by Linda Finlay
‘How on earth do you know that?’ she cried.
‘Uncle Bill let something slip when I met him for a jar,’ he murmured, glancing sideways at her.
‘And they say it’s women who gossip,’ she said, laughing.
‘That’s better. You’re much prettier when you smile,’ he grinned, then fell silent as he concentrated on guiding them down the steep lane. Isabella looked around at the mauve flowers peeping under hedgerows that glistened with drops from the recent rain. Now the autumn tints had faded they lent a welcome splash of colour. For the first time since Monday, she felt herself beginning to relax. It was good to be away from the cottage, for Dotty had been like a broody hen earlier, fussing around and making sure everything was tidy for Alfred’s visit. Knowing how her cousin felt about him, Isabella hoped her uncle would agree to them walking out.
‘I’m looking forward to seeing your gardens and hearing more about your business,’ she told Felix, coming back to the present.
‘Ah,’ he replied, looking awkward for a moment. Then he smiled. ‘And I’m looking forward to our walk and hearing more about you, Miss Carrington, or should I say . . . ,’ his voice trailed away and she could see the flush spreading up under his collar.
‘Oh Felix, it’s Isabella, as you well know,’ she chided.
‘Yes, of course,’ he murmured. ‘I thought we’d take the quickest route through the woods then meander back the scenic way along the coast. I’d love to show you the nature reserve as this time of year it’s a haven for wildlife,’ he added, pulling on one rein, whereupon the pony obligingly turned. ‘Now we are entering Beechnut Wood.’
‘What a curious name,’ she murmured.
‘This is like one long canopy in the summer when the beech leaves are out,’ he explained, gesturing to the tall trees that rose on either side of them.
‘I suppose we are by the beach,’ Isabella replied, staring in fascination at their lofty branches so that she didn’t see Felix shake his head. Sometime later, he turned into a driveway bordered by more beeches, with manicured lawns spreading out on either side. As a large, elongated building with a neatly thatched roof loomed before them, Isabella’s eyes widened in amazement. With its eyebrow windows at the first floor and three doors at the front it was a magnificent sight.
‘Goodness, I had no idea you lived in such a grand house, Felix,’ she gasped. ‘I thought you were farmers originally.’
‘We were. And this is a Devon longhouse. In Grandfather’s day, the animals lived alongside the family in that part,’ he said, pointing to the door at one end. ‘Called it the shippen.’ Seeing her shudder, he chuckled then jumped down. Hurrying round to her side of the cart, he held out his hand to help her.
‘Father’s indoors if you would like a chaperone. Otherwise permit me to escort you around the flower gardens,’ he said, sweeping his cap from his head and perfecting a bow. She hesitated for a moment, then smiled.
‘I’m sure your intentions are honourable and I would very much like you to show me around,’ she replied, linking her arm through the one he proffered.
He led her round to the back of the house, where row upon row of violets stretched as far as she could see. The breeze rippling through their blue heads gave the impression of waves on the ocean, while the air was heavy with their fragrance. She inhaled delightedly as she gazed around. Then it struck her not only was this much larger than her uncle’s garden, despite it only recently having been turned over to flowers, the abundant plants were all in perfect condition. Now she understood why he felt threatened.
‘Hello, my dear.’ She turned to see Matthew striding down the path towards them. ‘I hope my son is behaving himself,’ he said, pretending to frown at Felix.
‘Yes, he is, Mr Furneaux,’ Isabella assured him. ‘And may I say what delightful gardens you have.’
‘You may indeed,’ he replied, looking pleased. ‘Of course, we were lucky to have been sheltered from that storm. How is Frederick doing?’
‘Fine, thank you,’ she assured him. ‘He’s decided to manage with the tarpaulin as a temporary cover and has been busy repotting his cult—oh sorry, wrong name,’ she said quickly, putting her hand to her mouth. ‘I mean propagating. There are so many gardening terms to learn, I get muddled.’ Matthew raised a brow, but nodded politely.
‘You are welcome to join me for afternoon tea indoors,’ he invited.
‘Thank you, Father, but I have arranged to take Isabella into town,’ Felix told him.
‘Perhaps another time then,’ Matthew smiled before, stroking his walrus moustache, he wandered further down the garden.
‘Come on, let’s go before he finds something he just must show you,’ Felix urged.
‘I don’t mind,’ she assured him.
‘But I do. I’d like to show you our delightful park. We can walk along by the stream and watch the antics of the ducks and spend time really getting to know each other,’ he said, gazing at her so intently her pulse raced. ‘Dusk falls early this time of year, so we won’t have that long in any case,’ he said as they made their way into town. She stared up at the watery sun peeping out from behind the clouds and prayed for the rain to stay away.
‘You promised to tell me more about ionine and the perfumiers of France,’ she reminded him.
‘That was a ruse to get you here,’ he replied, green eyes gleaming with mischief. Then, seeing her indignant look, he became serious. ‘Well, let me see now, the violet has a singlenote scent and perfumiers use top, middle and base notes to make a fragrance that’s not only balanced but will last. As I said before, our dear little flower has a capricious aroma and it takes great skill to enhance and sustain it without overpowering it. Hence, the need to mix the real thing with synthetic notes. Did you know the violet was the Greek goddess of love Aphrodite’s chosen flower?’ he asked, turning to look at her.
‘Goodness, really?’ she stuttered, for his gaze was making her feel quite hot. ‘You are a mine of information,’ she told him.
‘Mostly useless,’ he grinned, jumping down and tying the reins to the horse ring by the side of the green. ‘Come on, let’s explore,’ he said, once again holding out his hand to help her down. This time he didn’t let go of it and as they wandered the lawns alongside the wide stream with its ducks and waterfalls, she could feel the warmth of his fingers through the material of her gloves. Then a vision of Gaskell’s disapproving look popped into her mind.
‘Goodness, what’s that building with the big wheel on the side?’ she asked, using the excuse of gesturing across the street to remove her hand. Whilst she loved the feel of it, she couldn’t help thinking it wasn’t respectable to be seen holding hands in public.
‘That’s Strand Mill,’ he told her, seemingly unperturbed. ‘Probably where your bread comes from on the days Mrs Northcott doesn’t bake,’ he added.
‘You mean that wheel makes loaves?’ she asked staring at it in surprise.
‘In a manner of speaking,’ he laughed. ‘Come on, all this talk of bread is making me hungry.’
He led the way from the green, across the street and through a side road until they came to a thatched property with shutters at the window. The sign on the wall proclaimed it to be the Lake Hill Tea Cottage and a little bell tinkled as he pushed open the door and gestured her inside.
‘Good afternoon, Mr Furneaux,’ said the rotund lady who waddled over to greet them. Dressed in a long black skirt with a crisp white apron that barely covered her middle, she stared at Isabella curiously then showed them to a table in the window. ‘What can I get you? We’ve got scones just out of the oven, lemon sponge, or perhaps you would prefer sandwiches?’
‘What takes your fancy, Isabella?’ he asked. In truth, she could have eaten the lot for she’d been so nervous waiting for Felix to arrive that she’d skipped luncheon. As if reading her mind, he grinned and threw up his hands.
‘It all sounds splendid, Mrs Veale. Perhaps you could bring us an assortment?’ he replied.
‘Actually, I could eat a horse,’ Felix declared.
‘Well, we don’t have any of those, young man, so you’ll have to make do with my fancies,’ the woman said, waddling away.
‘Knew I should have bagged one of those ducks from the stream,’ he sighed.
‘Felix, really,’ Isabella chided, looking around, although they were the only customers.
‘So, how are you feeling about everything now?’ he asked, his green eyes darkening to olive.
‘Well, everyone’s being very kind. Uncle had a chat and made me see the rest of my life was just beginning, as it were. All I need to do now is decide what I’m going to do with it.’
‘That’s easy,’ he grinned. ‘You can marry me.’
‘Felix, I’m being serious,’ she cried.
‘So am I, Isabella. In fact, I’ve never been more serious in my life,’ he said, his gaze boring into her.
***
She couldn’t make Felix out, Isabella thought as she walked up the path. He’d insisted she was the woman for him, yet how could he know when they’d barely met? Raised voices coming from inside the cottage roused her from her reverie then, as she went to lift the latch, the door burst open.
‘Perhaps you can talk some sense into the girl, Izzie,’ her uncle growled, stalking past her. Isabella’s heart sank. She’d had a lovely if strange afternoon and all she wanted to do was take herself upstairs and reflect on it.
‘Hello,’ she said, brightly. Her aunt looking stony was sitting opposite a tear-blotched Dotty, and they were so engrossed in their conversation that they didn’t respond.
‘But why can’t Alfred walk me out?’ she wailed.
‘You heard Father,’ Mary sighed. ‘Oh Dotty, if only you’d had the sense to ask before sneaking out with the boy, Father might have been more amenable. Now you’ve got to show a sense of responsibility.’
‘I shall die if I can’t see Alfie,’ Dotty sniffed.
‘I doubt that,’ Mary smiled wanly, shaking her head. ‘Did you have a good afternoon, Izzie?’ she asked, finally turning to Isabella.
‘I did, but what’s going on here?’ Although she asked the question, she had a suspicion what the answer would be.
‘We let slip we’d been to the tearooms a couple of times before Alfred officially asked Father if we could walk out, and he went mad. How old-fashioned can you get? I’ll show him. They want a maid at the big house so I’ll apply. Then I can see Alfie every day,’ Dotty declared, staring at her mother defiantly.
‘Good idea. You can live in and send home a decent wage,’ Mary replied mildly. ‘Of course, Lord Lester has a strict policy of his staff not walking out together, but if you think it’s worth it . . . ,’ she shrugged, leaving Dotty to draw her own conclusions.
‘Well, I shall take the flowers to Mrs Tripe on Thursday then,’ Dotty told them, flouncing up the stairs.
‘She usually does,’ Mary murmured, shaking her head. ‘Unless you’d like to?’ Isabella shook her head emphatically. Then, seeing her aunt’s questioning look, she smiled.
‘Although I would like to go into town too. My boots have worn right through and Felix offered to take me to a cobbler he knows.’
‘So that’s the way the wind blows, is it?’ Mary declared, giving Isabella a look. ‘Best take some money out of the pig, but keep it under your bonnet. Father heard Furneaux’s secured the order with Powderham Castle and he’s hopping.’
Chapter 30
When Isabella saw Felix waiting for her on Thursday morning her heart flipped. She’d wondered if things might be awkward after his proclamation, but he gave his cheeky grin and she felt herself responding.
‘Come on, lovely lady, let’s get you shod,’ he declared as she clambered up beside him.
‘You make me sound like your horse,’ she murmured.
‘Well, both my girls need feeding and grooming,’ he joked.
The day was grey with soft mizzle falling and Isabella was relieved she didn’t have to walk, for even with wodges of paper lining her boots, moisture still penetrated them.
‘It’s so open around here,’ she enthused, staring at the passing landscape.
‘Sounds like you’re getting used to your new life,’ he commented, giving her a sideways look. It was true. Considering she’d only been here three months or so, it was amazing how everywhere already looked familiar. As they approached the outskirts of Dawlish, Felix turned into a side street she’d never seen before. Here the buildings were sprawled together, their little windows latticed.
‘This is the old part of town where the craftsmen have their businesses,’ he told her, pulling up outside a whitewashed property, identical to the others in the terrace. ‘Come on, Todd’ll mend your boots good as new,’ he grinned, leading the way through a stable door. Isabella grimaced down at her scuffed feet and thought that would take a miracle. Still, she couldn’t afford to be choosy these days.
The cobbler was a wizened old man who took her boots and studied them.
‘Unusual to see such fine leather this badly worn,’ he said, eyeing Isabella curiously.
‘Can you do anything with them, Todd?’ Felix asked.
‘Does it rain in Devon?’ he laughed. ‘Take a seat while I sort thee out.’
‘I need to go and collect more boxes for our violets,’ Felix murmured to Isabella. ‘I’ll be back shortly then we can stop for a bite to eat on the way back.’
‘Thank you,’ she smiled, setting down her basket and taking a seat. She heard him mutter something to the cobbler then, with a doff of his cap, he was gone. Isabella stared around the little room, wrinkling her nose at the smell of leather and glue as she took in the lasts, tools and nails. The cobbler looked up from his hammering.
‘You be Ellen’s girl. Settling in, are yer?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ she smiled stifling a yawn.
‘Bit different from London, eh?’ he added, going back to his work. It certainly was, she thought. Before Felix had called, she’d been out in the garden cutting the flowers that were beginning to flourish again. Determined to outdo his rival, her uncle had them all working longer hours tending the plants, and the opportunity to relax was welcome. She must have dozed off, for the next thing she knew the cobbler was shaking her arm.
‘Frugal Fred getting his pound of flesh, is he?’ he quipped. ‘Here ye are. I put on some new, heavier soles and blacked the uppers so they should last.’
‘Thank you,’ Isabella smiled, slipping them on. ‘How much do I owe you?’
‘Felix said he’d take care of that,’ he said, narrowing his eyes. ‘Good chap, that. Seems fond of thee. Hate to see him get hurt, ’specially by a snooty vurriner,’ he said, giving her a warning look as he slapped another shoe onto his last.
‘I’ll have you know even we snooty vurriners pay our own way,’ she said, tossing a handful of coins down on his bench. ‘Do keep the change,’ she added, sweeping from the shop. Thank goodness her aunt had insisted she take that money from the pottery pig on the dresser.
Luckily Felix was waiting outside, the cart laden with boxes.
‘Gosh, you do look cross. Didn’t Todd make a good job of your boots?’ he asked, as he helped her up beside him.
‘Yes, he did,’ she admitted. ‘Just a little misunderstanding when I insisted on paying him,’ she added, not wishing to relay the rest of the conversation.
‘There was no need . . . ,’ he began.
‘There was every need. I thank you for your kind thought, Felix, but a girl has her pride.’
‘Not too much to refuse luncheon at Mrs Veale’s, I hope?’ he grinned, but Isabella was heartened to see the glimmer of respect in his eyes.
The Lake Hill Tea Cottage was only a few minutes’ ride away and, although it was busy, Mrs Veale insisted on showing them to the seats in the window they’d occupied before.
‘No
horse today, I’m afraid,’ she joked, prodding Felix with her pencil.
‘Ah well, we’ll just have to make do with its liver then,’ he sighed, gesturing to the menu on the table. Then seeing Isabella’s expression, he shrugged. ‘Perhaps not. How about homemade pie?’ Isabella nodded, her stomach rumbling in anticipation, for the delicious aromas wafting her way made her realize she was very hungry indeed.
As the woman waddled away, Felix turned to Isabella and smiled. He leaned forward so that the other diners couldn’t hear.
‘I’m surprised your uncle allowed you to come out with me today.’
‘Well, he couldn’t really stop me, could he?’ Isabella replied.
‘I guess not,’ he grinned. ‘Still, it doesn’t help when the feud between our violet farms looks set to escalate.’
‘Oh?’ Isabella frowned.
‘Father and your uncles have begun competing for the Christmas market,’ he sighed.
‘Christmas? Not already, surely?’
‘Oh yes, it comes early here in Devon. Something to do with being so far west,’ he joked.
‘You do talk drivel, Felix,’ she smiled.
‘Aye, I second that,’ Mrs Veale said, placing steaming plates of steak pie and mashed potatoes in front of them. ‘Although you do have good taste in lady friends,’ she added, winking at Isabella as she waddled away again.
They ate their meal in companionable silence. The pastry was crisp and the meat melting.
‘Well, I was ready for that,’ Felix said, pushing aside his empty plate.
‘That was delicious,’ she replied. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome. Now, going back to our earlier conversation. Despite what you say, Christmas will soon be upon us and I for one intend to enjoy the festivities,’ he said, staring at her intently. ‘The hotel on the green always hold a celebratory dinner dance on Christmas Eve and I wondered if you would do me the honour of accompanying me?’ As his gaze held hers, waves of anticipation washed over her.