by Linda Finlay
‘So you sat up half the night reworking it?’
Lily nodded, gazing down at her boots and wondering if she was going to be sacked.
‘Lily, my dear, I might be a taskmaster but I’m certainly no slave driver. The problem could surely have waited until today. Whatever did your aunt say when you arrived home halfway through the night?’
Again, Lily stared down at her boots.
‘Lily, you did go home last night, didn’t you?’ Mrs Bodney was watching her closely and her words came out in a whisper.
‘I was really tired and afraid the owlers would be on the road to Coombe, so I slept on my donkey-cart in the stable.’
‘Lily, you didn’t!’ Mrs Bodney exclaimed, shuddering. ‘But, my dear, that’s quite ghastly. Anything could have happened. Why ever didn’t you stay here in the cottage?’
Not liking to admit she thought the other woman would have had apoplexy, Lily kept quiet.
‘Have you broken your fast this morning?’
‘Don’t worry, Mrs Bodney, I’m used to missing meals. I washed in the brook before I came here, so I am clean.’
‘That’s as may be, but your clothes are creased. Nourishment is fuel for the body, Lily. You can’t work on an empty stomach and I don’t suppose you have anything with you for your noon break either?’
She shook her head and Mrs Bodney picked up her little bell and rang it. Tilda appeared so quickly she must have been standing outside the door, and when Lily looked at her she could see the girl was agog. However, Mrs Bodney’s next instructions had her positively gawping.
‘Tilda, take Lily upstairs to my room and set out my spare working dress and cap. Then please bring tea and toast for two in here. Lily, when you’ve changed into clean clothes, Tilda will take those to the wash house. Mrs Maggs can see to them when she comes on Monday. When you return we will break our fast together and then discuss the ledger we need to set up.’
Remembering the steam and backache of the Monday wash she and her mother had struggled with, Lily smiled gratefully.
The clatter of boots on the cobbles and snatches of cheery chatter heralded the arrival of the ladies for their day’s work. Lily looked at Mrs Bodney.
‘Don’t worry, Lily, I’ll see to them whilst you change,’ she said, sweeping from the room.
Lily followed Tilda up the stairs and waited while she laid out the black dress and cap Mrs Bodney had specified. Then as the little maid hovered in the doorway, clearly hoping Lily would confide in her, she smiled her thanks and firmly pushed the door closed.
Gazing around the little bedroom, she noticed it was clean and tidy but as sparsely furnished as the room at Mrs Chicke’s had been. To her surprise, there was no evidence of any personal effects other than a hairbrush lying next to the washstand. It was in stark contrast to the parlour downstairs.
Hurriedly she changed her clothes before returning to the parlour, where she noticed the vase of flowers had been removed and a tray piled high with toast and preserve set in its place. Embarrassingly, her stomach growled but Mrs Bodney merely smiled and gestured for her to help herself whilst she poured tea for them both.
Hungrily, snatching up the toast, she bit into it. It was only after helping herself to a second piece that she noticed Mrs Bodney had cut hers into triangles and was daintily nibbling at the edge of one. Not wishing her employer to think she had the manners of a street urchin, she made a supreme effort to take smaller bites. Picking up her cup, Lily marvelled at how dark Mrs Bodney’s tea always was. At home, their tea got weaker by the day as the leaves were mashed and then remashed until they were virtually drinking hot water, although she thought it would be rude to mention this. Finally, when their plates were empty and they’d drunk their tea, Mrs Bodney summoned Tilda to clear away. Then she turned to Lily.
‘Right, now to work. First of all, you are right in your assumption that Anna has something wrong with her eyes. Oh, I know you didn’t name names,’ she said as Lily looked worried. ‘However, I have been working in the lace business long enough to recognize the signs of someone losing their sight.’
‘Oh, that’s terrible,’ Lily gasped. ‘I didn’t realize it was that bad.’
‘As you know it is a hazard of our trade,’ her employer said, shrugging. ‘Naturally, I will help her all I can. Even though it’s summer, I’d let her light a candle if I could justify the expense. However, every penny I spend is vetted by the Palace.’
Lily sighed, thinking how tragic it was. It was so unfair that some had so much whilst others had to struggle.
‘I will arrange for her to see Dr Trimble, but in the meantime I will let her wind thread onto the bobbins and do any other jobs we can find for her. We simply cannot afford to get behind schedule.’
‘No, Mrs Bodney,’ Lily agreed, knowing her employer was right, yet feeling nothing but sympathy for poor Anna. It was harsh that a woman who’d worked long hours at her lace making to provide for her family should be losing her sharp sight and yet it was indeed a hazard of their trade.
‘Now are there any other problems I should know about?’ Lily thought of the ladies at High House and, as if she’d read her thoughts, Mrs Bodney asked, ‘What about the other ladies you’ve been looking after in my absence? Are they working well?’
‘I think they should be on schedule. I was only able to pay a couple of visits as it takes so much time out of the working day.’
‘Yes, that’s true,’ said Mrs Bodney, studying her thoughtfully for a few moments. Then, as was her way, she became brisk again. ‘Now, we need to start making our account ready for the Queen’s Mistress of the Robes. The cost of the lace for the wedding dress is estimated to be around £1,000.’
‘One thousand pounds for just one dress?’ Lily gasped.
‘Yes, it’s a royal sum. We will spend this morning setting up the ledger detailing the materials used, and then this afternoon we will work out the wages paid to date. From then on it will be your responsibility to update the necessary information on a monthly basis.’ So saying, she took out a huge book, along with numerous slips of paper, which she proceeded to separate into different piles. She passed the first set to Lily.
‘Now these are the purchasing invoices. You read them out and I’ll enter the figures into the ledger. Then this afternoon I’ll read out and you can write up the ledger.’
Lily stared at Mrs Bodney in dismay.
‘Well, come along, Lily. Don’t stand there gaping like a fish out of water.’
‘I’m really sorry, Mrs Bodney, but I can’t do this.’
‘Don’t be stupid, of course you can.’ Mrs Bodney snapped. Time was of the essence and she was fast losing patience.
‘But, Mrs Bodney, I am stupid. I can’t read,’ she wailed.
CHAPTER 15
As Mrs Bodney stared at her aghast, Lily lowered her eyes, blinking back the tears that were threatening. Determined not to cry, she concentrated on the rug on the floor, tracing its pattern with her boot as she waited for the other woman to speak. Despite her best efforts over the past few weeks, she knew she’d be asked to leave and would end up having to go into service after all. She shuddered, for wasn’t the squire just waiting to make her life a living hell?
‘Lily, did you hear what I said?’
She started back to the present. As if she wasn’t in enough trouble she’d been caught woolgathering yet again. Her day was going from bad to worse.
‘Sorry, Mrs Bodney, I’ll get my things and leave right away. Don’t worry; I’ll see your clothes are washed before I return them.’
‘Lily, what are you wittering on about? If you’d been listening, you would have heard what I asked you. I don’t suppose you can write either?’
‘No, Mrs Bodney. There wasn’t a charity school in our hamlet and Mother and Father couldn’t afford for me to take the time to journey to the nearest one like some of my friends did. Besides, they needed the money I could bring in helping Mother with the lace making.’
�
��Evidently I’ve been away too long. I’d quite forgotten things were different in these parts,’ Mrs Bodney said, shaking her head. ‘You’re such a bright girl, Lily. And you speak so well, I’d assumed you’d been educated to charity school standard, at least. Presumably you are not the only one here who can’t read or write?’
Lily shrugged. ‘I really couldn’t say, Mrs Bodney,’ she whispered.
‘Well, it’s not too late to learn.’
Lily stared at her employer in disbelief. ‘But I’m seventeen. Could I really learn my letters, Mrs Bodney?’ she gasped.
‘Yes, Lily, you could. It’s something we can discuss later. In the meantime, I have no desire to lose a good lace maker and overseer. I must confess this is an inconvenience, but nothing we can’t work around. It just saddens me that here we are, well into the nineteenth century, and a bright young lady like yourself has been denied the chance of even a rudimentary schooling.’ She shook her head, looking up at the lilies, which Tilda had now placed on the mantel over the fire. ‘Lily, the message that came with your flowers, has anyone read it to you?’
‘No.’
‘Did you know who had sent them to you?’
‘Not until you said,’ she answered quietly, bending her head in shame.
‘Oh, Lily, how awful it must be not to be able to read or write,’ Mrs Bodney exclaimed. ‘Not only did Mr Mountsford send you these beautiful flowers, he penned a delightful poem to accompany them. If you’d like to give me the card, I could read it to you.’
Lily still couldn’t understand why Mr Mountsford had sent her flowers but she was curious to know what his poem said, so, delving into her pocket, she brought out the now crumpled card and handed it over.
Mrs Bodney cleared her throat then read:
I send these flowers to make amend, perchance my candour did offend.
Oh Lily Rose of fairest face, with speedwell eyes and dainty grace
Take pity on a merchant’s plea; that I may take you out to tea?
R. M.
Lily’s lips twitched and then she burst out laughing. ‘Why should he want to take me out to tea when he can have a cup here?’
This time, it was Mrs Bodney’s turn to shake her head. ‘Lily, dear, it’s terribly unkind to mock someone who clearly wishes to spend time in your company. For the sake of my business, I beg that when he next calls, you receive him courteously.’
‘Yes, Mrs Bodney.’
‘Now, whilst I’m certainly not asking you to compromise yourself in any way, you must understand that relations with our merchants and customers are, well, that is to say, they can be somewhat sensitive. Any suspicion that you find his approach amusing would offend him deeply and could cause him to take his trade elsewhere. Not that I’m suggesting you should encourage any improper advances, you understand,’ her employer added hastily.
‘Oh, I wouldn’t. I’m betrothed to Tom, after all.’
‘Indeed you are, Lily, and he is a fisherman, is he not?’
‘It’s a respectable living, Mrs Bodney,’ she said, her chin jutting up defiantly.
‘Of course it is, Lily, and apologies if I inadvertently implied otherwise. Now when Mr Mountsford next calls, I suggest you entertain him to tea here in the parlour. It’s a comfortable room away from prying eyes,’ she said, nodding her head in the direction of the room next door where the ladies were working. ‘I know he is a respectable merchant; however, should you at any time feel uncomfortable in his presence, you have only to ring the bell and Tilda will appear.’ She nodded towards the little brass bell on the table.
Like I did before, Lily thought, thinking back to the squire’s visit.
She glanced around the room, taking in the comfortable furnishings and colourful rugs on the floor, appreciating for the first time how much it contrasted with the rest of the cottage. As ever, Mrs Bodney was ahead of her.
‘In order to gain a good reputation and trade profitably, it is vital to appear successful. That is why I always entertain my merchants and clients in here.’
‘Sort of all fur and no frock, as my dear mother would have said.’
‘Appearance and perception are all,’ said Mrs Bodney, pursing her lips. ‘Now let’s return to our earlier conversation. You’ve been to see a room that’s become vacant so can I take it you’re intending to move to the village sometime soon?’
‘Yes, Mrs Bodney. We’ve been served an eviction order by our landlord, Squire Clinsden. Aunt Elizabeth and Robert are moving to Ilminster and Beth is staying in Coombe with our neighbour Mrs Goode. Harriet Goode is her best friend.’
‘Indeed. Robert is your brother and Beth your sister?’ Lily nodded. ‘Your parents had just the three of you?’
‘Oh, no, Timothy was born frail. He got the consumption and died when he was three, and then the twins were born sleeping. They’re all buried in the churchyard along with Father and Mother,’ she sighed. ‘Still, at least they’re together now. Do you believe in heaven, Mrs Bodney?’ she asked.
‘Indeed I do, Lily. It can be a comfort to think we’ll be reunited with our loved ones when our time on this earth is over. Now, you need to find somewhere to live?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you managed to secure this room you went to see yesterday?’
‘The landlady insists she needs to see two testimonials. I said you would provide one …’ Lily stuttered to a halt. ‘Sorry, Mrs Bodney, it would have been good manners to ask first.’
The other woman, a stickler for propriety, nodded in agreement.
‘I shall of course furnish you with one, and presumably your present landlord, the squire, will as well?’
Lily was about to tell her that the squire might be difficult but, remembering it was her employer she was talking to, checked herself. ‘Yes, that’s right, ma’am.’
‘Well, I’m sure that won’t pose any problem. Now we really must get down to business, we’ve a lot to sort out today and I must see how the ladies at High House have been faring.’
‘The lace is going to look absolutely beautiful when all the flowers and leaves are joined together. Imagine having a wedding gown as detailed as that,’ Lily said, sighing.
Mrs Bodney smiled and then put a finger to her lips.
‘Confidentiality, remember, Lily. Although it is becoming increasingly difficult to keep what we are doing a secret. Still, we owe it to our dear Queen to try our best. With that in mind, I think it will now probably be safer to have all the ladies working together.’ Lily looked at her employer in surprise but the woman waved her away. ‘You’d better return to your duties in the other room. Remember, it’s your job to encourage the ladies to be as productive as possible.’
‘Yes, Mrs Bodney,’ she replied getting up to leave. ‘Thank you for the tea and toast. It was quite delicious.’ Her employer’s lips twitched, though Lily couldn’t think what she’d said to amuse her.
As she entered the workroom, Mary looked up and whispered, ‘Your Tom was looking for you earlier. He wanted to check you were safe and said he’ll be by the stables when you finish this evening.’
‘Thanks, Mary. Is everything all right in here?’
The other woman looked disappointed at the change of subject but nodded and resumed her work. Glancing around the room, Lily saw Cora and Nell, heads bent, deep in conversation. She coughed and they looked up quickly. When they saw her, they raised their eyebrows at each other then resumed their work. Wistfully, Lily remembered the early days when she would have been included and thought again that her job hadn’t come without its price. Pulling herself back to the present, she noticed Anna was measuring out thread and winding bobbins and was pleased to see the woman humming softly to herself and looking calmer. Sinking onto her stool, Lily pulled her pillow towards her.
As she worked, her thoughts turned to Tom. It sounded as if he’d found out she’d not been back to the cottage the previous evening and wanted to know why. No doubt she’d be in trouble with her aunt too. How good it was going
to be having her own room where she could come and go as she pleased – well, at least until 10 p.m., she thought, remembering Miss Chicke’s stern face as she’d reeled off the rules of her house. For Lily, the day she and Tom wed and got a place of their own couldn’t come quick enough.
Lost in thought and lulled by the rhythm of the bobbins, it seemed no time at all before the shadows had lengthened, darkening the room until it was impossible to work. She stood up and rang her bell indicating the day’s session was at an end. Relieved, the ladies covered their pillows then stretched their stiff limbs. Calling good night, they hurried outside, their companionable chatter carrying back to her on the evening air.
Heavy-hearted, she watched as they laughed and joked their way down the lane. They were still friendly, but their actions made it clear that now she was overseer she was no longer one of them. Moving swiftly from pillow to pillow, checking their work, she was pleased to see that the lace was perfect, and the pile of sprigs in the middle of the table growing satisfactorily. Now that Anna was winding the cotton onto their empty bobbins, the ladies could work almost continually. Thanking her lucky stars that things were going well for once, she checked the door to the workroom was bolted.
Breathing in the early evening air, laced as ever with the tang of salt, her mood lifted as she made her way towards the stables. When she’d been lace making with her mother, they’d often taken their pillows outside and worked in the fresh air.
She’d just reached the hostelry when Squire Clinsden staggered out of the door, almost falling onto the cobbles in front of her. He treated her to one of his lecherous leers, letting his gaze rove deliberately over her body as he leaned over her. Instinctively, she recoiled but he was too quick for her, his clammy fingers grasping her wrist and pulling her towards him. She could smell the liquor on his breath and for one dreadful moment she thought he was going to kiss her. Then, as if remembering he was in a public place, he let go of her so abruptly she nearly fell.
‘Not long until the summer ball, young Lily,’ he sneered. She was tempted to spit in his eye then remembered she needed his testimonial.