Her father shrugged. ‘I thought mayhap we’d ask Jago at dinner this evening. See if he knows anything.’
Charity didn’t like the idea of quizzing the man she intended to marry. And in truth, she had no idea whether Jago wouldactually wish to learn about Genevieve’s involvement with one of his mine workers. ‘I have no objection as long as you do not seek to regale him with the sordid details of his sister’s affair over the dinner table.’
‘Do you think me entirely bacon-brained?’ the Reverend declared indignantly. ‘I might be occasionally lacking in manners, but even I would not think to inform a man at his own dinner table that his sister had been tying her deuced garter in public.’
As he climbed to his feet, Charity heard him mutter under his breath, ‘I’ve enough of that going on in my own backyard.’ She winced, thinking of her abandoned behaviour this afternoon.
‘Come, Freddy,’ he called to the foxhound from the door, ‘there’s still enough light for a quick turn around the terrace.’
As the door closed behind him, Charity remained seated, sadness for Jago’s sister swamping her. She thought back to her father’s muttered comments as he left and for the first time in, well,ever, she was grateful for his uncommon outlook on life. Truly, over the years, she and her sisters had made a May game of him.
But then she thought of all the times he’d involved himself in affairs that were entirely none of his business. He might not be completely bacon-brained, but still, it was generally conceded by everyone who knew him that Augustus Shackleford was no stranger to kicking up a lark.
True to his word, her father did not belabour the subject of Stefan Petrock, and waited to ask his questions until they were seated in the drawing room after dinner. As Jago handed hima brandy, he simply asked whether Wheal Tredennick’s mine workers were content.
‘In the main, yes,’ Jago confirmed. ‘I like to believe that we treat our workers with respect and care.’
‘I can attest to that after my visit to the mine today,’ Charity interjected warmly.
Jago gave her a grateful smile, adding, ‘Most of them have worked at the mine their whole lives, and their fathers before them.’
‘So you’ve had no one leave in the last few years?’ The Reverend probed offhandedly.
Jago frowned, and for a second, Charity thought he was going to ask why her father was interested. But then he shrugged. ‘One or two. Usually young men who are not interested in renting living accommodation and think they can get better pay elsewhere.’ He took a sip of his wine, before adding, ‘There was one man that came as a bit of a surprise.’
‘Oh?’ The Reverend did his best to convey polite interest.
‘Stefan Petrock,’ Jago mused. ‘With our current foreman getting on in years, I’d hoped Stefan would be the man to replace him.’ He paused, then shook his head. ‘He’d seemed keen and was undoubtedly very bright. But when I got back, he’d evidently upped and left not long after I went to Salcombe.’
Jago frowned. ‘It was entirely out of character, and I admit to being surprised, but according to Richard he decided to seek his fortune in Devonshire. Apparently, there was a woman.’
The Reverend sighed. ‘Men will do many a foolish thing for love,’ he declared. ‘Why…’
Fearful her father would entirely put his foot in it, Charity interrupted with, ‘Jago has an appointment in Falmouth tomorrow and was wondering if we would like to accompany him. What say you, Father?’
‘Well, I have no objections. How about you, Percy. Fancy a bit of a jaunt?’
‘I should like that very much,’ the curate responded. ‘Our … irregular arrival is the only time I’ve ever visited the town.’
‘That’s settled then,’ Jago grinned. ‘I shall ask Mrs Penna to serve breakfast a little earlier so we can leave before ten.’
Climbing to his feet, with the intention of seeking out the housekeeper, he gave a sidelong glance towards Charity before directing his next comment to her father. ‘My appointment is at eleven and should last no more than an hour. Mayhap we can share a tankard of ale before lunch while Miss Shackleford visits one or two modistes. Despite our provincial setting, I’m persuaded she will be impressed by the selection of fripperies on offer.’
‘That sounds like an excellent idea,’ the Reverend enthused, as always agreeable to giving the local ale a try. Jago nodded with a small smile and went in search of Mrs Penna.
‘It sounds like an admirable plan,’ Charity agreed. Then, determined to strike while Jago was no longer in the room, she added ‘As you must have noticed, Father, I’m beginning to resemble that poor woman who sits outside the Red Lion at Blackmore.’
Naturally, her father had noticed nothing of the sort but as he looked over at her, his eyes suddenly widened. ‘Tare an’ hounds,Charity, when was the last time you actually changed that … rag you’re wearing?’
‘It’s over a week, Father,’ she responded sorrowfully, while inwardly thinking,I’ll give him a deuced rag. Attempting sorrow through gritted teeth was not an easy task. The Reverend narrowed his eyes, and for a second, she wondered if she’d done it a bit too brown. After all, her father was much better at embellishing than she was. Jago would be back any minute, so she decided to help him along a bit.
‘The fact of the matter is, Father, I am sore in need of a new dress.’
∞∞∞
By ten forty-five a.m. their carriage was approaching the outskirts of Falmouth. Charity had spent most of the journey in a light doze having slept poorly the night before. In truth, it was hardly surprising. Such a combination of elation and anxiety was never going to be conducive to a good night’s sleep.
‘I will meet you here in an hour,’ Jago was saying as they alighted from the carriage. ‘The main thoroughfare is that way.’ He pointed towards a cobbled street snaking away from the harbour. ‘I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.’ This was directed to Charity, and she favoured him with a wide smile which wasn’t missed by her eagle-eyed father.
