by Linda Finlay
‘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
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 conversa
tion 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 ope
n 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.