by Diane Allen
‘Well, there is one bit of good news I can tell you.’ Archie turned and smiled at Charlotte. ‘I went over to Ragged Hall today, to pick up the tup, and I saw Bill Brown. He told me his lass, Amy, is to be wed, and she’s expecting a baby. He’s bloody fuming – seemingly it’s to a lad over Slaidburn way. So that gets her out of the way of our Danny.’
‘Thank heavens for that. At least that removes her from the picture, and keeps him focused on his marriage to Harriet. And at least the baby’s not his, which is a blessing.’ Charlotte kissed Archie on the cheek, before burrowing down underneath the bedclothes.
‘Aye, hopefully it isn’t our Danny’s. Perhaps she doesn’t know who the father is, and the poor lad at Slaidburn is just the one that’s been caught.’ Archie dimmed the lamp at his side of the bed and joined Charlotte under the covers; he put his arm around her, in the hope of a loving response.
‘Don’t even think it, Archie Atkinson. I’ve had enough of men. Now, keep yourself to yourself, and goodnight.’ Charlotte pushed his arm off her.
‘Tha never used to say that, Lottie. Perhaps thou’s got another man in your life.’ Archie kissed his wife and cuddled her tightly as she protested, knowing that she would quickly submit to his advances.
‘Do you really think I’ve got time for another man? And why would I want one, when I’ve got you, Archie Atkinson?’ Charlotte felt guilty at her rejection of the man she loved and turned and kissed him tenderly.
‘Aye, I might be a bit long in the tooth, but you’ll not find a better tup than me.’ Archie grinned. ‘Now come here: we are not too old for a bit of passion.’
‘No, we never will be – me and you. Just hold me, Archie, I need to be loved.’ Charlotte looked into the eyes that she had always loved and held him tight. He was her love, her rock when everything around her was wrong, and most of all he was her lover and, as he said, the best tup in the district.
12
Harriet watched the salesman’s every move as he demonstrated how to thread the needle and how to alter the tension of the stitches, by adjusting the coiled spring on the metal contraption that he’d delivered to the fitting room of Atkinson’s. He then got hold of a scrap of material and flicked a switch at the back of the machine, to pick up what he called ‘the foot’, and placed the material underneath it.
‘Look, you pedal with your feet, back and forward on this iron plate. This in turn makes this leather belt turn round this wheel, which then makes the movements inside this casing move your needle up and down. The faster you pedal, the faster your needle goes up and down. Watch me.’ The salesman started to pedal and the needle began to go up and down as he pushed the material under the foot, leaving a beautifully sewn line of stitches. ‘What do you think? Good, eh!’ He passed Harriet his handwork and watched her face.
‘That’s fantastic! It would have taken me a good hour to do all those stitches. Can I have a go?’ She couldn’t wait.
‘Yes, here, have a go – that’s what I’m here for.’ The salesman stood back and watched as Harriet sat down on her stool, putting her feet on the metal plate to be pedalled. ‘Be careful of your fingers, and keep your skirts out of the belt.’
Harriet pushed down with her feet, making the machine come to life.
‘That’s it, back and forward; go with its rhythm, you are doing fine.’ The salesman looked at Charlotte, who was watching with interest as Harriet enjoyed getting to grips with her new piece of technology, and smiled as he knew he had a sure sale. The sound of the treadle going back and forth was the only noise, as all eyes were on Harriet.
She beamed as she picked up the foot of the sewing machine, cut the length of cotton thread from the end of her material and looked at her handiwork. ‘I could nearly make a dress in a day, if I had one of these. The fittings are going to take longer than the sewing.’
‘I take it you would like to keep the machine then?’ Charlotte smiled. ‘Isabelle, you could learn to use it as well, so that you both can sew, if you are ever in the favourable position of being busy.’
‘I would love it. It makes life so much easier, although there will still be a lot of detail that I will need to do by hand.’ Harriet’s face lit up, thinking of the dresses she could make with such a machine.
‘I’d like to learn, too. As you say, Mother, it is best if I also learn how to use it. I’m not the best seamstress, but this looks faster than sitting hand-sewing, which I don’t have any patience for.’ Isabelle went and stood by Harriet and investigated the Singer sewing machine’s functions.
‘Be careful not to leave any pins in your garments, for the needle will break if it hits a pin. Look, this screw here needs to be turned, to enable you to change the needle.’ The salesman bent down and pointed to a tiny screw above the needle, which held the needle in place. ‘We can supply you with a tin of spare needles, so this will never be a problem. Also, you will notice the drawers on either side of your machine, for storage of any of the things you need to keep in there. It really is a superb machine.’
‘I think you’ve earned your money today. My girls and I will definitely take it, Mr Rogers. I’m sure it will be of benefit to our business. Could you invoice Ferndale Mill, please, and not my two girls here. This is my treat, my enjoyment, if I’m to tell the truth. However, I have every faith that my new venture is in good hands.’
‘Of course, ma’am, and I’m sure the machine will not disappoint you. I can see every good home owning one in the future.’ Mr Rogers tipped his hat and smiled at the girls as they laughed, and Isabelle pedalled and started sewing as he made his way to the door.
‘I sincerely hope not, Mr Rogers, as there would be no need for our new venture. And that would never do.’ Charlotte showed the salesman his way out. ‘Good evening, Mr Rogers, thank you for your help.’
She closed the door and watched Isabelle and Harriet laughing at one another’s stitching. Thank heavens Isabelle had moved on from the gloom that had surrounded her; or at least she seemed to have done, although she thought she had heard Isabelle sobbing the other night. A broken heart took longer to heal than a few days, as she knew all too well herself. But the shop, and Harriet, would give Isabelle a sense of purpose, and keep her mind off John Sidgwick and the life she nearly had. The sewing machine was a good buy; it would help Isabelle forget everything, albeit just for a few moments as she learned her new skills. Just as she herself had buried her hurt at being used, and had ploughed her energies into running Ferndale.
She’d arranged for Hector Christie to have Isabelle for lunch this coming Sunday, knowing that the last thing Isabelle wanted to hear about were the wedding plans of her brother. Hector’s son, William, was up from Oxford, so she would have some company to lighten her visit. It was, as Hector said, a pity that William was so intent on his studies, as they would have made a perfect couple, but Isabelle cherished William as a friend and thought none the worse of him. Sunday was going to be Danny’s day, and a chance for both Archie and her to meet the Armstrongs and get a feel for what sort of family their son was to marry into. Charlotte had hoped Danny would marry somebody with more stature in society, but Archie seemed to be quite happy that Harriet was from a good Dales family, a farmer’s daughter, and that was all that mattered. She had agreed to them having Crummock because after all they both needed a home, and Danny loved his life in farming and had not once shown any interest in running the mill. Horses for courses, Charlotte thought, as Harriet beamed at her, showing her the first seam she had just sewn on a lady’s petticoat. Whatever life threw at them, they’d manage; Isabelle and Danny were their children and she’d try and protect them from the world’s evils.
‘I said to my Ted what a beautiful home you had here at Windfell. I told him it was so grand it would take his breath away,’ Betty Armstrong chattered, while Thomson lightened her of her mantle and waited for her gloves, as she gazed around the hallway of Windfell.
‘Yes, we are lucky to have such a beautiful home. I sometimes wonder what I’
ve done to deserve it.’ Charlotte smiled at both of the Armstrongs and watched as Archie came quickly down the stairs, tidying his cravat as he raced into the hallway.
‘I’m sorry, I meant to be at the door with Charlotte to meet you, but I got delayed up at Crummock. We had a cow calving, and Danny and I decided we would be better helping Arthur see it into the world.’ Archie quickly gave his apologies and looked across at Charlotte’s scowling face. She’d let Danny and him know exactly how she felt about putting a calving cow before the wedding plans. ‘Danny will be down shortly. He’d have been here by now, but he fell backwards as he pulled the calf free and fell into a pile of shi—’
‘Yes, well enough of calving cows. Come through into the drawing room. Once Danny is with us, we’ll sit down for lunch.’ Charlotte quickly stopped Archie in his tracks, frowning at his lack of decorum. He sometimes reminded her of her father; he’d had a habit of saying it as it was, and it seemed that Archie was starting to do the same.
‘Bullock or heifer?’ Ted Armstrong said to Archie.
‘A bonny little heifer. From a Hereford. I thought I’d try them up at Crummock. I was going to buy them for Butterfield Gap, but now that Danny’s going to farm there, I thought we’d try them up on the fell. They are sturdy little beasts.’ Archie looked at the tall weather-beaten farmer and knew he’d be alright talking farming with him over dinner.
‘Men – it’s all they talk about! I swear Ted loves his sheep more than me and our Harriet. Doesn’t he, Harriet? I heard him talking to his new Rough Fell sheep that he got from his cousin up Ambleside the other day. He had kinder words for them than I have ever had said to me.’ Betty took Harriet’s arm and followed Charlotte into the drawing room.
‘You’ve got Rough Fell sheep? Now, I must have a look at them. I was thinking of buying some, but I’ve kept to my Swaledales, as they are hardy and lamb well.’ Archie had had his eye on some Rough Fells for a while, for they were such a bonny breed with their big black-and-white faces and white fleeces, but until now he didn’t know anyone who kept them.
‘Aye, come up and see them. I’ve only ten of them, but you can have a look at them. If I have a good spring and they lamb well, I’ll sell you some.’ Ted looked at Archie; he was a farmer like him, and his lass would be alright. She’d been brought up to live a farm life, and that’s what he hoped she’d do, rather than play in a fancy dress shop.
‘Gentlemen, Danny’s joining us now. No more talk of sheep, cows and farming. Let us go through to the dining room and have dinner, and then discuss the wedding plans.’ Charlotte decided to set the agenda and not let farming take over the day.
‘I’m sorry I’ve kept you waiting.’ Danny entered the room and took Harriet’s hand as he kissed her gently on the cheek.
‘Look at the love-birds, don’t they make a lovely pair?’ Betty smiled and wiped back a tear of joy.
‘They do indeed. It will be a joy to see them both walk down the aisle.’ Charlotte looked at Danny and held her breath, knowing full well that things might not have been so straightforward.
‘I tell you what, lass, after dinner you, Harriet and Mrs Armstrong sort out the wedding, and Ted, Danny and me will have a walk around our grounds while you sort it all out between you. After all, it’s women’s talk and, no matter what we say, we’ll be wrong.’ Archie grinned across at his wife as Danny rushed to the side of his betrothed.
‘It probably will be better. What do you think, Mrs Armstrong?’
‘Please – “Betty” and “Ted”; after all, we are soon to be related. Yes, we are better sorting it. I don’t know about your husband, but Ted knows nothing about organizing a wedding. And we have so much to sort out: the dress, the bridesmaids, the church and where to have the marriage and wedding breakfast. We have quite a big family, and you will have so many guests, too.’ Betty had been having sleepless nights over the thought of how much this society wedding was going to cost, and who was to do exactly what.
‘Well, the dress is no problem. Isabelle has designed it already, and I’ve put some of the taffeta that came from Liverpool to one side. I will, of course, pay for it,’ Harriet added quickly.
‘Come, let us have dinner, and then we will talk about it in detail after we’ve eaten and are free of these three men. Just listen to them; sheep, cows and market prices . . . you’d never tell, from them, that we have a wedding to plan.’ Charlotte ushered everybody into the dining room and guided them to their seats.
‘My, what a beautiful room.’ Betty looked around the lavish dining room and breathed in deeply, then smiled as Thomson served her a steaming bowl of soup.
‘Well, Betty, I wondered if we should have the wedding breakfast in this room. I have an excellent cook, plenty of staff, and the room lends itself so nicely to a wedding. I remember my own wedding breakfast here and it was a grand occasion, one I’m sure we could follow – if not exceed.’ Charlotte looked across at Betty and waited for her reply.
‘That would be perfect. Of course we would pay towards your outgoings.’ Betty looked at Harriet. ‘Would you be happy with the breakfast here, Harriet?’
‘Yes, it would be lovely. And if we have it in spring, our guests can go out onto the lawn and look around the gardens.’ Harriet smiled, thinking of her special day.
‘I would not hear of you bearing any of the costs. I have all the amenities to hand and it would be no hardship for us to hold the wedding breakfast here. Likewise, my cook will make the cake, and my gardener will make sure you have a bouquet of your choice.’ Charlotte looked at Harriet and hoped she wasn’t dictating too much.
‘This is such a relief, Mrs Atkinson. I must admit, I’ve had a few sleepless nights, wondering how we were going to organize things.’ Betty sighed.
‘Call me “Charlotte”, please. Now don’t you worry, Betty, we will sort it out between us. St John’s at Langcliffe for the actual wedding? It should be big enough.’
‘Yes, we both thought that.’ Betty glanced at Harriet and saw her smiling in recognition of the decision.
‘Harriet and Danny will have to go and see the vicar and get the banns read. That just leaves bridesmaids and the guest list. Harriet’s sister as maid of honour, and Isabelle as chief bridesmaid, do you think?’ Charlotte enquired.
‘Yes, perfect.’ Betty couldn’t believe there was hardly anything else to arrange – it had all been sorted while sipping her soup.
‘Then all that’s left is the guest list. If I write the invitations for our side of the family, will you do yours? I’m afraid the guest list will be rather large.’
Ted Armstrong pushed his soup dish away from him, empty, and looked up at his wife and daughter. ‘You’ve worried yourself sick, lass, for a week or two, and Charlotte here has organized it before the main course and it’s all to everyone’s liking. There’s only one thing: I think we should pay some of the costs, else I’ll be offended.’
‘You will do no such thing. It is our privilege to welcome your Harriet into our family.’ Charlotte smiled. ‘But I would not want to offend you. How about you give my husband two of your Rough Fell lambs in the spring? That would go some way towards part of the costs.’
‘Aye, I’ll agree to that: a tup lamb and a gimmer, to start your own flock. How about that, Archie? Like these two, who will hopefully soon be starting their own flock.’ Ted grinned.
‘Father!’ Harriet whispered, while blushing and daring to glance at Danny.
‘Not before they are wed, please. We don’t want the perfect wedding to be spoilt now, not with all these plans to put in place.’ Charlotte chastised, and then smiled at, the blushing young couple. ‘We want a perfect day – and it will be perfect, believe me.’
‘Did you enjoy your day with the Christies?’ Charlotte sat across from Isabelle and watched as she sketched patterns for Harriet to give her approval to.
‘Yes, thank you, Mother. It was good to catch up with William; he won’t be back up in Yorkshire now until Christmas, which I suppose will
soon be upon us. The leaves are falling from the trees in profusion now, so autumn is definitely here.’ Isabelle looked out of the window at the wild, blustery day and watched as the copper-beech leaves twirled and twisted to the floor.
‘Yes, I don’t like this time of year, with everything dying. I much prefer spring, which always seems a lifetime away, now it comes in so dark of an evening. We had a pleasant lunch with the Armstrongs. I think I might have judged Betty Armstrong wrongly; she’s just an excitable body. She gets giddy and carried away with the situation, but she’s not a bad soul.’ Charlotte edged her way into talking about Danny’s wedding plans. ‘Harriet would like you to be chief bridesmaid: would you be in agreement with that? It’s only right, as you have been brought up as Danny’s sister.’
‘That would be fine, Mother. Please don’t feel you have to edit your excitement over the wedding, just because I made a fool of myself. It’s Danny’s and Harriet’s big day and I will be happy for them. I know you sent me to dine with the Christies to get me out of the way. After all, you couldn’t have my sullen face at the table while all the plans were put in place.’ Isabelle lifted her head from her sketching and looked at her mother, whom she knew was worrying about her feelings.
‘I just want you to be happy, Isabelle, put that horrible business of John Sidgwick behind you and move on with your life.’ Charlotte brooded. ‘Are we to have our usual Christmas Ball this year? It lifts spirits at that time of year, although I have taken the decision to pay for Harriet and Danny’s wedding, and I might have to cut the guest list slightly. I couldn’t have the Armstrongs have the worry of paying for half, for after all most of the guests will be from our side.’
‘Mother, do as you wish – you usually do. A Christmas Ball, as you say, would be welcomed by our friends and neighbours, I’m sure. Uncle Hector asked after you and Father yesterday, he hopes you are both well. He had a guest staying with him, an acquaintance of William’s: a designer and artist called William Morris. I must confess I’d never heard of him before, but William told me he is in fact one of the most radical artists and painters of our day. He was quite interesting to talk to.’ Isabelle did not want to show just how fascinated she was by William Morris, but she was aware that her voice belied that fact. However, she was going to mention her conversation with him, before Hector Christie reported back to her mother.