Free Pengelly's Daughter by Nicola Pryce

cross again.’
    In the east, the grey haze was streaked with pink. Before long, dawn would break, the huer would soon return. The cockerels would soon be stretching out their long necks and shaking out their feathers, ready to herald the new day. I had to hurry. Picking up the heavy bundle, I lifted it carefully onto my shoulder.
    Jim was leaning against the door, his eyes following my every move. As I brushed past him, I caught his whisper. ‘We will meet again, Rose. Can’t you see it’s our destiny?’

    Jenna had not been fooled by the blanket in my bed – she had left the back door unlocked. I pushed it open, my relief so great I wanted to cry. I suddenly felt so scared. What I was holding in my hands was enough to hang me. No, it would hang us all, Mother and Jenna alongside me. I looked round, my fear mounting. They must not nd it – they must know nothing about it, or they would be implicated. I crept back into the yard. I would hide it in the henhouse; it would be safer out of the cottage and I would search for a safer place in the morning.
    The church clock was striking four as I tip-toed up the stairs, quarter past the hour, as I lay in bed. I felt sick with anxiety, more worried by Jim’s unpredictable attitude than the theft itself – one moment he had seemed trustworthy, the next hostile and dangerous. I had no way of knowing if I could trust him to keep silent. I shut my eyes, courting sleep.
    I was back in the boat, sea spraying my face. The wind was whipping the waves, the oars creaking as they dipped beneath the water. Jim was watching me, staring at me with that hungry look that had taken my breath away. Suddenly, I sat bolt upright.
    I had been so preoccupied with the way he had looked at me, I had not thought how he was rowing the river. Newcomers found the tide treacherous in a southerly wind, local people knew how to do it – local people used the rips and eddy of the fast-owing current to make the crossing safer. Jim had taken the exact course I would have taken. He rowed like a local. Like someone who had done it many times before. I remembered how quietly he had followed me to Coombe House. What an idiot I was.
    I jumped out of bed, running barefoot across the yard, throwing open the henhouse. I began rummaging through the hay, desperately searching for the old sack. I drew my hands backwards and forward, loud squawking disturbing the silence. All along, I knew my search would be futile. The sack was still there but, no matter how hard I searched, the evidence had disappeared.

Chapter Nine
    Thursday 27th June 1793 11:00 a.m.
    J enna pinned back the shutters, letting sunshine stream into the room. ‘Honest to God…what was ye thinking, waking us all up at four this morning? Mrs Pengelly nearly died of fright…I banged me head and the chickens still ain’t settled…! We never get foxes in the yard. Ye know that, I know that, yer mother knows that…and now everyone’s wondering what ye were up to…Drink this and don’t complain – I’m not having ye come down with a fever.’ She handed me a steaming cup of nettle brew and stood, arms crossed, staring at my tangled hair. I made a face at the pungent brew, waiting for the next scolding. ‘I was worried sick last night – worried sick and in two minds to tell Mrs Pengelly.’
    â€˜Don’t tell her anything. Don’t ever tell anyone anything.’
    â€˜Well how was I to know if ye was safe or not?’
    â€˜I am safe. And I won’t be doing it again.’
    â€˜Then I’ll take them clothes back.’
    I looked hurriedly round the room. There was no trace of my sodden clothes. Jenna had whisked them away before Mother could see them. ‘No, keep them – just in case.’
    â€˜Then ye’ve not nished.’
    â€˜Oh, for goodness sake, stop fussing! You do nothing but fuss. I’m ne; I’m safe