Ruan smiled. “Promises from a gent be as slippery as a live pilchard, sir. But ’ee kept yours. ’Ee ’ave my respect now, and I ’ope ’ee win the ‘lection.” He put out his hand.
Frederick smiled gratefully and shook it, wishing Ruan were able to cast a vote. Perhaps reformwasworth considering—not that any reform being discussed would grant someone as poor and landless as Ruan the vote.
“And you havemyrespect,” Frederick said. “I am glad to have found another friend in Trelowen.”
Ruan colored up as though this pleased him greatly, stepping backward toward the quay. “I’ll see ’ee at the party, sir.”
“I am counting on it,” Frederick replied.
How these men subjected themselves to such labor every day was beyond his understanding—to say nothing of being eager to wrestle and make merry afterward.
He turned away and winced. He was half-tempted to cry off from his own campaign party to nurse his fatigued body in bed.
He bid farewell to the other men, feeling an immense satisfaction as Mr. Tregenza shook his hand and regarded him with new respect, then hurried to The Silver Pilchard to clean up. He still had to help set things up on the beach.
An hour and a brutal scrubbing later, he met Jory in the taproom. He was heartily sick of changing, for he’d been obliged to wear something less fine to help Mrs. Tonkin bake the fairings that morning. He’d changed to look presentable at Trevenna, then changed back into the baking clothes to help the fishermen, and now had donned new clothing for the party.
He had been uncertain what to wear to such an event. Announcing his campaign for Parliament required a certain level of gentility. But his guests would not be genteel, and as he was trying to walk the fine line between impressing them and seeming approachable, there was a balance to be struck.
In the end, he had chosen a serviceable but well-fitted blue tailcoat, a gray waistcoat, and riding boots over his breeches.
The party was set to begin at half-past-four, and it was already four o’clock, with nothing yet arranged on the beach. Frederick’s steps were quick, and Jory was obliged to run to keep up as they carried the top of the trestle table to the beach. He was strong for a boy, but Frederick was obliged to support the majority of the weight, and his muscles protestedvehemently. How they would manage to carry it down the slippery steps at the quay was something he didn’t care to think on.
To his surprise, three people came to their aid before they had even reached the stairs.
The beach was already sprinkled with people eager for the party to begin, including the fishermen.
“God bless you, Ruan,” Frederick said breathlessly as the man relieved some of his burden.
“We can’t ’ave our candidate breakin’ ’is back before ’e’s even begun.”
They rested one side of the table top on the sand, leaning it against the stone wall of the quay.
“Where be the rest of it?” asked Ruan.
“In the taproom,” Frederick said, rolling his shoulders.
“And what else be there to do?”
Frederick blew out a breath from his mouth. “The food. The drink.”
Ruan nodded, then put his fingers to his mouth and gave a loud whistle.
Everyone on the beach turned toward him.
“If ’ee wish to eat and drink and dance and make merry,” Ruan called out, “’ee’d best come ’elp.”
Without hesitation, the people made their way over, and within a quarter of an hour, the table was set up, the food and drink sitting ready upon it, and all eyes turned to Frederick—thanks to another whistle from Ruan.
There were perhaps eighty people there, from rosy-cheeked children to the pale and wrinkled. People stood on tiptoes and craned their necks to see him, and after a moment’s hesitation, Frederick stepped onto the bench of the trestle table to better see.
“Welcome, one and all,” he called out. “It thrills me to see all of you here, and I trust we will spend an enjoyable afternoonand evening together. My name is Frederick Yorke, and I am here to announce my candidacy for the vacant Parliament seat for Trelowen.” He paused, hoping for a bit of applause, but none came.
He cleared his throat. “You may not know me, but I assure you, I have spent years of my life working to understand the way of things in Parliament so that I can be an effective member.”
His gaze caught Mrs. Tonkin’s, who stood at the front of the crowd. She lifted a brow. She had spent a good deal of time that morning lecturing him how to comport himself at the party.
“No long speeches,” she had said. “They ’aven’t left their ’omes and work to ’ear ’ee blather on. Offer to listen to ’em, tell ’em ’ee’ll work for them—not for yerself—then turn ’em loose to enjoy themselves.”
