by Linda Finlay
‘Right, I’ll just wash my hands first,’ Isabella said.
‘Better do your face an’ all, muxy moppet,’ Dotty laughed. ‘Never seen you look so dirty, yet you’re glowing like a lantern.’
‘Must be the fresh air,’ Isabella blushed, her glance straying to where Felix was helping cut off the broken boughs. As she watched, he shed his jacket and began pulling on the rope, his biceps rippling through the sleeves of his shirt. Her heart began thrumming a tattoo, and she quickly turned away and headed for the pump.
***
Later that afternoon when the tree had been sawn up, removed to the boundary hedge and a tarpaulin lashed over the gaping hole in the roof, the weary but jubilant men tramped into the kitchen to be greeted by the fragrant aroma of rich gravy.
‘That smells good, Mrs Northcott,’ Matthew said, sniffing the air appreciatively. ‘Are you sure there’s enough for all of us?’
‘Cors there is, Matthew. And it’s Mary, as you well know,’ she chided, ignoring the glare her husband shot her. ‘The least we can do is feed you after you’ve kindly helped us out like that.’
As they all tucked hungrily into the casserole that had been simmering on the range for the best part of the day, Isabella darted a covert glance at Felix across the table, only to find he was doing the same. She stared quickly down at her plate before anyone else saw, but could feel his eyes still watching her. As soon as the plates were empty and talk turned to the day’s operation, Felix got to his feet.
‘Thank you, Mrs Northcott, that was a superb meal,’ he said, then turned to Isabella. ‘I see the rain has stopped and wondered if you would care to take a stroll around the garden. With your permission, sir,’ he added, looking askance at Frederick.
‘’Appen, if the girl wishes,’ her uncle shrugged.
‘I’d love to,’ she stammered, quickly getting to her feet to avoid their curious stares.
‘Good idea,’ William said, jumping up. ‘Bit of a walk’d be good after all that grub.’
‘Sorry, William, but in this case three would be a crowd,’ Felix told him. Ignoring his glower, Isabella snatched up her mantle and opened the door. As they stepped outside, Felix leaned over and drew the material gently around her, the touch of his fingers on her neck setting her pulse racing.
‘Can’t have you getting cold,’ he murmured, his voice husky. ‘Come on, let’s take that walk.’
It was a beautiful if breezy evening with the moon curling above them in a silver arc and myriad stars twinkling like sequins in the inky heavens. The air was filled with the heady fragrance of violets, and Isabella sighed contentedly as they strolled side by side down the length of the garden.
‘You look more relaxed tonight somehow,’ Felix said, breaking the silence. ‘As well as beautiful, of course.’ She glanced down at the coarse material of the dress she’d borrowed and grimaced.
‘Regrettably none of the clothes I brought with me are suitable for this life,’ she sighed.
‘You’d look lovely in a sack, Isabella. Why, your hair is positively gleaming in the moonlight.’
‘Gaskell would have a fit if she saw me without a hat,’ Isabella laughed. ‘But then life here is so very different,’ she added, jumping as an owl hooted and swooped out from the barn next door.
‘Have you settled in well here?’ he asked.
‘Apart from the wildlife scaring me half to death, you mean?’ She pondered for a moment and then nodded. ‘Actually, I am beginning to, thank you. Auntie and Uncle have been most welcoming. Although the privations take some getting used to.’ He raised a brow but didn’t say anything as they continued walking.
‘You sounded very erudite about the pruning of trees earlier. If your knowledge of plants and flowers is anything like equal, you will be a great asset here.’
‘I’m learning all the time,’ she replied, not wishing to admit what she’d actually thought lifting the ladies’ skirts had meant.
‘And enjoying it too, if the look on your face when I arrived is anything to go by.’
‘Surprisingly, I found it therapeutic tending to the plants,’ she admitted.
‘Well, they do say green is the colour of renewal,’ he said, stooping to pluck the flower from a broken plant and inspecting it. ‘Though this poor little maid has had it.’ As his long finger gently caressed the petals, a shiver tingled down Isabella’s spine.
‘Come on, let’s get moving before you catch a chill,’ he murmured.
‘Did your flowers suffer much in the storm?’ she asked.
‘Not really. Luckily the trees afforded protection. Unlike here, which is more exposed,’ he said, gesturing around. ‘Did your uncle have anything of value stored in that big barn?’ She bit her lip, remembering the new plants her uncle had shown her.
‘I’m not sure really,’ she hedged, not wishing to reveal any family secrets. ‘You were telling me the names of the violets earlier. Did you learn them from that man in France?’ she asked, eager to change the subject.
‘Armand Millet? Fancy you remembering that!’ he replied, looking pleased. ‘Yes, I did. He is one of the most successful and respected commercial violet growers. It was a fascinating experience and I learned so much. For example, did you know this humble flower is unique?’ he asked, holding up the violet he’d been carrying.
‘Really? How so?’ she asked, for apart from colour and smell, surely all flowers were the same.
‘As well as its scent, it generates a property called ionine which dulls the sense of smell.’
‘Aunt Mary explained about that when I told her the flowers I was packing had no fragrance. Of course, the sisters use violets at their se—’ Realizing she was about to reveal details of her visits in town, she stammered to a halt.
‘Sorry, you were saying?’ he asked, staring at her expectantly. Even in the shadowy light she could make out the earnest expression on his face.
‘Nothing really, just thinking aloud,’ she laughed. ‘Please, do tell me more about ionine, it sounds fascinating.’
‘Very well, but I think we should turn back now before you get cold,’ he suggested as they reached the second field of plants and a gust of wind whipped round them, sending the flowers rippling. ‘You must promise to tell me if I become boring,’ he said, taking her arm. Even through her mantle she could feel the warmth of his touch. If this was boring, long may it last, she thought.
‘I promise,’ she replied, coming back to the present and seeing him staring at her expectantly.
‘I warn you, this is a subject I could talk about all night. As you probably know, the scent comes back if you hold the flower away for a time before inhaling it again, whereupon, lo and behold, the ionine effect kicks in again. This is proving a nightmare for skilled perfumiers in France.’
‘You mean they make perfume out of violets?’ she asked, staring at him incredulously.
‘Indeed they do,’ he conceded. ‘However, in order to make a longer-lasting fragrance, they need to mix it with the recently discovered synthetic notes to enhance and sustain the violet’s capricious aroma without overpowering it. Oh, I do apologize, Isabella, here we are nearly back again and all I’ve done is rabbit on.’
‘It’s been fascinating,’ she assured him. ‘I find it quite astonishing that delicate little flowers like violets should pose problems for accomplished experts. You make the subject sound so interesting, I would love to hear more.’
‘Perhaps you would like to visit our market garden then, say next Saturday afternoon?’
‘I will have to check with Uncle but I’m sure that will be fine.’
‘Excellent, and after the grand tour, maybe you would permit me to take you out for afternoon tea.’
‘Oh, but I don’t have a chaperone,’ she protested. He gave a chuckle, which echoed round the quiet of the garden.
‘My dear Miss Carrington, I was only suggesting we had a further discussion not . . . not that I wouldn’t like, well . . . ,’ his voice trailed away.
<
br /> ‘I’m sorry, Felix. I’d forgotten I was in Devonshire and that things are different down here.’ She glanced sideways to find he was doing the same. As their gaze met and held for the second time in as many hours, she felt her heart skip.
‘I’d love to accept your kind invitation,’ she murmured. He nodded and moved closer so that she could feel his breath on her face. For one moment, she thought he was going to kiss her but then he pulled back.
‘Look, a shooting star,’ he cried pointing towards the sky. She stared at the tail of light flashing across the heavens then closed her eyes and made a wish. When she opened them again, he was smiling gently at her.
‘I hope it comes true for you,’ he murmured. ‘Now, we really must go in before your uncle sends out a search party,’ he said, his voice husky once more. Slowly he leaned towards her and this time he didn’t hesitate. His lips lightly brushed her cheek and again she saw stars, though this time they were shooting around her head.
That night as she lay in bed, listening to her cousins snoring, she held her hand to her still-burning cheek and sighed contentedly. What a charming man Felix was. Handsome and fascinating too. Who would have thought such a disastrous day would end so happily? She closed her eyes and, for the first time in ages, her dreams were of the future instead of the past.
Chapter 26
The next morning, Isabella floated downstairs on a haze of happiness, only to be met with the grim faces of the family as they sat hunched round the table.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, taking her seat and noting they were back to having beastly brewis again.
‘William and I have been out to assess the storm damage and it’s much worse than we feared,’ her uncle told her. ‘The whole of the big barn has been affected, which means we can’t do any work in there. Not that there will be many flowers worth picking for a while anyhow. Can’t send bedraggled blooms to Covent Garden,’ he added gloomily. ‘Completely ruin my reputation, that would.’
‘Which will leave the way clear for lover boy to take our share of the market,’ William spat. ‘No wonder he was looking so jubilant yesterday.’
‘What does jubilant mean?’ Alice asked, but Isabella hardly heard her, for she was remembering Felix examining the damage to their flower fields and asking about the contents of the barn. Had he been using her as a foil for his own plans, she wondered, her dreams turning to dust.
‘Why, you didn’t think he was looking so happy because of your company, did you?’ he taunted.
‘William, that’s not nice,’ Mary chided.
‘I shall ask Felix when I see him on Saturday,’ she said.
‘Oh?’ Frederick asked.
‘He was telling me about making perfume. When I expressed a desire to know more, he invited me to see his gardens,’ she admitted, ignoring her uncle’s disapproving look.
‘Makes a change from etchings,’ William snorted.
‘That’s quite enough of that, William,’ Mary scolded. ‘Come along, Izzie, eat your breakfast. We’ve a lot to do today.’ Isabella stared down at the mush of milk and crusts and felt her throat constrict.
‘We need to have a chat before you next meet him, girl. There’s things you need to know and things you mustn’t tell,’ Frederick told Isabella.
‘Like what?’ she asked but he was already studying the pad he’d been scribbling on.
‘Right, Alice and Thomas, get yourselves off to school now. There’ll be plenty for you to do when you get home, so no dawdling,’ Mary ordered. ‘Don’t forget your lunchtime pieces, and put your capes on, it’s raining again,’ she told them, ruffling Thomas’s hair affectionately as he scrambled down from the table.
‘Aw, Mother,’ he groaned, flattening again it with his hand.
The door closed behind them then opened again as Dotty came in carrying a tray.
‘Still blooming raining,’ she moaned, setting it down on the sill and shaking the drops from her shawl. ‘Grandmother’s feeling better today. She even asked me to wind up her music box so she could listen while she ate. Said a little melody was good for the soul, can you believe.’ Frederick nodded distractedly, then gestured for her to take a seat.
‘Right, listen up,’ he ordered, staring at each of them in turn. ‘I’ve been working out the cost of the storm damage and it’s not good. Mother’s come up with the helpful idea of using the damaged heads for making jam and tablet to sell, which will bring in some money as well as not wasting the violets.’ Dotty brightened.
‘I’ll take them into town and sell them after I’ve been to the big house. There will be flowers for them, won’t there?’ she asked anxiously.
‘Might be enough by Thursday,’ Frederick replied. ‘William, I want you to go out now and pick all the violets that can be used for cooking. You girls will help Mother in the kitchen,’ he said, looking at Isabella and Dotty.
‘What will you be doing, Father?’ William asked.
‘Seeing the bank manager for a loan,’ he replied grimly. ‘Money’ll be tight for the next few weeks until we’re back on our feet so there will be no allowance for anyone,’ he added, getting to his feet and pulling on his hat and coat. Isabella noticed that for once he didn’t put a bunch of violets in his buttonhole.
‘But Father, I’m trying to save for new material . . . ,’ Dotty began.
‘And I’m trying to save our business and home,’ he snapped. ‘Now, Isabella, do you have your pearls?’ Isabella stared at him in dismay. What could she say? If she told him she’d left them with the sisters she’d have to come clean about the seances. ‘I don’t intend pawning them, if that’s what you’re worried about,’ he snorted. ‘With Mother fretting about them being secure, I was going to deposit them in the bank’s safe but I can see from your face you still don’t trust us.’ As Isabella opened her mouth to protest, he turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
‘But I didn’t mean . . . ,’ she began.
‘He was only trying to help,’ Mary said quietly.
‘Wouldn’t hurt you to let him pawn them anyway, being as how he saved you from the workhouse,’ William muttered, scowling at Isabella before slamming out of the door behind his father. Bewildered, Isabella stared after him. That she might have ended up in the workhouse had never occurred to her.
‘Would it help to pawn them?’ Isabella asked, turning back to her aunt.
‘We wouldn’t dream of it, dear, so don’t even think about it,’ she replied, patting Isabella’s hand.
‘But William’s right. You did take me in and . . . ,’ she began.
‘We did it willingly,’ Mary cut in. ‘Father’ll get things sorted out. He always does. I looked out that grey material earlier,’ she added, turning and taking a length of woollen fabric from the dresser. ‘As it’s so wet outside, why don’t you cut it out and sew that dress we were talking about?’
‘But shouldn’t I be helping you with . . . ’
‘I need to find my receipts and gather everything together, so you can use the table while I’m doing that. Believe you me, dear, I’ll feel much happier when you have a respectable frock to wear out. And I can’t tell you how relieved I am you’re wearing that locket instead of them pearls. I take it they’re in a safe place upstairs?’ she asked, fixing Isabella with her gimlet stare.
‘Yes,’ Isabella replied, crossing her fingers behind her back.
‘Now, if you’re not finishing that breakfast, go and get your lavender dress to use as a pattern. Dotty, clear away then you can help me take the stalks off the flowers.’
As Isabella went upstairs, she could hear her cousin bewailing the lack of allowance. Poor Dotty, she thought, remembering how the girl wanted to impress Alfred. Perhaps she had something suitable in her trunk. She would suggest they took a look later. There might even be things she could give the family, she thought, still upset that the pearls had caused such a bad atmosphere. As soon as she got them back she’d suggest her uncle take them. Feeling better about
her decision, she took her dress from the closet and went back downstairs.
‘Just look at the state of that,’ her aunt said, pointing to the mud stains. ‘You should be ashamed of yourself, Isabella. Why ever didn’t you sponge them off?’
‘I never thought,’ she admitted.
‘Well, girl, it’s time you did. Regrettably for you, the days of having servants to do these things are over. Brush off the worst then you can wash it in the outhouse later,’ her aunt told her, placing the clean dishes back on the dresser.
Isabella did as her aunt suggested, then spread the grey material over the table. Using her dress as a guide, she began pinning out the shape.
‘Right, I’m off to see if Mother needs anything,’ Mary said, grabbing her turnover. ‘Although it’s good she’s having a better day, it does mean she requires more attention. While I’m gone, Dotty, you can get out the stone mortar and sugar loaf from the pantry.’
‘I’m never going to save enough in time for the party now,’ Dotty moaned as soon as her mother had gone.
‘We could take a look at the things I brought with me. See if there’s anything you’d like to wear or adapt,’ Isabella told her.
‘Coo, that’d be great,’ Dotty cried, brightening.
‘Perhaps you should have this material instead of me,’ she suggested, gesturing to the table.
‘That’d hardly be festive, would it?’ she snorted. ‘Now, if you’ve got any more like this?’ she added, running her finger over the satin fabric.
‘There’s a matching jacket which could be fashioned into a blouse,’ Isabella mused. They jumped as the door opened and William stomped into the kitchen carrying two baskets.
‘I see Madam High and Mighty’s looking after herself, as usual,’ he muttered, dumping the flowers on the floor. ‘Shouldn’t you be helping with the cooking rather than making something fancy to wear when you go out with lover boy?’
‘Actually . . . ,’ she began, but found she was talking to his back. ‘Oh dear.’
‘He never used to be like that,’ Dotty said. ‘Reckon he’s got a thing for you, Izzie,’ she grinned. ‘Oops, here comes Mother,’ she added, scuttling over to the pantry.