The Flower Seller

by Linda Finlay

  It was set out the same as before, the three candlesticks interspersed with the large bowls of violets emitting their musky scent. Miriam carefully set down the bread and soup then bustled away while Agnes drew the drapes and lit the candles. Isabella’s heart fluttered, whether from nerves or anticipation she couldn’t be sure.

  ‘Good luck, dear. Now, close your eyes,’ she whispered as the door opened and the visitors began filing in. Once again Isabella couldn’t resist peeping and saw they were all inhaling the tiny posies of flowers. As they passed her chair, she caught a trace of the stronger scent she didn’t recognize. She really must remember to ask the sisters what it was.

  As Agnes instructed them to hold hands, Isabella’s curiosity was replaced by excited anticipation, and she found her heart racing. The seance proceeded exactly the same way as before but, to her dismay, although several spirits made their presence known through Agnes, none were those of her dear mama or papa. She closed her eyes tightly and focused on their images as if, by doing that, she could conjure them up. It was to no avail, though, as when the final thanks were given and everyone rose to leave, she was left with acute disappointment and a crashing headache.

  ‘You mustn’t be disheartened, my dear,’ Agnes said, closing the door behind the last guest and turning to Isabella. ‘This is only your first real participation.’

  ‘But I so wanted to hear from one of them at least,’ she cried.

  ‘As I said earlier, I didn’t have long to really absorb your mama’s essence. Perhaps if you were to leave her pearls with me, I could concentrate my powers?’

  ‘Here’s your basket with our payment for the violets,’ Miriam said, appearing in the hallway.

  ‘I was just suggesting Isabella leave her mother’s necklace here until next time then I would have time to work my magic on them,’ Agnes laughed softly.

  ‘As long as Isabella feels she can trust us with her precious pearls,’ Miriam said, looking at Isabella for confirmation.

  ‘Of course, I do. Until next week then.’

  ‘Oh no, dear, we won’t be holding another until the last Friday in December. That’s the downside to our success rate, you see. Once we have satisfied our existing clients’ needs, we have to find new ones.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ Isabella murmured. Although she was trying to follow their conversation, her head was spinning and she felt in desperate need of fresh air. Giving the sisters a shaky smile, she wrapped the proffered mantle around her shoulders and slowly went out through the open door.

  Although the wind had dropped, rain was falling in sheets. Feeling slightly unsteady on her feet, she remembered to turn right then carefully made her way through the puddles, back towards the town. At least the route was familiar this time and with the lamplighter already about his work, the streets would all soon be lit. She put her hand to her head and wiped her brow, wondering how she could be feeling hot when the air was cold. Perhaps it was the tart she’d eaten, for although it had been delicious, she was no longer used to rich food. Her heart was beating rapidly and the blood pounded round her veins, which was at variance with her low mood. She’d been so sure her dear mama or papa would come through.

  Making an effort to concentrate on where she was going, she finally found herself back in the Strand. The place was deserted apart from the lady from the stationer’s, who was taking in her sign. Hearing Isabella approach, she looked up, her welcoming smile quickly replaced by concern.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Isabella went to nod but the ground seemed to be swaying. ‘There now, I’ve got you,’ the woman said, putting one arm under hers and leading Isabella into the shop. ‘Gracious girl, you’re all flushed,’ she said, pulling out a chair from behind the counter and easing Isabella into it. ‘Looked out of the store at luncheon time but you were nowhere to be seen. Thought you must have gone home or been moved on.’ Before Isabella could reply, the doorbell jangled and the woman turned to see who had come in.

  ‘Hello Felix, I was just closing but . . . ,’ she began.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mrs Spink. I was returning from the station, when I saw Isabella stumbling along the pavement. Are you all right?’ he asked, staring anxiously at Isabella. She took a deep breath and realized the wooziness was gradually beginning to clear.

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ she whispered. ‘I think it must have been something I ate.’

  ‘Could well be, you’re that green about the gills. Have a sip of water then take it easy for a few moments,’ the woman said, holding out a glass.

  ‘So, you took your flowers to the station here, then?’ the woman said, eyeing Felix curiously.

  ‘Yep, thought it better after yesterday. Give Frederick a chance to calm down,’ he replied. ‘Though it looks like I’ll be seeing him after all, for as soon as Isabella feels able to stand, I shall of course take her home.’

  ‘There really is no need,’ Isabella protested, struggling to her feet then promptly collapsing in a heap on the floor.

  Chapter 22

  Isabella’s head throbbed and she felt disorientated. Gingerly opening her eyes, she blinked in the bright light. She tried to sit up but the room spun around her and she fell back against the pillow. Gradually, as the world righted itself, she realized she was back in the bedroom she shared with Dotty and Alice. How had she got here? The last thing she could remember was slumping to the ground in the stationer’s and Felix gathering her up in his arms. Feeling warm and protected, she’d sighed and nestled into his chest. Oh glory, what must he have thought of her, she shuddered, growing hot at the recollection. Then she saw her dress was on the floor beside her. Peering under her cover, her eyes widened when she saw she was only wearing her silk combinations.

  Not daring to think any more, she pulled on her dress and ran a comb through her tangled hair. Then knowing she had to face the music, slowly descended the stairs.

  ‘Are you feeling better?’ her aunt asked, looking up from the dough she was kneading.

  ‘I think so,’ Isabella replied, but the effort of getting up had left her weak and she sank into the nearest chair.

  ‘Well, that was a fright you gave us and no mistake. Gibbering about spirits coming out of human mouths and all sorts you were. Hot as a poker one moment, shivering the next. That nice Felix was so concerned he insisted on carrying you right up the stairs.’

  ‘Oh,’ Isabella whispered, her hand flying to her mouth.

  ‘Cors I was right behind him,’ her aunt went on, oblivious to the relief flooding through Isabella. ‘Said he thought you must have caught a chill standing out in the cold and wet all day. Now, what you need is something warm inside you,’ she said, putting the dough to prove by the range then dragging down the skillet. Moments later a dish of egg scramble was placed in front of Isabella. ‘Now, get that down you.’

  The pungent smell emanating from the yellow mound made her stomach heave. Hastily, putting her hand over her mouth, she dashed outside to the privy and retched until there was nothing left inside. Heedless of the falling rain, she forced her jelly-like legs over to the pump where she splashed cold water on her face until she began to feel better.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ she murmured when she went back indoors.

  ‘Sit down, Isabella,’ her aunt instructed, looking grave. ‘I take it you can’t manage this?’ she asked, removing the untouched food before taking a seat opposite.

  ‘Where are the others?’ Isabella asked.

  ‘Being Saturday, Father’s taken Alice and Thomas to help Joseph. The poor boy’s doing his best to keep things going, but needs all the assistance he can get. Dotty insisted she was well enough to sell and so she hitched a lift into town with them. Mind you, the poor girl’s been itching to get out. Anyway, Father should be back soon to help William who’s trying to keep things together here. So,’ she paused and looked straight at Isabella, ‘this seems the perfect time for us to have a chat.’

  ‘Oh, er, that’s nice,’ Isabella replied, although from the set of her aunt�
�s face, she had a feeling it was going to be anything but.

  ‘Now, young lady, this isn’t the first time you’ve come home looking flushed and out of sorts. What I want to know is why. You’re looking better now you’ve been sick, so do you have something to tell me?’

  ‘Tell you, Auntie?’ she asked, her heart thumping as she wondered if the woman had found out about her visit to the sisters.

  ‘Look, dear, we’re your family and here to help. If you’ve got yourself into trouble then you has to tell us.’

  ‘Trouble? I don’t know what you mean.’ Her aunt sighed.

  ‘Before your papa died, you were walking out with someone called Maxwell, and soon to be betrothed.’

  ‘Yes, but I don’t see what that has to do with my feeling queasy earlier,’ she said, toying with the spoon on the table. To her surprise her aunt reached across the table and took her hand.

  ‘You haven’t had a mother to advise you about things, dear, and men can sometimes take advantage of a girl’s innocence. If you’re expecting an arrival, then I’ll do all I can to help.’

  ‘No, I’m not expecting Maxwell, Auntie. As you know, he’s already found another,’ she replied, realizing to her surprise, it didn’t seem to hurt nearly as much.

  ‘Blimmer, girl, can you not see what I’m getting at? A baby’s what I mean.’ Isabella stared at her aunt aghast.

  ‘You mean you think I am, I would . . . oh no, Auntie, I can assure you I most certainly am not,’ she cried, jumping to her feet. ‘And how you could even suggest such a thing is . . . ’

  ‘Don’t blame Mother,’ Frederick said, coming into the room and staring at Isabella. ‘It’s a natural assumption under the circumstances.’

  ‘Oh, you think so, do you? Well, let me tell you my morals are intact, which is more than can be said for yours.’ There was a deadly hush and her uncle’s lips tightened.

  ‘I think you’d better explain what you mean,’ he said, his voice low.

  ‘I’m talking about the money from Papa that you’ve spent on your precious garden,’ she told him.

  ‘What?’ he thundered, his face turning purple. He stared at his wife in astonishment then stormed into their bedroom.

  ‘Oh Izzie, you’ve got things so wrong,’ Mary whispered, shaking her head sadly.

  ‘You mean there wasn’t money in that envelope from Papa?’

  ‘Yes, there was. Your father intended us to use some of it for your keep, but . . . ,’ Mary began.

  ‘But you used it for your own ends instead,’ Isabella supplied.

  ‘We wouldn’t do that,’ Mary exclaimed, looking horrified.

  ‘See this, Miss High and Mighty Know-all,’ Frederick barked, striding back in and slapping a paper down on the table in front of her. ‘’Tis a bond in your name. We invested all the money your father gave us and were going to present it to you next year, when you become of age.’ As tears of shame welled, Isabella stared unseeingly at the certificate.

  ‘But you said you’d invested in your business, buying glass and . . . ,’ she cried, her voice trailing away as the enormity of her assumption hit her.

  ‘And so I have, using the money I’ve earned through sheer hard graft,’ he hissed.

  ‘Our family works for anything we want, Izzie. We’d never steal from anyone,’ her aunt whispered. As they both stared sadly at her, Isabella realized how dreadfully she’d insulted these kind people who had taken her in.

  ‘Now, unless you have some other heinous crime to accuse me of, I have work to do,’ Frederick muttered. As the door slammed behind him, rattling the window panes, Isabella turned to her aunt in dismay.

  ‘I’m sorry, Auntie,’ she began. ‘I had no idea.’

  ‘No, and perhaps we should have told you,’ the woman sighed. ‘It just seemed a good idea, what with you attaining your majority so soon after losing your father and home. But I must apologize too, for jumping to the wrong conclusion as to why you’ve been queasy. Now, I’ll just put this back,’ she said, picking up the bond. ‘Unless you’d prefer to keep it?’ she asked, holding out the certificate.

  ‘No, I feel dreadful enough as it is.’

  As her aunt bustled into her bedroom, Isabella sank into a chair and put her head in her hands. She’d never felt so bad in all her life. This wonderful couple had opened up their house to her and all she’d done was thrown their kindness back in their faces.

  ‘Right, dear, I’m off to pack the flowers. Make yourself a hot drink and when you feel better perhaps you could give me a hand? No, not now,’ she said, as Isabella started to get up. ‘Best for us all to have some breathing space. A cup of tea wouldn’t go amiss when you come out, though.’ Isabella nodded then watched as her aunt threw her turnover around her shoulders and disappeared outside.

  For a long time, she sat listening to the November rain slapping at the windows and slithering down the chimney to hiss and spit on the crackling logs in the range. Hadn’t her papa always told her not to jump to conclusions?

  ‘Hello, anyone home?’ She jumped as Felix appeared in the doorway, dripping rain onto the coir mat. ‘I did knock but there was no reply.’

  ‘Do come in,’ she murmured, her face growing red.

  ‘Can’t stop. I hope you’re feeling better today?’ he asked, remaining on the mat. ‘You gave poor Mrs Spink a turn, dropping to her floor like that.’

  ‘Sorry, but I am a lot better now. Thank you for bringing me home and, er . . . ,’ her voice trailed off.

  ‘Don’t worry, your aunt was standing right behind me,’ he replied, mischief sparking in his eyes. ‘Anyway, can’t stop, I just called by to say that Father and I found Bill earlier. We took him home and put him to bed. Seems to be my vocation these days,’ he quipped. Seeing Isabella flush, he grinned. ‘Perhaps you could let your uncle know?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she stammered, and before she could say anything else, he’d gone. As the kettle began to sing, she cursed, realizing the least she could have done was offer him a hot drink. Well, she could take some tea out to her aunt then help her pack the flowers, she decided, pouring hot water into the big brown pot. She’d thought it crude after the silver ones she was used to, but now it seemed homely somehow.

  Her aunt smiled as Isabella carried the tray into the barn. She was standing at the trestle, counting flowers, and Isabella felt a pang when she saw all the pails of violets still to be packed. Shaking the raindrops from her hair, she pulled out a stool, picked up one of the bunches and began tying it with a length of raffia. Her aunt watched from over the top of her mug. ‘Sure you’re up to this?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, I’m feeling better now, thank you. Although I still feel bad about earlier.’

  ‘Me too,’ the woman agreed. ‘Still, no good dwelling on words that can’t be taken back, so we’ll move forward, eh?’ Isabella nodded, grateful for the women’s philosophical attitude. They fell silent, listening to the rain drumming on the roof as they posied and packed. Before long the soporific effect of the flowers began to take effect and Isabella felt her nerves calming.

  ‘Oh, I almost forgot. Felix Furneaux called by to say he and his father found Uncle Bill and have taken him home.’

  ‘Funny he didn’t pop in here to tell me,’ her aunt replied. ‘Guess he must have wanted an excuse to see you. Quite smitten, he is, if you ask me.’ Ignoring her knowing grin, Isabella frowned.

  ‘Well, I’m off men for life,’ she declared heatedly, ignoring the memory of nestling against Felix’s chest that popped unbidden into her mind. To her surprise her aunt chuckled.

  ‘That’s a long time to be lonely, dear. And, to my way of thinking, that Felix is a handsome fellow.’

  ‘It’s good news about Uncle Bill, isn’t it?’ Isabella asked, determined not to be drawn. ‘He’ll be able to help the others now.’

  ‘Not for a few days, he won’t. It’ll take him that long to sleep off the effects of all the liquor he’s doubtless consumed along with goodness knows what else.’ H
earing the disapproval in her aunt’s voice, Isabella placed the posy she’d just tied into the half-filled corset box then asked the question that had been on her mind since she’d visited her uncle Bill’s house.

  ‘Joseph told me Uncle’s wife died in childbirth and that he blames himself. I don’t understand. I mean, it’s tragic but not uncommon.’

  ‘No, even in these enlightened times, it still happens. Meggie was frail but refused to listen when the doctor warned her she wasn’t strong enough to carry a child. She loved Bill so much that, despite his objection, she was determined to give him a son. They both died during the birthing.’

  ‘Oh, that is tragic,’ Isabella cried.

  ‘It is, and whilst Bill can cope most days, on others his grief and guilt get the better of him and he has to escape.’

  Lost in their own worlds, they continued their work. Compared to Uncle Bill’s problems hers paled into insignificance, Isabella thought. She still missed Papa desperately but whilst her dear mama had been young when she’d been taken, at least they’d enjoyed time together and known the joy of being parents. She looked up to see her aunt staring at her across the trestle.

  ‘I’m pleased to see you’re wearing your locket again, dear. Those pearls are beautiful, but undoubtedly valuable and I do worry about you wearing them around the place. Are you sure you don’t want your uncle to put them in the bank’s safety box?’

  ‘Now then, Mother, if Isabella thinks us capable of stealing her money she’s not about to trust us with her precious jewels,’ her uncle said, dumping more flowers into the pails they’d just emptied.

  ‘I’m really sorry about the misunderstanding, Uncle,’ Isabella said, turning to face him.

  ‘Misunderstanding, were it?’ he snorted, raindrops dripping off his hat and jacket onto the floor.

  ‘Now then, Father,’ her aunt chided. ‘We should accept Izzie’s apologies and move forward.’

  ‘Is that so?’ he muttered. He ran a hand over his stubbly chin and stared at Isabella thoughtfully. ‘Trust is a big thing in this family, girl. How about you show yours by letting me put those pearls in the bank? It’d save Mother worrying you’re going to be robbed at knifepoint every time you go out.’