realized she was still standing in the middle of the room, pot in hand.

Quickly she poured the tea and handed it round.

‘Idiot,’ her father hissed as he took his cup from her.

‘Remember your place,’ Mamm whispered. However, judging from the way Ferret Fenton’s lips were twitching, it appeared he found the situation amusing.

‘Delicious buns, Mr Fenton, sir,’ Peder said, helping himself then spraying crumbs over his lap. ‘Our Colenso here is a dab hand at cooking and baking. She made the revels for both the Grade and Ruan Church feast days,’ he boasted.

‘Revels?’ the manager frowned.

‘They’re the same as those, really,’ Colenso said, pointing to the buns. ‘But with saffron so expensive, we only bake them for high days and holidays.’

‘Indeed? Well, as I consider today to be a high day, Miss Carne, let us enjoy the fruits of Mrs Grim’s labours,’ he chuckled.

‘Ah that’s good, Mr Fenton, sir. Fruit buns and fruits of her labours.’ Peder’s raucous laugh boomed around the room, spraying more crumbs everywhere. Not for the first time that afternoon, Colenso wished she was anywhere but here.


Chapter 5 (#ulink_6ccd4e68-6ffa-5fc9-81c3-64da054634b2)

‘I hope you and your family have settled well on The Lizard, Mr Fenton,’ Caja enquired, breaking the ensuing silence. Knowing she was probing, Colenso shot her mamm a warning look.

‘Alas, I am a widower and not blessed with family. However, I’m gradually settling in, thank you. Though, as you can see, this house is sorely in need of a woman’s touch,’ he shrugged, his eyes sliding towards Colenso, who looked quickly away. He turned back to Caja.

‘Those threadbare drapes at the window, for example, were left by my predecessor and I really need to employ the services of a seamstress.’

‘Why, our Colenso’s also a dab with the needle. Helps Emily sew Her Ladyship’s attire, she do,’ Caja beamed.

‘Does she now? You are indeed useful with your hands, Miss Carne.’ As his speculative gaze sent shivers sliding down her back, the necklace stabbed at her chest. Despite her resolve, she’d found herself unable to remove Mammwynn’s gift but now, as the Ferret sat gawping at her, she wished she had. Pulling her shawl tighter around her, she jumped up and went over to the curtains. Then, as she studied the material, her eye was caught by the vista from the window.

‘Why, you can see virtually the whole of the works from here,’ she cried, staring down at the extent of the factory buildings, derricks and stream. The iron-framed overshot waterwheel with its wooden leat was supported on a huge timber framework that rose like a monster out of the basin of the pond. She could even see along the full length of the wooden jetty where the flat-bottomed barges were moored ready to transport the heavy stone out to the schooners. Being the Sabbath, nothing but the water was moving, but just how much the works had grown was evident.

‘Why, it’s enormous,’ she cried.

‘And I have plans to extend it further,’ Mr Fenton boasted, puffing out his chest. ‘There’ll be more buildings erected and something done to that stream, which I understand weakens in the summer and slows the wheel. Can’t allow production to fall.’

‘You can spy on us workers from up here, then,’ Peder exclaimed, having risen to join her.

‘I prefer the word oversee, Carne,’ Mr Fenton replied mildly. ‘As I’ve said before, I take my responsibilities as manager seriously, very seriously indeed.’

‘Of course, Mr Fenton, sir,’ Peder mumbled, returning to his chair. ‘And what other plans do you have?’ Colenso saw the spark in her father’s eyes and realized he was hoping to find out if there’d be anything in it for him. Although different in class, the two men clearly had similar objectives. However, the manager wouldn’t be drawn.

‘That’s enough talk of shop for one day,’ he said, seemingly amused by his own words. ‘You are here as my guests,’ he added, turning back to Caja. ‘In answer to your question, I have been made most welcome, thank you. Although I must confess that having spent most of my time sorting out the works, I’ve yet to see anything of the surrounding areas. Not being from around these parts, I wouldn’t know where to start. Perhaps, if I were fortunate to have the company of someone who knew the best places to visit, it would be different.’ He shrugged, letting his voice trail away as he took a sip of his tea.

‘Our Colenso here would be the perfect person to escort yer, Mr Carne, sir. She do know all the best spots,’ Peder said excitedly. ‘One turn deserves another, what with yer seeing me get on at the works, like.’

‘Oh, I couldn’t possibly impose,’ he demurred.

But you will, Colenso thought, a feeling of doom descending like a dark cloud.

‘She would be delighted to, wouldn’t you, Colenso?’

‘But I’m busy with my handfa …’ she began.

‘She’d love to, Mr Carne,’ Caja cut in. ‘There’s nothing you’d like better, is there?’ she added, shooting Colenso a pointed look.

‘And would you be chaperoning me, Mamm?’ she asked sweetly.

‘Goodness, maid. I’m sure there’s no need for that, Mr Fenton here being a respectable man, like,’ Peder said quickly.

‘Well, if that’s agreed, I will call upon you next Sunday, Miss Carne, and you can direct me to places you think will be of interest. I understand that the church towers around here are mostly constructed of blocks of unpolished serpentine rock – and of course, you are knowledgeable on that subject, are you not?’ he smiled, giving her a knowing look.

‘Indeed I am, Mr Fenton,’ she agreed, ignoring his obvious reference to the trinkets she fashioned from offcuts. ‘Both Grade and Ruan Church are built of the stone and the pulpit and lecterns are fine examples of polished serpentine workmanship.’ If she had to spend time with this pompous man, then she’d make sure she did it in public. There were always villagers in the churches on the Sabbath and she’d feel safer in the company of people she knew. It seemed Ferret Fenton had other ideas though.

‘Afterwards we could drive somewhere quieter, partake of afternoon tea, really get to know each other better,’ he suggested, grey eyes glinting silver as they roved over her body. Respectable indeed, Colenso thought, gritting her teeth and pulling her shawl even tighter. The twitch of his lips told her he knew exactly what she was doing but he rose to his feet, saying: ‘Well, it was good of you to come but I really mustn’t detain you any longer.’ Picking up a silver bell, he shook it and immediately the housekeeper appeared.

‘Show my visitors out please, Mrs Grim.’

‘It will be my pleasure, sir,’ she said, turning on her heel and hurrying down the hallway.

‘Thank you for the tea, Mr Fenton, sir,’ Peder said, ushering the others out after the housekeeper.

‘Don’t know why you looks like you’re sucking on a lemon, maid. You’re just the same as us,’ Peder whispered, catching up with the housekeeper as she stood waiting with the door open.

‘I don’t see how you make that out,’ she sniffed.

‘’Tis easy, maid, we’re both workers for Mr Fenton, aren’t we?’

As she sniffed again and firmly pushed the door shut behind them, Peder turned to Colenso.

‘Play your cards right and you could be her boss one day.’ Bemused, Colenso could only stare at her father, but before she could think of a suitable reply, he’d climbed into the waiting trap, her mamm following after him.

The shadows were lengthening as they made their way back up the driveway and through the country lanes. Silhouettes of twisted trees rose out of the dimpsy light, their knots like evil eyes, reminding her of the way Ferret Fenton had gawped at her chest. Gently she fingered her necklace. ‘How I wish you were still here, Mammwynn,’ she whispered. Then her father’s raucous laugh rang out, rousing the roosting rooks and making her shudder. How she hated him for putting her in such an impossible situation. Drawing the ring from her pocket, she placed it firmly back on her finger where it belonged.

To her surprise, a light was flickering in the window when they arrived home. It must mean her brother was back, she thought, her spirits rising. Sure enough, he was hunched over the table studying some papers, a half-empty mug of cold tea beside him.

‘Oh Tomas, am I glad to see you,’ she cried.

‘Hey, little sis,’ he grinned, his dark eyes lighting up. ‘’Tis flatterin’ to get a greetin’ like that. You’re shaking – what’s up?’

‘You wouldn’t believe …’ she began.

‘Remembered where you live, then?’ Peder growled, striding into the room. ‘What’s that you’re reading?’

‘Evening to you too, Father,’ Tomas said, a wary look replacing his grin as he hastily folded the papers and put them in his pocket.

‘Tomas, you’ve come home,’ Caja whooped, throwing her arms around him. ‘’Tis good to see you son. I’ll make us a brew and we can have a nice old catch-up. You won’t believe where we’ve been.’ Letting go of her son, she hurried over to the range.

‘’Tis unusual to see you all dressed up of a Sunday evening. And was that a pony and trap I heard outside?’ he asked, staring at them curiously.

‘Yep. The Carnes is going places,’ Peder told him, unable to contain his excitement.

‘Sounds like you’ve already been,’ Tomas replied.

‘Ha son, very funny. Now listen up,’ he said, tossing his cap onto the nail and settling himself down at the table. ‘You’ll never guess what?’

‘Colenso’s walking out with the new works manager,’ Tomas quipped.

‘How do you know that?’ Peder exclaimed, his brows almost disappearing under the flop of greying hair that fell over his forehead.

‘I was jesting, Father,’ Tomas sighed, shaking his head.

‘But ’tis true,’ Peder boasted. ‘And if she plays her cards right, we’ll be out of this cot and into something bigger and better come Michaelmas.’

‘What?’ Tomas gasped, starring at Colenso in astonishment.

‘In fact, if your sister really turns on the charm, she could make that midsummer and save us the quarter’s rent,’ Peder carried on gleefully.

‘But I thought you and Kitto …’ Tomas began.

‘We are …’ she began, only to be interrupted once again as Peder jumped to his feet and stood glaring at her.

‘No daughter of mine’s wedding a foreigner Duck and that’s that. Geese we be, and proud of it.’

‘For heaven’s sake, Father, ’tis merely the stream that separates us Grade Geese from Ruan Ducks. Besides, Kitto only lives on the edge of the village,’ Tomas laughed.

‘In a down-and-out hovel,’ he snorted. ‘Anyhow, I ain’t having no interbreeding in the Carne family,’ he glared.

‘But you just said he was a foreigner, you can’t have it both ways,’ Colenso began. ‘Besides, Mammwynn was born on Ruan side.’

‘Yeah, and look at her with her herbs and potions. The woman was crackers. Or should that be quackers, being as how she were a Duck,’ Peder chortled.

‘That’s enough, Father. I’ll not have Mamm spoken about like that, God rest her soul,’ Caja cried, banging their mugs down hard on the table. ‘Besides, I use herbal remedies to heal my patients.’

‘Sorry,’ Peder mumbled, looking anything but. ‘Fenton’s a man of breeding. Come from up country, he has.’

‘Yes, and there’s rumours as to why he left,’ Tomas said, giving his father a sharp look. However, Peder was in his stride and even if he’d heard Tomas’s remark, he chose to ignore it.

‘Taken a shine to our Colenso, he has, and is calling on her next Sunday. Play our cards right and we could be rolling in it,’ he crowed, rubbing his hands together.

‘Is this true, our Col?’ Tomas frowned.

‘I don’t want to …’ she began.

‘You’ll do as your darn well told. Just seventeen, you be. A child. Until you become an adult ’tis up to me to decide what’s best for you,’ he said, clamping his mouth around his pipe and tamping tobacco into the bowl.

‘So, I’m old enough to earn money for your drink, but only a child when it suits you,’ Colenso retorted. Seeing her father’s hand go to his belt, she jumped to her feet. ‘You kept me prisoner here all last week but I promised to help Emily with her sewing tomorrow and I intend to so.’

‘Of course you will,’ Peder replied, a smile replacing his scowl as he struck his tinderbox. He puffed on his pipe, sending spirals of smoke disappearing into the clothes on the pulley above. As Caja opened her mouth to protest, he leaned forward and stared hard at Colenso.

‘You’ll need som’at new to wear when you go out with Fenton, so be sure to get more of that quality material from her.’

‘But they were surplus offcuts. I can’t expect her to give me any more,’ Colenso told him.

‘Then take some,’ he snapped. ‘Used to pilfering, ain’t you?’ Unable to believe what she was hearing, Colenso stared at him in disgust. ‘And then you can spend the rest of the week making something more fetching than that effort you’re wearing now. A man likes to have something womanly to look at.’

‘Really, Father …’ Tomas began.

‘Who asked you to pipe up? You’re only a cutter but your sister has a chance to better herself,’ Peder glowered.

‘Well, thanks very much,’ Tomas replied but his father had already turned to Caja.

‘’Tis up to us to assist our dear daughter, Mother, so Colenso will spend her time keeping house and getting our meals.’

‘I already cook most of them, Father,’ she pointed out.

‘But you always does the same things. A man like Fenton needs a wife who can entertain, put something tempting on the table.’

‘I have no intention of doing things just to please old Fenton,’ Colenso cried.

‘Listen here, maid. That’s exactly what you’re going to do. If you let this chance slip through your fingers I’ll …’ He rose to his feet and towered over her. As he began unbuckling his belt, Colenso fled up the stairs to her room.

Cradling the serpentine heart to her chest, she threw herself down on her cover and stared at the grimy ceiling. Heedless of her father’s wiles and Fenton’s threats, it was Kitto she was going to wed. Her father’s moods were more changeable than the weather. As for her mamm, she’d always liked Kitto, and Colenso couldn’t believe she’d sided with her father.

As for bettering themselves, whilst they didn’t live in the best of cottages and there was always more week than wage, they’d always got by. Of course, if her father didn’t frequent the hostelry so often, life would be easier. But to make her walk out with that Ferret Fenton, whose eyes never got higher than her chest, was despicable even by his standards.

Shouting from below followed by thumping on the table woke her. As ever, it seemed her father and brother couldn’t be in the same room for long without coming to blows. Wearily she undressed and, tossing her clothes on the floor beside her, climbed under the cover. The weight of her necklace felt heavy but, as ever, something stopped her from removing it. If only she could remember exactly what Mammwynn had said when she’d given it to her.

‘Hey Col, you awake?’ Her eyes flew open to find Tomas lying on his bed beside her.

‘Must have dropped off,’ she murmured.

‘Before Mamm comes up, tell me what’s been going on.’

Briefly she filled him in about Kitto’s proposal, Fenton accusing her of theft, then insisting she go for tea before inveigling his way into calling upon her next Sunday.

‘He’s horrid, Tomas,’ she shuddered. ‘I can’t believe Mamm’s encouraging him.’

‘You know Father’s temper. She’ll do anything to avoid riling him. It’s why William left. Not sure I can put up with much more meself.’

‘I’m scared, Tom. Please promise you won’t leave?’ He stared at her closely for a moment then nodded.

‘I’ll not leave yet, sis,’ he promised. ‘I’m surprised at Kitto letting you go to Fenton’s though.’

‘He doesn’t know.’

‘Why not?’ She could feel his sharp look peering through the darkness. ‘He’d look out for you, thinks the world of you, he does.’

‘I didn’t get the chance to tell him. Besides, I couldn’t risk upsetting Fenton. He threatened to call the constabulary in.’

‘But you’re innocent.’

‘I know, but they’d start probing and … well, Kitto turned some of my trinkets on his lathe.’

‘Jeez. What a mess. Still, I don’t like the idea of you walking out with that man, Col. He already has a bad reputation. Word has it he’s got the quarry owners on side, started up some sort of alliance. I don’t know all the details but I intend to find out. Whatever it is, it’ll be bad news for us at the works, you can be sure of that.’

Hearing the scraping of chairs on the flagstones below, he jumped up and drew the dividing curtain.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll find out what’s going on, sis. Now, pretend to be asleep,’ he whispered as they heard their father’s tread on the stairs. He came to a halt outside their door and Colenso froze, but luckily he had other things on his mind.

‘Hurry up, Caja,’ he called. ‘A husband don’t like to be kept waiting for his rights.’

As his raucous laugh bounced off the walls, Colenso hid her head under her pillow and desperately tried to get back to sleep.


Chapter 6 (#ulink_97401b4f-2028-500f-96f9-728f71e094b4)

Colenso was being chased by Fenton who was being chased by Kitto. Round and round the serpentine works they ran. Fenton, rapacious arms outstretched, was gaining on her by the second. ‘You’re mine, mine, mine,’ he was shouting. Unable to keep going any longer, she ran to the end of the jetty and jumped. As the cold water closed over her, she woke with a start and lay in the darkness, trembling and disorientated. She blinked, trying to dispel her dream but the images persisted and she knew she had to see Kitto. Quietly, so as not to wake her brother, she slipped on her clothes, then boots in hand crept out of the room. The snores and snorts emanating from her parents’ room told her they wouldn’t be rising any time soon and, tiptoeing down the stairs, she threw on her shawl and bonnet and slipped outside.

Apart from a pearlescent loom to the east, the sky was black as soot. Not a soul stirred, although she knew it wouldn’t be long before the villagers rose to begin the new day. Determination lending urgency to her steps, she sped past the neighbouring cottages, their windows still shuttered and chimneys not yet smoking, over the wooden bridge that spanned the stream and on through the village. Then her ears pricked. She could hear footsteps running towards her. A shadowy figure emerged out of the darkness. Heart pounding like waves on the beach below, she swallowed hard.

‘Colenso?’ To her surprise, Kitto came slithering to a halt beside her. ‘What are you doing out at this hour?’ he asked.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked at the same time. They laughed then stood gazing at each other, breath rising like steam in the early morning air, until he broke the silence.

‘I had to see you. Make sure you’re all right. I waited ages yesterday, and when you didn’t come I skirted round the back of your cottage so as not to bump into your father. He gave me a right old ear-bashing the other afternoon. Warned me not to visit again, or words to that effect,’ he shrugged. ‘Anyway, couldn’t see any sign of you, so I went home. Spent the afternoon patching up our leaking window. Where were you, anyhow?’ he asked, dark eyes staring into hers.

‘You won’t believe this,’ she muttered. ‘We had to go for afternoon tea at Mr Fenton’s house.’

‘You mean as in the works manager?’ he frowned. ‘But why? I mean your father’s not exactly on the same level, is he? Sorry if that sounds rude but …’ he shrugged.

‘It’s true,’ she agreed, jumping at the snap of shutters being pulled back. As candles began flickering in the cottage windows, she knew the men would soon be making their way to the works. ‘Fenton accused me of theft,’ she admitted.

‘What?’ Kitto gasped, staring at her as if she’d grown another head. A door opened behind them. ‘Come on, we can’t talk here,’ he muttered. Taking her arm, he led her towards the shelter of the adjoining stables. ‘Now, tell me what’s been going on,’ he demanded.

Quickly she told him everything, from her meeting in Fenton’s office to the invitation to tea, although she was careful to keep the manager’s intentions to herself. Then she frowned.

‘Mamm promised to let your mother know I wouldn’t be able to meet you.’

‘Didn’t get any message. Mother would have passed it on if she had. I don’t like the sound of this at all, Cali. You’re my girl … I mean, you are, aren’t you?’ he asked, treacle eyes staring deeply into hers.

‘Of course I am,’ she cried. ‘I love you and can’t wait to be your wife, Kitto.’

‘Then as soon as I get to work, I’ll go to Fenton’s office and have it out with him.’

‘But he saw the things I made and knows some have been skilfully turned. If you do that he’ll put two and two together. Even if he doesn’t call in the constable, he’ll like as not sack you. You can’t afford to lose your job, Kitto.’

Silence descended as he processed all she’d said. There was a soft whinny and the smell of straw and horse emanated through the wooden slats as the animals stirred. Finally, he let out a long sigh.

‘You’re right. Nobody will take on a partly trained apprentice.’ As they stared at each other helplessly, the horses gave another whinny and a nearby door clattered open, followed by the banging of others. Then came the ringing of booted feet on the rough country lane as the men began their trek up the hill towards the works. ‘Got to go, but you can be sure I’ll give this some serious thought. Can we meet later?’ he asked.

‘I’m sewing for Emily today. She’s up to her eyes with orders so I’ll be working late,’ she told him. ‘How about tomorrow? I’d better not risk coming to the factory, so I’ll see you on Mammwynn’s seat when you’ve finished work.’

‘Right,’ he nodded. ‘I still can’t believe you’ve been to Fenton’s house,’ he muttered, shaking his head. ‘It doesn’t feel right. Why do I get the feeling there’s more to all this?’

If only you knew, she thought as an image of the Ferret’s glittering eyes rose before her, making her shudder.

‘Don’t worry, Cali, I’ll get it sorted,’ he murmured, pulling her closer. For one blissful moment she was enfolded in the warmth of his arms and then, with a quick peck on her cheek, he was gone. She watched as he ran towards the line of workers snaking their way out of the village. Why was life so difficult? One minute they were planning their future, the next that horrid Fenton had arrived, making her life a misery. And she still had to tell Kitto about the forthcoming outing on Sunday. It wasn’t fair, she fumed, heading towards Emily’s cottage.

‘Cripes, maid, yer early, and looking wild as a winter storm,’ the woman greeted her through a mouthful of pins. ‘Still, unless yer at death’s door, yer’ll have to wait till later to tell me what’s wrong. We’ve got a busy morning ahead. Mrs Jeans is coming for her dresses and yer know how particular she is. I offered to deliver them as usual, but it seems her son has business over at Ruan so he offered to convey her. Convey,’ she laughed. ‘They were her very words.’ Despite her mood, Colenso couldn’t help smiling at the woman. ‘Now, I’ve pinned up the hems so if yer can stitch them and add pearl buttons to the bodices, I’ll get on with the skirt for Miss Cardew.’

Although Colenso’s hands automatically performed her tasks, her mind was running amok. The thought of another long week confined to the house, doing only light chores so as not to redden or scratch her hands, was more than she could bear. As for making an appealing top for that odious manager to gawk at her in, the very idea made her shudder.

‘Someone walk over yer grave?’ Emily asked.

‘Might well have done,’ she sighed.

‘Well, the smoothing irons are hot so yer can get them hems pressed, that should warm yer up.’ Colenso couldn’t help smiling at the woman’s humour as she picked up one of the heavy irons with the thick cloth and spat on it. When it hissed, she wiped the sole, spread out one of the dresses on the table and set about her task. By the time they heard the knock on the door, the garments were ready.

‘That’ll be Mrs Jeans,’ Emily said, getting stiffly to her feet. ‘Let’s hope she pays cash rather than insisting on having an invoice sent. Gives me extra work when I could be sewing, and goodness knows I can do with the money,’ she grumbled. ‘Yer go and make us a brew while I see to her. There’s a heel of bread and some cheese on the side to go with it.’ Colenso smiled gratefully, for in her hurry to see Kitto, she’d quite forgotten to break her fast.

‘Well, there’s a turn-up for the books,’ Emily smiled as Colenso returned with the loaded tray. ‘Mrs Jeans not only paid on the spot, she wants another dress made – a fancy one for entertaining, no less. She’s brought some lovely emerald satin material and wants it trimmed with black fringing. Naturally she needs it immediate, like, so there’s more work for yer this week.’ When Colenso didn’t respond, Emily frowned. ‘Thought yer’d be pleased.’

‘I would, only Father ordered me to stay indoors for the rest of the week. I’ve to sew another top, a more appealing one this time, and make different dishes to increase my cooking skills. He says they’re too limited,’ she sighed.

‘Get away with yer. Young Kitto’s that besotted he’d think yer was appealing if yer wore yer bedcover,’ Emily grinned. ‘And I can’t imagine him complaining about your cooking either.’

‘It’s Father. He wants to impress the new works manager.’

‘Oh?’ Emily narrowed her bird-like eyes. ‘Would this be anything to do with them accusations of theft he made?’ Colenso nodded.

‘He told Father I could make it up to him by going for afternoon tea at his house. It was ghastly. Mamm simpering, Father kowtowing, Fenton gawking. And that’s not the end of it. He’s asked for me to show him the local sights on Sunday. When I started to refuse, Father told him I would. He says it’s a good opportunity.’

‘I’d like to say I’m surprised, but I’ll not lie. Always one to feather his nest at another’s expense, if yer’ll excuse me being candid, maid.’

‘But Mamm backed him up.’

‘Well, she would, wouldn’t she? I mean she might be the sick nurse and a capable one at that, but she’ll not stand up to yer father. Course, she were different before she married him.’

‘What was she like then?’ Colenso asked. Emily took a sip of her tea, a faraway look in her eye.

‘Happy, spirited, do anything for a lark,’ she said eventually. Then she grinned. ‘One day she took your mammwynn’s bloomers off the washing line and sewed up the ankles. Keren never realized till it were too late. Hopping she were, literally,’ Emily chuckled.

‘I can’t imagine Mamm being mischievous, or laughing,’ Colenso replied, her eyes widening in surprise.

‘Well, that’s the thing, see. The right man will make a woman blossom and grow, but the wrong one’ll crush the life out of yer.’ Colenso stared at her in surprise. How could someone who’d never married know about such things? ‘Seen it happen too often,’ Emily added as if guessing her thoughts. ‘So, make sure yer choose the right man.’

‘Oh, I will,’ Colenso assured her, an image of her darkhaired, treacle-eyed Kitto rising before her.

‘And if it’s who I think it is, make sure yer tell him about that outing. Honesty’s everything and it wouldn’t do for him to find out from someone else.’

‘I intend telling Kitto when I see him later. Though I can’t see him being pleased about it. Still, if I accompany Fenton this one time, I’ll surely have paid my debt for this perceived theft.’

‘Hmm, I wouldn’t be too sure,’ Emily frowned. ‘Now about that appealing top yer father expects yer to make,’ she added, stressing the word appealing. ‘Does yer have the material to make such a thing?’ she asked before taking a sip of her tea.

‘No,’ Colenso admitted, not wishing to admit what her father had suggested.

‘And did he suggest where yer might get some, by any chance?’ As the woman stared at her closely over the top of her mug, Colenso felt a flush creeping over her cheeks.

‘Thought as much.’

‘But I wouldn’t …’ she cried.

‘Don’t worry, maid. I never thought for one moment yer would.’

‘Besides, I don’t want to wear something that reveals my …’ she gestured to her chest. ‘The way Fenton gawks at it gives me the creeps.’ She leaned forward to pick up her mug and the necklace stabbed her. ‘Ouch,’ she cried.

‘What’s up?’ Emily asked, concern wrinkling her brow.

‘It’s this necklace Mammwynn gave me, it keeps digging into me.’

‘If that’s yer grandmother’s pentacle yer wearing she reckoned it always prodded her when evil threatened. Said it never lied.’

‘That’s it,’ Colenso cried. ‘She said to heed what it told me cos it never lied. So, it’s got nothing to do with my size?’

‘Yer a Cornish maid through and through, and proud of it you should be too. Yer Kitto thinks yer beautiful and so you are. He’s a good man.’ Then she became serious. ‘However, there are men who are not so honourable, and this Fenton sounds one of them. Mind yer heed that warning.’

‘But what am I to do? Father will kill me if I don’t do as he says.’

‘I’m guessing yer mamm’s no help?’ Colenso shook her head and Emily sighed.

‘A true friend to me yer grandmother was. Used to pass many an hour listening to her talking about her beloved herbs and plants. Real knowledgeable, she were, and her nettle unguent were the only thing that eased my old joints,’ she said her hand going to her hip.

‘I didn’t realize. Mamm has all her receipts so I’ll get her to look it out,’ Colenso offered.

‘Thanks, maid. Now, eat yer food while I think of a way we can outwit that old pessack.’ Colenso smiled as she picked up her bread. A rotten old pilchard described Fenton perfectly. He was ancient and probably smelled of decay, although she had no intention of getting close enough to find out. She’d just finished eating when Emily shouted, making her jump.

‘Got it, me lover. We’ll design a top that teases but protects your modesty at the same time. Now listen up, this is what we’ll do.’

✳

Dusk was falling as Colenso made her way to Mammwynn’s seat. She’d spent the day sewing the top Emily had designed for her and concocting a potage from a gaverick begged from old Mr Paul and flavoured with dried herbs. Her father hated all things crab, but he’d told her to try different things, hadn’t he? Lost in thought, she sat on the seat, the shadows lengthening around her. Surely Kitto should have been here by now?

‘Oh Mammwynn, if only you knew what’s been going on,’ she sighed. A sudden gust of wind shook the rowan branches. Unable to keep still any longer, she dropped to her knees and began tugging at the weeds that were sprouting between the plants. It was heartening to free the brave little dog violets, red valerian and yellow Alexanders that always bloomed early. Perhaps she’d pick some and make a salad with the pungent leaves. She smiled as she imagined her father’s face if she did. The work was soothing and it was satisfying to see the plot beginning to look neat and tidy again. Why, even the herbs were showing signs of new growth. Blow father and his ruling she shouldn’t get her hands dirty, she thought, staring down at her grime encrusted nails.

It had grown quite dark and still Kitto hadn’t arrived. Disappointment flooded through her. Surely, he wasn’t getting his own back for her not showing up on Sunday? The necklace stabbed her chest.

‘No, he wouldn’t do that, would he, Mammwynn?’ she murmured. The rowans waved their branches wildly, the necklace stabbed again. ‘Oh Mammwynn, I know you’re trying to tell me something, but what?’ An image of Kitto’s grim-faced determination the previous morning rose before her and she felt a frisson of fear snake through her body. Something was wrong. Shivering, she pulled her shawl tighter round her then, all thought of salad and food forgotten, she ran as fast as she could to Kitto’s hovel on the hill.

It was in darkness and, heart hammering, she banged on the door.


Chapter 7 (#ulink_a4d3e34e-dd49-541e-a4d0-bd600a9faf2e)

With only the stars to brighten her way, Colenso hurried through the dark lanes, thoughts tumbling round her head like the weeds around Mammwynn’s plants. Why hadn’t Kitto turned up? Where were his mother and siblings? Why was the hovel in darkness? By the time she reached home and lifted the latch, the church clock was chiming six.

‘Where’ve you been?’ her father snarled. Still in his coat, he was sitting at the table eating his supper, knapsack at his feet. ‘And what the ’ell’s this muck? Come in starving after a hard day’s work and what do I get? This gloppy gloop, that’s what.’ He lifted his bowl and for one moment she thought he was going to throw it at her. ‘You knows how I hates crab,’ he added petulantly.

‘That’s all the fishermen caught. Besides, you told me to cook something different, Father, so I did,’ Colenso retorted, her mind still on Kitto.

‘Yes, som’at fancy for when you entertains, not the guts of a gudderin’ gaverick. And a man shouldn’t have to come home to an empty house neither. Gawd knows where your mother is. Where’ve you been anyhow? I told you to stay indoors and make som’at decent to wear on Sunday.’ Colenso let his tirade wash over her as she quickly slipped her ring into her pocket before taking off her bonnet and shawl and hanging them on the nail by the door. Why he expected life to revolve around him she’d never know. And it was so cold in here. Would it have hurt him to stoke the fire? As she bent over to riddle the range, his arm snaked out and grabbed hold of her shoulder.

‘I asked you a question, maid,’ he growled. ‘And what the ’ell’s this?’ He frowned at her earth-encrusted hands.

‘I needed some air after being cooped up indoors so I went to see Mammwynn. Weeds were choking her plants and …’ she began.

‘I’ll blinkin’ choke you, girl. Didn’t I tell you to look after them hands? Mr Fenton don’t want a maid with roughened skin. He wants a lady, someone who takes care of herself and wears fine clothes. Someone he can show off when he invites his quarry-owner friends to supper.’

‘I’m not some displaying peacock,’ she snapped. His eyes narrowed to slits. ‘Get and wash them filthy mitts, then show me what you’ve sewed,’ he ordered, but Colenso was already taking herself out to the pump. If only she could take herself out of here forever.

She winced as the icy water stung like nettles. Ignoring the chill wind blowing in from the sea, she stood staring up at the star-studded heavens. What could have happened to Kitto? It was the thought of seeing him that had kept her going through the long, lonely day. And why wasn’t Mrs Rowse at home? Usually she’d be preparing supper for when Kitto returned from the works.

‘How many hands you washing?’ As her father’s strident voice reverberated across the yard, she let out a heartfelt sigh and made her way back indoors. ‘Now show me this top you’re making and it had better be good or …’ his voice trailed away as he fingered his belt.

Removing his bowl, which despite his protestations was now empty, she wiped the surface of the table.

‘Hurry along, girl, I’m already late for my appointment.’ And we all know where that is, she thought, carefully laying out the teal silk bodice she’d cut and tacked. ‘Well, I’ll be …’ her father whistled, hazel eyes gleaming in the candlelight. ‘At least you had the sense to swipe some decent stuff. He’ll go goggle-eyed when he sees you in that. Won’t be able to keep his hands off you.’ The very idea made Colenso’s stomach turn but her father was beside himself. ‘Seize the chance, maid, and you’ll be wearing finery like this all the time. A works manager be a far better catch than some apprenticed turner. Especially one with grand plans.’

‘I don’t suppose you saw Kitto today, Father?’ Colenso asked, trying to keep her voice casual.

‘So happens I did,’ he replied with a gleeful grin. ‘Got called into Fenton’s office, didn’t he? Still there when I left an’ all,’ he crowed. ‘Well, I’m off to celebrate, maid. You can tell your mother I’ll be late,’ he added, ramming his cap on his head and heading out into the night.

Colenso frowned. Why would Kitto be summoned to Fenton’s office? Had the manager worked out who’d been turning the souvenirs she’d fashioned? Or had Kitto ignored her warning and spoken to him about their relationship? He was a proud man and fiercely protective of her.

The door clattering open interrupted her musing, and her mamm scuttled in, closely followed by her brother.

‘Waited round the corner till your father disappeared into the alehouse. Couldn’t face all his questions as to why I was late,’ Caja said.

‘We’ve just come from there ourselves,’ Tomas explained. ‘A fight broke out earlier and one of the men got hurt. Only a split lip but it wouldn’t stop bleeding so I got Mamm to look at it.’

‘Oh?’ Colenso asked, her eyes widening.

‘Don’t worry, sis, no one you know,’ he winked, then looked serious. ‘Though a certain someone would do well to keep his mouth shut about his theories on how long the serpentine will last in the cities. Doesn’t do to upset this new manager. He’s got big plans and won’t let anyone get in his way.’

‘What plans?’ Colenso asked, thinking of her father’s earlier comment.

‘To expand the works further so he can supply more shopfronts and mantle surrounds to the finest stores and houses in London. He’s impatient to start straight away but it’s caused bad feeling between the quarriers and labourers,’ he said, throwing his cap on the nail next to hers then settling himself in his father’s chair.

‘Just you go and wash before you sit yourself down, Tomas Carne,’ Caja remonstrated.

‘Yes, Mamm.’ He gave a wry grin but duly got to his feet again.

‘Why has it caused bad feeling?’ Colenso asked.

‘The quarriers have been promised bonuses if they bring in larger pieces of the best-quality serpentine. One of them was boasting how much he could earn and that was it. Surprised Father wasn’t there, being as how he’s always complaining about his pay.’

‘Got his sights set on higher things, has Father,’ Caja replied, looking pointedly at Colenso. ‘Now go and wash, Tomas, so we can eat.’ Then she saw the teal top on the table and her eyes widened. ‘Nice bit of fabric, that. Glad to see you’ve taken Father’s advice,’ she winked, running her hand over the soft silk. ‘Don’t suppose you’ve got a spare bit for me?’ Colenso shook her head.

‘Emily kindly gave me enough material to make myself a decent top. In return I’m to help her with the new orders she’s received.’

‘Decent?’ Caja hooted. ‘That’ll send old Fenton’s pulse racing like one of them steam trains.’ Seeing the look in her mamm’s eye and not wishing her to see what else she’d been working on, Colenso quickly folded the material back in the brown paper. As she was putting it away in the dresser, she remembered something Kitto had said the previous day.

‘You promised to let Mrs Rowse know I wouldn’t be able to meet him last Sunday, but Kitto never got any message, Mamm.’

Caja slapped her hand to her forehead. ‘Why, in all the excitement of meeting Mr Fenton, I clean forgot. I am sorry,’ she said, sounding anything but. Clearly she would have to make her own arrangements in future, Colenso thought, vowing to see Kitto before the weekend.

However, much to her disappointment, as she was stealing out of the cottage early the following morning, her father caught her by the arm.

‘Sneaking off, was you? And what’s this?’ he hissed, trying to wrench the ring from her finger. ‘Give it here, now.’ Glowering, he held out his hand and Colenso knew she had no choice but to give him the ring. She watched in despair as he hurled it into the distant bushes where there was no chance of her ever finding it.

‘Try leaving again before Sunday and you’ll feel this like never before, defiant wench,’ he shouted, cracking his belt in front of her face. ‘It’s your mother’s fault for not being strict enough, so disobey again and she’ll get it too, understand?’

Hearing a squeak and seeing her mamm’s frightened face peering down the stairs, Colenso knew she had little choice.

✳

That Sunday, having suffered the agony of sleeping with her hair in rags, Colenso was made to follow the same bathing ritual as before. Then, feeling the need for as much protection from Fenton’s leers as possible, she let the curls tumble around her shoulders. However, her mamm, anxious to keep her husband happy, was having none of it.

‘Come here, Colenso. A lady doesn’t wear her hair down,’ Caja tutted, grabbing the brush and coiling her tresses artfully into a knot at the nape of her neck. ‘Now, go and get changed. It won’t do to keep Mr Fenton waiting.’

Reluctantly, Colenso went upstairs and donned her new top, smoothing it down over her everyday skirt for there was no way she could afford a new one. Still, she doubted Ferret Fenton would look low enough to notice. Checking her appearance in the fly-spotted mirror, she saw luminous dark eyes staring back from a white, pinched face. The teal of the top suited her colouring and at any other time she’d have been thrilled to be wearing it. However, the prospect of having to spend the afternoon with a fusty old ferret made her stomach turn. But neither did she relish the idea of being thrown in gaol, she thought, throwing on the shawl she’d smuggled upstairs earlier.

‘Hurry up, maid. Mr Fenton’ll be here d’reckly,’ her father bellowed, but Colenso waited until she heard the trap pull up outside before descending the stairs.

‘Oh, Colenso, you can’t wear that old thing,’ Caja cried, tugging the shawl from her shoulders. There was a stunned silence as her parents stared at her in dismay.

‘What the ’ell you done with that top? You can’t see them …’ her father finally spluttered, waving his hand in front of her.

‘A lady should never reveal too much flesh, Father,’ Colenso replied sweetly. How clever it had been of Emily to suggest adding an overlay of spider-gauze edged with lace to the silk bodice. ‘Now, if you give me back my shawl, I’ll be on my way. You don’t want me catching a chill, do you?’ she asked. Reluctantly her mamm handed back the shabby garment, sighing loudly as Colenso knotted it tightly round her neck. Then, heedless of the fancy hairstyle, Colenso rammed her bonnet on her head and strode out of the door. If she had to go through with this farce, she’d at least be closeted in as many clothes as possible.

‘Colenso, my dear,’ Fenton smiled, his eyes lighting up when he saw her. ‘Allow me,’ he added, holding out his hand to help her up.

‘The church is only over there so we can walk,’ she told him, gesturing to her right. He frowned, then shook his head.

‘No need to muddy our shoes, my dear. Come along.’ Reluctantly she took his proffered hand, grateful he was wearing buckskin gloves so that she didn’t have to actually touch him. Smartly dressed in a dark greatcoat and top hat, with black leather brogues to match, he looked out of place amongst the villagers who were eyeing them curiously. ‘I’m looking forward to our little outing,’ he said before shouting to the driver to take them to Ruan.

‘But you won’t find a better example of serpentine workmanship than that of Grade lectern, Mr Fenton …’ she began.

‘Leave the detail to me, my dear. And do call me Henry,’ he smiled, patting her knee. ‘I would have preferred to use the carriage but Dobson said he wouldn’t risk driving it down these rutted tracks. ‘Now, tell me something about this, er, hamlet you live in. Cadgwith is an unusual name, is it not?’ Resigned to her fate, she nodded.

‘Cadgwith – or Porthcaswyth as it used to be called – means cove or landing place of the thicket. I think that’s quite fitting really, don’t you?’ she said, making a sweeping gesture from the sea below, where the fishing boats were pulled up on the beach, to the trees above from where the calls of warblers and chiffchaffs sounded. ‘The view is quite beautiful.’

‘Indeed, it is,’ he murmured, staring at her and not the scenery.

‘And it’s a friendly place. Everyone helping each other, you know? Of course, we all have to work hard,’ she gabbled, feeling more disconcerted by the moment.

‘Quite,’ he nodded, his gaze seeming to devour her. Just when she thought she’d scream with frustration, his attention was caught by a cottage they were passing. ‘Good heavens, whatever is that door doing up in the air?’ he asked, frowning up at the entrance beneath the eaves of the roof. Several feet above the ground, it had no steps leading up to it.

‘That’s what they used in the old days to empty out the gazunders,’ she said, trying not to laugh when he cringed. Of course, it would never do to reveal that it was as an escape route for when press gangs descended upon the village. Luckily, before he could ask any more questions they’d left the village behind and were passing Mammwynn’s resting place. Colenso silently promised to visit her soon and then they turned the corner and Ruan church loomed before them. Jumping down, she pointed to the stonework of the tower.

‘Good serpentine blocks, eh, Mr Fenton?’ He gave a nod and followed her inside.

To Colenso’s relief, even though it was between services, the church bustled with visitors. Fenton clicked his teeth in annoyance and after a cursory glance at the font, he took Colenso’s arm and ushered her back outside.

‘Very good, but I had no idea it would be so busy,’ he frowned, handing her up into the trap.

‘The carved bench ends are quite magnificent too,’ Colenso told him, moving as close to the edge of the seat as she dared as he sat down right beside her. He nodded then instructed his driver to take them straight to Mullinsa.

‘It’s too cold a day to be roaming the countryside,’ he murmured by way of explanation. ‘The establishment I’ve been recommended has a roaring fire and does splendid refreshments,’ he added, turning to face her again. Then the trap lurched and his gaze lowered to her front, eyes widening like saucers as her bosoms were rocked from side to side.

‘I’m sure Mamm would make us some,’ Colenso said quickly, grabbing the side and willing her body to stay still.

‘Very kind, I’m sure, but we don’t want to put her to any trouble, do we?’ he replied, regaining his composure. Then, to her relief, his attention was distracted by the scattered mounds of spoil from the small quarries along the cliffs.

She relaxed back in her seat, her thoughts turning to Kitto. She wondered what he was doing. How she longed to be with him instead of this creepy works manager with his oily smile and fancy way of speaking. Why, he didn’t even notice the Cornish Heath that only grew on the serpentine or the mauve heather, golden gorse, purple betony, or creamy primroses that were blooming in the hedgerows. Kitto would have stopped and picked her a posy to take home. Kitto! If she ate her tea quickly, perhaps she’d be home in time to call and see him.

Even as her spirits rose, she knew it was a futile thought, for dusk fell quickly this time of year. Besides, it was rumoured a smuggling run was due in and no sensible person ventured out after dark then. Although the preventatives were vigilant, the seasoned smugglers who fiercely believed in their right to free trade went to great lengths to ensure nobody came between them and their booty. The village and caves were a veritable warren of secret tunnels and cellars where contraband was hidden until it could be safely moved on.

As they traversed the breadth of the flat peninsula, she remembered the story of old Mrs Arthur who, having a fondness for brandy, refused to move from her chair when the customs officers descended to search her cottage. Apparently, she’d clutched her chest and groaned until – afraid she was having a heart attack – they’d fled. Then, with a grin, she’d got to her feet, removed the rug covering the hatch and calmly climbed down her cellar steps to celebrate with a fresh bottle.

‘Well, here we are, my dear.’ She jumped as she felt a hand on her arm then realized they’d stopped outside an imposing stone building perched high on a cliff. Even on a dull day like this, you could see right across Mounts Bay to Penzance. ‘Our competitors are over there,’ Fenton announced, as if telling her something new. She shook her head, for everyone on The Lizard knew they competed for business with the works at Wherrytown.

‘By the time I’ve finished here, Poltesco will be booming and they will be but a distant memory. Dead as the dust in their works,’ he boasted, turning to her with a satisfied smile. ‘We’ve all the resources and men we need at Poltesco. The materials come in through the back door and are wheeled out of the front, straight onto the boats.’ Colenso bit her tongue, for again he was telling her things she already knew. But the Ferret was in his stride. ‘Railway or not, there’s no way they can compete with that.’ Then his expression changed. ‘Still, enough of business, it’s time for us to get to know each other better, is it not?’ he murmured, moving closer until his thigh was resting against hers.

Seeing that glint spark in his eyes once more, she could stand it no longer and leapt down from the trap.


Chapter 8 (#ulink_dd1150ce-c1a8-52c0-9978-87ef279417ed)

Colenso heard a muttered oath, followed by a thud and then footsteps hurrying after her. However, when Fenton reached her side, he just smiled knowingly and took her arm.

‘The finest hotel on The Lizard,’ he announced grandly. ‘I take it you’ve not been here before?’

‘I can’t say I remember,’ Colenso replied sweetly, refusing to rise to his gibe. She could never afford to come somewhere like this and he knew it. These fine new places were springing up all over the peninsula to cater for the tourists and artists who, inspired by the beautiful serpentine gifts and unusual flora and fauna, had begun descending in their droves. They had money to spend and the hotels were quick to capitalize on it.

A blast of warmth hit them as they entered the grand foyer with its plush red carpets and huge log fire blazing in the ornate stone fireplace. A man sporting a dark uniform with a red waistcoat hurried to greet them and, much to Colenso’s consternation, insisted he take their outer garments.

‘Won’t feel the benefit when you go outside again, else,’ he whispered, seeing her dismay. ‘Your table is ready for you, Mr Fenton,’ he announced, showing them through to a private lounge overlooking the water where another fire was burning brightly, this time in a magnificent fireplace of green serpentine. Colenso stared around the smallish room with its solitary table set for two. For the second time that afternoon, she vowed to eat as quickly as she could, and when the waiter appeared bearing a tray laden with triangles of sandwiches, scones, cream and jam, she realized it would be no hardship. And the Ferret couldn’t expect her to make conversation because it was rude to talk with your mouth full, wasn’t it?

However, she hadn’t bargained for Mr Fenton’s own table manners. Apart from ensuring her plate was never empty, he tucked into his own food, staring thoughtfully out across the bay. It was only when they were sipping their tea that he spoke.

‘Well, that was delicious, don’t you think?’ he asked, leaning so close she caught the tang of his lemony cologne. However, he was more interested in trying to peer through the oyster spider-gauze covering her blouse than in her answer. Instinctively she sat back in her seat and his lips curled into a smirk.

‘I expect this is rather different to the way you normally spend your Sunday afternoons.’

‘Yes,’ she agreed, thinking that, however lavish the food had been, it was the company that mattered and she’d rather be sharing a picnic of stale bread and cheese with Kitto.

‘This could become a regular occurrence, you know,’ he told her, nodding his head as if to add weight to his words. She watched the whiskers beneath his nose bob up and down and thought how much like a ferret he really did look. Then when he removed a pristine handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his lips with paw-like hands, she had to turn away before she burst out laughing.

‘I understand that it was Mr Rowse who did the turning on your, er, craft works, Colenso,’ he said. The tone of his voice told her this was more than a casual remark and she sobered immediately.

‘Er, yes,’ she replied, endeavouring to keep her voice steady.

‘And a splendid job he did too,’ he smiled.

‘Kitto is very talented and wants to become a master craftsman,’ she told him proudly. Henry Fenton studied her for a long moment.

‘Like him much, do you?’ Colenso nodded and his expression hardened. However, the next moment he was smiling again.

‘I too am an ambitious man, my dear. And when I set my heart on something, I do anything and everything to make sure I get it.’ He paused and stared at her, grey eyes like pebbles. Suddenly she felt the necklace tighten and put her hand to her chest to stop it from digging in. He flushed, his eyes widening as they followed her movement. Cursing silently, she placed her hands in her lap.

‘You were telling me about your plans,’ she reminded him. He continued staring for another moment before raising his head.

‘It is my intention to have a showroom built at Poltesco similar to the one we already have in London. Obviously, it will exhibit only the finest quality pieces.’

‘You mean I can continue with my work, then?’ Colenso asked excitement rising, for she missed the satisfaction she derived from seeing the dull stone turn into useful items gleaming with vibrancy.

‘Alas, no. Quite apart from the fact there will be no more offcuts, as you call them, the works I have in mind will be of a more exclusive nature. Ornamental clocks, tables, barometers, decorative vases, bowls, tazzas, that kind of thing. Resplendent polished red serpentine placed on plinths, they will complement our larger works of mantlepieces and shopfronts handsomely. Anyway, my dear, we are here to get better acquainted not to talk shop,’ he smiled, sitting back in his seat. Remembering her brother had asked her to find out as much as she could about his plans for the works, Colenso returned his smile.

‘Actually, Mr, er … Henry, I find your plans most interesting. Won’t all this mean you’ll need to have extra stone quarried?’ His face lit up and he leaned closer again.

‘You are one canny woman, Colenso. It does indeed and everyone will benefit. The quarrying of extra stone will mean more money for the workers.’

‘All of them?’ she ventured, remembering what Tomas had told her about the dissent amongst the men.

‘Well, no, we have to show a profit, and the works already pay the highest wages around these parts. However, the exhibits required for the showroom could mean more for Mr Rowse, as long as he stops bleating about the stone failing. I mean, I ask you, do you know what serpentine is made of?’ he laughed.

‘Actually, I do, Henry,’ she grinned, grateful that Kitto had explained it to her. ‘Basically, it’s composed of three elements: magnesium, silicate, and water trapped in its hydrated crystals,’ she told him. There was silence as he stared at her in astonishment.

‘Er, yes, precisely,’ he murmured. Then, seeming to remember his point, he continued. ‘As I reminded young Rowse, the church towers here on The Lizard have stood the test of time for four hundred years or more. They’ve endured gales, rain, and fog not to mention the hot sun, so I think that rather proves my point.’ He sat back in his chair, smiling benignly. Eager to wipe the complacent look from his face, she shook her head.

‘There was an article on the subject in the Illustrated London News, pointing out that here on The Lizard we don’t suffer the same frosty weather as the cities and …’ she stuttered to a halt as he held up his hand.

‘No more shop talk, please,’ he insisted, holding up his hand. ‘What did you think of my humble abode, Colenso?’ She could tell by the tone of his voice, he thought his home anything but modest.

‘Lovely, Mr, er … Henry,’ she assured him.

‘And could be lovelier still. I believe I already mentioned it needs a woman’s touch. So what do you think, Colenso, could you be she?’ he asked, staring fixedly at her like an animal with prey in its sights.

‘I don’t think Mrs Grim would take kindly to any of my suggestions,’ Colenso replied. To her surprise, he roared with laughter, his shoulders shaking.

‘My dear girl,’ he spluttered. ‘Mrs Grim is an employee and does as she’s bid. She’s there to work not pass opinion.’ Is that so, Colenso thought, remembering the housekeeper’s disdainful manner, but the Ferret was in his stride. ‘You have a good if somewhat modest taste in clothes, so I’m sure you will know better than I which draperies will benefit my house. Dobson will collect you next Sunday and then you can see what you think. I’ll get Mrs Grim to lay on a proper afternoon tea. Where I come from we have fruit cake accompanied by a goodly slice of strong cheese.’ As he sat back in his chair with a satisfied grin, the clock chimed the hour and the waiter reappeared.

‘May I get you anything else, madam, sir?’ he asked.

‘No thank you,’ Fenton replied, waving him away. Seizing the opportunity, Colenso jumped to her feet.

‘We are just leaving, thank you,’ she said, making her way quickly towards the door and out to the foyer.

During the journey home, she steered the conversation back to the works, asking question after question about his plans so that by the time they drew up outside her cottage, he hadn’t had the opportunity to return to their previous conversation. However, as she made to jump down, he caught her arm.

‘I have enjoyed this afternoon, my dear. You have proven to be very good company and I shall look forward to hearing your ideas for improving my house next Sunday afternoon.’

‘Ah yes, about that. I’ll ask Mamm to accompany me, she has more experience of these things,’ she told him sweetly. He frowned and cast a sceptical look in the direction of their tumbledown cottage.

‘Very well, if you insist,’ he acquiesced. Then, as relief flooded through her, he added: ‘But remember you are still indebted for my not handing you over to the authorities, and Henry Fenton always ensures his debts get repaid,’ he said, patting her knee. She was about to protest when her father’s voice boomed out.

‘Mr Fenton, sir, I thought it was you sat outside in your fine conveyance.’

‘Thank you for a lovely afternoon, Mr Fenton,’ Colenso said quickly, taking the opportunity to jump down from the trap.

‘Till next Sunday, Colenso Carne,’ he replied, tipping his hat. Leaving them talking, she hurried indoors.

‘Did you have a good afternoon?’ her mother asked, looking up from her darning. Colenso was saved from answering by the clattering of the latch as her father appeared.

‘He’s calling for her again next Sunday,’ he told Caja, rubbing his hands with glee. ‘I’ll break open that new bottle of brandy we got, er, given,’ he chuckled.

‘Well done, you’ve obviously made a good impression,’ her mother smiled, turning back to Colenso.

‘He just wants a woman’s opinion on his draperies, Mother. I volunteered your services too, so you’ll be accompanying me.’

‘Well, it’s a start, I suppose,’ Caja frowned. ‘And if you do a good job on his home and he sees how well you look in it, well …’

‘I’m tired and going to bed,’ Colenso interrupted, unable to listen to any more of her mamm’s scheming. ‘I promised Emily I’d go in early tomorrow and help with her orders and I intend going,’ she told them. To her surprise her father nodded.

‘Good idea, then you can nab another bit of that silk, maid. This time though, make a top without that netting stuff over it.’

‘Yes, you can’t be seen out with the works manager wearing the same blouse,’ her mamm added. Colenso shook her head. All her life she’d been told to make what she had last, and now she was expected to produce a new top each week. Well, she wouldn’t be asking Emily for any more material, she was already in her debt as it was.

✳

‘And neither should yer have to, maid,’ Emily agreed. ‘A man should takes yer as yer is, not worry about what yer wearing.’ They were sitting by the fire, taking their noontime break after a frantic morning of cutting, sewing and pressing, and Emily had asked how her afternoon with Fenton had gone. ‘Them parents of yers wants shooting, if yer don’t mind me saying. Keep within yer own class and cut yer coat according to yer cloth, I say. Mind yer, I was asked this morning if I was interested in some French lace,’ she winked. Colenso smiled.

‘I was relieved to have that gauze covering my blouse. If Ferret Fenton’s nose got any closer I’d have smacked it.’ Emily eyed her sharply.

‘Don’t you let him take no liberties, maid.’

‘I won’t, don’t you worry, though he gets so close I can smell him. It gives me the shivers.’ Emily looked thoughtful for a moment.

‘Yer grandmother used to hum a tune if a person she didn’t like got too near. She said it cast a ring of protection round her.’

‘You’re right, she did,’ Colenso exclaimed, remembering how she used to do that when Father was pontificating. ‘I’ll try it. My singing’s that bad it will send anyone fleeing to the moors anyway,’ she grinned.

‘Well, there yer are, then,’ Emily chuckled.

‘Would it be all right if I finish early this afternoon? I promise to come in again tomorrow. Kitto didn’t turn up for our meeting the other evening and then Father banned me from leaving the cottage. I need to tell him about yesterday before he hears it from someone else. You know what Father’s like once he’s had a drink. He’ll have exaggerated everything out of proportion and I don’t want Kitto getting the wrong idea.’ Emily nodded.

‘Be sure he understands yer his girl. He’s a good ’un, is young Kitto, and yer’ll do well together. Yer’ll need to finish that skirt for Mrs Tallis before yer leaves, mind. Can’t afford to have my reputation ruined, young love or not.’

✳

And love was the crux of the matter, Colenso mused as she hurried down the lane later that afternoon. Kitto was her beloved. He was young and attractive, but most of all he set her pulses racing whilst the Ferret was ancient and repulsed her. If only she’d stuck up for herself more forcefully when he accused her of theft she wouldn’t feel like a fly trapped in a web with the silken thread tightening around her.

Whilst it was heartening that the evenings were beginning to draw out, she didn’t want her father to see her. As soon as she heard the ring of scutes on the rocky path and the workers began appearing, weary and dirty after their long day’s work, she slipped into the shadows of the hedges. She frowned as they passed by, for some were arguing whilst others earnestly voiced their opinions. What could have upset these equable workers, she wondered. Usually they’d be keen to get home to their supper. Her musings were interrupted by a piercing whistle and she stared around in surprise. Then it came again and she saw Kitto beckoning to her from behind a large elm tree.

‘What are you doing?’ she whispered, slipping over to join him.

‘Coming to see you but I daren’t risk bumping into your father.’ He fell silent as the next huddle of men noisily passed by. ‘He’s been trying to cause trouble with Fenton,’ he continued, his voice low.


Chapter 9 (#ulink_68777f0b-e632-5b1b-a452-9552d2b1cd63)

‘What do you mean?’ Colenso asked, staring at Kitto in dismay.

‘I think he was hoping to stab me in the back and get me fired, but you could say his plan backfired,’ he chuckled, then became serious. ‘I’ve missed you, Cali.’ He pulled her closer and she snuggled against him, revelling in the warmth of his body.

‘I waited ages by Mammwynn’s seat,’ she told him.

‘Sorry, but Fenton called me into his office just as I was leaving. Said your father had told him it was me who’d turned those things for you. Thought I’d had it, I can tell you.’ Colenso shuddered as she pictured the scene. ‘Come on,’ he murmured. ‘Let’s go somewhere warmer. Jim’s not back with the horse bus yet, so let’s avail ourselves of his nice warm stables.’ They waited while another row of dissenting workers tramped past then, like a couple of naughty children, ran to the shelter of the stalls.

‘Sit down and make yourself comfortable,’ he invited, mischief lighting up his eyes as he gestured to a nearby bale.

‘Honestly, Kitto Rowse, you do know how to spoil a girl,’ she quipped, wrinkling her nose at the ripe smell emanating from piles of dung and goodness knows what else. Still, paupers couldn’t be pickers, she thought, easing herself down on the straw.

‘Soon as I’m qualified I’ll take you to the finest hotel where you will sit on a velvet-cushioned chair and feast on the finest food to celebrate our betrothal,’ he promised. Remembering her outing with Fenton the previous day, Colenso shook her head.




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