The Royal Lacemaker

by Linda Finlay

  But she’d only just picked up her bobbins when she heard a giggle. Looking up, she saw the ladies were grinning and nudging each other as they stared at her feet under the table. Oh, fish bones, she thought, they’d spotted her boots. Quickly she picked up the brass bell and rang it vigorously.

  ‘Time for your break, ladies,’ she called out. Thankfully, it had stopped raining and a watery sun was peeking out from behind some ominously lowering clouds. Just be dry for half an hour, she prayed, returning to her pillow and her thoughts. Grinning, as they picked up their pieces, the ladies filed outside. Although she could do with some fresh air herself, there was no way she was joining them, for she could well imagine the questions they’d ask.

  The afternoon passed slowly with the quiet of the workroom broken periodically by the rising wind soughing like a lost soul around the building and down the chimney. Then the heavens opened and the rain came down like pebbles, lashing against the windowpanes. The room grew so dark they could hardly see their work and Lily had no option but to send the ladies home.

  ‘Be sure to be here early on Monday,’ she called as she watched them hurrying on their way, trying to dodge the puddles. She returned to her pillow, but before long, she too had to admit defeat. Slowly she made her way upstairs, dreading being alone again, for thoughts of Tom plagued her constantly. However, she’d no sooner thrown herself, still fully dressed, onto her bed than tiredness caught up with her, and she sank into an exhausted sleep.

  She could hear banging. She could hear shouting. She wished it would stop. Her head felt so heavy.

  ‘Lily, Lily.’

  Disorientated, she opened her eyes and peered up at the skylight, but it was dark as pitch. There wasn’t one single star to be seen. Her eyes closed and she was just drifting back to sleep when the banging started up again.

  ‘For God’s sake, Lily, will you open the door?’ Mary’s angry voice called again.

  Getting groggily to her feet, she ran downstairs, opened the door and saw the other woman, drenched and dishevelled, hopping from one leg to the other.

  ‘Thank God. I thought you’d never hear me. You’d best come quick. This blow’s a big one all right, and there’s a sea fog so thick no one can see a thing,’ she wailed, almost beside herself.

  ‘Well, we’ve got through blows before,’ Lily answered, surprised at the other woman’s open distress.

  ‘But the fishing fleet’s out there. They set sail first thing and haven’t returned.’

  ‘Why didn’t you say? What’s the time?’ Lily gabbled, grabbing her shawl from the peg by the door.

  ‘Nigh on midnight. They should have been back hours since.’

  Lily’s heart flipped so hard she thought it was going to come right up into her throat. ‘Tom?’

  ‘It was your Tom’s boat leading them.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ she gasped.

  ‘That’s one heck of a storm raging out there. The sea’s frothing like a cauldron and with the fog they’ll not be able to see the lights from the Preventatives’ station.’

  But Lily didn’t wait to hear any more. Pushing past the woman she clattered down the front steps and out into the street.

  CHAPTER 26

  Lily gasped as the bank of swirling mist engulfed her, muffling the sound of her boots on the cobbles as she hurried towards the cove. With her heart pounding and her breath ragged, she joined the huddle of women hugging the shoreline. As one, they peered into the gloom, their faces etched with worry. The wind was whipping the waves into rollers, lashing them against the rocks and sending sprays of salt water over their already drenched bodies.

  ‘’Tis no good us standing here, we can’t see a blooming thing in this,’ shouted the woman beside her, grabbing her arm.

  ‘Let’s go up to the headland. It’s higher and we might catch sight of something there,’ Lily murmured in agreement. One by one, the forlorn little group picked their way over the mounds of stinking seaweed and retraced their steps back up Sea Hill. Her father would soon make use of that for fertilizing his beloved vegetables, she thought, then felt a pang when she remembered he was no longer with them.

  Heads down against the rain, the little group trudged up the well-worn cliff path. Lily pulled her already drenched shawl tighter around her and sent up a silent prayer for Tom to be safe, for she didn’t think she could bear it if someone else she loved was taken from her. And love him she did, whatever he might have done. She knew that now.

  Buffeted by the wind, which at times threatened to propel them right off the cliff, the little group clung together as they kept their vigil, the older women muttering they’d never seen a blow like it. Then a cry went up. The woman Lily had met on the beach earlier was jumping up and down, shouting she’d seen a shape in the swirling mist. Hopes rose as they all peered into the murk, only to be dashed when it turned out to be debris tossing on the spume. Unwilling to voice their fears, the women fell silent, but it was all too much for one waiting wife and she crumpled to the ground. Lily moved to help her but already the woman was being comforted by those standing closer. Then Lily spotted Tom’s mother, tears glistening like diamonds in the gloom, standing amongst them. Hurrying over to her, Lily reached out to embrace her, but the woman stared at her as if she were a stranger.

  ‘It’s me, Lily, Mrs Westlake,’ she said softly.

  The woman gave a heartfelt sigh. ‘I know full well who you are, Lily. I’m just surprised you’re wasting your precious time here.’

  ‘Wasting my time? But I’m waiting to see Tom safely home like you are,’ she said, assuming worry was affecting the older woman.

  ‘Oh? And why would you concern yourself about him this day, when he wasn’t good enough for you on the last weekend?’ she demanded.

  ‘What do you mean, not good enough?’ she asked, shaking her head. But Tom’s mother was glaring at her so fiercely that even if Lily hadn’t been able to make out her features in the swirling mist she’d have felt the hostility emanating from her.

  ‘All excited he was when he went out last Saturday night. Then home he came with a face like a beached bass. Seemed his nana’s ring wasn’t good enough for you. And after he’d walked all the way to Seaton to beg her to let him have it sooner rather than later, if you get my drift.’

  ‘You mean that ruby ring belonged to his grandmother?’ Lily gasped, staring at her future mother-in-law in horror.

  ‘Of course it did. It was her most treasured possession. Only wore it high days and holidays, mind. Tom’s father, bless his soul, wanted it for me when we got betrothed, but she wasn’t having any of it.’

  ‘Oh, Mrs Westlake, I had no idea,’ she whispered, thinking of Tom’s set face when she’d hurled the ring back at him.

  ‘No, well, you wouldn’t. Tom always was the apple of her eye. Can’t think why it wasn’t good enough for you, though. I’d have given my eye-teeth for it. Still, there we are. There’s no accounting for taste.’

  ‘But I thought …’ Lily’s voice tailed off. She could hardly admit to Tom’s mother what she had thought, could she? Oh, Tom, please hurry home so I can make amends, she prayed silently. Then she realized Mrs Westlake was still speaking.

  ‘And pray, just what did you think, young Lily Rose?’

  ‘But Mrs Westlake, it was all a terrible misunderstanding,’ she said, wringing her hands in despair.

  Mrs Westlake shrugged. ‘I don’t think Tom saw it that way. Oh, why isn’t he back yet?’ she groaned, and this time when Lily put her arm around her shoulder she didn’t pull away.

  There, Lily, didn’t I say you’d been impetuous? her father’s voice whispered in her ear.

  Yes, Father, she agreed silently for, as ever, he was right. Please, please make him come home soon, she beseeched him. I promise I’ll never judge anyone like that again.

  But there was no answer, only the screaming of the wind and the sobbing of the waiting women.

  ‘Mercy me, the fog seems to be lifting at last,’ Tom’s mother said,
her voice rising in hope.

  ‘Was Tom terribly upset, Mrs Westlake?’ Lily asked.

  ‘Aye, Lily, he was. He’s been working himself into the ground, literally, what with harvesting them potatoes up on the platts as well as going out in the boat fishing and seeing to the pots. Just dug up his second crop this year, he had. He was that proud of the money he was putting by, and all so you two could wed as soon as you’re out of mourning for your mother, God rest her soul.’

  Lily turned towards the other woman in surprise. ‘He’s been working the platts?’

  ‘That’s what I said. You really should learn to listen properly, my girl.’

  Lily fought back the retort that sprang to her lips. That explained why Tom had been shifty when she’d ask him what he was doing up at Coombe. He’d been earning as much as he could to match her wages, even if it meant him doing three jobs to her one. Her heart swelled in admiration. Just wait until he returned and she told him how proud she was of him, she thought, her heart lifting.

  Always supposing he did return. Her heart sank again. Oh dear God in heaven, please let him be safe, she prayed. Supposing he perished before she had the opportunity to tell him how much she loved him? She couldn’t bear his being out there, thinking she didn’t care for him. How she regretted accusing him of being mixed up with the wreckers at Seaton Hole. She should have known he wasn’t like that. Why hadn’t she accepted his ring in the spirit in which he’d given it? She looked around at the huddle of fisherwomen waiting and hoping, in the time-honoured way, and prayed again that the fishing fleet would return safely.

  Grey was lightening the sky when the cry went up. Anxiously the huddle of women moved closer to the cliff edge, squinting towards the horizon. Lily stared until she thought her eyes would glaze over. Then she saw them: tiny specks in the distance. Too far to see for sure that it was the fishing fleet but, hope in heart and heart in mouth, the women watched and waited until they were sure it was them. A cheer went up and, tiredness and frozen feet forgotten, they hurried down to the beach. There they stood watching and waiting again, as with agonizing slowness, the boats drew closer to the shore.

  Suddenly women were hurrying home to make sure their fires were burning and pots of broth bubbling, ready to welcome their menfolk. Mrs Westlake bustled off, promising she’d be back before the first boat touched land, and Lily was left alone with her thoughts. Her father had been right when he’d told her she should be sure of her facts before casting judgement, and she vowed she would in future. It had been a terrifying night, but now she could see Tom’s red sails with white spars inching closer, and she couldn’t wait to put things right between them.

  It was still another hour before the first boat hit the pebbles and the weary men clambered out, dragging it clear of the breaking seas. One by one their womenfolk had returned, silently reforming in their little group and waiting until, as tradition decreed, the last man had touched land. Then as one they swarmed down the beach, throwing their arms around their loved ones, hugging them tightly as if they’d never let them go.

  Lily hopped up and down impatiently as Tom clambered wearily from his boat and helped his crew drag it clear of the surf. Then she could wait no longer.

  ‘Tom, oh, Tom,’ she cried, racing down the beach towards him. Looking up, he glared at her then deliberately turned away. Shocked, Lily stood rooted to the spot before going over and taking his arm.

  ‘Tom, please, I need to talk to you. There’s been a misunderstanding.’

  Shaking off her arm, he turned towards her, his expression grim.

  ‘Too right there’s been a misunderstanding. I thought you was a sweet young woman, Lily. Instead, I find out you’re a suspicious, mistrustful shrew,’ he barked, before striding up the beach, leaving her gaping after him like a fish out of water.

  ‘But, Tom, your mother told me about the ring being your nana’s and I want you to know I’ll be proud to wear it,’ she shouted after him.

  ‘Huh, don’t think you’ll be wearing any ring of mine ’cos I’ll not be offering one. As for my dear nana’s ruby, you’re not worthy even to touch it,’ he spat out over his shoulder as, taking his mother’s arm, he made his way home.

  ‘Tom, please, let’s talk,’ panted Lily, running after him and catching hold of his arm again. ‘I’ve been thinking all through the long night and—’

  Snatching his arm away, he turned and snapped, ‘I’ve been thinking all through the long night too; thinking that anyone who could accuse me of the treachery you did, Lily, is not worth getting out of bed for, let alone spending time with. Go back to your fancy merchant. He’s welcome to you.’

  ‘He isn’t …’ she began, but he’d already turned on his heel and she was talking to the wind.

  The haulers and handlers were calling to each other as they dragged the storm-torn fishing boats further up the beach to safety, but Lily hardly noticed. She was watching Tom embrace his mother; and as the two of them made their way up the hill she didn’t know whether to scream or cry. Perhaps he’d see reason when he’d calmed down and had some rest, she thought, picking up the largest cobble she could find and hurling it into the water. Then, squaring her shoulders, she made her way back towards Picky Pike’s. Lost in thought, she barely noticed, even though there was now full daylight, that her boots were filled with salt water, seaweed and goodness knew what else.

  ‘Well, Lily Rose, doesn’t that prove you can’t keep your fellow? He’s better off without the likes of you. Go and suck up to your fancy merchant and leave Tom to someone who knows what a real man needs,’ cried Molly.

  As Lily looked at the girl hanging out of the shop door, her round face beaming with malicious glee, something snapped inside her. Quickly scraping the caked mud and seaweed off her boots, she threw it over the taunting woman, and then continued her journey.

  ‘I’ll get you for that. You see if I don’t, Lily Rose,’ Molly screeched after her.

  ‘Well, well, that was hardly fitting behaviour for an overseer.’

  Spinning round, she nearly collided with Squire Clinsden stumbling out of the alehouse. Of all the rotten luck, she thought.

  ‘Perhaps I should escort you back to your place of employment,’ he said, clearly enjoying her discomfort.

  ‘That isn’t necessary, thank you.’ Somehow she managed to force the words out between clenched teeth.

  ‘Oh, but I think it is. After all, Mrs Bodney is a stickler for propriety. What would she say if she heard her overseer had been acting like a common gutter snipe?’ he sneered, moving closer to her.

  Although she managed to evade his touch, the smell of liquor on his breath was so strong it made her recoil. Thinking it better not to rile him when he was under the influence, she turned to continue her journey.

  ‘Not so quickly, young Lily,’ the squire said, grabbing her wrist. ‘Now if you’re nice to me and make it worth my while, I might just ignore what I saw earlier. What do you think?’ He stood leering at her, his bloodshot eyes roving over her body in such an intimate way, she wanted to jump straight into the brook and scrub herself clean.

  ‘I think you spend too much time in the alehouse and that it’s mighty funny you’re always coming out of it just as I pass by,’ she answered.

  ‘I’ll have you know I have been busy conducting my business, which is more than can be said for you, judging by the state of you,’ he sneered.

  The events of the past hours caught up with her and she snapped back without thinking, ‘What about the state of you? You’re always so full of liquor you couldn’t possibly conduct business.’ His eyes narrowed and she stepped quickly backwards.

  ‘Not so quickly, young Lily,’ he snarled. ‘You’re going nowhere until you tell me what you meant by that remark. Have you been spying on me?’

  ‘Of course not,’ she retorted, cursing herself for rising to his bait.

  ‘Then what do you know about my movements? Tell me, Lily, or it will be all the worse for you. It’s about time some
one taught you some good manners,’ he snarled, tightening his grip on her arm.

  CHAPTER 27

  Desperately, Lily looked around for a means of escape, but his other arm caught her round the waist. Before she knew it, he was dragging her into the deserted alley leading to the stables behind the hostelry. She kicked out, managing to make contact with his ankle, but this only served to excite him.

  ‘Playing hard to get, my lovely? Come on, you know you want it.’ His guttural grunting made her skin prickle with revulsion. She could feel the bile rising in her throat as she fought back. ‘Oh, I love a spirited filly; they always give the best ride I find,’ he chortled, leering down at her. ‘Come on, you little hussy. You’ve been teasing me for months, taunting me with that nubile body of yours.’

  Desire as well as drink seemed to be lending him some extra strength, and inch by inch, she was dragged closer to the stables. She spat at him but he just laughed, tightened his grip and carried on pulling. Then she tried going limp so that her body was a dead weight. But even that was no good for he was as excited as a rampant bull. Summoning the last of her strength, she screamed as loudly as she could but his hand clamped over her mouth. The stench of horse and tobacco invaded her senses, making her retch.

  ‘No good screaming, there’s no one to hear you. Your fisher friend’s not around to help, is he?’ Squire Clinsden hissed in her ear, tightening his grip once more as he pulled her ever closer to the stables. Turning her head, Lily managed to sink her teeth into his hand. He swore, letting her go so abruptly she almost fell to the ground. As she steadied herself, a figure appeared out of the shadows.

  ‘There you are, husband,’ Lady Clinsden said, her silky soft voice belying the flinty glint in her eyes. ‘I wondered where you’d got to.’

  ‘My dear, this is a surprise. I had no idea you were visiting Bransbeer today,’ the squire stammered, struggling to regain his composure. He gestured towards Lily. ‘I was just finalizing arrangements for our Harvest Supper. Knowing how much it means to you, my dearest, I’ve been trying to persuade Lily here to serve at table,’ he simpered.