by Linda Finlay
Don’t even think about it, Lily Rose.
His voice came so sharply, its energy sent her reeling backwards. Shocked, she could only watch as the waves broke on the very spot where she’d been standing.
You always did forget there were spring tides on a full moon, daughter dear.
‘But I’m not your daughter and you’re not my father,’ she screamed into the night air.
Don’t be silly, Lily, of course I am. Always have been, always will. You might not be of my flesh but you are my daughter, I can promise you that.
‘But why didn’t you tell me?’
Your mother and aunt thought it best that way. Besides, we always thought of you as our own. ’Tis a shock you’ve had, but when you’ve had time to think, you’ll see nothing’s really changed. We always loved you and always will, Lily, remember that.
As his loving words penetrated her thoughts, they filled her heart with warmth, melting the ice that had encased it since Mrs Bodney had read out that letter. It was still a terrible shock, but knowing she’d been loved and wanted was some comfort.
‘Thank you, Father,’ she murmured, but the only response was the sighing of the wind. He’d gone again. But he had restored her faith. Of course he was still her father and his spirit was guiding her, even though he was no longer here. She wished she’d known the truth before he’d died, then she could have asked him all the questions that were still buzzing around in her mind like wasps at a picnic.
Then she remembered her grandmother, a wise woman, telling her that it didn’t do to dwell on the past. Her grandmother! Her mother and her aunt were sisters so she must have been her real grandmother, she thought, drawing some comfort from that fact.
She’d concentrate on the present, for wasn’t she lucky enough to have a good job with her own little room in the attic? And an employer who seemed to care about her?
Hearing noises coming from the headland known as The Hall, she shivered. Tom had told her that there were several rift caves at the base, which smugglers used as temporary stores. Suddenly eager to be back in the safety of the house, she hurried up the beach, fervently hoping she wouldn’t bump into any menacing men of the night.
Relieved to be back at Picky Pike’s without any unpleasant encounters, Lily let out the breath she’d been holding. Remembering her hasty exit and the cup and saucer she’d sent clattering to the floor, she hoped they weren’t broken and the tea hadn’t stained the chair covers. She knew only too well that her employer set great store by how things looked. But then her family hadn’t been at all how they’d looked, had they?
CHAPTER 30
Peering through the open parlour door, she saw the room had been restored to its pristine condition and breathed a sigh of relief. As far as she could tell no damage had been done to the carpet or chair covers.
‘There you are, Lily,’ exclaimed Mrs Bodney, looking up from the table in the corner, where she was writing in the dreaded ledger. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked, frowning when she saw Lily was shivering. ‘I was beginning to worry about you.’
‘I’m still shocked and angry that Father and Mother never told me the truth when I was growing up,’ she answered, feeling her stomach tighten into a knot.
‘My dear, if they’d promised your aunt they would raise you as their own, then I don’t suppose it was their secret to share,’ Mrs Bodney said.
Lily thought for a moment and then nodded her understanding.
‘Well, I’m much better now that Father’s explained everything to me,’ she said.
Her employer shot her an anxious look. ‘I do hope you’re not feverish; you’ve had quite a shock.’ Skirts rustling, she got up and hurried from the room, reappearing moments later with a small glass.
‘Drink this, child. It’s ginger wine and will help settle your system.’
Lily took a tentative sip, grimaced then gasped as the amber liquid hit the back of her throat.
‘All of it, Lily,’ encouraged Mrs Bodney, as she made to place the glass on the table.
Knowing better than to disobey, Lily took a deep breath, swallowing the rest down in one gulp. It brought tears to her eyes but then she felt warmth flooding her body.
‘That’s better. You’ve got some colour back in your cheeks.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Bodney,’ she replied.
‘I’ve been thinking, Lily. Your Aunt Elizabeth, as you know her, will have been wondering about your reaction to her letter. It’s a delicate secret to disclose, after all, and she was obviously expecting to discuss it with you before she left.’
‘I’m not sure how I really feel at the moment,’ Lily said, frowning.
‘No, I’m sure it has come as a considerable shock. However, when you have had time to get used to the idea, I think we should pen a letter to her, between us,’ Mrs Bodney said, leaning over and patting her hand. ‘You could also let her know you’ve been to see Beth and that she’s well.’
‘You’d help me do that? Do you have the time?’ Lily asked, knowing her employer was a busy woman.
‘It’s about priorities,’ she said. Seeing the puzzled look on Lily’s face, she added, ‘I mean, making time for the important things in life.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Bodney. Would you be able to help me learn my letters too? It would make such a difference if I could write.’
‘Yes, Lily, I will. It will take time, though, so we will probably have to continue your lessons after the commission for the Queen is completed. The clock is ticking and that must take precedence. In the meantime, I suggest you keep this safe,’ she said, holding out the letter from Aunt Elizabeth.
‘Right, off you go or you’ll be of no use to me in the workroom, and I don’t want the ladies taking liberties.’ Mrs Bodney’s voice resumed its usual brusqueness as she waved Lily away.
Up in her room, Lily’s thoughts were reeling so fast, she never for a moment thought she’d sleep.
This morning she’d woken not giving the life she’d had as a child a second thought. Now, she’d discovered it had been built on a lie. She wondered if Rob had known the truth. Probably not, she thought, sighing into the darkness as she got undressed. As Mrs Bodney had said, it hadn’t been her parents’ secret to disclose.
She lay in her little bed, thinking back over the events of the day. How she wished she could discuss the letter with Tom. She missed him so. Finally, she fell into an exhausted sleep only to dream she was a little girl again. She was sitting beside her mother in the sunshine, learning how to make lace. Mother was smiling and patient, no matter how many mistakes Lily made, sharing in her jubilation when finally she’d mastered the craft. Her father laughing as they strolled through the orchard, inspecting the crop, holding her high above his head so she could pick the first ripe apple of the season. Aunt Elizabeth, strict but kind, offering to stay in Coombe so that Lily could work for Mrs Bodney.
Then the dream changed. The sun no longer shone. It was her aunt teaching her to make lace, a stranger who walked beside her in the orchard, but he was holding her hand too tightly and smelled strongly of liquor. She was trying to escape but he turned and brought his lips down on hers. It was the squire, his slug-like fingers trying to paw her body.
She woke with a jolt, her heart pounding like the waves in a storm. Peering around, she breathed a sigh of relief when she realized she was safe in her bed. She sank back onto the pillow, closing her eyes and willing her heart to calm. Once again, she wished Tom was here so that she could discuss her aunt’s revelation with him. Dearest Tom. She wondered how he was. Was he thinking of her?
Come the Sabbath she would visit him at his nana’s house in Seaton, she decided. She was that impatient to see him, she even toyed with the idea of missing church. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes. She had work to do before she could even think of the Sabbath.
It was Saturday evening when, at Mrs Bodney’s gentle insistence, they sat down together at the table in the parlour. True to her word about protecting their eyes, she’d in
sisted on lighting a candle. In the flickering glow, Lily watched as her employer showed her how to write the first two letters of the alphabet. But as Lily went to copy them Mrs Bodney shook her head.
‘Not tonight, Lily. You can practise them later but first we have to decide what you want the letter to your aunt to say.’
‘I’m confused. Am I meant to call her Mother or Aunt Elizabeth?’ Lily asked.
The other woman’s brow furrowed. ‘I think you should decide what you feel most comfortable with.’
‘Well, Mother was my mother and it would be disrespectful to call Aunt Elizabeth that, somehow. She has always been my aunt in my eyes.’
‘Then we shall begin with “Dear Aunt Elizabeth”,’ said Mrs Bodney, dipping her pen into the ink. Lily watched as the words flowed onto the page.
‘Will I really be able to write like that?’ she asked in amazement.
Mrs Bodney stopped writing and, pen poised, looked at Lily. ‘If you practise, there is no reason why you shouldn’t. Now listen, whilst I read this back to you.’
Dear Aunt Elizabeth,
I trust this letter finds you well and you are settled in your new life in Ilminster. As you can imagine, your letter came as a shock. I am still trying to take in the news that you are my birth mother and await the opportunity of discussing this with you. In the meantime I trust you will understand if I continue to address you as Aunt Elizabeth for, of course, this is how I have always thought of you.
I have been to see Beth and she is happy and well.
Please give my love to Rob.
With sincere affection, Lily Rose
‘Does that say everything, Lily?’ Mrs Bodney asked, looking up from the letter.
‘Yes, thank you, although I will feel better when I’ve spoken to my aunt. It’s such a big thing to take in.’
‘Yes, it is. However, with time it’s surprising what we can become used to, and I’m sure they did what they thought would be best for you. Now, I shall seal this ready to be dispatched with the next stagecoach.’
‘Thank you so much, Mrs Bodney. I can’t believe I will ever be able to write like you do.’
Her employer smiled, handing her the precious piece of paper on which she’d written the letters.
‘You may borrow this pen and ink for the time being. Take them up to your room but on no account must they get anywhere near the workroom. Ink and lace would make sorry bedfellows. I’ll look out a slate and some slate pencils when I return to my cottage and then you can practise regularly. When you have mastered these letters, we will go on to the next.’
‘Are there many, then?’ Lily asked.
‘There are twenty-six letters to the alphabet,’ Mrs Bodney said, smiling as Lily’s eyes widened in disbelief. ‘Don’t worry, as I said, all it takes is practice,’ she assured her. ‘Now that’s quite enough for one night, so I’ll bid you good night.’
Lily all but skipped up the stairs. To think she, Lily Rose, would soon be able to write her own letters. She couldn’t wait to tell Tom.
The Sabbath dawned and as Lily made her way outside she noticed the autumn air was damp with chill mist rolling in from the sea, spreading in ghostly ribbons throughout the hamlet. She pulled her shawl tighter and hurried towards the church. At the last moment, her conscience wouldn’t allow her to miss morning service, but at least by attending the one here in Bransbeer, her journey to Seaton wouldn’t take long. As she walked down the aisle, two hazel eyes turned in her direction. Fighting down the urge to turn tail and leave, Lily made her way to the pew furthest away from where Squire and Lady Clinsden were sitting. Why were they worshipping here, she wondered. Then the parson climbed into the pulpit and began his sermon. As his voice droned on interminably, Lily couldn’t help thinking back over the events of the past few days. Then Lady Clinsden rose to read the lesson and Lily’s question about why they were attending the local church was answered. Fighting down her growing impatience as the parson then beseeched them all to repent their sins, she sighed. It was Tom’s forgiveness she needed.
At last, the service ended and she jumped up quickly, hoping to make a speedy exit but the press of people hindered her progress. As she made her way outside, blinking in the sudden brightness, the squire stepped in front of her.
‘We look forward to you serving at our Harvest Supper next weekend, don’t we, my dear?’ he said, turning to his wife.
‘We are indeed looking forward to seeing you there,’ Lady Clinsden replied, winking at Lily behind her husband’s back.
‘And I am looking forward to being there,’ Lily said sweetly, trying not to laugh at the squire’s surprised look. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I am on my way to Seaton,’ she said.
Thankful for the comfort her new hobnailed boots afforded, Lily made her way up Long Hill, on through fields festooned with stooks of golden corn, until she reached the common. Then, as she gained the outskirts of Seaton, the mist lifted as it often did this time of year, and she could see the sea shimmering below her. It being the Sabbath, there were no boats out fishing, and the outline of Portland Bill rose like a whale’s back in the distance. Catching sight of Seaton Hole below, where the remains of the wrecked ship perched like a skeleton on the rocks, her heart lurched. Hastily averting her eyes, she hurried on her way. Almost before she knew it, she was standing outside old Mrs Westlake’s cottage. But, as she raised her hand to lift the knocker, the door flew open and Tom’s mother stood there glaring at her.
‘Hello, Mrs Westlake. I’d like to see Tom,’ she said, her voice trembling when she saw the hostile look on the woman’s face.
‘Wouldn’t we all,’ Mrs Westlake snapped.
‘Isn’t he here?’ Lily asked, her heart sinking.
‘And why would he be?’ his mother asked, folding her arms.
‘Bobby Fixit said he was.’
‘Oh, he did, did he? Well, that’s right. He was,’ Mrs Westlake growled, making to shut the door.
‘Please, Mrs Westlake, I really need to talk to him,’ Lily begged.
‘Seems to me like you’ve said enough already. Broke my boy’s heart, you did, with your doubting ways. It’s ’cos of you he sold his boat. The family boat that his father worked his fingers to the bone to pass onto him. Taken the money he got and disappeared. I hope you’re pleased with yourself, Lily Rose, you doubting Thomasina, you.’ With a final glare, she slammed the door in Lily’s face.
Shocked, Lily stood there for some moments then realized she was being watched. Looking up, she saw a group of women staring at her from across the lane. Clearly they’d heard what had been said and were waiting to see what would happen next. Biting back tears of frustration, she put her chin in the air and marched back down the road. Her heart might be breaking but she had her pride.
It was only when she reached the common that she slowed down. Perching on a tree stump and idly watching the scarlet poppies swaying in the breeze, she thought of Tom. How could she make things right between them now? Before long, she felt a prickle of awareness snake up her spine. Spinning round, she stared towards the row of trees beyond. Tom was there, she knew he was. She could feel it. Jumping to her feet, she cupped her hands to her mouth.
‘Tom!’ she called. But apart from the bleating of a sheep there was silence.
‘Tom, please come and talk to me,’ she called, hearing the desperation rising in her voice. But, still there was no answer.
CHAPTER 31
Ignoring the pang that jolted her insides, she straightened her cap and hurried on her way. How could they sort things out if he wouldn’t even speak to her? If this was love, then she didn’t think much of the misery and hurt it inflicted. Such were her thoughts that by the time she found herself back at Picky Pike’s, she’d convinced herself she was better off without him.
‘Good afternoon, Lily.’ Glancing up, she saw Rupert Mountsford alighting from his carriage. Immaculately dressed in a crisp dark suit with blue silk cravat, he was smiling at her in such an admiring way that sh
e clean forgot her wounded pride.
‘Mr Mountsford, er, I mean Rupert,’ she acknowledged, giving him her brightest smile, and hoping she didn’t look as dishevelled as she felt.
‘I was about to partake of some afternoon refreshment. Would it be very forward of me to ask if you would care to join me?’ he enquired.
‘Oh, yes. I mean that would be nice but I’m not sure if I should. Mrs Bodney might have something she wishes me to do …’ She stuttered to a halt.
‘Indeed, she does, Lily,’ and as if someone had conjured her up, her employer appeared on the doorstep before her. ‘I have something to attend to back at my cottage, and now, it seems a visitor who requires looking after here. Regrettably, I cannot manage both at the same time, so I’d be obliged if you would take Rupert through to the parlour and ask Tilda to bring you some afternoon tea. Her presence should be sufficient to quieten any no-good gossipers on this Sabbath day,’ she added, her lips twitching.
‘If you are sure, Mrs Bodney, then I would be delighted to accept your kind invitation,’ Rupert said, bowing respectfully.
‘Rupert, please accept my sincere apologies for not being able to join you. Although, something tells me my presence will not be missed too much,’ she said, giving him an outrageous wink and hurrying on her way.
‘Well, Lily, is that agreeable with you?’ asked Rupert, solicitous as ever. ‘I wouldn’t wish to inconvenience you if you have other plans.’ He was gazing at her so intently her heart began beating like the clappers on the church bells. As she stood there feeling attractive and appreciated, the hurt of the morning vanished like the mist.
Smiling coyly up at him, she opened the door. Then, completely forgetting the propriety of ringing for the maid, she called to Tilda to bring a tray of tea for two through to the parlour. Rupert folded his lean frame into the comfortable chair beside the fireplace, and then sat looking intently at her. The atmosphere felt charged, as though something exciting was about to happen, and although Lily didn’t fully understand, she was enjoying the tingly feeling she was experiencing when he smiled at her.