She could feel his eyes burning into the side of her face. They flicked to James Mortreath and back to Ameline. ‘As you please, Miss Ameline,’ Hezekiah said tonelessly, then bowed with a characteristic flourish and withdrew.

James looked at her shaken face. ‘Do you not like him, Captain Solomon?’

‘No… he…’ Realising she was still clinging to his arm she pulled her hand away and clenched her fists. ‘The next dance is about to begin, Mr Mortreath. Shall we take the floor?’

‘I’d be delighted.’

James led Ameline to the set forming closest to them. He felt more conspicuous than usual when Hezekiah Solomon took a position next to Sir Oliver and inclined his cologned white head to the baronet’s ear.

Unlike James and Ameline, Kerensa Pengarron was thoroughly enjoying the evening’s celebration. She had forgotten her earlier feelings of foreboding due to the fog, and was unaware of the different effects her presence was having on some of Sir Martin’s guests.

Chapter 3

Kerensa stood huddled at Oliver’s side in the driving rain in Perranbarvah’s churchyard. From time to time she glanced anxiously at Ruth and Esther King, two of Pengarron Manor’s servants, and sisters of the young fisherman whose burial they were attending. It was two months since the fishing boat tragedy and the fourth time the mourners had gathered to lay a member of the King family to his final rest.

At Kerensa’s other side was Matthias Renfree, the son of the Pengarron estate’s home farm and stud steward. He was supporting Elizabeth King, the grieving mother of the deceased, Mark King. She sobbed unrestrainedly throughout the solemn words spoken by the parson, the Reverend Joseph Ivey. Matthias was a source of great comfort to Elizabeth, devout as he was, like the Kings, to John Wesley’s teaching of the Gospel and Christian way of life. Before the funeral today, Elizabeth had told him, Oliver and Kerensa that she was grateful to the Almighty for giving her back all of her loved ones from the deep.

The Kings were too poor to provide coffins for their dead menfolk and it would have been the loan of the parish coffin for each in turn and burial in nothing more than a shroud but for the thoughtful intervention of Oliver. He’d approached the family through Matthias Renfree, offering to supply a coffin for each of the deceased if and when they were found. Elizabeth King had received the offer with the dignity and spirit with which it was given and her menfolk were lowered into the ground, up above the fishing village where they had all been born, encased in timber from the Pengarron oak plantation.