by Evie Grace
‘Just sew ’is initials on and go and return it to him.’ May chuckled. ‘Really, Violet. It isn’t that ’ard. You’re makin’ a mountain out of a molehill.’
Later that afternoon when she was fretting over what colour silks to use for the W, and Joe was lying on his blanket, holding a piece of linen in front of his eyes, transfixed by the pattern of threads, a woman, wearing an exquisite navy velvet coat and hat which shaded much of her face, came into the workshop unannounced.
‘Miss Whiteway,’ Eleanor exclaimed. ‘It is you! How marvellous.’
Violet couldn’t believe her eyes. A ring glinted from Miss Whiteway’s finger as she removed her fine kid gloves.
‘My dears, I never expected our paths to cross. You are well?’
‘We are all well,’ Violet said. ‘How and why did you find us?’
‘I’ve seen some of your workmanship on a dress. I have a friend who was showing me her wardrobe of gowns the other day, and one caught my eye. I recognised your signature – I suppose that’s what you’d call it – the characteristics of the embroidery that say it’s yours. I could tell from the neatness and regularity of the stitches, the shading in the butterflies’ wings, and the way they seemed to come to life on the material.
‘Violet, you can’t imagine how delighted I was when I realised that the embroidery had to be yours. My friend told me that she’d had the dress made by a Mrs Kinnaird. I called on her, she gave me your address and here I am. It took me a while to find you.’
‘I’m pleased that you did. It’s lovely to see you after all this time, but you find us in straitened circumstances.’ Violet wished that they hadn’t chosen tripe for dinner – the smell was decidedly unpleasant.
‘I’m hoping that I’ll be able to help – I have a proposition for our mutual benefit. I’d like you to embroider something very special for me. You will do it?’
‘Well, yes. Of course. Eleanor, would you make some tea?’ They had exchanged rank – Violet was in trade and Miss Whiteway was her customer. ‘Take a seat, Miss Whiteway.’
Their old governess took off her hat and coat and sat down.
‘Let me take the child,’ May said, leaning down. ‘We don’t want ’im disturbin’ you.’
‘Don’t worry about him,’ Miss Whiteway said. ‘What a handsome little boy. Look how he smiles. He takes after his mama, doesn’t he? How old is he?’
‘He’s four months old,’ Violet said.
‘Time flies. So much has happened since we last met.’
‘You have heard of the Rayfields’ misfortunes?’ Violet pulled up a chair and sat next to Miss Whiteway, who nodded. ‘I hope you can forgive me and Eleanor for what our parents did to you – they treated you very badly.’
‘They weren’t kind to you either, marrying you off to Mr Brooke. I always thought he was too good to be true. Anyway, it makes no difference to me. Thanks to your intervention – the letter you wrote – I found another place.’
‘What letter?’ Violet said.
‘It’s no use trying to bluff your way out of it. I recognise your handwriting as well as your stitches.’
‘Did I hear that right?’ Eleanor came back with two cups of tea. ‘I hope this isn’t too weak for you, Miss Whiteway.’
‘It’s perfect, thank you. And yes, in answer to your question, your sister did write me a character reference in your mother’s name.’
‘Violet! I’m ashamed to be your sister,’ Eleanor exclaimed, but she was smiling.
‘I have to confess that I was grateful for it – there was a moment when I feared that the fakery was going to be discovered, but I managed to convince my new employer not to check with your mother, knowing how ill she was. I’m sorry, by the way, for your loss. I learned of it from your Aunt Felicity – I met her at a soiree given by some mutual friends in Canterbury.’
‘You are still employed as a governess?’ Violet asked, frowning.
‘My life has changed for the better.’ Miss Whiteway sounded different, her voice lighter and her speech less formal, and she looked much prettier, and younger, in her beautiful clothes.
‘I was engaged to care for a gentleman’s ward, a young lady, and now I am to marry my master. There is a certain amount of irony in that, don’t you think? I have been caught up in a situation that I once eschewed, trapped into marriage by the love of a very dear man.
‘One day, women like you will break us out of our chains – those of duty above desire,’ Miss Whiteway continued as Joe gurgled and chewed on his fist. ‘I thought I would be the one to make a difference, but those days are gone. I’ve been beguiled into matrimony and I’m here to ask if you would accept a commission for a wedding dress. Mrs Kinnaird’s seamstresses would put the gown together and you would customise it.’
‘Are you sure? I’m – we’d be honoured,’ Violet said.
‘I don’t want anyone else to do it. I want everyone talking about my gown – having been used to fading into the background as a governess, I would find it gratifying to be the centre of attention, even if it’s only for one day.’
She paused before continuing, ‘I heard that Ottilie’s marriage caused a bit of a rumpus. I was told that Mr Chittenden has cut his son off – he’s written him out of his will and refused to have anything more to do with him, while poor Mrs Chittenden is distraught. I believe she would have forgiven her only son for marrying … Oh, what am I saying?’
‘You were saying that she would have forgiven John for marrying one of the Rayfield daughters,’ Violet finished for her, realising that the situation between Mr Chittenden and John would prevent Ottilie coming back to Dover to look for her sisters.
‘I’m afraid there’s a lot more work to do before society changes its opinions. Have you heard from Ottilie?’
‘We’ve had several letters from her, saying she and John are happy and settled in Woolwich.’ Violet kept the fact that Ottilie had said in her last letter that she was with child to herself.
‘I would love to see her again – give her my kind regards. I’m very glad that I’ve spoken to you. I’ve often wondered how you were and what you were doing. I know we had our differences – especially you, Violet – but I missed you. It’s one of the sorrows of being a governess, growing to look on your charges with great affection, and then grieving when you move on.’
‘But you aren’t a governess any more,’ Violet said, feeling more cheerful. ‘You are getting married. What is your fiancé like?’
‘You’re still as impertinent as ever, I see.’
‘I mean, do we know of him?’
Smiling, Miss Whiteway named a Mr Fullagar who owned a modest country house near Chillenden. ‘When I marry Mr Fullagar, I shall be taking on his ward as my stepdaughter, and I hope that one day I shall have a boy just like your Joe, and a girl, and if it turns out that we aren’t blessed with children between us, it won’t matter. Not too much anyway,’ she went on. ‘Now, I mustn’t take up any more of your time. How shall we proceed? Shall I arrange a meeting with Mrs Kinnaird so we can discuss the designs for the gown? Perhaps you could bring some sketches of the patterns you might use. In the meantime, I’ll leave you a small deposit in advance. I insist,’ she said before Violet could protest.
Miss Whiteway drank her tea and took her leave.
As the door clicked shut, Violet, May and Eleanor stared at each other.
‘Did that really happen?’ Violet said after a long silence. ‘Was I dreaming?’
‘No, Miss Whiteway was here in our workshop,’ Eleanor said. ‘She placed an order for the embroidery on her wedding dress.’
‘Hurrah! We are saved by the skin of our teeth,’ May cheered. ‘Our prospects are lookin’ up.’
Violet chose an ombre silk of shades of blue for William’s handkerchief.
May was right. Miss Whiteway had given them a lifeline and it was up to her to make it work.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Looking on the Bright Side
The tide was
beginning to turn. The next day one of Mrs Kinnaird’s girls delivered a note with the date and time of the meeting with the dressmaker and Miss Whiteway for the first of December the following week.
Violet washed the better of her two remaining dresses and hung it out to dry in the yard, but the sea mist came rolling in, adorning it with silver beads of moisture, so she brought it in again and draped it in front of the fire. She made new cuffs from offcuts from the haberdasher and trimmed the frayed hem, edging it with a strip of lilac ribbon to add colour and show that she was no longer in deep mourning for her parents.
‘Do you think that’s presentable?’ She showed Eleanor the finished article the next day.
‘It looks much better, but is this for the meeting with the dressmaker, or does it have more to do with calling on William? You are going to call on him after all that time and effort you put into embroidering his handkerchief?’ Eleanor’s eyes twinkled with amusement. ‘I’m sorry. I mustn’t keep teasing you. I know nothing will come of it – not in that way.’
Her sister had taken the wind out of her sails. Should she bother with taking it back to him, or should she just forget it?
‘Don’t listen to me,’ Eleanor said. ‘Take it. I’ll mind Joe.’
Having changed into her clean dress, and taken some time to put up her hair, Violet hurried along the seafront, keeping her eyes averted when she passed Camden Crescent, not wanting to be reminded of the past. She found William’s house in Athol Terrace overlooking the sea with the backdrop of the white cliffs and Dover Castle behind it. It was a pretty house with bay windows, a slate roof and painted render. There were railings at the front and a path which led to a dark blue door with a brass letter box.
She rang the bell and waited. Had she made a mistake in coming here? She glanced towards the sea which seemed to merge with the grey November sky. There was still time to change her mind.
Too late, William answered the door, raising his eyebrows in surprise at seeing her.
‘Good afternoon,’ she said.
‘It’s a pleasure to see you, Violet. Do come in.’
‘No, thank you. I’ve just come to return this.’ She handed him the package she’d wrapped earlier that day in tissue paper secured with a ribbon.
‘Thank you, but what is it?’
‘You may open it,’ she said.
He unfastened the ribbon and opened the paper. He picked up the corner of the handkerchief with his finger and thumb, and let it unfurl.
‘You needn’t have … I have plenty of others. Oh, you’ve embellished it. How wonderful.’ He held it up to the light. He couldn’t have looked more delighted if she’d given him one hundred pounds, she thought happily. ‘Can I pay you for your trouble?’
‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘It’s yours.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Just accept it for what it is, a gesture. Listen to us. If neither backs down gracefully, we will be here till Christmas, not this one coming up, but the one after.’
‘You’re quite right.’ William laughed, and she joined in. ‘I should know better than to argue with a member of the fairer sex. I couldn’t do what you do. I did once pick up a needle and try to darn a pair of socks, but Ma lost patience with me. Are you sure you won’t come in? My housekeeper baked a cake this morning.’
‘No, thank you. Eleanor is minding Joe for me, and I have work to do.’ And it would be wrong of her to be alone with him in his house, whether or not his housekeeper was there. ‘We’ve just been commissioned to embroider a wedding dress which has to be ready by March.’
‘That’s a long time ahead.’
‘There’s a lot to do. It appears that the lady who ordered the dress has recommended us to some of her friends – there’s a good chance that we’re going to be very busy.’
‘Perhaps one day, you’ll be by royal appointment.’
‘That would be something to shout about. In the meantime, though, I want to make sure that everything we do comes out flawless.’
‘I believe flaws add to a subject’s charm,’ William said lightly, and she wondered what or whom he was referring to. ‘Perfection is predictable and rather dull, in my opinion.’
‘What about the boilers you build for the ships?’ she asked. ‘Don’t you demand perfection for those?’
‘You’re right. I do. I’m talking about people, not stitches or boats.’ He changed the subject. ‘Let me change into my shoes and find my coat and I’ll walk you home. Look, it’s started to rain, and you haven’t brought an umbrella.’
Violet took pleasure in strolling along with him as he carried the umbrella above their heads along the seafront and back towards Oxenden Street.
‘I wonder if you’d be interested in working on a small project for me,’ he said.
‘What is it?’
‘I’d like you to embroider a waistcoat that I can wear for smart occasions.’
‘You’re trying to impress someone … a young lady, perhaps?’ Her heart missed a beat and another, waiting for his reply.
‘Oh no, nothing like that,’ he said, relieving her of her anxiety. ‘I’m often invited out to dine, and I’d like to wear something bespoke that sets me apart from the other gentlemen.’
‘You must come and see us at the workshop sometime – we can look at creating a design,’ Violet said.
‘What you just said about impressing a young lady … there is some truth in that. Violet, I hope you don’t mind me speaking frankly. There are times when I’ve felt that we are kindred spirits. Am I presuming too much?’
‘No. I’ve always’ – she remembered seeing him clamber out of the boat at the regatta, and raise his arms in victory – ‘felt drawn to you, but I was very young, only eighteen when we met—’
‘You aren’t much older now.’ He smiled.
‘Yes, but I didn’t know anything of the world back then. I didn’t understand.’
‘I knew my place. You were set above me, so I didn’t pursue my natural inclination, and I thought I’d put those feelings behind me until I saw you on the Samphire that night, looking like a mermaid, your beauty beyond compare.’
‘I looked at my worst – I was sick.’ It had been nothing to do with finding her sea legs – she had been carrying Mr Brooke’s child.
‘And then you reminded me you were married, and I couldn’t understand why your husband wasn’t there to protect you. You looked so sad and delicate as if you were about to break, and all I wanted to do was put my arms around you and hold you together in one piece.’
‘But now I have fallen far below you,’ she said gently, to control the waver in her voice.
‘I don’t see it like that. You are exactly the same as you were before – just up to my shoulder in height.’ He glanced towards her, his mischievous expression putting her at ease.
‘You deliberately misunderstand me.’
‘I try not to take on the mantel of my father’s puritanical values about how we should act. As far as I’m concerned, everyone should be treated the same – from the lowly apprentice to the Lord Warden of Dover – with respect. It makes me bitter when I read the newspapers – I’m sorry, you don’t want to go over this again.’ He looked wounded on her behalf.
‘I prefer it to be acknowledged between us. People of my acquaintance either dismiss the episode for the sake of my feelings, as if it never happened, or they are suddenly reminded. I’ve seen them crossing the road or turning away in the pretence of searching their pockets so that they don’t have to give me the time of day. The shame still follows me. I can’t escape it, no matter how much I try. It occurred to me to move away, but Dover is my home. I belong here.’
‘You have every right to live here. It makes my blood boil to think of anyone hurting you. Mr Brooke was unimaginably dreadful and your father—’ He stopped abruptly. ‘No, I will bite my tongue. My mother brought me up to treat people as I would be done by, to do no harm to anyone with words or actions.’
‘I wish I c
ould have met her,’ Violet said. ‘Anyway, I refuse to be cowed by anyone. I’m not a victim – I chose to do my duty to my father and Ottilie when I married Mr Brooke. I had no idea then how it would work out.’ She paused before continuing. ‘We are nearly there – you can turn back now if you like.’
He cleared his throat. ‘I wonder if you’d like to accompany me to an evening at the museum next week. I don’t know if it’s something you have any interest in, but there’s a lecture about the chemistry of the breakfast table. I have a subscription and can take a guest. We can have a look at the exhibits and take refreshment there. There’ll be wine and a light supper. What do you think?’
She stopped and gazed into his eyes. ‘I’d like it very much, thank you.’
‘I’ll call for you at half past six, a week on Friday. Let me walk you the rest of the way so I know where to find you.’
She wished him goodbye outside the workshop on Oxenden Street. He doffed his hat and smiled. ‘I’ll see you again soon.’
Violet returned indoors to greet Joe, who was delighted to see her as she picked him up.
‘How did it go?’ Eleanor asked.
‘It was fine. I don’t know why I got into such a stew about it. He’s asked me to embroider a waistcoat for him. How about that?’
‘It’s only to be expected – he favours you, Violet.’
‘Let me do supper,’ she said, changing the subject. ‘I think it must be my turn.’
‘I’d like that – I have a fancy for taking up my writing again. I haven’t had the enthusiasm for it recently, but I have an idea for a romantic novel, a simple tale of love between two people who realise after a long time apart that they’ve always been destined for each other.’
‘Oh, Eleanor. You are teasing me again.’
‘I’m not. I’m going upstairs to write. I can’t concentrate with Joe making noise all the time, much as I love him.’
Violet prepared a meal of cold meats, pickles and bread with a bottle of ale to toast their improving prospects. They ate together with Joe, then set up a game of draughts that May had acquired on one of her expeditions. The board was scruffy, and they had to use buttons to replace the few missing counters, but it would do.