by Linda Finlay
‘Lily, it has been an age since we were last together, though I must confess to thinking of you often whilst we’ve been apart.’
‘Mr Mountsford, you do say such funny things. You must have a very busy life in London.’
‘Rupert, please, Lily. And yes, I am kept busy. However, my dealings in Bransbeer ensure I return on a regular basis and I can’t think of anything nicer than spending time with you.’ Not knowing what to say, she looked down at her boots.
‘The weather is still quite clement so perhaps, when we’ve had our tea, we could take a stroll through the village?’ he asked, smiling at her. Lily looked at him in surprise but the moment was broken as Tilda came bustling into the room carrying a laden tray.
‘Here we are, Miss Rose, your tea – and I’ve taken the liberty of adding slices of Mrs Bodney’s best pound cake,’ she proudly announced, flushing as she looked at Rupert.
Once the little maid had left, Lily turned her attention to her duties as hostess. But Rupert was watching her closely and her hands trembled as she poured their tea. Whatever was the matter with her? If he noticed, he was too polite to show it, reaching out and helping himself to a slice of cake. Why was she flustered, she wondered.
‘Relax, Lily dear,’ he said, grinning at her so roguishly she felt her cheeks growing hot. Should he be saying such things, she wondered. Seeking refuge in her drink, she endeavoured to sip it in the ladylike manner of Mrs Bodney and tried to think of something to say.
‘This tea of Mrs Bodney’s is deliciously strong, isn’t it? Ours at home was always as weak as water.’
Her comment was met with silence. Looking up, she was surprised to find Rupert had gone quite red in the face. Suddenly, the rhythmic ticking of the mantel clock seemed inordinately loud. Then, seeming to have regained his composure, he smiled across at her.
‘Indeed,’ was his only comment, and she wondered what on earth she’d said. Picking up her cup again, she sipped her drink.
He then asked, ‘Are you not having any cake?’
She shook her head, knowing that she being so nervous, the fruit would stick in her throat. He, however, had no qualms and ate heartily. When he’d finished, he returned the plate to the tray and extracted a snowy handkerchief from his pocket. She watched in fascination as he delicately wiped first his lips and then his long, neatly manicured fingers. Again, she couldn’t help comparing them to Tom’s work-roughened skin, but now Rupert was rising to his feet.
‘Thank you for your kind hospitality, but regrettably I must take my leave for I have urgent business to attend to before my journey back to London. However, I will ensure I return in time for the Harvest Supper. Until then, Lily,’ he said, bowing, and before she had even had time to draw breath he’d gone.
Well, I never, she thought. He treated me just like a lady. But then she remembered he’d left so quickly, they hadn’t gone for the walk he’d suggested.
Mrs Bodney bustled into the room, cradling a parcel in her arms. Placing it on the chair, she looked around.
‘Rupert gone already?’ she asked in surprise.
‘He said he had business to attend to before he returns to London, but will be back in time for the Harvest Supper.’
‘Did he indeed?’ her employer asked, raising an eyebrow. ‘Well, it gives us time to see about your outfit for that evening. It is imperative you look the part and I’ve the very thing.’ She untied the parcel and held a swathe of sapphire material in front of Lily. Cocking her head to one side, she studied the effect and then nodded. ‘A few nips here and tucks there and this will be perfect. I do envy you your sylphlike form, but then you are a few years younger. Now slip this on while I get my pins.’ Lily took the gown, running her hands over the velvet nap, marvelling at its softness.
‘It’s only velveteen, as I said earlier, but it should suffice,’ Mrs Bodney said, sweeping back into the room.
‘It’s very kind of you, but I can’t possibly wear this.’
Mistaking her concern, the other woman brushed her worries aside with a shake of her hand. ‘Of course you can. I don’t mind you borrowing it in the slightest. I even have a reticule that complements it perfectly. As I said earlier, it’s imperative you look the part, Lily.’
‘But it’s blue, and I’m still in mourning for my mother.’
‘Oh, Lily, I’m sorry, I’d quite forgotten,’ Mrs Bodney said, looking concerned. She was quiet for a moment. ‘I know it’s not yet six months since she died, and then you’ll be free to cast off those dark garments, but I’m sure the Good Lord will forgive us being slightly premature for one night. It is in a good cause, after all. Yes, I’m sure that will be all right,’ she added as if to convince herself as well as Lily. ‘After all, you can go back to wearing black after the Harvest Supper. Come along, let’s get you fitted.’
Seeing further protest would be futile, Lily clambered out of her sober black then gently stepped into the brilliant blue. Immediately, she felt brighter, and as she moved around the soft folds clung to her like a second skin.
‘Why, it doesn’t need altering at all, Mrs Bodney,’ she exclaimed.
‘Believe you me, a little adjustment here and there will make it look as if the dress was made for you. Perception is all, Lily, remember that.’ She kneeled down and began pinning the dress.
‘Yes, Mrs Bodney,’ Lily answered, not having a clue what the other woman meant, but not wishing to appear rude. It seemed to be an age before the other woman finally got to her feet, telling Lily to turn around slowly. Then, after a few more pins were added here and there, she finally seemed satisfied.
‘Right, you may now step out of the dress. But gently, Lily, you don’t want to go undoing my hard work.’
Carefully, slipping out of the dress, Lily held it out to her employer.
‘Goodness, child, do you expect me to do everything for you?’ Mrs Bodney asked, shaking her head. ‘Your stitches are as neat as any I’ve seen, so away and make the adjustments yourself. Take a candle through to the workroom. You can lay the dress out over the big table so that it doesn’t touch the floor. Here’s my sewing basket; you’ll find thread to match the material inside,’ she said, waving her hand at Lily. ‘I’ll be in to see how you’re getting on later.’
In the workroom, Lily settled to her task. Nervous in case she made a mess of the fine material, she carefully followed the line of the pins. Then, as she saw the new outline taking shape, her confidence grew so that by the time Mrs Bodney returned, she was just finishing off the final stitches.
‘Well, Lily, this is superb work,’ Mrs Bodney said, holding the material up to the light of the candle to inspect her stitching. ‘Well done. You will do Rupert proud.’ She stood back, eyeing Lily critically. ‘We must do something with that hair, though. A chignon will suit, I think.’
‘A what?’ Lily asked, shaking her head.
‘It’s an elegant knot, Lily. It will show off your shoulders to perfection. I’ll get Tilda to press the dress ready for Saturday. Now it’s getting late, so I’ll bid you good night and see you back here first thing in the morning. We have but a few short weeks left to finish making the Queen’s lace. I trust everything is in order?’
‘Yes, Mrs Bodney. It’s coming along …’ But she was talking to an empty room, her employer having left as soon as she’d heard the word ‘yes’.
That night her dreams were of dresses, dancing and desire. When she woke she felt hot, as if she were on fire. Easing open the skylight, she breathed in the cool morning air, smelling the tang of the sea. Her senses seemed heightened and yet she felt strangely unsettled. It must be that time, she thought, removing clean rags from her chest in readiness, then taking herself down the stairs.
‘You look feverish,’ Mary remarked, walking into the workroom sometime later. ‘Your eyes are bright as beacons. Are you feeling quite well?’
Lily looked up from her pillow. Although she’d been sitting here since first light, she’d had great difficulty concentrating, and
consequently the lace for the collar was not progressing as quickly as it should have been.
‘I’m fine, Mary, thank you. Well, actually, I’m worried we’ll not get all the lace finished in time.’
‘It will be a close thing, I’ll admit, but we can only do our best,’ Mary said, shrugging.
‘That’s not good enough, though, is it?’ Lily sighed.
‘Well, wasting time fretting is not getting the work done,’ Mary pointed out.
Realizing the truth in the older woman’s words, Lily bent her head back over her pillow. Forcing herself to concentrate, she hardly noticed the others arriving. It took all her willpower to stop her thoughts from wandering, but she was determined that by the end of the day she’d have made enough lace to finish the collar. She bet Her Majesty had no idea how much sweat and toil was going in to the making of all this lace. Though, no doubt the seamstresses at Spitalfields were under the same pressure too.
‘Have you seen your Tom recently, Lily?’ She looked up to see Cora hovering beside her, clearly dying to impart some tittle-tattle. ‘What about you, Nell, have you seen him?’ she asked, turning to her friend. But for once the other girl didn’t answer.
Trying to appear casual, Lily said, ‘No. Why, have you?’
‘I heard he’d sold his boat and gone off on his travels.’
‘Yes, I heard something like that too. Now please return to your pillow, it’s time I inspected the lace and I’ll begin with yours.’ Trying not to smile at Cora’s obvious disappointment, she snapped into overseer mode.
It took her some time to check all their work, and there was no chance of further conversation. By the end of the day, she was surprised to see that they were on schedule after all.
Feeling heartened and relieved that she hadn’t lied to Mrs Bodney the previous evening, she bade them good evening, and then sat there in the gathering dusk going over what Cora had said about Tom and his boat. It appeared Mrs Westlake had been telling the truth, so where had he gone?
CHAPTER 32
‘Stand still, for goodness’ sake,’ scolded Mrs Bodney as she put the finishing touches to Lily’s hair.
‘Sorry, Mrs Bodney, but I’m really nervous and it’s uncomfortable with all these pins in my hair.’
‘That style makes you look sophisticated and it shows off your shoulders to great effect. Men like that, Lily.’
‘Oh. Must I really wear gloves, though? It’s not winter yet,’ she asked, as Mrs Bodney placed a pair next to her dress.
‘A lady wears gloves regardless of the season. Now stop fussing. Rupert will be arriving any moment. Do you want him to see you in your under things?’
‘Goodness me, no,’ Lily gasped, shuddering at the thought.
‘Well, step into your dress and I’ll fasten it for you. Good, now for the gloves,’ Mrs Bodney said, slipping the silky material over her hands. ‘Right, hold the reticule and I’ll pop a touch of rouge on your lips.’
‘On my lips?’ Lily exclaimed.
‘Well, you certainly don’t need any on your cheeks now, do you? There, that’s better,’ Mrs Bodney finally pronounced, taking a step back to check her handiwork.
But Lily was too excited to stand still. Swishing the beautiful dress from side to side, she smiled, then caught sight of her boots. They were beautiful but the cherry-red stitching poking out from under the delicate material looked all wrong.
‘These are lovely but they don’t really go with the dress, do they?’ she asked, frowning.
‘You look charming, and if I’m not mistaken the carriage is pulling up at the door right this very minute. Have a good time and remember to look the squire right in the eyes as you are presented,’ Mrs Bodney instructed.
‘Presented?’ Lily squeaked, horrified.
‘Indeed you will be, but remember it’s all about perception. If you act like a lady, you’ll become one.’
‘Me? Become a lady?’ Lily laughed, but the other woman was already disappearing down the stairs. As she stood there gulping like the goldfish she’d once won at the travelling fair, there was a knock on the door.
‘Mr Mountsford is waiting for you in the parlour, Miss Rose,’ Tilda announced.
Taking a deep breath, Lily descended the stairs.
As she appeared in the doorway, Rupert rose to his feet. He seemed transfixed, staring at her for a full moment before moving towards her and shaking his head.
‘Lily, I can’t believe it’s really you. Why, you look wonderful, utterly charming. Not that you don’t always look beautiful,’ he added quickly, holding out a corsage of tiny rosebuds. Bewildered, she stared down at the yellow flowers. What was she supposed to do with them? Seeing the uncertainty in her eyes, Rupert gently took them from her.
‘May I?’ he asked, bending and pinning them to her dress; then gently taking her arm he led her outside. ‘My carriage awaits you, Cinderella,’ he announced.
‘As long as it doesn’t turn into a pumpkin before we get there,’ she laughed, feeling like a princess in the sapphire velveteen gown. If only she had glass slippers to wear instead of her boots, she thought settling back on the leather squabs and sniffing gently. There was that odd smell again.
Before she could dwell on it, Rupert had climbed in and called to the driver. As the carriage began to move, she sat watching the flickering lights from the candles in the cottages and the wood smoke pluming into the inky sky. The scenery looked sort of hazy mauve and very different from the last ride she’d taken in the carriage. Just then, Rupert rapped on the window and the coach drew to a halt.
‘What’s the matter?’ she asked, but he was busy retrieving something from under his seat and didn’t answer. Then, with a flourish he handed her a parcel tied with a red satin bow. Surprised, she sat looking down at it.
‘Well, don’t you want to see what’s inside?’ he asked.
Slowly, she pulled at the ribbon then, curiosity getting the better of her, flipped off the lid. Inside, nestling amongst the softest paper, was a pair of blue velvet dancing slippers. They were encrusted with diamond-like gems that twinkled in the twilight.
‘Why, they’re beautiful,’ she gasped.
‘Yes, they are rather,’ he said, smiling at her bemused look. ‘Aren’t you going to try them on?’
‘You mean they’re for me?’ she asked, her eyes widening in amazement.
‘Well, I rather think they’ll be a bit small for me,’ he teased. ‘Of course they are for you, Lily. When Mrs Bodney let slip what colour dress you’d be wearing, I took the liberty of having these made to match.’
‘And she knew? No wonder she didn’t think my wearing these boots would be a problem,’ she said, eagerly pulling them off.
‘May I?’ he asked, taking the slippers from her, then bending down and gently placing one on each foot.
Speechless for probably the first time in her life, Lily could only gaze in wonderment at her new footwear.
‘They are simply exquisite,’ she said eventually.
‘Well, I do pride myself on knowing what ladies like,’ said Rupert, rather smugly.
‘I guess Albert must have remembered my size,’ she murmured.
‘Ah,’ he said smiling. ‘Whilst Albert is undoubtedly a skilled cordwainer, I don’t think he would have had the materials for these. I commissioned them to be made in London.’
‘But how did you manage that? You only knew what I’d be wearing a few days ago,’ she asked.
He tapped the side of his nose, the way Mrs Bodney did when she was being secretive.
‘As long as you are pleased, Lily, then that’s all that matters. May I say how delightful you look wearing them?’ he complimented, as she held her feet out in front of her.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured, still bemused at such a wonderful gift.
‘Now, it’s time we were on our way,’ he said, rapping on the window again, whereupon the carriage began to move. As she sat there admiring her new slippers, she heard her father’s voice in her ear.
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Careful, Lily, you don’t get anything for nothing in this life.
‘Oh,’ she gasped.
‘Is something wrong?’ Rupert asked, looking concerned.
‘Well, nobody gives you things for nothing, so will you, erm, expect …?’ her voice stuttered to a halt and she felt her cheeks growing hot.
‘Lily, really,’ he spluttered, quickly staring out of the window. There was silence for a moment and then having recovered his composure, he added, ‘I enjoy your company, and am lucky to have the means to give you a present from time to time. Now stop fretting and enjoy the rest of the ride.’
She relaxed back, thinking what a really nice man he was. Then, as they continued their journey, her insides fizzed excitedly as she thought of the evening ahead. The image of Tom popped into her mind, but she pushed it away. Why should she worry about him when it was obvious he no longer cared for her?
Lamplight illuminated the courtyard as the driver drove up the gravelled carriage sweep, bringing the horses to a stop outside the imposing pillared portico of the manor house. Jumping down, Rupert helped her from the carriage then, keeping a light hold on her arm, led her inside. She gazed in wonder at the grandeur of the hallway, for of course, in the past, she’d always used the servants’ entrance.
‘Mr Rupert Mountsford and Miss Lily Rose,’ the butler announced, and before she knew it, she was standing before Squire and Lady Clinsden.
‘What in heaven’s name is the meaning …?’ spluttered the squire, his face growing redder by the moment.
‘Lily and Rupert, how kind of you to join us this evening,’ Lady Clinsden welcomed, cutting swiftly across her husband. ‘Please do go through. Dancing is about to commence and supper will be served in the dining hall later. I trust you have an enjoyable evening. Oh, and Lily, Rupert here dances a very good quadrille so if I were you I’d get him to teach you,’ she laughed. Before Lily could ask her what a quadrille was, she’d turned away and was greeting her next guests.