She bestowed on him a look of such love that it quite unmanned him. He crushed her to him. 'We shall,' he croaked.
In a daze of happiness he walked on, the world in a blur, reality at his side. Their steps had taken them down to the village—to Polperro, which to Kydd now was more dear than anywhere on earth.
'Why, Miss Rosalynd!' Mrs Puckey's dour face was now wreathed in smiles. 'I never did! We'm all been wonderin' who ye'd end with!' She looked with keen interest at Kydd.
'This is my intended, Mrs Puckey. He's Mr Kydd,' she said proudly. News must have spread in the village at breakneck speed.
Others arrived to share in the moment. 'Bejabers, Mr Kydd, but ye be one of us now, then.'
'Mr Bunt, please! He only asked me this morning!' laughed Rosalynd. 'And I did so accept him,' she said softly, with a sideways glance at Kydd.
They moved on, noting the makings of a huge driftwood fire even now enthusiastically under way on the foreshore of the harbour before the Three Pilchards, and continued through the streets.
A small shop caught Kydd's attention: it offered the services of a shade-maker. 'My dearest, if you would indulge me, I have a yen . . .' he said.
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
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.
