Late 1789, S2E2

Autumn

So Jemima walked every morning across from Meadowsweet to the Ting Tongs, surveyed the mines and advised on the engine. By the time the second week came round, misty morning air and crisp underfoot, Dick Trevithick had taken to wait for her on the way to Boskednan and they talked about engines and mining, and the "up country" and how it was different to Cornwall.

By the time the fourth week came around and the "harvest wake" was nearly upon them Edward Bull would meet them on the lane and they would get a good hour of discussion in before they even met at the Tehidy site. Jemima would change and discussion would continue, they would go down into the mine or under the engine.

She was heartened that both of them understood her point about stratification and had spoken to Captain Trevithick about sending a dig towards the oldest site, Providence, and Jemima's heart soared higher still when she was ed to see Sir Francis, with William Wild present too, to tell her that, using her method, more tin had been discovered, that would never have even discovered if they hadn't applied the theory of strata.

"You will be joining us at the harvest wakes?" Sir Francis asked her.

"Wakes?" Jemima asked, confused not over the word but the fact it was being marked in September rather than the spring, as was done at home.

"It is a fair, a festival, people bring goods to be traded, there are amusements…I hold them here yearly." And Jemima wondered why she didn't know about them from the year before: her father has been Sir Francis's doctor. But, she had been focused on Wheal Leisure, had she not? How stupid she had been, thinking that place was the only thing in the world.

"I would like to," Jemima told Sir Francis.

"Good, good!" laughed Sir Francis, "I understand young people do put on smarter clothes. We will be relaxed that day, no work that day!"

It was to be the last Monday of September, and Jemima wrote to Humphry and Davies that Sunday, just over a week before, to tell them of her vindicated theory and that her work with Edward and Dick was going well.

"I was wise to Edward's "Fool's errands" when he asked me to get the blacksmith for a "long weight", and to take it over and place it in "Wheal Barrow". I got my turn when Edward was called to speak with William Murdoch and I told him we needed sea gills, a new type of inner tube, playing on Mr. Murdoch's manner of speech. We get on well, and I do hope you get to meet them, I am certain you will be fast friends."

A similar letter she wrote to Davies but, by the time the next day came, Davies had written, a crossed letter, for he could not have received Jemima's.

"Great news!" wrote Jemima's oldest friend. "Humphry and I will be coming to my father's in a week. We will be back for the Camborne Wakes - do you know of it? Humphry is keen to meet and make peace with Richard Dunkin, for he has lost money and is threatened with debtor's prison - " (was he? thought Jemima. His investment was Wheal Leisure. Had its fortunes taken a turn for the worse?). " - Humphry says he will be happy to remain with him for some time and work as a doctor, though will be loathe to leave Beddoes' Institute. As for Dick Trevithick, Jemima my dear friend, I urge caution and precaution. The man is a laggard and a scoundrel of the first water. Both I and Humphry had the misfortune to school with him - Trevithick has attended many and failed at all - and he is the laziest, most untrustworthy man I have ever met in my life. If you are happy at the Ting Tongs, which your letters appear to convey, you will be wise to keep your distance. He has the fortune of having you in his company."

Jemima lowered her letter as a noise downstairs indicated Mrs. Vaughn was preparing luncheon. Take care with her association with Trevithick? He was the most honest and rational person she knew. He, and Edward were of the same mould as Murdoch, Gregory Watt, Thomas Wedgwood, people Jemima knew she could put her trust, unlike her experience with Captain Poldark's cousin.

And Jemima realised that, nearly four weeks after that meeting in the Red Lion with the Wheal Leisure shareholders, she hadn't thought about any of them at all.

She hesitated to reply, and decided against. Davies and Humphry would be back that week and it would better that she spoke to him, or introduce - or reintroduce - him to Trevithick, since they had met before.

However she had seen the reason he was nicknamed the "Cornish Giant" - besides his height and breadth and unbeaten wild wrestling record, he had a temper that was slow to raise, but once up, was hard to diffuse.

Only last week a group of young boys had dared each other to try to peer in at the office hut window to get a glimpse of her undressing. The first Jemima had known about it was Edward and the blacksmith, Drake Carne, shouting at Dick Trevithick to stop, and several shouts and screams and thumps.

Since Jemima only put on a set of clothes over her work clothes, there was nothing to see, and she had rushed out to see Dick Trevithick hammering the life out of three youths who, when he had been dragged off, looked very sorry indeed that they had dared to try to peep at her.

"My father has asked me to walk home with you a'nights," Dick told her that night. A little feeling of affrontedness came to her mind at first, but then gratitude. It was getting darker and while she thought of herself as tough, brigands and thieves would find her no match.

"I am going to chapel," Dr. Withering called to Jemima as she sat in the study at Meadowsweet, reading Edward Bull's more recent engine trials. It would seem that the pressure would increase if the volume decreased. Had they tried smaller cylinders…?

And suddenly, Jemima put down the book and had found herself at the door. "Father, may I come?" he called, and within a few minutes was in her plain chapel dress and was walking with her father to Redruth.

"The Lord's my shepherd, I'll not want…" they sang, and Jemima looked at the congregation, the memory of her recent place of work stirred. He wasn't there, Henshawe. And she wondered how they all were. Perhaps she had acted hastily, Jemima thought. But, ultimately, Poldark had not believed in her, even if the shareholders had.

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"I have thoughts about the compressor," Jemima told Edward Bull and Dick Trevithick next morning. "I have studied your notes - I read you think there is a relationship between pressure and volume."

"If the volume is smaller there will be higher pressure," Edward told her, as they walked the grass with the sun behind them, "But we need a thicker vessel."

"I feel there is something…but it is not fully formed," Jemima told him. "Inhave told your father I will assay what has been found at Ishmaels. There is something I wish to try, Dick, though it's not fully formed in my mind yet."

"Well get it in shape for after the dinner bell," Dick told her. No joviality in his words, he was so unlike Edward in that respect, and anyone might take his tone as blunt, and hostile. But Jemima was used to his manner and knew there was nothing in it. He used the same manner when discussing his sister Eliza's musical ability or his sister Laura's art.

"I would think - " Jemima continued, but stopped, as the young men stopped. For there was a figure heading towards them. She felt her legs grow stiff, as if trying to plant herself into the ground as the man approached.

For it was Dr. Dwight Enys.

He had the decency to nod to Edward and Dick, and then to Jemima, asking, "Miss Withering, I wish to have a few words. Alone?" He added, when she hadn't moved.

"It's alright," she told her colleagues, and took a few steps from them. However, when they were about ten feet away, Jemima found that Dick was with her.

"Master…Trevithick, am I right?" Enys tried.

"You did an unspeakable thing to a man's wife; it's no wonder Miss Withering is reluctant to speak to you." And it was true: Jemima had heard about that from Paul Daniel, who had confided it to her when she had thought he was about to touch her, and had confided that his brother was now in hiding for Karen's accidental death. That such a story had come to the ears of the people over to the showed how notorious the scandal was.

"I did," Enys admitted, and Jemima felt he looked a little ashamed at Dick's words. "Do you wish this young man to remain?"

Why not? Jemima thought. Unlike Edward, who was an only child, Dick had six sisters. And she suspected she knew why Enys had sought her out.

"I took the liberty to leave your father's book at your home," he told her. Then passed her a linen wrap that contained herbs.

"As you requested. I have written the receipt inside, should you need more. This should be good for six months." He handed it to Jemima. Dick, she realised had not taken his eyes from Dwight Enys's face.

"My thanks, doctor," Jemima told him, and waited until he got the hint and left. It didn't take too long.

"You look well," he added. To Jemima, on the contrary, the doctor looked much thinner and more careworn than he had done when he had last seen her.

"It helps that I am not at risk of being assaulted by former mine owners," she replied, acidly. Beside her, Dick moved his feet.

Enys looked a little stunned at her reply, and it appeared to Jemima that he had stopped himself saying something else. Instead he nodded to her.

"My thanks for the loan of the book." He nodded to the cloth in her hands. "Take it according to the receipt," Enys told Jemima, as he turned. "Goodday, Miss Withering," he added, and gave a nod to her, and back to Dick.

To his credit, he did not ask her what it contained, knowing well her father was a doctor. Instead, they watched Enys walk away.

"Well, that doesn't happen every day, a country doctor happening on three people at dawn!" It was typical of Edward to lighten the mood.

"It was something he promised to get for me before I left Leisure," Jemima told her friends. Enys's tricorn hat was the last to disappear in the mist. "I will be glad not to see that man again."

"Wheal Leisure may be soon different to how you knew it," Edward continued, as they began their progress towards Dolcoath. "Many men have sold their shares. The mine has not prospered and the owner has taken out a risky loan to keep it on."

"How do you find out these things?" Dick Trevithick asked him. "You know everything, Bull!"

"Do you know there is a festival called the "Wakes" next Monday?" Both young men looked at her.

"It's not for incomers, tell her, Dick!" teased Edward.

"I am no incomer!" Jemima replied, with equal jocularity. "I was born in Cornwall, as you know, Edward."

"But yow talk loike you'm from ther Block Country, dow yer?" Edward imitated. And their friendship progressed out of colleagueship as Jemima pushed Edward's shoulder and, laughing, ran away, Dick following both of them.

"Will you come to the wakes with me?" she asked both of them, as they paused by Dolcoath - Captain Trevithick was expecting her at Wheal Fortune.

"Who are you talking to?" Dick asked, looking to Edward.

"Both of you. I do not require a partner, I would be with my friends," she told them. "Both of you."

"I am glad we are friends," Dick told her. "Yes, Bull?"

"Yes!" Edward declared. Miss Withering, Master Trevithick and Mister Bull, the three engineers of Tehidy. "Your father will not disapprove?"

"My father will be relieved," she told them. "I know he worries for me as I age, and I do my my best to ease his mind.

And it wasn't long until she had assayed the lode, and the dinner bell had gone, and she met her friends and ate bread and cheese and returned to Dolcoath.

"Let out the steam half way, then close the valve," she told Dick. He looked at Jemima for a moment, them climbed the side of the engine.

From his place in the lower level of the cavern of Dolcoath, Edward Bull looked up, watching with interest.

The beam was pulled down, because the valve had jettisoned some steam, which dragged up the pump on the other side. Jemima watched it labour, as it filled with steam from the boiler.

"Close it, close the bottom valve, and open the middle valve again.". The engine lurched, and pulled up its plunger. Dick put his hand on the beam.

"That is…high pressure…"

Jemima had never heard him so vague before, usually Dick was clear and to the point. It was something.

"We'll try this tomorrow, and see if we get the same results, be told Jemima. "We are on the last coal for today, it will be good to try on a fresh boiler's worth. Do you not concur Bull?"

"Hm, yes," Edward Bull told them. "Miss Withering, I am impressed. We have been developing this for over a year and none of us has ever thought about that before. Trevithick?". Jemima looked to Dick.

"We have not," he replied, still looking at the pump plungers and beam. "Not at all."

After changing, and saying goodbye to Captain Trevithick and Edward, Jemima made sure she had her parcel of herbs, which she would be sure to take, when she could read his instructions.

"Are you quite well, Miss Withering?" Dick Trevithick asked her, as they got to the ridge above Tong Tong, with Camborne ahead of them.

"What is happening in the churchyard at Redruth?" Dick pulled up sharply, the question clearly unexpected.

"Mr. Murdoch is testing out a machine that he should not be making," Dick told her. "Does your father know about the medicine you have there?"

"Who told you about my being attacked by Mr. Francis Poldark?"

"How did you know that I knew?" Their question tennis had reached the heights of ludicrosity and Jemima laughed.

"Master Trevithick, why shouldn't Mr. Murdoch be making a secret machine?" Dick paused for a second then took her abruptly by the arm. Jemima gave a gasp of surprise, but was walking swiftly beside him a few seconds later. No, not walking, running under cover of the night.

Redruth, as far as Camborne from where they were, just up a different path, was before them, more low lying. The occasional flicker of lights from windows got to their eyes.

"Miss Withering," Dick told her, as they drew to a halt on the outskirts of the town. "Edward Bull will be there, too, and I am sure you will be a surprise to him. But, what you detailed today, about building up pressure in the condenser, is almost exactly the same principle as Murdoch has put into effect. He has put in a great deal of work, and it is he, Bull and I who have been working on it." He turned Jemima to face him, his hands firm on her shoulders. He hadn't meant to be rough, it was his way, but Jemima took his hands from her and placed them deliberately by his sides.

"That hurt. I was listening," she told him. "I didn't know anything about Murdoch's engine, but he does work for Boulton and Watt. I am sure I have seen the idea somewhere before, and so maybe Mr. Murdoch has too." She felt her face redden. "Please say you have brought me to see it?"

"You must be quiet," Dick told her. "I shouldn't have brought you, but if you have any more insights, I would like it to be soon. My father is funding the steam engine, you see. Sir Francis will pay for it only when it is operational. I need it to pump deeper depths. It's why I wanted you beside me, Miss Withering."

And another young woman might take exception to a man choosing those words. But it was Dick, he was straightforward, it was his way. Jemima was getting used to his straightforward honesty, it saved time, there was nothing untoward.

"My father told me about the incident at the mine with Poldark's cousin. I insisted you come to work with us, but Sir Francis and Mr. Wild were both aware that this could happen again - by no fault of your own. That's why he asked me to walk you home. Or here, as is the case tonight," he added. "So that you are safe." He inhaled, and then glanced to the churchyard. Already, an eerie orange glow was coming from the far end, and a faint mechanical sound. If she were simple, Jemima might believe that there was a mighty, fire-breathing beast causing chaos amongst the gravestones.

"It's because of - " Jemima was about to get honest herself. She had paused because she realised she was talking to a friend who happened to be male. Yet, this male had six sisters - he was bound to understand. And if he didn't, then Dick Trevithick would be getting an education that night.

"Oh," was all he said after Jemima had explained it. "Very well. As long as you are not ill. You do not have to see Enys again?"

"He has left the receipt in the package, so I know how to make it in the future."

"Because I don't like him."

"Neither do I," Jemima assured him.

"And your father would not understand?" Jemima sighed. Enys had been too late for that month. But she was grateful he had bothered at all. Perhaps the book had been worth it to him.

"I am sure he would, I just wouldn't want to explain. I am his daughter, not a patient. Anyway, this steam carriage…?

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It was a joy. Four wheels attached to a base, with a mounted steam engine that heated a boiler. The action of the piston moved the overhead rod, which turned a smaller wheel, which turned a large driving wheel, which moved the four wheels on the ground. So simple, and yet so elegant.

It was Edward who noticed Dick was not alone, and welcomed Jemima by clapping her on the back. William Murdoch, however, was more skeptical.

"I won't tell a soul," Jemima breathed. "I am glad, grateful you trusted me enough to see this, Dick," she told him.

"Watt will sue me if he finds out about it," Murdoch told her unhappily.

"He won't hear of it from me," Jemima assured him. "Besides, the engine that Dick and Edward are making could not be more different from that which Watt has made." And she made a mental note to ask Davies Giddy to look at the designs. She would ask herself - surely what he had said in his letter was exaggeration.

The woosh of steam filled the space between them, Jemima smiled as Murdoch added more coke. "Mr. Murdoch," Jemima asked. "May I drive it?"

Around the main path of the churchyard Jemima steered, the warmth of the firebox on her leg. It was more than she could ever have imagined. What about carriages behind, to pull passengers? Or a plough? Or would its wheels be too heavy?

"You should bring it to the harvest fair next week," Edward told Murdoch, as they sat together on the flat running board.

"I might just do that," Bouton and Watt's agent in Cornwall told them. "If it hadn't been for you young men, I would not have been able to build her. And Miss Withering, you drove her beautifully."

They remained seated as Murdoch took the carriage engine along the path beside the church. His own house was not far away, and Jemima still needed to get home.

"Looks like we will both be walking you," Edward told her when they reached Meadowsweet. No lights were on; Jemima presumed her father and Mrs Vaughn were asleep. "I am glad we are all friends."

"Dick," Jemima asked, "Or you, Edward, what do you think? What do you think about your engine, but smaller, that could run on its own wheels, like Murdoch's carriage? To go from mine to mine to pump water when needed? Or…could run to pull ore to save the horses?"

Both men remained very still for a moment. Then Dick said, "I need to sell at least one of these to break even. Before we can even think of other uses."

"But you will," Jemima told him, and smiled at Edward in the half light. "All mines will be digging deeper and deeper - it's like the coal mines back home. At those levels, there will always be flooding, and always the need to remove the water."

They bid one another good night just then, and Jemima saw herself inside, closing the door, and putting her back to it. What a marvellous day, even more so because she had a thought, something that would help Dick and Edward with the engine.

But first, she had to boil water and infuse…whatever it was Enys had given to her. "Place in boiling water all that here, good for six months."

Laughable! Where was the information about what these herbs were, and how much of them were to be used? But she supposed, perhaps he was being discreet for her, considering her reluctance to tell her father.

They tasted what boiled dandelion leaf and marjoram stalks might taste like if Jemima had steeped them in water for a long time. The taste was deep, somewhat between tea which had been left too long in the pot and old marjoram. Jemima drank it all down, knowing that, if Enys was right, in two weeks she would be without her monthly bleeding.

And then put out the candle.

Making her way upstairs, Jemima heard a noise, one in the yard. Perhaps the cat clamouring to come in, for it was getting colder nights.

"Puss?" Jemima called, hand on the door handle. She was just abouit to pull it closed, and give up on the appearance of the animal, when a hand gripped her wrist.

There was no time to scream. Another hand went to her mouth, and the first released her wrist, trailing it over her chest lasciviously. Jemima made to kick at the man's leg, but his hand from her mouth and she made to bite it. A slap to the face, and then a bag was thrown over her head.

Muffled sounds were all around her - two people, not just one? And then she felt heaviness to her chest as she was slammed over the back of a horse, a hand holding her down.