The Cornish Dressmaker

Cornwall, 1796.
Seamstress Elowyn Liddicot’s family believe they’ve secured the perfect future for her, in the arms of Nathan Cardew. But then one evening, Elowyn helps to rescue a dying man from the sea, and everything changes. William Cotterell, wild and self-assured, refuses to leave her thoughts or her side – but surely she can’t love someone so unlike herself?

With Elowyn’s dressmaking business suddenly under threat, her family’s pressure to marry Nathan increasing, and her heart decidedly at odds with her head, Elowyn doesn’t know who to trust any more. And when William uncovers a sinister conspiracy that affects her whole world, can Elowyn find the courage to support the people she loves in the face of all opposition?

The inspiration behind my characters

China clay was first identified by a Quaker apothecary William Cookworthy in Tregonning Hill, in Cornwall in1746. He was living in Plymouth, just one of many who were searching for the illusive ingredient that enabled the Chinese to make such fine porcelain. He recognised the potential of the china stone which was being quarried in the hills overlooking St Austell, and set about experimenting to produce hard-paste porcelain, finally succeeding in 1768 when he took out a patent and opened a pottery in Plymouth.

The early production of porcelain was fraught with difficulties and proved very expensive, forcing Cookworthy to close his Plymouth pottery in 1770. He set up again in Bristol but four years later retired, handing over his business to Richard Champion who tried, unsuccessfully, to extend the patent. By that time, the Staffordshire potters, led by Josiah Wedgewood were hard on his heels and keen to expand.

In my novel, Elowyn sews the protective headdress warn by the bal maidens who scraped the sand from the dried blocks of clay before it was exported in the ships.

Though none of my characters are based on William Cookworthy, he is crucial to the history of my story. Not only did he recognise the value of the clay, but he played a pivotal role in lighthouse engineering.

He was an associate of John Smeaton who was engaged in building the third Eddystone Lighthouse (1756–59) off Plymouth. Cookworthy helped Smeaton with the development of hydraulic lime which proved a crucial component in the building of locks such as the lock in my book.

My fictional town of Porthcarrow, the construction of the outer harbour and inner lock, the use of leats, and the need to keep the water flowing is all based on the beautiful harbour of Charlestown near St Austell. In 1790 only nine fishermen lived in Polmear Cove with their families but by 1867 the population had risen to three thousand. The harbour and sea lock was built by a local entrepreneur Charles Rashleigh with the help of his Superintendent of Works, Mr Joseph Dingle.

It is still the most quintessential eighteenth century harbour, beloved by both film makers and tourists.

But what really fascinated me in my research was the mound of correspondence there is between Mr James Watt, Mr Matthew Boulton and Richard Trevithick – not forgetting their lawyers! In 1796, the date of my novel, Richard Trevithick was engaged in a patent row with James Watt who was successfully blocking any new engineers from using the technology behind his engines. It was a fierce legal battle, with James Watt regarding the young Trevithick as his chief enemy in Cornwall.

History reveals the truth. Richard Trevithick went on to invent the high-pressure engine which had no condenser (thus avoiding Watt’s patent). Instead the steam went straight into the atmosphere which in turn made the engines lighter and smaller. These ‘puffers’ as they were called did away with the need for the large beam and driving shaft, and were cheaper and more efficient. My story reflects the difficulties engineers faced during this strictly imposed patent.

In my book, I mention the coinage crisis. Elowyn has a deep mistrust of the token currency, believing that she will be given counterfeit coins. By the late eighteenth century, there was an acute shortage of farthing, half penny, and penny denominations as no copper coins were issued. Small change was hard to come by which, in turn, led to the practice of local manufacturers minting their own ‘tradesmen’s tokens’. These became accepted currency even by the banks.

In 1792 England was hit by a commercial crisis, and with the declaration of war by the French in 1793, it became apparent that notes smaller than £10 were needed. Thus £5 notes were issued, with local banks often issuing, and quarantining, their own notes of lower denominations such as £1 or even, one guinea.

Even after the rise and influence of Methodism, there was still huge profits to be made from smuggling. War had disrupted trade and the preventative services were at their most stretched and least supported. Smuggling routes were well established, the harbours of south Cornwall but a hop away from France and Guernsey.