Page 10 of The Cornish Mermaid

A white slip, also discolored with age and its time spent in the chest, went on next. And then out came something that could only be a corset.

“I can’t wear that,” Morvoren declared, hands on hips. “For a start, the weather’s far too hot. I’ll die of heat exhaustion.” Why on earth had Kit’s mother worn these clothes? And a corset? Confusion whirled around in her head along with an ever-increasing urgency to get out of here as fast as possible and back to normality.

She might just as well have banged her head against a brick wall. “No lady goes out without her stays,” Jenifry opined, levering her into them. “Now breathe in while I does them up, that’s a good girl. We’ll make a proper job o’ you yet.” Her critical gaze slid to Morvoren’s jeans and T-shirt where they lay on the floor, as if to infer that they were anything but a “proper job.”

The next thing that went on was stockings, secured just above her knees with garters. These were followed by several layers of petticoats, and finally, Jenifry held up a pink and white striped gown with a skirt of generous proportions. It was certainly pretty, but on top of all the other layers it seemed distinctly over the top. However, Jenifry probably wouldn’t allow her to escape in just the petticoats.

Did women in this cult really go about dressed like this?

Despite her protests, the dress went over her head and was finally done up, tightly, over her stay-clad waist. Peering down at herself when it was done, she had to admit she looked nice. Very different from her normal appearance. She couldn’t help but long for a full-length mirror to admire her reflection. How lovely this outfit would have been to wear for an evening fancy-dress ball when she was at university. It had the feel of authenticity about it, even though it was making her sweat.

“Shoes now,” Jenifry said, bending over the chest and emerging with a pair of exquisitely lovely, but unforgiving-looking, high-heeled shoes. Only this was where she ground to a halt, as no matter how hard she tried, like Cinderella’s Ugly Sisters, Morvoren couldn’t fit her size six foot into any of the shoes Jenifry produced. Kit’s mother, Jago’s sister, despite matching her in height, must have much daintier feet. So, to Jenifry’s horror, the soggy trainers went back on again, which was probably a good thing as none of those shoes looked as though they’d be comfortable for actual walking.

“There,” Jenifry said, standing back to view her protégée with an air of pride. “Keep them feet tucked away an’ this’ll do just fine. Only your hair to do now. And you’ve an advantage there with it being such a pretty color.”

With a hairbrush and a length of pink ribbon, Jenifry battled Morvoren’s sandy, sea-salty hair into a low ponytail, leaving a few short curls clustered about her face, then stood back to further admire the effect. “Now that’s a proper job this time. Best get you down these stairs to see’f you pass muster for the gen’lemen.”

Morvoren forbore from remarking that the last thing she wished to be judged by was whether the gentlemen downstairs found her to their liking. However, she submitted to following Jenifry out into the corridor and back down the stairs, but only because complying seemed the easiest way to escape this madhouse. The descent of the stairs was not an easy task, as with such long, wide skirts, she had to hold them out of the way of her feet. As a consequence, she descended slowly, afraid that at any moment she’d catch the edge of a petticoat with her foot and go tumbling to the bottom. The last thing she wanted to be while wearing these dodgy open crotched knickers was upside down in a heap on the floor.

Chapter Five

Kit

The moment the staircase door closed behind Morvoren and Jenifry, Jago rounded on Kit. “What were you thinking of bringing some stranger here? Haven’t we got enough on our hands already? You have to get rid of her, boy. ’Tis too dangerous to have some outsider here a-lookin’ at what we’re about. She’s got to go. Right now. Before tonight.”

Kit bit his lip, anger rising. “What else could I have done with her? I caught her in my nets and thought she was dead. Even when she came back to life, she was icy cold. I had to get her warm.”

“She’ll fetch us bad luck, mark my words,” his uncle growled. “T’would’ve been better if you’d left her where she b’longs, at the bottom of the sea. T’ain’t natural to go scoopin’ up women off the seabed.”

Kit bristled. Did Jago really think he should have just released her from his net and left her in the water? However, a decision needed to be made. “You’re right. She can’t stay here. As soon as she’s decently dressed, I’ll take her to Penzance. I’ll get Jowan to saddle the horses. You still have my mother’s saddle, don’t you?”

Jago grunted. “Aye, that I do, lad, but it won’t fit my cob. She’ll have to ride your fine horse. No. You stay here and wait for her. Don’t want to give her the chance to poke about. I’ll away into the stables and roust that lazy bugger up. He can find that saddle and get the horses ready.” He slapped Kit on the shoulder and strode to the front door. It banged behind him as he disappeared into the yard.

Kit stood for a moment without moving, thinking about what his uncle had said. Yes, it was odd that he’d found her today, and yes, it was indeed a very bad day for having a stranger around the farm. An unfortunate state of affairs, but it couldn’t be helped.

His own clothes were almost dry by now, but to ride to Penzance he’d need his coat. Ignoring the snug-fitting, tailored coat he’d had made at Weston’s in Town, he shrugged his way into one of Jago’s much roomier jackets. Not such fine cloth, and the sleeves were a tad short, but altogether more comfortable for a hot day.

He was just fishing through his uncle’s pockets when the door at the bottom of the stairs swung open and Jenifry came back into the kitchen. From behind her, a vision of old-fashioned loveliness entered the room. Kit froze, one hand in a pocket, the other holding some bits of useful string he’d found in the other.

The mermaid had transformed. Yes, the gown she wore was a good thirty years out of date and something his mother would have worn as a girl when she’d first met his father, God rest his soul, but nevertheless, it gave Miss Lucas the look of the real lady he’d taken her to be. She was quite breathtaking from the top of her simply coiffed head to the peep of those odd shoes from under her skirts.

Jenifry, standing to one side of this apparition like a proud lion tamer presenting her charge at Astley’s, pulled a sad face. “Her feet be too large for any o’ your ma’s old slippers.”

The ex-mermaid also pulled a face, but rather a disgusted one, and twitched at her waist with her fingers as though in discomfort.

“Took a bit o’ doin’ to get her into they stays,” Jenifry said. “She don’t like stays one bit.”

“She is right here listening to you,” Miss Lucas said, exasperation coloring her tone.

Why she should be so put out puzzled Kit. Every woman he’d ever met wore stays, even those of loose morals he’d encountered during his time at Oxford. And what fun it was getting them out of them. No, he mustn’t think of her like that. She was just an unwanted encumbrance to be returned to wherever she belonged—to whomever she belonged to. Now was not the time to start getting sentimental.

He pulled himself together. “I’m to escort you to Penzance, Miss Lucas, from whence you informed me you set off this morning. If that is your wish. We shall locate your accommodation and return you to your…” He hesitated, wary of the word he’d heard her use. “To your boyfriend. My uncle has gone to tell his man Jowan to prepare our horses. I trust you won’t object to riding under my escort? I’m afraid we only possess two riding horses, so Jenifry cannot accompany us—which I’m sure you would have preferred for the sake of propriety.”

Miss Lucas’s eyes widened, yet again. In fact, she looked as though everything was a surprise. “You’re right. I do want to get back to Penzance, but by horse? Won’t that take a long time and be dangerous on the roads? With all the other traffic?”

Kit nodded, puzzled. What other way was there to go? Oh no. Perhaps she was one of those infernal women who’d never learned to ride. “You do ride, I trust?” he ventured.

She nodded. “I do, but not regularly for quite some time. I learned as a child.” Her face brightened. “Although earlier this week I did ride along the beach at Marazion, which was wonderful.”