by Jane Jackson
He heard the smile in her voice. ‘You no longer need the bandage?’
‘Not tonight.’ In truth, his wrist ached like the devil. But he knew the importance of first impressions and had no intention of betraying weakness. ‘I want people’s attention focused on the benefits of the development, not on me. While I was in Truro I did have one excellent stroke of good fortune.’
‘Oh?’ He heard the eagerness in her voice, the quick interest.
‘I met a man named Cyrus Keat, and have hired him as my clerk of works.’
‘Goodness, he must have impressed you.’
‘He did, especially as he recently held the same position on a recently-completed harbour expansion in North Cornwall.’
‘Really?’
‘Really. The letter of commendation from his previous employer was most impressive. But I wanted to be sure. So I made my own enquiries of various acquaintances. Everything I learned convinced me he would be a valuable asset.’ He felt the pressure of Jenefer’s fingers as she briefly squeezed his arm.
There was a short silence. ‘I imagine this means you will no longer need me.’
I will always need you. He bit the words back just in time. He had no right to say them: not yet. But as soon as he was free there was so much he would tell her. How meeting her had changed his life; how much she meant to him; how deeply he had been shaken by the realization that he – previously content with solitude – wanted her by his side, in his heart and in his bed for as long as they lived.
He cleared a sudden thickness from his throat, and looked down at her. ‘On the contrary. Mr Keat’s job is to manage the practicalities: overseeing the men, ensuring they have the tools and materials they need, keeping a close watch on progress and dealing with any problems that arise. Meanwhile I retain control of planning, quantity estimates, ordering materials, finance and overall supervision.’
‘It must have been such a relief to find a man of experience. I’m so pleased for you.’
‘Not as pleased as I am,’ he said drily. ‘However, if you could continue assisting me with correspondence and financial paperwork, I would be truly grateful.’ Where her hand rested on his forearm he covered it with his own. ‘Can you? Will you?’
The buzz of conversation and laughter grew louder as they passed The Standard’s main entrance and walked round to the side. An oil lamp hung over the lintel and the open double doors were fastened back.
She lifted her face. In the lamplight her eyes gleamed and he saw she was smiling. ‘I should like that above all things.’ Reluctantly he released her arm and allowed her to precede him.
Candles burned in holders all around the walls and Jenefer saw the room was already half full of people.
‘George will take your hat,’ she told Charles as she removed her cloak and passed it to the young man standing in the doorway to a small anteroom lined with rows of wooden pegs.
‘Will I ever get it back?’ he murmured in her ear, making her skin prickle. But he handed it over.
‘Oh yes,’ she nodded. ‘George has an excellent memory.’ She picked up her basket and they moved towards two long trestle tables.
Three women were busy setting out quantities of food. Platters of cold beef, chicken and mutton were flanked by dishes of chutney and pickles. Herby pies, leek pies, and Lizzie’s squab pies had been sliced and arranged on large plates. Alongside plates of buttered bread were apple tarts, plum tarts and squares of hevva cake.
‘All right, miss?’ Jenefer’s other neighbour beamed at her from one end of the table where she was spreading jam on halved scones then topping them with a spoonful of thick clotted cream. At the other end a stout middle-aged woman wearing a white kerchief over a maroon gown was busily directing the placing of laden dishes and plates as more women arrived with their contributions.
‘Hello, Ernestine.’ Jenefer handed over the basket. ‘I’m not sure you’ll need these.’
Peering into the basket, Ernestine gave a decisive nod. ‘Don’t you b’lieve it. Go like snow in sunshine this lot will.’ She darted a shy glance at Charles.
‘I don’t think you’ve met Mr Polgray,’ Jenefer said. ‘Charles, this is my good friend and neighbour, Miss Rowse.’
‘I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Rowse.’
As Charles bowed, Ernestine’s sallow complexion turned bright pink and she bobbed an awkward curtsy. ‘I heard you’re up Kegwyn living. Like it up there, do you?’
‘Very much.’
Ernestine lifted out the scones, butter and jam. ‘Don’t you worry about your basket,’ she said to Jenefer. ‘I’ll bring ’n home and give ’n to ’e tomorrow.’
‘Thank you, Ernestine.’
As she and Charles turned away, Jenefer saw more people thronging through the door. Carrying baskets or plates wrapped in clean cloths, women headed towards the tables.
‘It’s less crowded over on the other side,’ Jenefer said.
‘If you say so,’ Charles murmured, taking her elbow and guiding her through milling people exchanging greetings, news and gossip. ‘We are being watched,’ he whispered.
‘Naturally,’ Jenefer whispered back. ‘You cannot have expected otherwise. Just smile and look as if you are delighted to be here.’
‘You make it sound so simple,’ he murmured, and his warm breath on her cheek made her stomach quake.
She slanted a wry glance at him. ‘The more you practise the easier it becomes. I have considerable experience in this matter.’
His fingers tightened momentarily on her arm: a brief gesture that told her he understood. She should have realized he would. The more they talked the more she felt they shared a bond that ran deeper than words. It defied explanation, because there was still so much she did not know and had yet to learn about him. But as he had said, now was not the time. As they reached the far side the musicians played a chord.
Doctor Avers, Mr Penkivell and other gentlemen accompanied by their wives and daughters had gathered in a group. Like Charles, the gentlemen wore black coats, white breeches, white stockings and black shoes with silver buckles. But none of them was as handsome, nor, despite their self-importance and Charles’s reserve, did they have a fraction of his presence.
The older ladies were expensively clad in silk and lace of every shade from emerald and crimson to lilac and primrose. Some had covered their hair with matching turbans decorated with spangles and feathers. Others favoured bandeaux of pleated chiffon and jewelled pins. Their daughters wore embroidered or figured muslin with silk flowers entwined in their ringlets. They whispered and twittered, surveying the room from behind fluttering fans.
Many of the village women had given an old gown a fresh look with a bright sash or a pleated kerchief. The younger girls wore coloured ribbons that matched their dresses.
Then Jenefer saw William making his way through the crowd, smiling and exchanging greetings as he passed. He reached the stage. Standing in front of it he raised his hands. Gradually the crowd fell silent.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, friends. Welcome. With your permission I should like to begin this evening’s celebration with a short prayer.’
Jenefer compressed her lips on a smile. With your permission. Had William not entered the church he could surely have entered politics or become a diplomat, for just saying those words made it impossible for anyone to object.
‘Let us pray.’ He waited a few seconds for complete silence. ‘Dear Lord, we thank you for your bountiful blessings; for the harvest now safely gathered in, and for the gift of fellowship we share here tonight. Amen.’ As heads lifted Jenefer saw people nod and exchange approving glances. They appreciated brevity on such occasions.
William spread his arms wide. ‘Let the dancing commence. We will begin with’ − he glanced over his shoulder and the violinist leaned down and murmured − ‘The Barley Mow,’ William announced.
As couples moved to take their places Jenefer saw William scanning the crowd. Fearing she might be the person he
was looking for, she turned to Charles. ‘It will be at least an hour before supper is called, so—’
‘Will you do me the honour of dancing with me?’
Delight shivered down her spine but Jenefer hesitated. ‘Are you sure? We will be closely observed.’
He nodded. ‘We will be anyway. But if I am to win over the villagers it is not enough that I am seen. Nor can I simply stand and watch, for I might be thought to consider myself above the company. I must take part.’
‘And that is why you asked me?’ Jenefer enquired drily.
‘No,’ he said softly, his gaze holding hers. ‘Everything I said is true. But I asked because … because I very much want to dance with you.’
As her heart did a slow sommersault Jenefer felt a blush climb her throat. She could feel her face glowing. What would people think? Whatever they wished. Other people’s opinions were outside her control.
‘What are you thinking?’ Charles murmured as they came together in the dance.
‘It would take too long to tell you,’ she smiled up at him before whirling away.
‘Then be brief,’ he demanded, as their paths crossed again.
She lifted one shoulder. ‘I’m happy.’
A shadow crossed his face and in that instant she thought she glimpsed … anguish? Guilt? Then his features softened as he smiled. ‘No one deserves it more.’ The yearning in his gaze made her heart swell, and she swiftly dismissed her earlier impression as a trick of the light.
‘Whom should I meet first?’ Charles whispered as he escorted her from the floor at the end of the dance.
‘Doctor Avers and Mr Penkivell and their families. Then I’ll introduce you to Mr Gillis. He owns a boatyard at the top of the beach. He’s a lovely man. Unfortunately, his wife.…’ As he bent his head to catch her whisper, she breathed in the faint fragrance of soap and warm skin. Her senses swam.
‘Gillis? Isn’t their daughter—?’
‘Married to Devlin Varcoe, Mr Casvellan’s bailiff. Tamara and Roz are my closest friends. However, Mrs Gillis is not the easiest of women.’
‘I appreciate the warning.’
During the next hour Jenefer made introductions, and when courtesy demanded that Charles dance with wives or daughters, she stood up with the gentlemen. But this required her to politely deflect questions that verged on impertinence. And, as she moved through the figures of the dance, she kept catching sight of William watching her.
It was with a sigh of relief that she heard supper announced. Her face ached with the effort of maintaining a smile while she fought an urge to give Mr Penkivell the set-down he deserved.
Leading her to a chair, Charles disappeared, returning a few minutes later with a plate of food.
‘What about you? Aren’t you hungry?’
He shook his head. ‘I’ll fetch you a drink. What would you like?’
Her throat was parched. ‘Lemonade, please.’
She watched him cross the room, noticed others watching him then whispering to each other, their curiosity plain. He returned with a glass of lemonade for her and a tankard of ale for himself.
Taking a mouthful of the cool tart liquid that slid like nectar down her throat, Jenefer looked up. ‘When will you tell them?’
Lifting his tankard, Charles swallowed deeply then bent to place it beneath her chair. ‘Now,’ he said, straightening up. Making his way to the dais on which the musicians were playing softly he spoke to the leader. A chord was struck and people turned to look. Charles stood calmly, waiting for silence.
‘Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Polgray. Please forgive my interrupting your supper, but I wanted to take this opportunity to tell you about a project that will benefit the whole village. I intend to expand the harbour and increase the number and size of ships using the quays.’
‘What do that mean, expanding the harbour? What are ’e going to do to ’n?’ A voice called from the crowd. As some glanced round to see who had spoken, others nodded, glad someone else had asked the question uppermost in all their minds.
‘Increasing the length of the western quay by a hundred feet will partially enclose the harbour and provide a safe haven for the fishing boats during rough winter weather.’ This time nods were accompanied by murmurs of approval. ‘A new road will be constructed across the waste ground at the back of the quay linking the harbour to the main road so that the wagonloads of ore need not pass through the village.’
‘You can’t put no road down there,’ someone objected. ‘’Tis too steep.’
Arguments broke out. Charles raised his hands again and the protesters were shushed. ‘You are quite right. It would not be safe, or indeed possible, to drive a team down such a slope. To overcome that there will be a pulley system anchored at the top. Unhitched from its team, the wagon will be attached to a stout rope on a large drum and lowered down the road. A strong brake will control the speed of descent, and the weight of the full wagon going down would pull an empty wagon back up to the top.’
During the silence while everyone tried to picture this arrangement, Charles continued, ‘In addition to the road and the quay extension, I also intend building a free-standing mole fifty yards seaward from harbour entrance. This will absorb the force of storm waves and thus protect the new quay and the harbour.’
‘Dear life!’ An elderly man spoke up. ‘That’s some plan all right.’
Another man asked, ‘How long is all this going to take?’
‘My intention,’ Charles said, ‘is to have it completed within six months. But if I am to achieve that I shall need stonemasons, carpenters and labourers. There will be work for every man who wants it. After the expansion is complete, increased cargo traffic through the harbour will provide regular work.’
‘What cargo is that, then?’ Jenefer could see the man who had asked. Though his tone was sceptical, his expression, and those of the men around him, betrayed hope and a wish to be convinced.
Again Charles waited until the excited buzz of conversation died away. ‘Kerrow & Polgray, a company founded nearly forty years ago by my father and his cousin, owns a silver mine in Helston, and a highly productive copper mine near Wendron. Until now we have shipped copper ore to our smelter in South Wales from Hayle harbour. This business, plus imports of coal and wood, will be transferred from Hayle to Porthinnis. You will earn fair pay in return for hard work.’
He paused, taking time to look around the room and everyone in it. ‘The thought of change is unsettling. Even change for the better. But increased trade will bring greater prosperity to everyone in the village. I will be down at the quay at eight o’clock on Monday morning to sign up any man interested. Thank you for your attention. Enjoy the rest of the evening.’
As the buzz of conversation exploded into a roar, Jenefer watched him come towards her. ‘Congratulations,’ she whispered, handing him his ale. After two deep swallows he lowered the tankard.
‘Have I persuaded them?’
She nodded. ‘No doubt of it. How could you not? There may be resistance from a few die-hards who would prefer to see the village fall into dereliction rather than embrace change. But once the work is underway and they can see what you intend, I’m sure even their resistance will crumble.’
A few minutes later the musicians struck up once more. And as dancing resumed people gathered into groups that expanded, broke and reformed to further discuss the plans.
Seeing Dr Avers and Mr Penkivell approaching, clearly intent on a conversation with Charles, Jenefer politely drew back. Mr Penkivell demanded to know if Mr Casvellan was aware of these ambitious plans.
‘Of course,’ Charles responded coolly. ‘We discussed them at length when I first came to the village.’
‘What is his opinion?’ Dr Avers enquired.
‘As he expressed an interest in becoming a shareholder, I must assume he is very much in favour.’
Biting her lip as she struggled to hide a smile, Jenefer turned and came face to face with William.<
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His normally pale face was flushed. He bowed. ‘May I have the pleasure of the next dance?’
Though she would have preferred to remain with Charles she could not in all conscience refuse. With a curtsy she placed her gloved hand in his. As they moved to take their place in the line he lowered his voice so only she could hear.
‘Miss – Jenefer, I want you to know that what I am about to say is motivated by the very best of intentions.’
Irritation stirred like a creature roused from sleep. But she made herself smile as she glanced sideways at him. ‘Goodness, William, that sounds ominous. Perhaps you might prefer to think again?’
‘Believe me, I have thought most carefully, and can see no alternative but to question the wisdom of your deepening involvement with Mr Polgray.’
As the figure separated them, rage flooded her body with heat. Rejoining the set, his grip on her hand was limp and tentative as they stepped forward then back. Tempted to give him a set-down for his presumption in questioning her behaviour, she contained it behind clenched teeth.
‘Were you not listening to what he said, William?’ she enquired. ‘And if you were, surely you must see how much this project will benefit the village?’ Knowing he would interpret her anger as proof that he was right and she was wrong she swallowed it down and drew a slow deliberate breath.
‘Now the harvest is finished, men are in desperate need of the work Mr Polgray can offer. I am astonished at your failure to recognize this.’ The dance ended. William opened his mouth. But Jenefer was in no mood to hear more. ‘Please excuse me.’ With the briefest of curtsies she turned from him and saw Charles on the far side of the room. As his gaze met hers the crowd and the noise faded away, and there was only him.
Bending his head as she reached his side he murmured, ‘I missed you.’
She forced a smile and knew instantly that he had seen through it.
‘You are tired. Come, I will walk you home.’
‘Thank you, but you had far better stay here and—’