by Linda Finlay
So she wasn’t Carrington at all. Her true name was Isabella Odorata Northcott, Isabella mused, rereading the certificate.
‘What a strange middle name I have,’ she muttered, as her uncle returned.
‘Viola Odorata is the name by which the sweet-scented violet is known. Your mother always had a thing for them, making perfume and what not. Used to mix them with water and rose petals.’
‘Oh yes, Grandmama told me that. Apparently when Mama went to London she had the real perfume made up, which I suppose is the smell I remember,’ Isabella replied. ‘I’m sorry for causing you all this trouble, Uncle,’ she added. ‘When I was offered the chance to make contact with my parents, well, it seemed too good an opportunity to miss. And now I find out I’m called Northcott.’
‘Cheer up, girl, there are worse names,’ Frederick smiled. But Isabella frowned.
‘I’m illegitimate,’ she gasped, as the truth hit her like a sledgehammer. ‘How frightfully dreadful.’
Chapter 33
‘You’re not the first and won’t be the last,’ her uncle said, patting her shoulder. ‘You do realize those pearls you brought back are probably fake?’
‘Funnily enough, it doesn’t seem important somehow,’ she said, realizing just how true it was. ‘I suppose those other ladies were duped too?’
‘I’m afraid so. It appears those so-called sisters prey on vulnerable widows, extracting as much as they can from them before moving on to another town and starting all over again.’
‘That’s terrible.’
‘It is. Whilst I understand you wanting to make contact with your parents, I hope you’ve learned your lesson. Those mind-altering substances cause serious problems, especially to those of a sensitive nature.’
‘Don’t worry, Uncle, I shall never get involved with anything like that again. Those sisters seemed so kind, and up until yesterday they had me fooled,’ she shook her head.
‘Charlatans, that’s what they were, Isabella. Now, let’s forget them. You’ve had a terrible shock, girl, but amongst these papers is a letter for you,’ he said, passing her a cream envelope addressed in the hand Isabella knew so well. ‘I’ll leave you to read it in peace.’
As her uncle closed the door behind him, with trembling hands, Isabella slid out the single sheet of paper.
My Dearest Isabella,
You are reading this, because sadly my time here is at an end. Knowing your aunt and uncle to be fine, upstanding people, I requested they give you a home when I no longer could. You can believe me when I tell you how it grieved me to send you away at the time I most wanted you by my side. However, that wouldn’t have been fair, and one day, in the fullness of time, you will come to understand a parent has a duty to put the wellbeing of their child before their own wishes.
You have been the best daughter a man could ever have wished for. You might not be of my blood but no father could have loved you more. My one regret is that I was unable to give you my name but, of course, that was your mama’s decision. She was a fine woman and I loved her dearly, so it is one I had to respect.
I have left the money put by for your dowry with your uncle. Regrettably, dear Isabella, it is nowhere near as much as I had planned, but I hope you will be understanding of the circumstances.
Dearest Isabella, be happy in your new life. You have been the most delightful daughter and it has been both a joy and a privilege raising you as my own.
Your loving Papa,
Cameron Carrington
‘Oh Papa,’ she whispered, the tears coursing down her cheeks. ‘I wish you’d told me you were ill.’
‘He wanted you to remember him as he was. Is that such a bad thing?’ her uncle said, putting his arm around her as he slipped back into the barn.
‘I suppose not,’ she sobbed. ‘And he says he loved me.’
‘Of course, he did,’ her uncle agreed. ‘He gave you a fine and privileged upbringing. ’Fraid you’ll have to rough it here with us now, though,’ he said. ‘Put that letter in your pocket and dry those tears. When you’re ready, we’ve work to do.’ He turned away and began tending his plants.
Knowing he was giving her time to compose herself, Isabella read the letter again and, with a warm glow in her heart, put it safely in her pocket. It was something to treasure and reread when she wanted reassurance.
‘Right, what shall I do?’ she asked her uncle.
‘We need to make sure these cuttings thrive to increase stock in the spring. Then there’s our new cultivars to nurse so we can outsmart Furneaux. Probably not the time to mention it, but there’s something I need to say,’ he said, looking at her gravely.
‘What’s that, Uncle?’ she asked, her heart sinking as she wondered what else was coming.
‘I can’t stop you walking out with that Felix but I need you to assure me you won’t pass on anything you see or learn in here,’ he said, staring at her fixedly.
‘I’ve already promised you that, Uncle,’ she replied. ‘Not that he’s called to see me recently.’
‘No, I’ve noticed he’s not been round. Why would that be?’ her uncle grunted.
‘He can’t afford to go out with the likes of me,’ she muttered. ‘His father said if he didn’t find out from me the name of these cultivars then he’d be disinherited.’
‘He’s got a blimmer nerve, given his past,’ he roared. Then a spark gleamed in his eyes. ‘Ah, but I never told you what they’re called,’ he added.
‘No,’ she admitted. ‘And even if you had, loyalty to you and Auntie would have prevented my letting on. But . . . ,’ her voice trailed away as the tears threatened to spill over.
‘But? Come on, girl, you’ve been going round with a face as long as them steam trains, so spit it out.’
‘Mr Furneaux owns a large property with extensive grounds and Felix has so much to lose, I decided it would be best not to see him again.’
‘And he accepted it just like that?’ Frederick persisted, his eyes narrowing.
‘I haven’t actually told him,’ she admitted. ‘But he must have come to the same conclusion, for he hasn’t called to see me since, has he?’ Her uncle stared at her thoughtfully.
‘Well, girl, I’m proud of you,’ he said. ‘A few short months ago, you wouldn’t have concerned yourself about other people’s feelings, taking the opportunity of a good standard of living as your right.’ Isabella frowned, realizing what he said was true. ‘Not that my opinion matters, but the best thing you can do is keep busy. Work through your worries, as it were.’
‘Yes, of course, Uncle. What would you like me to do?’ she asked, staring at the plants he was watering.
‘Go and help your aunt in the kitchen. She’s come up with a ruse to get one up on Furneaux. Something she says we men would never think of,’ he laughed.
***
The next morning Isabella and Dotty, both with laden baskets, made their way to the market. Isabella had been surprised both of them could be spared until her uncle grinned and rubbed his hands together.
‘Double the sales, double the money. And of course, we’re expecting good things from you with Mother’s added value,’ he winked.
‘Coo, it’s lovely to be away from the house and all that talk of beating Furneaux,’ Dotty cried, swinging her basket happily as they made their way down the lane. ‘Now we has to pick and pack as fast as we can, I swear I blimmer well pick and pack in me sleep. Talking of which, haven’t seen Felix around recently.’
‘I expect he’s busy,’ Isabella replied, quelling the flutter in her chest at the mention of his name. ‘How’s Alfred?’ she asked, knowing how easy it was to divert her cousin.
‘Fantastic, wonderful an’ bloomin’ great,’ Dotty gushed, grinning widely. She went on to expound his qualities, leaving Isabella to her own thoughts. Rereading her papa’s letter the previous evening had warmed her numbed heart. Although it still hurt that Felix hadn’t called, she’d have to respect his wishes and move forward in her life. She was so los
t in her musings that before she knew it, they’d arrived at the Strand.
‘Happy New Year, girls,’ Mrs Spink called, setting down her sign behind them. ‘You could be lucky with corsages today, there seems to be some competition going on as to who can host the best “at home” to celebrate the coming of January.’
‘Coo, thanks, Mrs Spink,’ Dotty said. ‘Right, Izzie, remember what to do?’
‘I think so,’ Isabella replied, watching closely as Dotty set down her basket, snatched up some violets and began winding leaves around the stems. ‘Look, customers heading our way. You deal with them while I fix the pins, it’ll be quicker.’
‘Good morning, my dear,’ a woman of middle years said, smiling at Isabella. ‘Two bunches, please. Oh, and what’s this?’ she asked, pointing to the packets her aunt had added to their baskets.
‘’Tis violet tablet,’ Dotty called. ‘Mother makes the best.’
‘Haven’t had that in years,’ the woman replied. ‘Just the ticket to keep the cold out. I’ll take some.’
Business was brisk, and by the time the ladies in their furs appeared for their morning promenade, one basket was empty and the tablet had proved popular. Just as Mrs Spink had predicted, they descended upon the girls, requesting corsages but declining the tablet.
‘Gracious, one must watch one’s figure,’ one woman, thin as a reed, commented in her haughty voice.
‘Oh, must one?’ Dotty muttered under her breath. ‘Rather be happy and plump.’
‘Ssh Dotty, she’ll hear you,’ Isabella whispered. ‘Would madam care for a bow to be added?’ she asked, turning back to the woman.
‘Oh yes,’ she replied, looking on eagerly as Isabella added one with a flourish.
By the end of the morning, they’d sold nearly all their flowers and Isabella’s head was spinning with names. It appeared everyone knew Dotty and she’d been introduced to seemingly the whole of Dawlish.
‘Do yer recognize them biddies over there? Only they’ve been eyeing yer for ages?’ Dotty asked. Looking up, Isabella saw two ladies swathed in fox furs, watching her intently.
‘I don’t think so,’ she replied but Dotty had turned away to serve another customer.
‘Isn’t that Northcott’s niece whom we saw dancing with Felix Furneaux at Christmas?’ one lady said in a voice intended to carry.
‘It is,’ her companion sniffed, taking out her lorgnette and studying Isabella. ‘Nice fellow, too. I’m pleased he’s seen sense and dropped her. He’s been seen out with that nice Miss Swanson recently.’
‘His father will be so relieved. They do say bad blood will out, don’t they? And now there’s all that talk about his Lordship.’ Smiling benignly, they continued on their way, leaving Isabella staring after them in dismay. That’s why Felix hadn’t called, then. And what was that about Lord Lester, she wondered, turning back to Dotty who, unaware of the exchange, was chatting as she handed over the last of their violets.
‘Coo, you’ve gone all pale. Are you all right, Izzie?’ she asked as they started for home.
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘Never better.’
‘Those old biddies didn’t upset you, did they?’ Dotty frowned.
‘Of course not,’ she lied.
‘Good, ’cos you seemed to be enjoying yourself and I was hoping we could do this again. If we can persuade Father, of course.’
‘It has been fun,’ Isabella said, forcing a smile. ‘I’ve never spoken to so many people in my life before.’
‘Yea, you even had a way with them toffs. Probably ’cos you speaks in their hoity-toity way,’ Dotty grinned. ‘Adding them silver bows so we could charge extra was genius.’
‘Well, they’ve only been languishing in my portmanteau. I’ll see what other accoutrements I can find when we get back.’
‘Accoutie what?’ Dotty cried.
‘Trimmings,’ Isabella replied.
‘Well, why didn’t you say? It’s like Aladdin’s cave in your trunk. Hope Mother’s got something tasty for luncheon, I’m starving,’ Dotty replied, quickening her pace.
Her cousin’s non-stop chat on the way home left Isabella time to ponder on the remarks the two women had exchanged. While her heart was heavy, at least she knew where she stood, she thought.
Mary and Frederick were astonished when the girls emptied their money onto the kitchen table.
‘Blimmer, girls, that’s a good morning’s work,’ Frederick cried.
‘Well done, you two. I thought the tablet would bring in extra but that’s astonishing,’ Mary cried, scooping up all the coins and placing them in the pottery pig on the dresser.
‘Well, the toffs didn’t want any tablet in case it ruined their figures,’ Dotty told her, rolling her eyes. ‘But everyone else was happy to buy it. Mrs Spink told us there would be a run on corsages for their fancy parties and she was right. Izzie tied them with some of her silver ribbon, which went down so well we were able to add a halfpenny to each one,’ Dotty crowed. Her aunt smiled.
‘Well done, Izzie. I hope Dotty introduced you to everyone.’
‘Cors I did, though not the toffs. But here’s a thing, when Izzie spoke to them they smiled and looked almost human.’
‘Dotty!’ Mary chided. ‘Now, sit down. Luncheon’s ready.’
‘I found most people friendlier with Dotty there,’ Isabella explained, trying to dismiss the triumph on the two women’s faces as they’d spoken about Felix.
‘Perhaps it’s you who has become more approachable,’ Mary replied, looking at her shrewdly. ‘I always thought that grey dress would help.’
‘Come along, William,’ Frederick urged, as the boy came thundering down the stairs. ‘Want you to take the flowers to the station this afternoon.’
‘Yes, Father,’ William replied before tucking into his bread and ham.
‘You not hungry?’ Mary asked as Isabella toyed with her food.
‘I was thinking,’ she smiled. ‘The tof—I mean, the ladies might not desire tablet but they could be interested in purchasing items for beautification, like the violet soap Alice made for Christmas. It smells divine . . . ,’ she trailed off as William gave a loud snort.
‘Only use soap if I has to, and then not that female-smelling stuff.’
‘Philistine,’ she laughed. ‘You wait until you get a lady friend, you’ll feel differently then.’
‘Pah,’ he scoffed, a flush creeping up under his collar.
‘Anyway, it’s not only about speaking the same way as the ladies; it’s about understanding their requirements. With the right products, it would be easy to capitalize on them,’ Isabella said, turning back to her aunt.
‘You might have something there, Izzie,’ Mary nodded. ‘I’ll do some costings of the ingredients.’
‘I’d really love to learn how to make soap, especially if it would help the family budget,’ Isabella said eagerly.
‘Seeing as you’re so willing to help, me new plants need tending so yer can give us a hand, girl,’ her uncle told her, getting to his feet.
‘We’ll talk more about your idea later,’ her aunt called as Isabella followed after her uncle.
‘You dust, I’ll water,’ he joked, handing her one of his new brushes, and carefully lifting the glass from the pots on one side of the trestle. As the earthy aroma filled the air, Isabella began sweeping the minute particles of soil from the leaves. In the peaceful atmosphere, her thoughts began to roam from making soap to the two ladies and their comments about Felix and Miss Swanson. So he’d found another, had he? She hadn’t intended seeing him again, so why did the idea of him walking out with someone else hurt so much?
Distracted, she paid little heed to what she was doing and, turning quickly, knocked the edge of the glass. As the tray of precious plants crashed to the ground, she stared at her uncle in horror.
‘Oh no,’ she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. ‘I’ll clear it up,’ she muttered, gathering up the shattered shards mixed with bits of pot and soil.
&nb
sp; ‘Leave it,’ he barked. ‘Sit down and stay out of the way. I’ll see to it,’ he ordered.
She watched as, with a shake of his head, he hunkered down and began plucking the plants from the debris, carefully placing them on the trestle.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she murmured, tears threatening as she waited for him to berate her clumsiness. There was silence while he seemed to gather his thoughts.
‘Could ’ave been worse,’ he said eventually. ‘’Tis only the ones William brought in so a few missing’s neither here nor there. Thought a trip out might have cheered you up but you still seems jittery. Didn’t see young Felix, by any chance?’ he asked, raising his brow enquiringly.
‘No,’ she replied truthfully.
‘Hurting, eh? Well, given time, you’ll heal and bounce back, just like our plants here will,’ he said, gesturing to the sorry-looking cuttings that now required repotting.
‘I hope so, Uncle,’ she sighed. ‘And I really am sorry for the damage.’
‘Accidents happen. Now, to cheer you up, I’m going to tell you all about our little cultivars here.’ Carefully he removed the glass covering the other plants. ‘These lovelies are called Parma violets, which, as far as I can tell, have never been raised round here before.’
‘Apart from the leaves, how will they be different from the Princess of Wales variety you already grow?’ she asked, surprising herself by really wanting to know.
‘These beauties will be double-petalled, like pom-poms, see?’
‘Goodness,’ she exclaimed, staring at the little shoots in fascination.
‘Not only that, they’ll be multi-coloured,’ he grinned.
‘Really?’
‘Yep, they’ll be white going into pale blue and mauve with flecks of carmine red. People everywhere will flock to buy them from Frederick Northcott,’ he announced grandly. ‘We’ll beat those Furneaux, then Mrs Northcott will be able to take it easy at last.’
‘I can’t imagine Auntie sitting with her feet up, somehow,’ Isabella smiled.
‘Maybe not, but she deserves the chance,’ he declared, studying each leaf intently. ‘You should give young Felix a chance too. I’ve a feeling he’s got a reason for not showing up.’