Wrecker Page 22

  ‘And you’re sure you’ll do this for me?’

  He nodded. ‘We will endure whatever hardship awaits us together. Be here in this church, ready and prepared, on the Sabbath by the stroke of one of the church in Paul. That gives me time to put matters in order as best I can in Newlyn.’

  ‘So soon!’ I had to steady myself against a pillar.

  ‘Above all,’ he said, ‘do nothing to arouse suspicion. Be patient. Let us pray God will in time forgive us this great wrong if we lead sober and decent lives hereafter.’

  Before we parted, he pressed me hard to him as if to embolden our resolve for what lay ahead. I left the church first, leaving him to follow a little later so we were not seen together. I went down the headland in steady drizzle, but nothing that day could have dampened my mood. The wide earth seemed new and strange. In this blissful daze I at last reached the top of Downlong Row. Fish bones and egg shells flowed down the gulley, and it was hard not to slip on the greasy cobbles.

  As I got near our cottage, three figures loomed out of the misty rain, standing in a line and blocking my path. Two of them were boys from the Sunday school – Thomas Penpol and the troublemaker Kit Trefusis. The other was a bigger lad, Kit’s older brother Matthey. Where the younger boys’ faces were smooth and boyish, Matthey’s had hardened into that of a young man, with a line of dark fluff over his top lip. As I got closer to them, I saw they had no intention of moving out of my way.

  ‘What game is this, my lads? Come along now, and let me pass,’ I said.

  Kit Trefusis was the first to speak. ‘We know where you’ve been. You were up in the church with the parson.’

  ‘Things have come to a pretty pass in this village when big brave lads like you think it right to accost a lone woman in the lane,’ I said. ‘I have been in the church on my own, sheltering until the rain stopped.’ I looked at each of them in turn. The younger boys wouldn’t meet my gaze, but Matthey scowled at me.

  ‘Let’s go, leave her alone,’ said Thomas, trying to move away. He shivered, his hair flattened to his forehead by the rain.

  ‘Stay where you are,’ said Matthey, in his grown man’s broken voice. He folded his arms. Thomas stared down at his feet, scudding his shoe backwards and forwards.

  ‘I’m surprised at you, Tom,’ I said. He avoided my eye, and glanced at the older boy for his cue.

  ‘Tell the harlot what you saw,’ said Matthey.

  ‘Don’t you dare call me such names, Matthew Trefusis! You’re going to regret this, I’ll make sure of it. Step aside, and let me pass.’

  ‘Tom followed the parson up there and saw the two of you leave after,’ said Matthey, stepping towards me. ‘They was in there a long time, wasn’t they, Tom?’

  ‘That is enough,’ I said.

  ‘Did you let the parson f— you, or just let him have a feel?’ asked Matthey. ‘Admit it, and we might let you go.’

  ‘Get along now, Tom, and you too, Martin,’ I said. ‘You’ve been led into this and I know you’re ashamed of yourselves. If you go now, we’ll say no more about it.’

  Tom and Martin squirmed. The bigger boy leered at me, but I met his gaze. ‘This is the last time I’ll tell you. Get out of my way, boy.’

  Kit sniggered at hearing his older brother cut down to size, and Matthey punched his arm, not playfully but brutally. The younger boy winced and his eyes filled with tears as he rubbed his arm. Matthey slowly stepped aside, leaving me just enough room to slip through, so I had to push past him. I walked briskly down the hill, losing my footing, which made Matthey laugh. I reached my own alley and rushed down it and across the courtyard.

  Only force of will got me to busy myself about the house. My joyous mood had been well and truly spoilt, and in its stead was a sickly dread. Be patient, Gideon had said. But how could I be patient when I’d been spied in the church with him?

  I packed my basket, choosing three dresses, some shifts and petticoats. I took the old stocking that I hid in the rafters with all my treasures inside it, the silver hair pin and some other jewellery I might be able to sell, and coins that would help fund our new life together. I wanted something to remind me of Mamm, so I took the sugar nips. She’d always had a terrible sweet tooth, and so had I. When I was done, I sat and waited, not knowing what to do with myself.

  I wrote a note for Tegen and left it in Mamm’s room for her to find after I’d gone.

  My dearest Teggie,

  When you find this I will be on my way to a new life far from here. No doubt you will hear the rights of it before long, but please don’t judge me too harshly. When it is safe, I will send you the address in the hope that you will visit. It has been an agony to me, holding all my worries inside, and thinking of how I always used to share every secret with you.

  I have had a heavy heart ever since our quarrel and I would give the world to be able to take back my words that day during the harvest. I said that you didn’t want anything out of life which I know is not true. I haven’t held you in the regard that you deserve and I am sorry for it. I’ve have been caught up in my own nonsense, and not seen that you have grown to be a fine woman with a woman’s wants and hopes. You are not the shrinking child of old, hiding behind my skirts. I am so proud when I remember the way you stood up and testified before all at the prayer meeting. And I should never have mocked Nathaniel, who is a good man, brave and honest and true, which is a rare thing in this world. I see how he feels about you and pray you’ll be together before long.

  I want you to have my Bible as it is too heavy to carry across the moor. It breaks my heart to leave you behind, but I console myself with the hope that we will be together again before too long.

  Your ever-loving sister,

  Mary

  Thinking about my sister made me weep and wet the page I was writing on, so I sprinkled some sand on the words to stop them fading away.

  On Saturday, the day before I was to be reunited with Gideon, I was woken up by a hubbub down in the cove. I got down there to find a great scrum of women by the harbour wall. Then I saw that do-gooder Miss Vyvyan in their midst and, to my horror, Mrs Stone. They were raised as if on a stage. Mrs Stone looked haughty, but pale with shadows under her eyes. Alongside them were two other women I remembered from Miss Vyvyan’s dinner party in Newlyn. Miss Vyvyan looked about her, rubbing her palms together with relish, as though she were heartened to find the village in such dire need of her help.

  ‘A good morning to all of you ladies. If you’ll allow me to introduce myself and my companions. My name is Miss Vyvyan and I have with me Miss Elliot, Mrs Cotterill and Mrs Stone.’ There were murmurs of surprise among some of the village women at the mention of Mrs Stone. As for Mrs Stone herself, she gazed grimly ahead of her, as Miss Vyvyan carried on with her talk. ‘We are representatives of the West Penwith Benevolent Society for the Relief of Indigence, and have been allocated to this district to report on cases of need. We have brought no funds with us today, I’m afraid.’ Some of the women grumbled to hear this. ‘However, we will be drawing up a list of the most needful among you, so that gifts of money, or clothing if more suitable, can be made at a later date.’ This got them all jawing, so she had to bide her time before going on. ‘We will first meet with the leaders of your local Methodist Band to discuss the fairest way to distribute the funds.’ There was more groaning about this, as it meant the bettermost would have the biggest say in who got any money. ‘Porthmorvoren, being somewhat remote, has been overlooked in previous tours and we hope to rectify this in the coming weeks. Now, my companion, Mrs Stone, would like to say a few words. Mrs Stone, if you will.’

  Mrs Stone cleared her throat and looked out over all our heads. ‘The village of Porthmorvoren is of special concern to me for reasons of which I’m sure you’re all aware.’ This got the women murmuring again. ‘It cannot have escaped your attention that this village has become a by-word for moral turpitude, ever since the wreck of The Constant Service – and the depravity that tragic loss occasioned.’
There was a rumble as neighbour turned to neighbour, talking of the cannibal. ‘The entire region is appalled,’ said Mrs Stone. ‘Horrified by what took place. For too long you’ve been allowed to . . . that is to say, you’ve been neglected. Our founder, Mr Wesley, inveighed against wrecking and smuggling, so you must understand it is our moral duty to subdue and govern those among you who even now yield to this heinous crime.’

  ‘We has natural rights to the goods,’ shouted Nancy Spargo. ‘Not that I would ever stoop so low . . .’

  ‘You have no such rights,’ said Mrs Stone. ‘But this is not to the point. What I mean to say is . . . In the past we have been used to give doles to the poor, regardless of their moral character. However, I am of the opinion that relief should be preceded by an enquiry into the habits and conduct of the party concerned. Charity works best when it’s deserved. Otherwise, what will our donors think?’

  The village women began squabbling about who amongst them was most deserving of alms.

  ‘It is my belief,’ said Mrs Stone, ‘that the sure way to instil clean, frugal habits in people like yourselves, as well as a love for country and inclination to industry, is through religious education.’ She took out a pocket handkerchief and wiped her brow. ‘And I should like you to know that I have particular concerns about the Sunday school in this village.’

  Some of my neighbours turned their heads to gawp at me.

  ‘Those who are without blame will be helped,’ said Mrs Stone. ‘But felons will be punished. A great lord has put up an award. You will have seen the handbills.’

  She was drowned out by the voices of the women. Meanwhile, someone was pushing through the crowd to get out, and in a moment Martha Tregaskis stepped free of the main body of women, looking very pale in the face. She staggered a little way off, then bent forward and retched onto the stones of the quay, leaving a steaming puddle of puke that reeked of bile and spirituous liquor.

  While all eyes were on Martha, I slipped away and rushed home. Once in the kitchen, I paced about, my thoughts racing. There was a knock on the door, which made me jump. I was surprised to find Miss Vyvyan standing on the threshold, alone. She came in, beaming at me like we were old friends.

  ‘Mary, I am so pleased to see you again.’ She looked round the cottage and found it so distressful she clasped me to her breast. She took a step back, still holding me by the wrists, and frowned as she looked into my face. ‘Oh, Mary, you are a bag of bones! And how you shake! We must do something to help you.’

  ‘Will I fit you a cup of tea?’ I asked.

  ‘I can spare a few minutes, so yes, how kind. Look at this place! You deserve so much more,’ she said. ‘I dreamt of you last night, by the way,’ she said, sitting at the table.

  ‘You dreamt of me, ma’am?’

  ‘Call me Rebecca, please! Yes, I lay in bed awake for a long while, thinking about my visit today, and I tried to imagine your living conditions. And I’m sorry to say they’re entirely as mean as I’d envisaged.’

  ‘I do my best.’

  ‘Oh heavens, Mary, I’m not blaming you. Anyway, let me describe my dream to you. Did you ever dream of flying when you were a child?’

  ‘You mean like a witch, ma’am?’

  She smiled. ‘Yes, perhaps so. Well, it was like that in my dream. I soared into the air, higher and higher until I was up in the clouds. I could see that great stretch of water, the Atlantic Ocean, and how it connects the shores of Cornwall with the islands of the West Indies. I saw great ships laden with rich cargoes blown by the trade winds across the waters from one side to the other, and I witnessed the unforgivable wrongs done to thousands upon thousands of human beings, those poor souls, the Negroes, who have been transported in chains to those far away islands. And here on our own beaches I saw the petty crimes of the coastal people for what they are, an attempt by poverty-stricken wretches to taste a little of the luxuries taken for granted by their betters. I thought of you, and I realised that you are only a paler cousin of those poor souls treated with utmost brutality in the plantations. You are links in a chain.’

  ‘I have no Negro cousins, ma’am.’

  ‘I’m sure not. I was speaking figuratively.’

  ‘I wouldn’t want you to think I was a wrecker, either, ma’am.’ I put her tea down on the table.

  ‘What a lovely teacup,’ she said, holding it before her with raised eye brows. She gave me a knowing smile. ‘I want to assist you, Mary. You’ll let me, won’t you?’

  I nodded.

  ‘I’d better go – they’ll be looking for me.’ She got up, hugged me again, and off she went. She hadn’t even touched her tea.

  After that I spent the morning and well into the afternoon waiting and fretting in the cottage. It seemed an age. Mid-afternoon, there was a knock on the door and this time I found Mrs Stone standing there. When I’d got over the fright, I let her into the kitchen, where she stood in silence, looking about her in disgust, and giving off a fearful chill. Without a word, she took a crumpled note out of her pocket and gave it to me.

  ‘This was left under a stone outside my house in Newlyn, where anyone might have found it,’ she said. ‘Read it.’

  FROM ONE WHO WISHES YOU WELL.

  I AM TRULY SORRY TO BARE BAD

  TIDINGS BUT YOU HAVE THE

  RITE TO BE INFORMED THAT BEFORE

  A RELIBEL WITNESS

  yR HUSBEND HAVE BROKE THE 7TH

  COMANDMENT

  WITH A SERTAIN MARY BLITE OF

  PORTHMORVOREN.

  ‘What do you have to say for yourself?’ she said.

  ‘It’s lies. I have neighbours who want to see me ruined.’

  ‘Do you think I’d make an accusation like this without first establishing the truth? My husband has already confessed to it.’

  ‘Please, ma’am . . .’

  ‘Be quiet! While I’ve been doing the rounds here today, I’ve been enquiring about your character. Mrs Maddern, a decent, respectable woman, was most anxious to enlighten me about your misdeeds.’

  ‘Aunt Madgie hates me and so do her family.’

  ‘Mrs Maddern witnessed you commit an infamous crime.’

  ‘She did not!’ I felt light-headed and had to sit down. ‘I’m not on trial here,’ I said.

  ‘Not yet. But Mrs Maddern has agreed to come forward to the Justice.’

  ‘She wouldn’t do that. She knows I didn’t do it. And besides, nobody snitches in this cove. Aunt Madgie, least of all.’

  ‘This time her conscience must have got the better of her.’

  At that moment Miss Vyvyan returned.

  ‘Rebecca, it’s come to my attention that this woman is a moral degenerate,’ said Mrs Stone.

  ‘You astonish me, Ellie.’

  ‘I have strong grounds for what I say. A neighbour of Miss Blight, a woman of a good family, witnessed her molesting the dead body of Lady S— on the morning the poor woman washed ashore in this cove. Mrs Maddern will testify that Miss Blight had blood around her mouth, so it is self-evident that she is responsible for the heinous crime that has scandalised the region.’

  ‘It’s not as it seems, Miss Vyvyan,’ I said.

  ‘With great reluctance, Mrs Maddern has breached an age-old custom among the country people in these parts of never informing on a neighbour,’ said Mrs Stone. ‘She has written a letter to the Magistrate, which I have in my pocket. I will personally deliver it to Mr Dabb tomorrow, after attending chapel.’

  ‘I didn’t take the earrings. It’s Aunt Madgie’s word against mine. She’s no proof,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, I have proof enough, Miss Blight,’ said Mrs Stone. ‘I have long suspected you. You forget the time I caught you in my bedroom, trying to steal my linen. And I know you stripped the woman of her boots, for I have them in my possession still.’

  ‘I took the boots, but I didn’t take the earrings.’

  ‘Do you believe a jury would countenance the idea that a woman capable of pulling the boots from a dead woman’
s feet would have scruples about stealing the greater prize – a pair of gold earrings? Now you see, Rebecca, this is the person you elected to take under your wing. Mary Blight is the Porthmorvoren Cannibal.’

  ‘Taking a pair of boots is hardly a felony,’ said Miss Vyvyan. ‘And her efforts as Sunday school teacher show good intentions, which must surely mitigate?’

  ‘Well, we shall find out soon enough whether others are as tender-hearted as you,’ said Mrs Stone.

  ‘Go ahead, Ellie,’ said Miss Vyvyan. ‘I’ll catch up with you at the quay. I’d like to speak to Miss Blight.’

  When she had gone, Miss Vyvyan sat down at the table with me. ‘This is an unfortunate business. I’ll do whatever is in my power to help you,’ she said. ‘But I warn you it is little enough.’

  ‘What will become of me?’

  ‘Your prospects are not advantageous. Lord S— is intent on making an example of somebody. There are ways of persuading juries and the Duke has the means to get his way. In the first instance you’ll be sent to prison, awaiting trial.’

  ‘And if they find me guilty?’

  ‘I’m afraid the penalty will likely be excessive. There has been months of prurient interest in the case and the region’s reputation is tarnished. A judge is likely to make an example of you at the assizes. It’s not fair, I know. Lord S— has amassed tremendous riches on the back of slave labour. For all his paintings and antiques, let alone the preposterous “gothic ruin” he has erected in the grounds of his estate, the man is no more than a pirate. You must flee this village as soon as possible. Mary, is there somewhere you can go?’

  ‘There is somebody who might help me.’

  ‘Then you must go to them as soon as ever you can.’ She gazed across the table, frowning. ‘Who knows what you might have accomplished in other circumstances.’

  20

  The Sabbath arrived. Would Gideon be true to his word? Before I found out, I had one last ordeal to endure – the Sunday school class.

  Aunt Madgie opened the door of her house in Back Street with the same cold look as always, giving nothing away. Along the hall I could hear the children, their unruly voices muffled by the kitchen door. I waited for the old dame to call me to task for my failings as she usually did, but she stood aside to let me past without a word.