Sent him packing with a flea in his ear, I can tell you. Told him never to darken my door again.’
‘But …’ she began then stopped as his eyes darkened, his hand going to his belt.
‘If you’ve been out sewing you’ll have been paid som’at, so give it here. All this jawing’s given me a thirst,’ he barked, holding out his hand.
Reluctantly, Colenso delved into her pocket and passed over the few precious coins Emily had given her.
‘Just look at them ’ands,’ Peder snorted. ‘You looks like a common washerwoman. Mother give her som’at to smooth them. A fine man like Fenton don’t want a woman with rough ’ands. And what’s this?’ he asked, his eyes narrowing as he took in the brass ring on her finger.
‘I told you, Father. Kitto and I are to be wed and …’ she began, snatching her hand back.
‘Over my dead body,’ he growled. ‘You can take that excuse for a ring off right now. You’ll marry who I says, maid, and that be final. Mother, talk some sense into this daughter of yours,’ he snarled.
‘Mamm …’ she began, looking imploringly at her mother, but her father shot out of his chair and seized her roughly by the shoulder.
‘Come Sunday, you’ll have a new top to wear, one a proper man like Fenton will find tempting.’
‘But I see Kitto on Sunday afternoons,’ Colenso protested. His grip tightened, making her wince. ‘It’s Fenton you’ll be seeing. Do I make myself clear?’ It was only when she nodded that he let go of her. As the door slammed behind him, banging the bowls together on the dresser, Colenso turned to her mamm. ‘I’ve never heard anything so despicable. I’m not an animal to be paraded around and sold to the highest bidder.’
‘I know that, Colenso,’ Caja sighed. ‘But it seems this is the only way to prevent Mr Fenton calling in the authorities.’
‘But I’ve done nothing wrong,’ she cried for what seemed like the hundredth time.
‘I know you haven’t, but Mr Fenton thinks otherwise and he’s the manager. Who are they going to believe, eh? Best you humour him, at least for now. We’ll take you to Fenton’s house on Sunday afternoon, be pleasant to the man and we’ll take it from there.’
‘But what about Kitto?’
‘I’ll let Mrs Rowse know you’ll be busy on Sunday. You really have no choice, Colenso. Besides, once you’ve visited Mr Fenton he might decide you’re not for him after all.’
‘Well, he’s certainly not for me. He’s old with a balding head, and the way he gawks gives me the creeps,’ Colenso shuddered.
‘You saw how determined your father was,’ Caja sighed. ‘Still, it’ll only be for an hour or so and we’ll stay with you. Now, I think there’s a pot of your grandmother’s calendula salve in here somewhere,’ she said, rummaging in the drawer.
‘Mammwynn wouldn’t insist on me going to Fenton’s house,’ Colenso cried.
‘No, but she didn’t have to live with your father, did she?’ Caja replied bleakly.
✳
Sunday, the day Colenso had been dreading, arrived seemingly in the blink of an eye. At her father’s insistence, she’d spent the past few days trying to improve her appearance. She’d been confined to the cottage and forbidden to fashion any trinkets from the rough offcuts of stone in case she scratched herself. Her hands had been slathered in thick salve and covered in cotton gloves to give it the best chance of sinking in. This had made sewing cumbersome, but when she’d complained her mamm had shrugged and said this was her opportunity, reminding her to brush her hair a hundred times and rub her teeth with the powder she’d mixed from bark, salt and liquorice root to whiten them. Then this morning she’d been made to bathe in water infused with the magnesium from ground-down serpentine to freshen her skin, and gargle with a tincture of clove to freshen her breath.
She’d pleated one of the squares Emily had given her and sewn it into the front of her best blouse, secreting the others away to make a quilt for when she and Kitto set up home together. Now she had to suffer the humiliation of standing in front of her father as he cast a critical eye over her appearance.
‘Shame she couldn’t have lost a bit of that podge, Mother, and why isn’t that top showing a bit more …’ he muttered, gesturing to her front.
‘I am not some prize filly,’ Colenso snapped, thoroughly disgruntled by the whole charade.
‘That you’re not, maid,’ he snorted. ‘Can’t turn pigskin into silk, can you? And I thought I told you to take that stupid curtain ring off.’ As Colenso opened her mouth to protest, they heard the sound of hooves outside. ‘Do it now, Colenso,’ he ordered. Seeing the set of his chin, Colenso reluctantly removed the ring and placed it in her pocket. ‘Let me escort you to our transport, Mother,’ he added grandly.
He led them outside to the waiting pony trap, where the driver, stiff-backed and straight-faced, touched his hat in deference.
‘See, maid, this is the life we could have if you acts right,’ her father grinned, climbing grandly up as though it was the finest carriage in Cornwall. Then, as they made their way down the lane, neighbours staring in surprise, he proceeded to nod and tip his cap like a country squire.
‘I hope you’ve got some good conversation ready, Colenso. Mr Fenton’ll expect some witty repartee, won’t he, Mother?’ Repartee? Since when had her father used fancy words, Colenso thought.
‘That he will, Father, but our Colenso’s a clever girl and won’t let us down,’ Caja told him. Dressed in her Sunday best with a new ribbon trimming her bonnet, she looked livelier than she had for a long time. ‘And this breeze will have added colour to her cheeks by the time we arrive.’
Colenso hardly heard them, for her stomach was churning like it was making butter. She was missing Kitto and couldn’t help wondering how he’d be spending the afternoon. They should be curled up together on Mammwynn’s bench, making plans for their future. Instead here she was, being bowled through the country lanes, past her grandmother’s final resting place and the church and cottages of Ruan, with her father crowing like a cockerel while Mamm simpered beside him. If Mr Fenton was expecting lively conversation then she’d make sure he got it, she vowed, remembering how Kitto had told her about the weathering of serpentine on the grand buildings of London.
‘The stone may be hard but for centuries it’s been exposed to blasts and storms. It is used to rain, fog and sunshine. Maritime climate exempts the area from extreme cold and there is serious question over its durability in the frosty conditions that prevail in the towns up country.’ Remembering how he’d become quite emotional about the action of a hard frost on thin slices of serpentine, she smiled. That should knock the sneer off the Ferret’s face.
As the cottages were replaced by stunted trees, the lane turned rougher and the trap began rocking alarmingly. She gripped the sides, wishing she was on foot, for this little conveyance would surely never make it down the steep track to Poltesco. However, before they reached the turning to the works, the driver veered sharply right. Tucked into the sheltered side of the valley was what looked like a huddle of cottages. As they drew to a halt, Colenso could see it was actually one large angular single-storey building, constructed mainly from dressed serpentine. Rows of square windows suggested
