Wrecker Page 14

  After opening the bed curtains a little I sat on the edge of the bed and opened the book with shaking hands. I turned to the last few pages, the final letters that Lady Rosemount wrote to her friend. It seemed that her ladyship had tired of her intrigues and had found her conscience at last. She had tried to escape the castle to live in a convent, but that fiend, the Count, had hired some brigands to ambush her coach on a mountain pass, so he could pretend to rescue her, when really all he wanted was to have his way with her. My blood pumped hard in my ears as I read, so that I didn’t hear footsteps on the stairs until it was too late. I thought that busybody Mrs Gurney must have come early, to keep an eye on me no doubt, and was just about to come barging through the door. I jumped to my feet, but before I had a chance to put the book back in the drawer, the door swung open and there before me she stood – not Mrs Gurney, but Mrs Stone herself. She saw the open bed curtain and peered through the gap as if she expected to find someone on the bed.

  ‘May I ask what you are doing in this room?’ she said.

  ‘I was reading.’ She looked at the book in my hands and then down at the open drawer. ‘I was only looking for a blanket, ma’am. I was cold in bed last night and I thought I might find one in the chest. I should have waited and asked you, or got Mrs Gurney to fetch one, but as there was nobody about I went to look for it, thinking you wouldn’t mind. I found this in the drawer and wondered what it might be.’

  ‘What on earth made you think you could sneak into my room and look through my private belongings?’ she said, flushing.

  ‘Your belongings?’ I said. ‘This book is yours? I supposed it had been taken off Susan, for her own good. Or else from Mrs Gurney.’

  ‘Don’t you dare trifle with me,’ she said, her mouth quivering.

  ‘Please, ma’am, you mistake me, I was only . . .’

  ‘Be quiet!’ she snapped.

  ‘Oh, please don’t tell Mr Stone, I beg you!’ I cried, thinking this would surely end my hopes of becoming Sunday school mistress. ‘He thinks well of me and I was only a little curious as I’ve never before seen such a book.’

  ‘How dare you suggest the novel is corrupting you!’ she shouted. She lunged towards me and slapped my face so smartly that I screamed. I had never before been hit by a woman and let her get away with it.

  ‘I told you to be quiet,’ she said. ‘Do you want me to call for a constable and have you arrested as a common thief?’ She stepped back from me towards the door. ‘Pay attention to what I say. I won’t let you drag me down to your level. I will not stand for it.’

  ‘I’ve done nothing wrong, really I haven’t,’ I sobbed, wiping my running nose with my fingers.

  ‘If you are such an innocent, then how do you explain the silver pin in your hair yesterday? Not to mention the fine pair of boots you were wearing when you arrived, boots that didn’t fit you. Well?’

  ‘I bought the hair pin in the market in Penzance with some money I had put by. The boots were second-hand, and cheap as they’d been damaged.’

  ‘Damaged in a wreck, you mean. You took them from a dead woman’s feet.’

  ‘Oh no, ma’am, I didn’t, I swear.’

  ‘Do you think me a fool? Admit what you’ve done.’

  ‘I would never do such a thing, honest to God, I wouldn’t.’ Again, I broke into tears, as if all the feelings I’d held inside me since coming to Newlyn were pouring out at once.

  ‘Calm yourself and dry your eyes,’ she said, handing me a pocket handkerchief. ‘Mrs Gurney will be here soon. You needn’t let her see you like this.’

  I dabbed my eyes. ‘Shall I say I fell on my face?’ I asked, touching my hot and stinging cheek.

  ‘Say whatever you like.’ She reached out and took the novel from me. ‘This novel is mine, as you well know. It was in my possession when we moved into the house and I had forgotten all about it until now. I never intended to keep it a secret from my husband. We do not have secrets. In fact, I will put the book here on the chest for him to see. It is no more than a silly romance, after all.

  ‘You have quite a gift, don’t you, Miss Blight?’ she continued. ‘My husband has seen fit to pass you off as a Sunday school teacher, but I think myself a better judge of your sort. Once you are back where you belong, do not ever think to return here. When the works are finished on the chapel, Mr Hawkey will take responsibility for leading prayer meetings in that village of yours and there will be no need for my husband to ever set foot on that shore again.’

  12

  My week in Newlyn came to an end. On the walk home across the moor I had to listen to Tobias Hawkey, the tinner preacher, tell me at length about his thirst for mental improvement. He’d started out as a buddle boy in the mines and later turned to smuggling before his conversion and submission to the Lord’s will. The man wittered on and on about all manner of learned men, but Wesley was the only one I’d ever heard of. An hour or two of silence let him know he was wasting his breath and we passed the rest of the journey without a word. Afterwards, I felt sorry, though, as I’m sure he meant well and few men would even think of educating a poor low-born woman.

  What tears of joy were wept when I walked through the door of my home and into the arms of my Mamm and Tegen! We had never in all our lives been so long apart.

  Meanwhile, two guineas had been raised from the Society to buy catechisms for the new Sunday school. Now that the time had come, I realised I’d never wanted to be the Sunday school mistress at all. I’d gone along with it due to my pride and wanting to spite Loveday Skewes, and most of all so I could be tied in some way to the minister. What hope was there of that now, after he had steered clear of me all the while I was in Newlyn?

  The day of the first class arrived and I had not slept all night. I got to Aunt Madgie’s house, went through the two sturdy stone columns that held up the top floor, and knocked on the door. It creaked open and the old woman appeared in the shadows. She offered only a withering look for a greeting, barely glancing at me. I followed her to the kitchen door, where she stood and let me pass into the room, before disappearing into the back of the house, her crook sounding on the stone floor and echoing down the hallway.

  I took my seat at the head of the table, feeling the squitters coming on and wanting the chamber pot, but not daring to ask for it. In a short while the children began to arrive in twos and threes. There were thirteen in all, crammed around the kitchen table with the latecomers on the settle by the hearth. It was the coldest kitchen I had ever known because the old dame was too mean to light a bit of kindling and furze in the hearth. The children sat on the hard wooden forms, the boys on one side of the table and the girls on the other. I saw how they cowered in that dark place lit only by the feeble light from a tiny window high on the wall, the corners of the room in such deep shadow that a ghoul might leap out at any moment. A great crucifix hung on the wall as a warning of what might happen if any child incurred God’s wrath. I made sure to take a seat where that cross was out of sight and I would not be judged by it. Along the opposite wall was a huge dresser of dark stained wood, which loomed over the room and seemed to draw what little light there was into its depths. I saw how poor little Sarah Pengilly trembled and when nobody was looking I gave her a smile, and she returned it. Aunt Madgie entered, trailing a cold draught behind her. Without a word, she placed a stick on the dresser, a horrid thing. I was sure I could never bring myself to strike a child. When she was gone she left the kitchen door ajar so that she could overhear us.

  I passed around the catechisms. Only a few minutes of the class were done and there was almost three hours to go. How was I to keep control of the children for all that time when by rights they should be running wild outside? The cloth in the armpits of my dress was damp with sweat, in spite of the cold. ‘Now which of you can read a little?’ I asked. All stared down at the table in silence.

  When the class was over I was more tired than I had ever been in my life. Throughout, as I’d given the children their instruc
tion, I’d felt Aunt Madgie’s dark presence behind the kitchen door, finding fault with whatever I did. At the end Gideon came to pay a visit. The children stood to attention, the girls curtseying before him in the sweetest way you could imagine and the boys tugging their forelocks like the dearest little men. I felt proud of them at that moment, as if they were my own children.

  ‘Do you know that you are very special children because you are the first in over ten years who have had the opportunity to go to school?’ he told them. ‘I am sure you will all attend well to Sister Blight’s lessons. Under her instruction you will learn your ABC. More importantly, you will become habituated to a regular and devout attendance upon the public worship of Almighty God, and the ministry of His word. You must pay attention to whatever Sister Blight tells you, because it will enkindle a thirst for mental and moral improvement, and train you for Heaven. I hope that this school will become a nursery for the chapel and a bulwark of the Protestant faith in the village, and that its influence will be reinforced in all your homes.’

  When he had finished the children stared at each other, not having understood a word of it. ‘And perhaps next week we will bring some wood for the fire,’ he said, with a smile, and they all cheered. The children went, leaving me in the shadows of that dark room with the minister. No doubt Aunt Madgie was outside listening.

  ‘I hope this morning wasn’t too much of an ordeal,’ he said. He must have seen how I shook, having hidden my nerves so long from the children. ‘I don’t want you to feel abandoned. I regret that I was unable to spend more time in Newlyn during your stay.’ He cleared his throat, and I knew he meant to broach some weighty matter. ‘You have heard something about my home arrangements, perhaps?’ I shook my head. ‘Well, you will do soon enough. Hearsay travels quickly in these parts. My wife has moved out of our home and gone to stay with her parents. She is indisposed, and may be gone a little time. However, I trust in Providence that she will recover before too long.’

  This news pleased me, but not wanting him to see, I set about gathering the catechisms and putting them in my basket.

  ‘Of course, the work must continue on the chapel,’ he said.

  I nodded, but said nothing.

  ‘Sister Blight,’ he said, in a way that called for my full attention. ‘I must be sure that you are undertaking this work in good faith.’

  I put the catechisms in my basket, and turned to him. ‘What do you mean to say?’ I said. ‘Mrs Stone hasn’t said anything about me?’

  ‘One or two things, but they don’t overly concern me. However, if you are to continue as Sunday school mistress, I must be assured you are not bound by the chains of superstition, as so many of your neighbours are. I will never forget that poor plucked bird you hung from the rafters. Some of these pagan notions are merely quaint, such as children baptising their dolls on Good Friday or sacred rocks with curative properties. Others are more concerning, women offering pardons and protections, for example, or animal sacrifices. I must be persuaded that you have surrendered to faith in the Redeemer’s love.’

  ‘I’ve always held with King Jesus, and the angels. But I own that I have at times used herbs and charms. I thought it would do no harm and perhaps some good would come of it. But I will stop now, if you ask it.’

  ‘The Creator is not to be compared to piskies, spells or spirits. But this is not all.’ He was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, he didn’t look me in the eye. ‘We must also disavow our pride, the secret and selfish desires of our heart. We must forget the vanities of this world, and look to the next. There is a great liberty in this, I promise you.’ His voice became softer. ‘Mary, I have put my faith in you. I know you will not fail me. I have brought something for you.’ He glanced over at the door, which was ajar, to make sure we were not spied upon. Then he took a scroll of paper from inside his coat, and handed it to me. ‘It is one of Mr Wesley’s hymns. You will be familiar with it from our prayer meetings. I have made a copy of it. Often times, when I’ve been low in spirit, I have found these verses comforting.’

  I took the scroll from his hand, but didn’t unravel it until he’d left.

  I am no longer my own, but thine.

  Put me to what thou wilt, rank me with whom thou wilt.

  Put me to doing, put me to suffering.

  Let me be employed for thee or laid aside for thee, exalted for thee or brought low for thee.

  Let me be full, let me be empty.

  Let me have all things, let me have nothing.

  I freely and heartily yield all things to thy pleasure and disposal.

  And now, O glorious and blessed God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit,

  thou art mine, and I am thine.

  So be it. And the covenant which I have made on earth, let it be ratified in Heaven.

  Amen.

  In the days after, I read the hymn over and over until I had it by heart. One day I was singing the verses as I went about my chores, trying to think of the Maker and not Gideon Stone. Then I remembered the visit of the woman from St Buryan to his house while he was abroad. She’d come begging for money, which made me think she must have been something to him in the past. And of a sudden I saw what had been right before my face all the while, and had to sit down on a chair. Gideon had stayed away from Newlyn while I was there because he felt something towards me, and he wanted to put himself beyond temptation. As I recited the verses of Mr Wesley’s hymn in my mind, I began to feel Gideon had given me the verses to hint at another kind of love than church love, even if he hid it from himself.

  I got the knack of taking classes over the weeks that followed. I tried to sound like a teacher and have the bearing of one. Luckily, I had always been a good mimic and often made my neighbours laugh by taking off my betters. When in doubt I thought of myself as Lady Rosemount in Virtue Rebuked, only a little less grand. To begin with, only the children of the bettermost on Fore Street came, but soon a few others joined, even some from Uplong Row, most likely because their parents wanted to get the little devils off their hands for three hours. They turned up with their toes showing through their boots or else no boots at all, and with nothing at all inside their bellies. Some were forever scratching their heads because lice were tormenting them. The next week I brought biscuits along that I’d baked myself the night before. I turned a blind eye when the children from the poorer families dropped off to sleep during the lesson, knowing that they had likely been looking after their younger brothers and sisters since dawn. I wouldn’t chastise them, even though I knew that black-hearted old woman was listening behind the door, scheming to be rid of me so she could put Loveday Skewes in my place.

  If I’d had the little mites to myself I’d have spiced up the lessons with a few old yarns like those Mamm used to tell us on stormy nights when we were small. I’d have taken them out into the little yard for a while so they could play a few rounds of Thread the Needle or Twos and Threes, or I’d have brought an old rope so they could have a tug of war, the boys against the girls. One time, while the children took turns to piddle indoors, I let a few of the boys play a game of marbles in the gutter. When the class was over, Aunt Madgie took me to one side.

  ‘I see you have allowed the boys to play at marbles,’ she said, fixing me with her cold grey eyes.

  ‘An innocent pastime, I would say.’

  ‘Far from an innocent pastime, it is a game that leads to ungodliness, to cheating and tricks and all manner of deception. In time it will lead to the heinous sin of gambling. Lying lips are abomination to the Lord, but they that deal truly are his delight. Proverbs 12:22. I shall have to mention this matter to their parents. There will be no marbles in this house. Am I understood?’

  Another week, Sarah Pengilly stayed behind once the class was finished and the others had run home.

  ‘What is it, Sarah?’ I asked.

  ‘Only that . . .’ she said. She bit her bottom lip and wouldn’t say more.

  ‘Speak up now, you can say what you like to me.’


  ‘Never mind, it’s no matter. I better go.’

  ‘Wait, Sarah. Is there something you want to tell me? Is anybody telling tales about me? I won’t say anything if you tell me.’

  ‘Oh no, Miss. Not that I know of.’

  ‘Is there something else then?’

  ‘Just . . . Can I help you next time, Miss? To give out the books.’ I couldn’t stop a tear welling in my eye. ‘Oh Miss, don’t be sad,’ she said.

  ‘I’m not sad, Sarah. I’m happy. You have made me so. And of course you can help me hand out the catechisms.’

  My heart swelled with pride. The children took me for a proper teacher. But Aunt Madgie was watching my every move, waiting for me to falter. And the more able I proved myself, the more she would want to bring me low. And I could never forget she had a secret she might one day use against me.

  At the start of the next class I told the children that Sarah was to become class monitor. And from now on there would be an extra biscuit for all who attended for four weeks together. At the end of that class Aunt Madgie came and leant against the frame of the doorway. I carried on tidying away the books, then put on my shawl.

  ‘Don’t be too soft on them,’ she said. ‘He that spareth his rod hateth his son, but he that loveth him chasteneth him betimes. Proverbs 13:24.’

  ‘Must we only frighten them into learning? All we ever have them do is learn verses by heart, words they cannot hope to make sense of.’

  ‘You think you can win them over but they will turn on you at the first sign of weakness, mark my words. You won’t get the children’s respect by appointing monitors and doling out biscuits to bribe them.’