by Linda Finlay
‘Come on then,’ she invited, holding out her hand. Ignoring it, he began striding out towards the water. Hurrying to keep up with him, she cast around for something to say.
‘I heard you sold your boat.’
‘I heard you got yourself a merchant,’ he responded.
‘Oh, Tom, you always get the wrong end of things. It was all a plan to get back at the squire. It’s you I love. Always have and always will, I guess, and anyway, that merchant’s actually betrothed to another,’ she said.
‘Oh, poor you, that’s scuppered your chances then,’ he snorted.
‘But, Tom, I’ve just tried to explain that it wasn’t like that,’ she protested.
‘Of course it wasn’t. Would have solved your problems, though, wouldn’t it?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It would have given you somewhere to live and a chap of his standing wouldn’t expect his wife to work either.’
‘Tom Westlake, I can’t believe you’re saying such things. I thought you loved me,’ she burst out.
He sighed. ‘Oh, I do; I mean did,’ he said quickly, looking out at the sea. ‘Think I’ll forgo that walk, if you don’t mind,’ he muttered, stomping off into the gathering darkness.
‘Tom, wait,’ she called after him, but the only response was the crunch of pebbles. ‘Be like that, then. See if I care,’ she muttered.
But you do care and so does he. Go after him, Lily. He’s hurting badly.
‘Oh, Father, you always turn up at the weirdest times,’ she cried, her tears mingling with the spray on the breeze. ‘If he doesn’t want me, so be it. I’ll not beg.’
Best not to be pig-headed, Lily, she thought she heard him say but it could have been the soughing of the wind.
‘Oh, mangles to all men,’ she screamed in frustration, stamping up the beach. By the time she reached Picky Pike’s, she was beside herself with rage. How dare Tom mess with her feelings?
‘Lily, whatever is going on? Just look at the state of you,’ cried Mrs Bodney, hurrying into the hallway.
‘Men, that’s what’s the matter.’
‘Oh, is that all,’ the other woman replied, waving her hand in the air as if swatting at an annoying fly. ‘For goodness’ sake control yourself. The hem of your dress is hanging down, your apron is frayed and as for your hair, well, I’ve seen neater rats’ tails. I suggest you go to the workroom, repair your dress and then retire for the night. Things will look better in the morning. They always do.’
Not trusting herself to answer, Lily stomped off to the workroom. Looks, looks, looks. The woman was obsessed with them. Snatching up needle, thread and scissors, she plonked herself down on her stool before realizing it was too dark to see. Muttering under her breath, she gathered up her things and stamped up to her room.
Silvery light from the moon was filtering through the attic window as she squatted on the end of the bed and began to snip. At first she worked with a vengeance; then, as her hot anger abated and cool calmness washed over her, she worked more methodically. It took her a while but finally, she was finished. Stifling a yawn, she hung her dress on the nail, checking the hem was straight. Next she held up the apron to the window, giving a satisfied nod when she could find no loose threads. Finally, she ran her fingers through her hair. Definitely no rats’ tails there!
Thoroughly spent, she climbed into bed and fell asleep, only to dream of being snatched from the clutches of the evil squire by a fair-haired fisherman with a cheeky grin.
CHAPTER 37
When Lily woke, her cheeks were sticky with dried tears and she felt like a wrung-out rag. She was tempted to close her eyes again, but forced herself to get up. Then, after checking her handiwork, she dressed quickly. Running her fingers through her hair, she smiled. Definitely no rats’ tails, she thought, securing her cap.
All was quiet in the workroom as she set about inspecting the previous day’s work. The sprigs were sorted according to their various designs, and she was surprised to see just how many they had made over the past months. Then she noticed a pile of something on the floor and gasped in horror. The patterns had been cut into shreds.
Rushing through to the parlour where Mrs Bodney was sitting at the table breaking her fast, she was almost incoherent with shock.
‘Mrs Bodney, something terrible has happened,’ she gathered herself to gasp.
The other woman frowned over the top of her cup. ‘Lily, kindly compose yourself, then tell me exactly what has occurred.’
Seeing her employer’s look of disapproval, she took a deep breath to steady herself.
‘It’s the patterns. They’ve been cut up.’
‘Indeed they have,’ Mrs Bodney responded mildly.
‘But they were the ones we used for the Queen’s lace,’ Lily said, trying to make her employer realize the seriousness of the situation.
‘Precisely, Lily, and that is why they’ve been shredded.’
Lily stared at her in amazement. ‘You mean you know?’
‘Of course I know. I cut them up myself. The Queen ordered them to be destroyed so that no one can copy them. She wants her wedding outfit to be unique,’ Mrs Bodney explained. Then, when she saw Lily’s puzzled look, she sighed. ‘Unique means the only one of its kind. Our work here is nearly finished so we won’t have any further use for them, will we?’
‘No, I suppose not,’ Lily answered, wondering if she dare ask how much longer she’d have work. But Mrs Bodney was peering at her head.
‘Is there something wrong with your cap, Lily?’
‘No,’ she answered, quickly sliding it back into place. The other woman stared at her for a long moment.
‘With Tilda gone, I need someone to answer the door and serve refreshment. It’s not worth engaging someone new at this stage, so choose which lady you think will be most suited to the job and send her to me.’
‘Someone from the workroom, you mean?’ Lily asked, frowning.
‘Of course I mean someone from the workroom. You are hardly going to be rushed off your feet, are you? In fact, I shall now be asking some of the ladies to leave. Please advise them accordingly.’
Slowly, Lily made her way back to the workroom. How would the ladies take the news? Who should she choose to replace Tilda? She shook her head, cursing as her cap slipped over her eyes. Just as she was pushing it back in place, Mary walked into the room, yawning.
‘Morning, Lily, I hope this day finds you in better humour.’
Remembering her bad mood of the previous day, Lily felt herself colouring up.
‘Sorry, Mary. I had no right to be so rotten,’ she apologized.
‘That’s all right, ducks. We all have our off days. My little un was up all night so I thought I might as well come in … oh, love a dead donkey,’ she exclaimed, looking down at the shredded patterns.
‘It’s all right, Mrs Bodney cut them up. She said that as the lace is almost completed we won’t be requiring them. The Queen herself ordered them to be destroyed so they can’t be copied.’
‘Do we know how long we’ve got left here?’ Mary asked, looking worried. ‘Only we’ve got a bit behind with the rent, what with that chump of mine and his aversion to work.’
‘Mrs Bodney says she’ll be starting to dispense with our services from now on.’
‘Oh, love two dead donkeys,’ the other woman moaned.
‘Listen, Mary, quickly, before the others come in. Mrs Bodney needs someone to serve refreshment and answer the door now Tilda’s gone—’
‘Tilda’s gone?’ the woman interrupted. ‘Where?’
‘I don’t know,’ Lily shrugged. ‘The point is that from today Mrs Bodney is going to start getting rid of people, but the person who takes the maid’s job will be the last to go, so—’
‘Morning, ladies,’ Emma said, breezing into the room and looking warily at Lily. Then, she too spotted the pile on the floor. ‘Whatever’s that mess?’
‘I was just about to tidy it up,’ said Lily, bending to s
coop up the pieces, then cursing as her cap slipped over her forehead.
‘What’s up with yer head?’ Mary hissed in her ear.
‘Nothing,’ she said, pushing the offending cap back in place, then whispering, ‘Look, if you want that job then go and see Mrs Bodney now before the others get here.’
Mary nodded and hurried from the room.
‘What was all that about?’ Emma asked, but the arrival of the others saved Lily from having to answer. Quickly, she disposed of the shredded patterns. Then, standing at the front of the room, she held up her hand for silence.
‘Ladies, as you know, our job here is nearing completion. Mrs Bodney appreciates the fine work we’ve done but regrets that from today, she’ll no longer need to employ us all.’
There was an indignant protest, followed by sighs of resignation. They all knew their days here were numbered.
‘Bet you know who will be last to go,’ Cora said to Nell, jerking her head in Lily’s direction.
‘Regrettably, Cora, I know no more than you. I’m merely repeating what Mrs Bodney told me so that you can make alternative arrangements as soon as possible.’
There was a snort of derision, for they all knew they’d be lucky to find anything at all, let alone quickly. Even if they did, they’d probably have to return to the trucking method of payment. A gloomy silence descended.
‘Well, if we are going to go, I don’t have to wear this,’ Nell said, snatching of her cap and shaking her fiery mane free.
‘That will only encourage Mrs Bodney to get rid of you first,’ Cora said.
‘Oh, see if I care,’ Nell retorted.
‘Hey, where’s Mary?’ Cora suddenly asked. ‘Don’t tell me Mrs Bodney’s asked her to go already?’
‘I understand she has another job for Mary to do,’ Lily said. ‘Now there are still some sprigs to be made, so I suggest we make a start.’
The tension in the room was palpable as they wondered who would be the first to go and when. Lily bent over her own pillow, cursing silently as her cap slipped yet again. Suddenly her bright idea of the night before didn’t seem clever at all. What was it her father had called her? A hothead – that was it. Well, she certainly wouldn’t be now, she thought, tugging at her cap and praying it would stay in place. The mood was sombre as the ladies pondered their future, and the workroom fell eerily silent.
Lily tried to concentrate on her lace making, but her thoughts kept returning to her encounter with Tom the previous evening. Why had he gone off like that? Where had he gone? More to the point, when would she see him again or, heaven forbid, would she see him again at all? As the morning dragged on, the questions whirled around her head.
Finally it was noon, and everyone sighed with relief when she rang the bell for nuncheon. Lily, having had enough of being alone with her thoughts, joined them outside. But the mood was sober as they stood there discussing rents that had to be paid, hungry mouths that needed feeding. And the most important thing of all, where were they going to find work?
‘Do you think any of us will have to go today?’ Emma asked.
‘I truly don’t know,’ Lily answered, shaking her head and righting her cap. ‘We knew this job was for six months so …’ She shrugged, leaving the sentence unfinished. Six months had seemed a long time back in May.
‘Mrs Bodney says you’re to go through to the parlour, Lily,’ Mary announced, appearing at the door, dressed in the maid’s attire. There was a gasp of surprise from the others.
‘Acting as her ladyship’s maid now, are we?’ Cora scoffed.
‘Indeed I am, thank you for asking,’ Mary answered, holding her head high and strutting back inside.
‘Well, I’ll be, Mary working as a maid,’ muttered Emma. ‘Heaven knows what things are coming to, and that’s a fact.’
‘Yes, but she’s got a safe job, hasn’t she? And I wonder how that came about?’ Cora remarked, looking pointedly at Lily.
Sensing trouble brewing, Lily quickly rang the bell to signal the end of their break.
Then, as the ladies filed back inside, Lily straightened her cap yet again, and made her way to the parlour. Her stomach plummeted when she saw Mr Mountsford sitting talking to Mrs Bodney, but when he saw her, he sprang to his feet.
Mrs Bodney also rose and murmuring she had an appointment to go to, quickly left.
‘Lily, I’ve come to see you because I owe you an apology.’
‘You owe me nothing, Mr Mountsford,’ she said.
‘On the contrary, I’ve been talking to Mrs Bodney. She explained about your misunderstanding of my intentions and—’
‘Misunderstanding? Offering me fine things whilst you were betrothed to another? I don’t call that a misunderstanding,’ Lily retorted, unable to contain her pent-up anger any longer. ‘I bet you had a right good laugh at my expense. Well, let me tell you, Mr Mountsford, you may have fine possessions but it is me who has the morals. Oh, and that reminds me …’ she said hurrying from the room.
A few moments later, she returned, clutching the boots with cherry-red stitching. Angrily, she threw them at his feet.
‘Here, have your boots back. You can give them to the next poor girl you set out to charm. Now, if there is nothing else I’ll bid you good day,’ she said, turning to go.
‘Your friend Tom—’ he began, but she cut him off.
‘Tom might not have the riches to buy me expensive presents, but he has principles and has always treated me with respect,’ she said quietly, realizing that everything she’d said was true.
‘He’s a lucky man to command your respect,’ Rupert replied. Then when she didn’t reply, he bent and picked up the boots. He turned to leave and then hesitated in the doorway.
‘Lily, I just want you to know that under different circumstances …’
‘You still wouldn’t have any principles,’ she spat.
‘Here we are, ducks, a nice cup of tea with cake, no less,’ Mary announced, bursting into the room with their refreshment. ‘Oops, sorry, have I interrupted something, only Mrs Bodney said I was to bring in a tray?’ she asked.
Stifling an exclamation, Rupert turned and left.
‘Mary, your timing was perfect,’ Lily said, surprised at the feeling of relief she was experiencing. ‘You’ve just saved me from a most embarrassing situation,’ she added, sinking into a chair.
‘Has that fancy merchant upset you, Lily? ’Cos if he has, I’ll go after him and give him what for.’
‘Oh, Mary, you’re like a tonic,’ she laughed, imagining the older woman chasing him down the street.
‘I don’t think Mr Mountsford will be back to see me again, thank heavens,’ she added, grinning.
‘Well, if that’s the case, you’d best drink this fine tea whilst there’s some left as we won’t be getting any more from that source,’ Mary said, winking.
Lily looked down at the rich dark tea in her cup, the penny dropping. How could she have been blind to all that had been going on around here?
‘Is there anything else, Lily,’ Mary asked, breaking into her thoughts.
Lily looked up and saw her gazing longingly at the cake.
‘Go on, take it and enjoy it. I won’t tell,’ she said laughing, as Mary, hardly able to believe her good fortune, scuttled away with her prize. Settling back in the chair, she looked at the tea then shook her head. She’d never touch any again, if that’s where it came from, she decided. But as she leaned forward to put the cup on the table, her cap slipped to the side of her head.
‘Good grief, Lily. Whatever, do you look like?’ Mrs Bodney asked, bustling into the room. ‘You look more like a street urchin than ever.’
‘Oh, Mrs Bodney, it’s never that bad,’ she said, but the other woman was looking around the room.
‘Has Mr Mountsford gone?’
‘Yes, thank heavens,’ Lily answered, with feeling.
Mrs Bodney gave her a penetrating look. ‘You didn’t accept his apologies then?’
‘No, I did no
t. Why should I? I may have had to entertain him as part of my duties but they are all but finished now so it doesn’t matter if I never see or speak to him again, does it?’
‘Well, there is still some work left for you to do but no, you don’t have to see Mr Mountsford again. Did he leave anything for me, by the way?’ she asked, looking down at the table and frowning.
‘Yes, he left two small packets on the dresser, and Mary took them through to the kitchen. Unfortunately, though, he didn’t stay long enough to sample any of his lovely strong tea,’ she said, staring meaningfully at her employer.
‘Thank you, Lily, I think you should return to the workroom now,’ Mrs Bodney said, quickly lowering her eyes.
CHAPTER 38
Not feeling up to meeting the inquisitive stares of the others and in dire need of fresh air, Lily went to fetch her shawl. On her way back down the stairs, she spotted the turnip lamp lying under the ledge where it had fallen. Picking it up, she decided to take a walk to Coombe to see Beth.
To her surprise, as she walked down the path, she saw Tom sauntering towards her and, despite herself, her heart flipped.
‘Afternoon, Lily. It’s unusual to see you out at this time of day,’ he said, politely, doffing his cap.
‘Afternoon, Tom. It’s unusual to see you at all round these parts,’ she countered, only to see his lips twitch.
‘You always were a ready wit,’ he said, stopping and giving her the cheeky grin that made her heart somersault. ‘Where are you off to, anyway?’ he asked.
‘I’m going to Coombe to see Beth and give her this,’ Lily said, holding out the turnip.
‘Hey, that’s a great lamp. It’ll look right spooky when it’s lit for Samhain tomorrow. Did you carve it?’
‘Yes, with old Joe’s help. We made one for his grandson too,’ she said proudly.
Tom looked at her quizzically. ‘You’re still an old softy,’ he said gruffly.
Her heart started thumping furiously, but he didn’t appear to hear.
‘I meant what I said about still loving you, Tom,’ she said. ‘I know you’ll probably never forgive me but I want you to know that I’m truly sorry for disbelieving you about the ring.’