As a Christmas gift, Jemima had a shawl for Mrs. Vaughn, chosen from a stall when they were at Falmouth a few days ago, Scottish wool, lilacs and greens all intertwined. Her father's gift had taken more planning, and had involved Gregory Watt and a visit to the workshops of the Brummigem jewellers.

A delicate pocket watch had arrived just a few days ago, with Boulton clock mechanism within an engraved brass case, and Jemima had sent the young man a warm greeting and a warm necktie bought from the Scots trader from whom she had bought the shawl.

Gregory should appreciate it, she supposed, his father James Watt being from just across the border and, feeling she was onto a good thing, bought five others, one sent to Burslem, two to Bristol and two she would give to her friends on Christmas Eve.

"I have sewn my dress," she told him, to Dr. Withering's astonishment. And then told her father about her agreement to go with Edward and Dick.

"No, Jemima," John Withering told her. "You will not go with your friends, you will go with an escort."

"Yes father," Jemima told him obediently, her heart sinking. Of the two of them, it was an impossible choice, even if Dick had told her he loved her.

"You have had an offer," he told her, "The man came to see me, he would like the honour of escorting you."

"Oh? Oh." Jemima fell silent, thinking.

"I am sure Mr. Bull and Master Trevithick will be there." He smiled at her, and Jemima noticed a flicker. Of what? Pain?

"I do not feel that I could come," her father admitted. "I feel the need to rest of an evening - " he broke off and raised a hand. "I am the luckiest father that you wish to rush off to find another man of my profession to tend me," and put his hand over hers.

"Would you go to put on the dress you altered? I would see its quality."

It was a good alteration in Jemima's opinion, considering she had taken apart her wakes dress and fitted the dark green skirt of dress that Mrs Wedgwood had given her for the ball at Trentham where she had met William Smith. The brocade and lace sat well together across the bodice and the skirt hung well across her hips. It would do well as a dress for a party.

Mrs Vaughn, coming down the hall, looked Jemima up and down as she descended the stairs.

"Let's see?" her father told her, who had come to the door. He looked at Jemima, her hair still up in pins from that afternoon's work. "Your handiwork does you credit."

"He is here," Mrs. Vaughn told Dr. Withering.

"Who?"

The who was not long before the "who" became apparent. George Warleggan was standing in the drawing room, looking as neat and put together as always.

"Dr. Withering, Miss Withering," he greeted them. His eyes followed Jemima as she bobbed before him. What did Warleggan want?

Jemima still hadn't really got it when Mr. Warleggan excused the time, praised Jemima's health and asked her to accompany him to Sir Francis's party.
It wasn't as if she were a girl waiting with bated breath at the touch of a hand and a closeness of a body. Dick had told her he loved her, but it wasn't like that with them. Not like she felt in the company of -

But she smiled and obediently agreed.

"I would be most honoured to, Mr. Warleggan."

And after he had left, declining canary port and a bite of supper, Jemima worked something out.

"I can't go in this dress now, can I?" she told her father. He smiled.

"No indeed," Dr. Withering replied, hand to her back and escorting her to the dining room.

"Father!" Jemima sighed, as he kissed her cheek. "Why did you ask Mr. Warleggan?"

"He asked me if he could ask you," John Withering told her. "I think he wants to charm you into accepting work at Wheal Leisure. Mining captain, he said."

"I'll have to think about it," Jemima told him.

"Yes,yes, your beloved steam engine," he replied, shaking out his serviette. "As for your dress, I rarely get to treat you Tom anything, my daughter, you wouldn't stop me for spoiling you, would you?"

"No father."

"And you will no doubt see Mr. Bull and Master Trevithick at the party. Although, you see them every day.

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Christmas morning arrived, first to Jemima's ears as the church bells heralded the morning and then her nose as a waft of goose came to her nose.

"I'll be leaving ye the goose.". There was a rattling in the kitchen just below Jemima's window.

She got blearily to her feet and slipped on her hand sewn dress.

"Daughter, is that you?"

"Yes, father." The reason she was so sleepy was because she had gone with Dick and Edward and Mr. Trevithick to the Red Lion in Truro.

Memories of that day, when she nearly won the shareholders of Wheal Leisure money from copper ore, only to be thwarted.

"Small beer, Miss Withering, since it's Christmas?" The mine was to be closed for two days and the mine captains had been given money for the workers and engineers.

Outside the miners were in full voice, songs of the chapel filled the streets: "Lift up thine voice to the Lord…" "The Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want…"

"They do not mind," said Mr. Trevithick, smiling broadly when Jemima declined on account of being Methodist.

"Jemima likes milk, or boiled water when he's come with us to the Swan or the Oak," Dick told his father.

"Oh, it's Jemima now, lad?" He told Dick, nudging him and laughing. "All right now Miss Withering," he told her, "Jan-boy, a jar of milk for Miss Withering - " he turned and looked at the three of them, "- compliments of Sir Francis!"

They walked along Camborne coast as the sun sank before them.

"Do you have to go to Coalbrookdale?". Jemima asked of Edward. They had worked so hard, so complicit, one would say one thing, another would try it. Dick would climb to the top, Jemima would hand him a spanner, Edward would reposition. And they would try again.

Day after day, until the coal consumption had been dropped to a third and they could pump out water four times the depth than the misassembled Watt engine could.

"Stay here? There is nothing that I could do here that would pay as much as Darby will, Jemima," He told her. "If I had money - Dick - " he turned round to look to his friend, " - if I had money, you could have your own engine house and not work at Ting Tong…and I will be with Gregory, and might be in a position to dissuade Mr. Watt not to pursue action against Mr. Wild."