LITMIR.BIZ

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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.

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