Mermaid of Penperro Read online

  Outside, she could hear the shouts of men and women searching for her. Someone came and rattled the little door, making her catch her breath, but it was a halfhearted effort and abandoned when the door did not open.

  She stripped off the finned stockings and put on her own shoes, and then found the blanket in the dark and, without even shaking it out to be rid of hiding vermin, wrapped it around her and curled into a ball against the wooden door, listening to the voices outside and trying not to think of the throbbing of her head.

  Eventually the voices became fewer and fewer, and she waited with impatience for Tom to come tell her it was all clear.

  And waited.

  When the soft knocking finally came she jerked upright, having fallen into a doze. She could hardly believe that she had managed to overlook her discomfort enough to sleep. Her nest within her blanket was warm, the dark storage space feeling almost cozy.

  “Konstanze?” a male voice said softly through the door. “Are you still in there?”

  She frowned, realizing it was the vicar who spoke, not Tom. She turned the key, then squinted against the glaring square of daylight as the door came open. “Vicar? Where’s Tom?”

  “He went with Foweather. The man was overexcited, and didn’t want Tom to leave him.”

  Konstanze felt her heart sink in disappointment.

  “Tom had to ask one of the Preventive men to fetch the doctor,” the vicar was saying. “I think they’re going to have to give the man something to calm his nerves.”

  And what about her nerves, being swept into Foweather’s arms and nearly kissed by him? Didn’t Tom care about that? She didn’t understand why he had chosen to go with Foweather instead of staying to be with her. After what they had done together behind the church, she had thought he cared about her, at least a bit.

  The vicar stretched out his hand and she took it, letting him help her out from under the church. “I hope Mr. Foweather will be all right,” Konstanze said. “He may be a fool and a thorn in everyone’s side, but I wouldn’t like to see any harm come to him.”

  “That’s generous of you,” the vicar said, then started to chuckle.

  “What’s so funny?” Konstanze asked, standing up.

  “I was imagining the look on his face when you let out that shriek.”

  “It was probably much the same as mine when I felt him slip,” she said, hoping that at least the vicar would ask about her head.

  Instead he laughed again, then led her back into the church. “I have the change of clothes for you,” he said, bringing out a folded pile of clothing.

  Konstanze shook out the skirt, of a dull gray-and- blue stripe. The bodice was of the same material, and there was a stained once-white apron to go with it, as well as a cotton cap and kerchief and an old pair of shoes. The plan was that she could wear this back to the cottage, so she could pass as a local girl should anyone see her. The green dress and black spencer were far too recognizable now as the clothing of the “mermaid.”

  “What happened to my hat?” Konstanze asked, remembering how it had been pulled from her head.

  The vicar held up his finger, asking her to wait a moment, then went and rummaged behind the pulpit. “Here you are. Mrs. Popple—she’s the woman who opened the door for you—saw it lying on the floor and thought it would be best if the mermaid left no physical evidence of her presence. Other than seaweed, that is. And speaking of which, I suppose I’d better clean that up. You can change over behind the organ. I promise not to look,” he said, and gave her a naughty grin.

  Konstanze changed her clothes, realizing belatedly that she should have brought a pair of stays. She shrugged one shoulder and dressed anyway, trying to ignore the nagging little pain in her heart that complained of Tom’s absence. What did it say to her that Foweather was more important to him than she was?

  She was a tool for his schemes, and nothing more. She had mistaken physical affection for something more personal, and she was a fool to have done so after everything her mother had taught her. She hadn’t even realized that along with her fantasies of Tom making love to her, she was fantasizing as well that he cared for her. It hurt to realize that his work—if she could call it that—ranked far higher in his mind than she herself.

  Foweather was being coddled, attended by Tom and a doctor and a crew of men. She had blood matted in her hair and the company of a lecherous vicar engrossed in cleaning the floor.

  Was she was reading too much meaning into Tom’s absence? Perhaps. Her heart felt her perception to be true, though, no matter what cold rationality might say. It seemed she had been reading too much meaning into his actions all along.

  She bit her lip and felt the sting of tears in her eyes.

  It was all the worse to realize he might think nothing of her just when she herself was realizing she thought everything of him.

  Fool that she was, she was falling in love with the man.

  She was upstairs at home when, through the open window, she heard Tom’s jaunty whistling as he approached the cottage. It was past nine o’clock in the evening, and she had given up all hope of his coming to see her. Instead of being happy he had at last abandoned Foweather for her, with each note of his whistling she felt as if a higher flame was heating the cauldron of resentment that was her heart. She’d like to slap that cheerful tune right out of his head. He plainly hadn’t spared a moment’s concern for her all day.

  She let Hilde open the door, the petulant part of her wanting to remain upstairs and send down word that she was indisposed and did not wish to see him. Hilde was scolding him in German for endangering her mistress, but he apparently was ignoring her. She traced his progress across the sitting room, his steps loud in the small house.

  “Konstanze!” he called up her stairs. “I know you’re up there. Come down, will you? Or do you want me to come up?”

  She rolled her eyes and let out a pent-up breath. As if she’d want him up here! Her general annoyance with him was enough to override the petulance. She’d like to be rude to him to his face. She tramped across the warped floor and down the stairs, finding him waiting with a silly grin on his face not a foot from the bottom step, his head hunched to avoid the low ceiling.

  “The boats made it safely to shore, and the cargoes were carted off without a hitch. The plan worked beautifully!”

  She gave a closemouthed, sarcastic smile, but he didn’t seem to notice her lack of enthusiasm.

  “Foweather had to be given a dose of laudanum so he could rest. I almost felt sorry for the poor bugger. He should be all right, though—for all that he puts on a dramatic demonstration of his affections, I think he likes the fantasy of wedding a mermaid much more than the possible reality. He knew no one in that church would let him go off with you.”

  “I didn’t know he might not make the effort,” Konstanze said crisply, still standing on the bottom step.

  Tom grinned. “He certainly took me by surprise, running over the back of the pew like he did. I suspect he was startled himself to have caught you.”

  “Not half so startled as I.” Was he not going to notice that she was angry?

  “You did a marvelous job, Konstanze. The strange singing, that fabulous screech you gave when he tried to kiss you—and the little fins on your feet! It was a brilliant touch.” He stepped toward her and grasped her lightly by the upper arms. “If it weren’t for you, this never would have worked. Even the idea of a daylight landing was yours.”

  She stared into his shining eyes, the praise she had once tried to pry out of him falling flat now, his appreciation meaningless because in his bright eyes she saw that he knew nothing of what was in her heart. It had not occurred to him that she could be anything but as delighted as he.

  “I don’t want to be the mermaid any longer,” she said, the words surprising her even as she said them.

  He blinked. “What?”

  She shook off his arms and stepped away from him, going to the small table and fiddling with the lid of the s
ewing basket sitting there. She lifted her gaze back to him. “I don’t want to be the mermaid.”

  “For God’s sake, why not?”

  Her thoughts were a muddle, her motivations unclear even to herself. All she knew was that she wanted to push him away. She wanted to reject him. To hurt him. To make him feel the same way she felt, and then perhaps he would see that he had hurt her. Then, perhaps, he would reach for her and seek to make amends. She knew all this only dimly, and there was too great a distance between her confused heart and her capability for verbal expression for her to be able to explain it. She could only act on it.

  “I don’t want that Foweather man coming after me again. I don’t like being chased, or waiting in dark, cold places. I’m tired of living out here alone with Hilde, unable to go into town or talk to anyone but you. I might as well be back with Bugg, for all the freedom I have.”

  He looked stunned. “I thought you were enjoying the scheme.”

  She shrugged.

  “When did you change your mind?”

  “This afternoon. You know I hit my head when Foweather fell, don’t you? My hair was full of blood.”

  The light could have been deceiving her, but she thought he paled at that piece of news. “No, I didn’t know. Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you tell Matt? He would have fetched the doctor.”

  She hadn’t wanted the vicar, or the doctor. She’d wanted Tom. “Hilde tended to it.”

  “How bad is it? Are you all right?” he asked, coming closer to her, his eyes roving over her hair, which was loosely arranged.

  She softened a little at his concern, and began to feel a bit childish for having hidden the injury and expecting him to guess at it. She lightly touched the back of her head. “It’s here, under my hair. It’s only a small split. I’ve got a lump the size of a duck egg, though.”

  “I should have kept a better eye on him. He was never meant to get so close to you. I won’t let him harm you, Konstanze.” Standing close, he lightly brushed her cheek with his fingertips.

  There was caring in his amber eyes, and concern. Was it real? And was there anything there that went beyond the regard one would offer a friend? Perhaps he was giving her the attention he thought she required if she were going to be persuaded to continue her role as the mermaid.

  She turned away, sighing internally and walking around the table to sit on the settle. She could not trust her perceptions where Tom was concerned. She wanted so badly to believe that he might care for her that she could read a thousand tendernesses into the most innocent of gestures. She did not want to encourage her hopes, yet neither could she douse them.

  To do so would be even more painful than this torture of ambiguity.

  “That is what this is about, isn’t it?” he asked, coming around the settle and sitting next to her, a space of only a few inches separating them. “Foweather frightened you, and so you want to quit.”

  “It’s more than that. It’s as I said: I want to be with people. I’m tired of being alone.”

  “I can’t say I’d want to spend a whole summer out here with Hilde, either.”

  She frowned at him.

  “A poor joke,” he admitted. “Could you not bear it until the end of the summer? It’s not so very far away. Another six weeks, perhaps. Matt could come visit, so mine would not be the only face you saw. Come to think of it, there’s really no reason why some of the women couldn’t be encouraged to come calling.”

  “It’s not the same as going into town.” Now that she had started on this tack, she was finding that there was more truth to it than she had recognized. She was tired of being stuck out here. She did want to see new places and things, and not people who were sent to see her as if on a charity mission. “Even going to the market would be welcome.”

  “Foweather saw your face. If you came to town he might recognize you. Even one as lacking in wits as he might come to the conclusion that he had been duped when he saw the object of his obsession shopping for cabbages.”

  “It wouldn’t be a concern if I was no longer the mermaid.”

  “True enough. You did give your word, though. You agreed to help us through the summer.” He picked up her hand, holding it clasped between his as he gazed into her eyes. “I don’t ask this just for myself. Your help has made a difference in the lives of dozens of people, many of whom were at Talland Church today.”

  She supposed that that should have meant more to her than it did. The folk of Penperro were largely faceless to her, an abstract concept in comparison to the man sitting beside her and holding her hand. If only he would say that he himself wanted her to do it, that it mattered to him—and not just because he cared about his income.

  What she wanted him to say was that he wished her to continue because it gave him a reason to spend time with her.

  He wasn’t going to say that. She met his gaze and knew that he was unaware of the thoughts deep in her mind. The only way he would understand was if she told him she was falling in love with him, and there was no reason to do that, unless she were in the mood for humiliation. That left her with the choice of continuing as the mermaid to please him, or quitting to spite and wound the man—although he might never understand that that was her motive, which made the gesture meaningless.

  Or she could please herself. She pulled her hand away from his, clasping it in her lap and looking down, considering. If she quit, she would see little of Tom thereafter. That wasn’t what she wanted. Stupid as it had been to allow herself to fall for such a scoundrel with warped morals, she had done so. Stupid as it was to hope that he might grow to care for her, she did hope. She would rather suffer the pangs of unrequited love in his presence than in his absence.

  But she still wanted to go to town.

  She faced him again. “Couldn’t I at least take a trip to a neighboring village?” she asked. “Foweather would not see me there. I could go on a market day, and wear those old clothes I wore back from the church today. No one would remark upon me.”

  “It’s a long walk to the nearest town. You want to go so badly?”

  She nodded.

  Suddenly his expression brightened. “How about attending a fair instead?”

  “Truly?”

  He sat back, looking pleased with himself. “I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me sooner. Penperro’s midsummer fair begins at the end of the week. People from half a dozen towns come for it—the streets are packed with people. I doubt that I myself would be able to pick you out in such a crowd. If you kept an eye out for Foweather I can’t think that you’d have any trouble. Everyone will assume you are a visitor.”

  “I can do a wonderful Cornish accent,” she said, speaking in one.

  He blinked at her.

  “I did spend my childhood here, after all,” she said in the same accent. “The teachers at my boarding school trained me to speak otherwise, but I still remember. Will you be ashamed to be seen in the company of such an ignorant girl?” she asked playfully.

  He was still looking at her strangely, but then his eyebrows rose as he took in what she said. “Be seen with you? I can’t be seen with you. You’ll have to spend your time on your own, I’m afraid. Even Hilde’s company would give you away as a local.”

  Her rising mood fell back to earth. “Oh. You’re right, of course.” She tried to smile.

  “It’s settled, then? You’re happy? You’ll continue playing the mermaid?”

  What else could she say? “Yes, I’m happy.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Penperro

  Bugg II didn’t know how much more of Cornwall he could take, which was a bit of a problem, as he had been in the blasted county for only two weeks. Two very long weeks. The place showed only the scarcest signs of civilization, and the people seemed as miserably hard and small as the stones that made up their fences.

  He had been in constant fear for his life upon the roads, despite the pistol he carried. In the inns along his way the locals had sounded almost
proud of their surfeit of highway robbers, bragging that one could not go a mile without being set upon. Bugg II counted himself lucky that so far he had gone unharmed, but he met every traveler with a wary eye, and fearing an ambush he galloped through any place in the road where the bushes came close or the trees were dense.

  Why couldn’t Konstanze have chosen Somerset or Dorset as her hiding place?

  Hilde’s overbearing German presence was what people recalled, and after a few exhausting and expensive days of questioning and bribing the landlords at inns in Exeter he had managed to find where Konstanze and Hilde had stayed. The landlord had helped the two to arrange for transportation through Devon and into Cornwall. Bugg II had worried that Konstanze might go south to Plymouth, and there take ship to some foreign land, but the landlord had assured him that she had been concerned only with finding her way into that most dismal and rough of counties, Cornwall.

  Once in Cornwall the trail had seemed to go cold. Innkeepers along the one main highway were less than forthcoming with information, and for several days he could find no trace of Konstanze or Hilde. Then, finally, somewhere in the middle of Bodmin Moor he had found an innkeeper who recalled two women traveling together, and had said they were on their way to Penperro. The man had recalled nothing more about them, and considering the innkeeper’s rude behavior toward him and the amount of money he had had to offer for that one tidbit, Bugg II had doubts that the man had been telling the truth. Still, he could not risk ignoring the information.

  He left his horse at the small, overcrowded livery stables near a smithy and joined the flow of country folk down the lane and into the town proper. Apparently there was some manner of fair going on today.

  How unspeakably amusing. He would get to see how the illiterate enjoyed themselves.

  “Boo! Kill ’em! Boo!” Konstanze cried out along with the rest of the crowd, then took another bite of her jam pasty. She was sitting on a stone wall, thigh to thigh with women she did not know, watching a tragicomic play being performed on a raised wooden platform in the street, the painted cloth at the back the only set decoration. The players leaped and grimaced, fell, swooned, and sighed with enthusiastic melodrama.