Each in turn sat in a darkened room beside a paper screen and candle while the artist went laboriously round the shadow with a pencil. Afterwards a dextrous flourish with the pantograph saw their silhouettes reduced magically to black miniatures, then charmingly encapsulated in two gilt-edged lockets.
Kydd slipped his into the inner recesses of his waistcoat where it settled in a glow of warmth.
"My love—do let me show you Talland Bay. It's so enchanting!" Rosalynd urged.
Then as they passed a modest cottage on the hill she propelled him towards it. "This is someone I'd like to meet you—a man who's been so good to the village. He came as a schoolteacher, and since he's been here he's prospered in business, but he's always helped people in trouble, taken care of those on hard times and—oh, do come!"
The kindly old gentleman blinked with pleasure at meeting Rosalynd's chosen and pronounced words of benevolence upon them. "It's good t' meet ye, Mr Job," Kydd said sincerely.
They left the village by the Warren and followed a girdling cliff path far above the sea and right down into the next bay. "There," she said, as their shoes crunched in the sand.
Kydd couldn't help but note it was a very secluded beach, ideal for landing contraband. "In the navy, Polperro bears a reputation for smuggling as hard as any," he murmured.
"I know, dearest, but please believe me, the fisher-folk and villagers are not your smugglers. They only fetch and carry for small coin, and who can blame them when the fishing is so uncertain? No—the villains are those who put down fifty pounds to invest in a cargo from France and pay others to face the danger."
Kydd said nothing, thinking of Stirk somewhere at sea in a smuggling lugger on his dangerous mission to find evidence.
"See here," Rosalynd said, stooping to a pile of misty dove-grey and violet pebbles. She lifted one up to show him. "Aren't they lovely?"
"Not as fair as you, my dear Rosalynd," he said, and kissed her tenderly.
Talland Church was a little further on, up a remarkably steep hill, which left them both panting at the top. "This is where we'll be married," she breathed, holding both of his hands. "And the fishermen's choir will sing for me and the bells will ring so loudly . . ."
It was a striking church with a wondrous view of the bay. Mellow with age, it nestled into the Cornish hill as though it had grown from it, the bell-tower set apart from the main edifice but linked with a coach-roof. And there they would be joined together for ever.
As they returned Kydd found it hard to deal with the forces pulling on his soul. Here was his future—there lay his past. A gathering black cloud of social ruin was waiting, and this simple sweet soul knew nothing but her new-found happiness.
She stopped at the sea's edge and turned to him with a smile. "When will you take me to visit your ship? I'll be so proud. Will the captain allow me, do you think?" she added anxiously.
"He will, I promise," Kydd said softly. Then the dark clouds returned to edge about his happiness. Who knew what lurked in wait for him?
"Er, th' ship's in dock for repair after th' storm. We'll have time later." But there was a larger issue that had to be faced. She had the right to know what he—they—were headed into: the unjust social retribution that would be visited on her innocence, the friendless, harsh new world after Polperro.
"Rosalynd, my very dearest. I have t' tell you something as will touch on our future." He swallowed and continued: "Before I met you, there was a lady called Persephone, an' she and I . . ."
CHAPTER 13
KYDD COULD NOT THROW OFF his sense of foreboding as the coach drew closer to Plymouth. Rattling along the last mile it curved round to stop on the foreshore, which had once been a favourite sight, with the long spread of the dockyard on the opposite shore, and sail on the river. Now, as he waited for the Torpoint ferry, it seemed hostile and foreign.
He gazed over the half-finished vessels and the ships in for repair. To his astonishment he saw Teazer, with just her lower masts but to all intents and purposes out of dock and in completion.
Hailing a returning wherry he hurried out to his ship. Standish was there, impassively at the salute, but with few others about the decks.
"How is th' ship?" Kydd asked him.
Standish doffed his hat formally and said coolly, "Wanting masts and stores only, sir." The implied rebuke was barely concealed.
Kydd turned abruptly and went to his cabin. "Ah, Nicholas! We're afloat again. Have you your sufficiency of ethnicals, do y' think?"
Renzi rose from the table, his manner cold and detached. "Here are the returns for stores demands. You should be aware that in your absence eleven men have deserted. And we have received an instruction from Admiral Lockwood that the instant you returned aboard you were to present yourself at his office immediately."
"Thank you," Kydd said, with as much dignity as he could muster. "I will go now, o' course."
"Get out!" Lockwood roared at a frightened clerk, when Kydd had been announced. "You too," he savagely snapped at the flag-lieutenant. Lockwood strode across and slammed the office door. "How dare you, sir? How dare you show your villainous face in public after your unpardonable behaviour towards my daughter?"
"Sir," Kydd said stiffly, "there was no engagement."
"But there was an understanding!" Lockwood shouted, his face white with fury. "As well you knew, sir! You have been dishonourable in your intentions. She is upset—quite undone—and I will not let it pass. As God is my witness I will not let this go."
Kydd swayed under the blast.
Suddenly Lockwood turned and stamped over to his desk.
He waved a copy of the Telegraph at Kydd. "Have you any conception of the ruination you have caused my family? The distress this has caused my beloved wife? No? Then read this, sir! Read it!" Kydd took the newspaper.
Our intrepid spy, LOOKOUT, climbs aloft to the crow's nest in his unceasing quest for those furtive proceedings of the world most likely to surprise and concern the public. He trains his powerful telescope and before long a most lugubrious sight catches his eye. Readers of a delicate disposition should now avert their eyes for what must follow is a heartrending tale of desolation and woe. A comely maiden stands weeping, and to LOOKOUT's astonishment and anguish he sees that it is none other than our fair Miss Persephone L—, who when she last graced this column was expecting the joyful sound of wedding bells. What is this? he asks, bewildered, and turns his glass around and about. Aha! Can this be the reason? The dashing and notorious Captain Kidd has vilely abandoned her and is now making wicked advances to another. And who is it for whom he has spurned our lady of quality Miss L? None other than a simple country girl with no prospects but a saucy figure. Can it be believed? We can only beg our Readers to contemplate the feelings . . .
Kydd reddened. "Sir, this is no—"
"You've shamed us to the whole world, sir!" bellowed Lockwood. "And cast my dear wife to her bed with mortification. And I can assure you I'll see you in Hades before I let it rest."
Kydd stood rigid as he continued. "And when I'm finished there won't be a soul in the land who'll think to let you pass their door! And as for your sea service, I promise you, my report to their lordships concerning your fitness for command will spare not a single detail. None, sir!"
"Sir, this is monstrous unjust," Kydd said thickly.
"Your ship has been at moorings these last two days awaiting her commander. This is intolerable and demonstrates to me a complete and utter contempt for your position as a commanding officer. Permission to sleep out of your ship is therefore revoked—you understand me, sir?"