Free Pengelly's Daughter by Nicola Pryce Page A

and I’ll keep out of any more trouble. Satised?’
    I had to make do with a sniff and a cold shoulder, but I was not in the mood to be scolded. My head thumped, my mouth was dry, I ached all over and I was furious with myself for my lack of foresight. The fact that Jim had outwitted me so easily left me boiling with rage. ‘What’s the time?’ I asked grudgingly.
    â€˜Just past eleven.’
    â€˜Has Mother gone to Madame Merrick?’
    â€˜Yes, but she’s that worried, says she’ll be home at twelve to see how ye are.’
    I could tell Jenna was more than usually upset and it was not fair of me to vent my anger on her. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said softly, ‘I’m very grateful you didn’t tell her and I’ve no right to snap. Are we friends?’
    â€˜Could be,’ she replied, ‘if ye sit still enough so I can do yer hair.’

    The river was intensely blue, completely still, the sun glinting so brightly it made my eyes water. Why had he stolen the evidence? What did he hope to gain? I was deep in thought as I stepped into the ferry. Either he was going to demand money from me, or he was planning to blackmail Mr Tregellas. He knew I had no money, so that was not the reason and if he blackmailed Mr Tregellas, he would be in too much danger of exposing himself as the thief. What would someone like Jim do?
    I jumped at the sound of my name. I had not heard the ferryman ask for his fare.
    â€˜Gettin’ out, Miss Pengelly, or are ye here for the ride?’ It was Joshua Tregen. I remembered him as a thin, spotty youth who I used to row against in the gig races. I had not liked him then and I had no reason to like him now. ‘Perhaps yer just wanted to watch me row, Miss Pengelly? Yer like muscles on a man, do yer?’ he said, pufng up his chest, exing his torso.
    â€˜Admire your rowing? You know very well I can row every bit as well as you, Joshua Tregen,’ I said, throwing my money into the boat.
    I was angry with Joshua Tregen for speaking to me like that, but even angrier with myself – it was another man’s muscles I had been picturing in my mind. Losing the evidence was my main concern but something else was making me uneasy. I had found discrepancies in Madame Merrick’s accounts. Several invoices for silk and half a dozen rolls of velvet and satin were missing and I was not looking forward to telling her she would need them before she could clear her books with the Custom and Excise ofcials.
    I climbed the steps to nd the shop in even more disarray than usual and Mother looking decidedly ustered. ‘Oh, Rosehannon,’ she cried, wringing her hands, ‘thank goodness you’re alright. I was that worried this morning. I wanted to send for Mrs Abbott, but Jenna said you’d just had a restless night. I suppose you were dreaming when you thought you heard a fox? Let me look at you. You look very pale.’
    â€˜I’m ne, honest, Mother – it was just a bad dream.’
    â€˜Good. I…I couldn’t take it if anything was to happen to you.’ She looked down at the oor, suddenly shy at her emotion and my heart ached. She seemed so fragile in her shabby dress, her spotless apron and her mobcap neatly pinned in place. Talking to Jim had made me realise how much I had shunned her as a child, always competing for my father’s approval. I could see how very lonely she must have felt, left all day in a childless house, the hollow rooms echoing her empty heart. I felt terrible. She had a skill I had completely disregarded – no wonder she loved teaching Jenna to sew.
    I took hold of her hands, determined to make amends. ‘Nothing will happen to me, I’m very strong.’ She smiled and I dropped my voice. ‘You haven’t told Madame Merrick I was tired this morning, have you?’
    â€˜Dear Lord, no – there’s no telling