The Flower Seller

by Linda Finlay

  ‘Yeah, that an’ all. Oh Izzie, I do love him so,’ she cried, rolling over to face Isabella. ‘We’ve got this understanding. And guess what? He’s going to speak to Father on his day off. Promise him he’ll look after me better in future, even though we knows it wasn’t his fault I fell and hurt me ankle. And,’ she paused dramatically, ‘then he’s going to ask permission for us to walk out together. I’m so happy I could burst.’

  ‘I’m pleased for you, Dotty. He seems like a nice young man.’

  ‘Nice? He’s blooming fantastic,’ Dotty gushed. Isabella shook her head at the girl’s fervour.

  ‘Oh, by the way, Mrs Pudge said to tell you she’s got what you asked for.’

  ‘Goodie. I showed her this dress in a periodical and asked if it would be possible to make one like it. She said there was a paper pattern for a similar one and would get it in for me. Alfred wants me to be his partner for the Christmas party the big house put on for the staff. Can you imagine?’ Isabella could, but luckily Dotty was chattering on. ‘I so want him to be proud of me. Cors, it’ll mean being good to get all me allowance but it’ll be worth the effort if I can buy the gorgeous red material I’ve seen.’

  ‘Sounds lovely,’ she murmured. They fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts. Isabella recalled last year, when she’d been invited to so many balls, she’d had to write a list detailing what she’d worn to which so that she didn’t do the unforgivable and wear the same dress again. A sudden rattling of the window panes made her jump.

  ‘In for a right old squall by the sound of it,’ Dotty murmured as hail spattered against the glass and a gust soughed down the chimney, bringing with it dust and a sprinkling of soot. ‘Good job we only lights the fire in here when it’s bitter or we’d be black as the coal man.’ Isabella shuddered at the thought, but Dotty smiled. ‘I likes it on nights like this when we’re snug as bugs in bed.’ Bugs? In the bed? This time Isabella’s shudder didn’t go unnoticed.

  ‘Oh Izzie, you are a one. Bet you found Pudge’s a bit different to that posh draper’s.’

  ‘Yes, I did,’ Isabella agreed, thinking of the hotchpotch of merchandise scattered around the shop.

  ‘Will you come and see the material I like, when I’ve saved up?’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yeah, I want to look classy like you. It’ll probably be expensive but Mrs Pudge said not to worry if I couldn’t save enough in time, ’cos I can let her have the rest in the New Year. She’s such a dear, isn’t she?’

  ‘Actually, I thought her manner quite familiar,’ Isabella admitted. ‘Where I come from, proprietors of shops know their place and keep their distance.’

  ‘Blimmer, girl, that sounds ’orrible. I’m not sure I’d like city life. It’s much nicer when people are friendly and help you.’

  ‘Goodness, I hadn’t thought of it like that, I must admit,’ Isabella conceded, shivering as another gust of wind whooshed down the chimney with an eerie wail.

  ‘Perhaps you should relax, give folk a chance to get to know you,’ Dotty said. ‘Like poor Felix, for example,’ she added.

  ‘I couldn’t imagine being friendly with someone who, who . . . ,’ her voice trailed off.

  ‘Who what?’ Dotty persisted, moving closer so that Isabella could feel her breath on her cheek.

  ‘Well . . . goodness, this is so embarrassing,’ she admitted. ‘When I was in the store, Felix told the grocer he was frustrated because he couldn’t lift the ladies’ skirts,’ she said, in a hushed voice. To her astonishment, Dotty shrieked with laughter.

  ‘And you thought . . . ,’ she lay back on her pillow, struggling for breath as tears of mirth rolled down her face.

  ‘I don’t find it in the least bit funny, especially as William said he had a reputation for doing it,’ Isabella huffed.

  ‘And so he has, being as how he has a dozen or more to deal with,’ Dotty said, propping herself back up on her elbows.

  ‘A dozen or more,’ she gasped putting her hand to her mouth.

  ‘Oh Isabella, you should see your face. Clearly you don’t understand, and by the sound of it, my dear brother didn’t intend explaining. The ladies he was referring to are the trees that border his land. Lifting the skirts is simply how they describe pruning the lower branches to allow planting underneath.’

  ‘Oh,’ Isabella murmured, her face growing hot at her assumption. ‘Well, how was I to know? Wait until I see William. First it was blue mice and now this.’

  ‘I think he . . .’ The rest of her sentence was lost as a flash of lightning and an ear-splitting crack rent the air. It was followed by a tortured tearing sound then a loud crash which shook the cottage and rattled the windows louder than before. ‘Blimmer, what was that?’ Dotty cried, running over to the window and peering out. ‘Coo, the blooming elm’s come down and landed on the barn roof.’

  Throwing her mantle around her shoulders, Isabella followed Dotty down the stairs where Mary was already standing on the kitchen doorstep holding a lantern. As Dotty went to push by her, she shook her head.

  ‘No point in you getting wet too. Father and William have gone to investigate. Put the kettle on to heat, they’ll need something warm when they come back in. I must go and check on Mother,’ she told them, pulling her shawl up over her head and disappearing outside. Dotty waited until the light she was carrying was swallowed up by the murk then turned to Isabella.

  ‘You make the tea. I’m going to see what’s going on.’ Before Isabella could reply, she’d stepped into her boots and was scurrying over to the barn. She was back moments later, hair plastered to her head and dripping water onto the floor.

  ‘Blimmer, it’s bad,’ she cried, kicking off her boots and snatching up a towel. ‘Father and William are shoring things up best they can but there’s not much else they can do til it’s light. Got a right yelling at from Father for going out, though,’ she muttered, wiping the rain from her face.

  ‘Mother’s still asleep, would you believe?’ Mary cried, coming into the kitchen and placing the lantern on the sill. ‘Oh Dotty, can you never do as you’re told?’ she sighed.

  ‘Just wanted to see if I could help. Oh, there’s the kettle,’ Dotty said as the whistle sounded. ‘I’d better riddle up the range a bit more, too, it’s perishing out there.’

  They were slumped at the table, hands round their mugs, when the two men strode into the kitchen. Both had mudstreaked faces and were soaked to the skin.

  ‘Is it very bad?’ Mary asked, jumping to her feet and taking Frederick’s sodden coat from him.

  ‘Won’t know exactly until morning,’ he sighed. ‘Me new plants and glass are smashed to smithereens, though.’

  ‘And the ones out in the fields are saturated,’ William muttered.

  ‘I thought they liked the wet,’ Isabella ventured, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

  ‘A drinking not a drenching,’ he snorted.

  ‘Well, at least we’re all right, thank the Lord. I mean, it could have crashed down on the roof of the cottage. Come and sit down, the pair of you. You look all in.’

  ‘Think I’ll hit the hay, Mother. In fact, we’d all better get some rest. God knows there’ll be enough to do come morning. It’ll be all hands on deck,’ he said, shooting Isabella a challenging look.

  ‘Of course, Uncle. I’ll do whatever I can to help,’ she replied.

  The next morning, the storm had abated and, with a watery sun breaking through the clouds, they trooped outside. Isabella, at her aunt’s insistence, was wearing a pair of pattens over her worn boots.

  ‘They might not be pretty but they’ll save your feet getting muxy,’ she said. Isabella tried not to grimace at the clumpy contraptions as she clattered over the yard. However, when she saw the fallen tree sticking out of the barn roof, and the havoc the storm had wreaked on the plants, all thought of her attire disappeared.

  ‘Poor Uncle,’ she murmured, seeing the set of his face as he stared at the mangled mess that had once been his potting and propa
gating room.

  ‘It’ll take an army to lift that tree,’ William grunted. Just then they heard the clatter of hooves and rumble of wheels and saw Joseph at the reins, with Bill, Thomas and Alice all peering anxiously at the barn.

  ‘Seems the cavalry’s arrived,’ Mary said, waving as they clambered down from the cart. ‘As you can see, we’ve a bit of a problem,’ she told them as they all stared at the damage.

  ‘You suffered much in the storm?’ Frederick asked Bill.

  ‘Nothing like this,’ he replied with a shake of his head. His voice sounded raspy and Isabella saw he was looking pale, but whether that was from the shock of seeing the barn or his recent absence, she couldn’t tell.

  ‘Think the hedging gave us protection from the prevailing winds, Father,’ Joseph told him. ‘Bottom field’s a bit waterlogged but other than that we seem to be all right.’

  ‘Good. Well, let’s take a walk around, see what we can do,’ Frederick said.

  ‘Best thing we can do is get some breakfast on the go while the men work out the safest way to tackle things,’ Mary told them.

  ‘Goody, more food,’ Alice grinned, seemingly oblivious to the seriousness of the situation. ‘We had some porridge but I’m still hungry.’

  ‘Seems like a fry of eggs and teddies is needed, then.’ Mary smiled and ruffled her daughter’s hair, clearly pleased to have her home again.

  Although Isabella had heard the phrase, cooking up a storm, she’d never seen it applied before. On went the kettle, out came the skillet and pan, and the loaf that had finally been baked the previous day was sliced and buttered. Soon the kitchen was filled with the aroma of cooking. Isabella could hardly believe her aunt could concentrate on domestic affairs when there was evidently so much that needed doing outside.

  ‘We’ll all think better with a satisfying meal inside us,’ she said, seeing Isabella’s frown. ‘Ah, here come the men. Perhaps you can pour tea whilst Dotty helps me serve up?’

  Heedless of their muddy boots, everyone squashed around the table or perched on the windowsill and tucked into the food. As their plates were cleared, grim looks and muttered moans gave way to hopeful smiles and helpful suggestions so that, by the time the men disappeared back outside, a plan of action had been drawn up.

  ‘Call if you need us,’ Mary told them. ‘We’ll be in here preparing luncheon.’

  ‘I know it’s Sunday, Mother, but in view of what needs to be done, I think we’d better eat at supper time. Give us longer,’ Frederick said, putting on his bedraggled straw hat and going out of the door. The others nodded and followed.

  ‘But surely we should be helping outside,’ Isabella ventured.

  ‘Don’t worry, Izzie, there’ll be plenty of cleaning up for us to do once they’ve lifted that tree.’ Seeing Isabella frown, she added: ‘Being a family means working as a team. If we take care of the day-to-day things in here, it frees the men up to attend to the immediate problem. Like the clearing away,’ she said, gesturing to the dirty plates and mugs littering the table. ‘I’ll take Mother’s tray in and see how she is today.’

  They’d just finished preparing food for the evening meal when William popped his head around the door.

  ‘Father says he could do with a hand from everyone now. As long as you don’t mind getting yours muxy, Izzie,’ he said, his dark eyes challenging.

  ‘I’d be delighted to help,’ she said smiling sweetly at him.

  ‘Best put them pattens on again,’ Mary said. ‘I’ve a feeling we are going to get really dirty this time.’

  Her aunt was right. Having decided that before the tree was lifted the barn should be cleared, he ordered them to form a chain, and they passed pails, tools, pots and packets from one to the other, with Alice and Thomas running around to place them in their grandmother’s shed.

  ‘Right, now we need to see to the plants,’ Frederick said, but Bill shook his head.

  ‘Sorry, Fred, got to go. Feeling a bit sick, like,’ he explained, looking shamefaced. Frederick nodded grimly but Isabella found herself feeling sorry for her uncle. How sad that his past life should have such a profound effect on him all these years later.

  ‘Isabella, you take care of the plants over there,’ Uncle Frederick told her, pointing to the patch just beyond the yard. ‘You need to hoe carefully round each one, then use your hands to gently sweep the soil from the leaves. The fine hairs on their underside trap the dirt and block the breathing pores. At least it’ll give the flowers a fighting chance. Mix the tailor’s clippings in this pail with some of the dung in that one and lay it around the stems. Think you can do that?’ he asked. To be truthful, she wasn’t sure, but hearing William snigger, she nodded.

  ‘Of course, Uncle.’

  ‘Good. The rest of you collect more clippings and dung and follow William,’ he ordered. ‘I’ve things to see to in the barn before we lift that trunk.’

  Determined to do her bit, Isabella set about her work. It was back-breaking and she found the mud and stench nauseating at first. After a while, though, she was pleased to see the difference she was making by freeing the leaves from the splattered soil, leaving the buds free to blossom. As she laid the clippings she’d gingerly mixed with the dung, she recalled her uncle telling her that she needed to free herself from the past before she could move on to the future, and suddenly she understood what he’d meant. What a wise man he was, she thought, automatically reaching up and tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ears.

  ‘Now there’s a sight I never thought to behold. Isabella Carrington with muck all over her face.’

  Being so absorbed in her work, she hadn’t heard the crunch of footsteps on the path and, startled, she looked up to see Felix grinning down at her.

  Chapter 25

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Isabella asked, then noticed another man standing behind him and hastily rose to her feet.

  ‘Good afternoon, my dear. Matthew Furneaux at your service,’ he smiled, and gave a little bow. ‘Don’t take any cheek from my son,’ he added, the gleam in his hazel eyes belying his sharp words.

  ‘Father, this is Miss Isabella Carrington,’ Felix told him. She held out her hand, then saw it was coated in dirt and dung.

  ‘Oh, I do apologize,’ she added, quickly withdrawing it.

  ‘No apology needed, my dear. It’s heartening to see you tending to the needs of our dear princesses.’

  ‘Pardon?’ she frowned.

  ‘These violets are called Princess of Wales,’ Felix explained. ‘Although in France they go by the title Princesse de Galles.’

  ‘Goodness, I just thought of them as violets,’ she said, frowning down at the flowers.

  ‘Don’t mind Felix, my dear, he absorbs facts like a sponge,’ Matthew told her. He looked around then shook his head. ‘That storm hit you badly, I see. Still, at least everyone’s pulling together,’ he added, gesturing further down the garden where the others were all bent over the flowers. ‘We met Bill earlier and he told us about the tree coming down, so we’ve come to offer our services,’ he added, stroking his walrus moustache thoughtfully as he stared at the trunk protruding from the damaged barn.

  Felix turned to Isabella and their gaze met and held. A delicious feeling of warmth washed over her and she felt as though time was suspended. Then footsteps crunched up the path behind them and the spell was broken.

  ‘Morning, Mr Furneaux, Felix,’ William said, eyeing them suspiciously. ‘What can we do for you?’

  ‘I think perhaps it’s more a case of what we can do for you, William,’ the older man replied cheerfully. ‘You’re going to need extra strength to lift that brute,’ he said pointing towards the fallen tree.

  ‘Ain’t that a fact,’ Frederick muttered, coming out of the barn to join them. ‘Come to gloat have yer?’ Hardly able to believe his rudeness, Isabella stared at her uncle in surprise.

  ‘Far from it, Fred. We’ve brought a strong rope with us. Tell us exactly what you want doing,’ Matthew replied, ign
oring the hostile reception. He stared up at the lowering clouds, his forehead wrinkling into a frown. ‘Looks like it’ll turn nasty again soon, so it’d probably be best to get on with it now.’ Frederick eyed his competitor keenly for a moment, then with a curt nod led the way over to the barn.

  ‘Seems hostilities have been suspended,’ Felix murmured, as the two men strode away. ‘Perhaps we could have a chat later,’ he suggested, turning back to Isabella. ‘You appeared somewhat preoccupied in the grocer’s yesterday.’

  ‘She was fascinated to hear about your need to lift the ladies’ skirts,’ William smirked.

  ‘Indeed I was, Felix,’ she replied, ignoring the gleeful grin on her cousin’s face. As Felix quirked his brow quizzically, she smiled. ‘After hearing you talk about yield the other day, I understand your frustration at not being able to get your trees pruned to allow for extra planting.’ William’s face was such a picture, she had to bite her lip to prevent herself laughing out loud.

  ‘Can’t stand here gossiping all day,’ he snapped, stalking over to the barn.

  ‘Well, you are full of surprises, Miss Carrington,’ Felix said, giving her an appreciative smile that sent her insides fizzing.

  ‘How so, Mr Furneaux?’ she asked coyly.

  ‘First I find you digging around in the mud, wearing those most, er, interesting-looking contraptions on your feet,’ he said, grinning down at her pattens. ‘Then I learn you have a good understanding of our business. I’m impressed and, if you’re agreeable, would like to further our discussion another time.’ As he stood looking at her expectantly, they heard his name being called. ‘Must go,’ he added and she watched as he ran over to join the others, coat-tails flapping behind him like a ship in full sail.

  ‘Said he liked you,’ Dotty chuckled, putting down her pail on the low wall that edged the yard. ‘And despite all your protestations last night, I’d say you’re more than a mite struck. Mother says we should go in and make everyone a hot drink. Me back’s killing me and me ankle’s aching, so can’t say I’m sorry to stop digging in the dirt.’