by Linda Finlay
‘Sorry, Felix, what were you saying?’ she asked.
‘I was asking about the plans for celebrating your birthday.’
‘Nothing’s been said, but you know Auntie, the more the merrier round her kitchen table,’ Isabella smiled.
‘She’s a great woman, and a superb cook,’ he agreed, rubbing his stomach appreciatively. ‘Come on, it’s growing dark and it’s time I took you home.’
That night Isabella lay on her mattress, her thoughts spinning like the top she’d had as a child. She did like Felix a lot. He was warm, kind and funny and his touch sent shivers rippling all through her body. Which Maxwell’s never had. However, Felix talking about future intent and celebrating her coming of age birthday with an announcement had chimed too closely with the last conversation she’d had with Maxwell in Claridge’s. Of course, Felix was nothing like the avaricious, opinionated man Maxwell had turned out to be. But she hadn’t known him very long. Staring down at the little silver star clutched in her hand, she closed her eyes and wished.
***
‘Well, Isabella, for someone with a special birthday to celebrate, you don’t look very happy,’ her aunt announced. She was standing at the table kneading dough when Isabella finally surfaced the next morning.
‘Sorry I’m late getting up. I had a sleepless night,’ she admitted. Her aunt gave her a knowing look.
‘Well, I’m parched so why don’t you pour us a cuppa whilst it’s quiet for once,’ she suggested, placing the bread to prove. ‘You should be learning how to do this, you know,’ she added, gesturing to the mixing bowl. ‘Now things have calmed down a bit, it’s time we taught you to cook properly. A man can’t live on fresh air, you know. He likes a decent meal in his stomach.’
‘Hmm,’ she agreed, not wishing to be drawn.
‘I know Mr Furneaux has that big house, but Felix isn’t a rich man so you’ll not be affording servants, my girl.’
‘Aren’t you assuming rather a lot?’ Isabella sighed.
‘Well, unless I’ve been reading the signs wrong these past days. You know, shining eyes at the mention of a certain young man’s name, singing to yourself as you get ready to meet him, pinning back your hair in a new style . . . ’
‘All right, Auntie,’ she conceded, holding up her hand. ‘I do like him, but is that enough? I mean, I thought I was going to marry Maxwell but he found another. Matthew Furneaux’s wife left him. It’s all too risky.’
‘All life is a risk,’ Mary told her. ‘As for Maxwell, it sounds to me like he were an opportunist and you’re better off without him. And Matthew’s wife, well, we all know he wasn’t the love of her life, don’t we?’ She shot Isabella another knowing look. ‘I’m not stupid, Izzie,’ she said quietly. ‘I loved Frederick from the moment I met him, and I honestly believe he’s come to return my feelings over the years. But nobody can tell you what’s right, you have to go with what you feel in here,’ she said, thumping her chest. As Isabella nodded, her aunt smiled gently. ‘And don’t forget that money your father left you. Not a fortune, but enough to grant you a certain amount of independence, if you decide that’s what you’d prefer.’
‘Thank you, Auntie,’ she whispered, getting to her feet and throwing her arms around the woman. ‘For that, and for taking me in.’
‘Oh, my dear Izzie,’ Mary murmured. ‘You’ve become a daughter to me, just like Dotty and Alice. Now, it’s time we did some work. There’s a jar of dried fruit in the pantry. I’ll show you how to bake a birthday cake.’
***
True to his word, Felix didn’t mention their relationship again, and when he arrived at the cottage on the evening of her twenty-first, he produced a bunch of bright crocus from behind his back with a flourish.
‘To celebrate your birthday and the return of spring,’ he said.
‘Why thank you, Felix. They’re beautiful,’ she smiled. ‘Oh,’ she said as he handed her a brightly wrapped package.
‘Gift number two. And now for my third,’ he murmured leaning forward and kissing her cheek. As warmth radiated around her entire body, Isabella found herself locked in his gaze.
‘Ooh, what you got?’ Alice asked, breaking the moment as she hopped up and down with excitement. ‘I made her some special scented violet water,’ she announced proudly to Felix, who made a big show of sniffing the air around Isabella.
‘I thought she was smelling nicer than usual,’ Felix told her, his eyes twinkling mischievously.
‘Oh you,’ Isabella sighed, punching him playfully.
‘Typical, I buy the lady a present and get thumped for my efforts,’ he groaned, rubbing his arm.
‘This is beautiful, Felix,’ Isabella gasped, staring at a silver star with a tiny diamond set in the centre.
‘Well, the more stars you have to wish on, the more I can hope,’ he whispered, gazing at her intently. ‘May I?’ he asked, taking it from her and fastening it around her neck.
His touch sent delightful shivers spiralling down her spine and, feeling her face growing hot, she took a step backwards. He gave her a knowing smile, then turned to Mary.
‘Something smells appetizing, Mrs Northcott.’
‘Mother’s cooked two long-tailed rabbits, ’specially,’ William said.
‘Really?’ Izzie asked, thinking it a strange choice for her birthday.
‘You don’t like rabbit?’ he persisted.
‘I shall make you write the letters out if you’re not careful,’ she chided.
‘What, after I wrote you that birthday card?’
‘Stop teasing the girl,’ Mary chided, placing a large platter of pheasant on the table. ‘Well, sit yourselves down. Father will serve.’
It was a convivial meal and when Mary brought out the cake, everybody cheered.
‘Made by Isabella’s fair hands,’ she announced. Felix took a bite then pretended to choke, much to everyone’s amusement.
After they’d had eaten and the table had been cleared, Felix thanked Mary for the meal then turned to Frederick.
‘It’s a lovely evening, sir, would you mind if I took Isabella for a stroll around the garden?’ When he nodded his assent, Isabella’s heart began racing. Surely Felix wouldn’t, wasn’t going to . . . but his face gave nothing away as she snatched up her mantle and hurried outside.
Holding out his arm for her to take, they walked slowly down the path, breathing in the heady fragrance of violets.
‘I still love that smell,’ she smiled.
‘And now, courtesy of Alice, you’re wearing it too,’ he grinned.
‘I’d love to be able to make it properly, like those perfumiers you were telling me about.’
‘Well, you have another star to wish on,’ he said, gazing at her intently.
‘I’ll have to make sure I use it wisely,’ she told him.
‘Indeed you will,’ he murmured, the look in his eyes making her shiver with delight. ‘Come on, let’s get moving. Can’t have you getting cold now you’re an old lady,’ he quipped.
‘Felix Furneaux,’ she protested. They continued their walk and, anxious to fill the silence, Isabella said: ‘I’m glad our families have stopped that silly feud.’
‘Me too. Although we’ll never stop them competing for business. It’s ironic to think that all the while they were fighting, coachmen were driving their Lords and Ladies’ guests past our farms to see the carpet of blue and smell the soft scent of violets. If only they’d known what was going on behind the scenes, eh?’
‘Indeed,’ Isabella nodded, thankful he didn’t suspect what she’d thought he’d been up to behind the scenes.
‘How are the new plants coming along? It’s all right, Father’s given up the idea of competing,’ he said, seeing the look on her face. ‘He’s talking about cultivating another strain, but that won’t be until our natural plants have recovered.’
‘How are they doing?’ she asked.
‘Coming on well. Violets are a hardy stock despite their fragile appearance. With nurturin
g and encouragement, they’ll bounce back from what life has thrown at them. A bit like humans, really,’ he said, pulling her close. ‘You have to give them time.’ As his lips grazed hers, a delicious tingling flooded her body so that when he drew away she was left wanting more.
***
As February turned to March, and the new Parma violets flourished and bloomed, so did Isabella’s feelings for Felix. She went about her work filled with a sense of contentment and purpose she’d never before experienced. To her delight, she’d been accepted by most of the locals, and her flair for adorning the corsages with bows of ribbon and lace made her popular with the ladies, who were now clamouring for her bars of soap.
One day in April when the sky was filled with puffball clouds and the air sweet with the fragrance of flowers, Dotty turned to Isabella and grinned.
‘Well, girl, we’ve been that busy, poor Furneaux won’t stand a chance now,’ she chuckled, shaking her basket so that the coins jingled. ‘Mother said as we’ve done so well, we can look in Pudge’s for new material.’
‘What for?’ Isabella asked.
‘The violet ball. You can’t have forgotten.’
‘No, of course not, how could I?’ she replied for it been the topic of conversation around here since the beginning of the year.
‘’Tis only a few weeks away and we need new dresses. It’s the high spot of the year and I want my Alfred to be proud of me. Cors, I’ll not be standing next to you for the judging.’
‘What judging?’ Isabella asked, wishing her cousin wouldn’t talk in riddles.
‘For the Violet Queen, of course. Come on, let’s see if old Pudge has got anything new in,’ Dotty said, grabbing her by the arm and leading her around the corner.
Minutes later they were staring at the bales of materials piled haphazardly inside the draper’s.
‘If I had my own emporium, I’d make sure the merchandise was laid out more enticingly,’ Isabella murmured.
‘Coo, get you. Sell a few bits of soap and yous planning to have your own shop,’ Dotty scoffed. Isabella felt a frisson of excitement. Why shouldn’t she have her own place? But her thoughts were interrupted by Dotty, who’d been sifting through the materials. ‘Ooh, look at this white frothy stuff. It’d suit you a treat, Izzie,’ she squeaked, pointing to a bale of imitation organza. Isabella ran her hands over the material.
‘Hmm,’ she murmured, not liking to say it was gawdy and rough to the touch. However, it had given her an idea. ‘Let’s go home and look at the rest of the gowns I brought with me. If we find something suitable we can use our allowance for new accessories.’
‘Oh let’s,’ Dotty cried. ‘Although I do like this green satin. I could use the same pattern as Christmas. Alfred said the shape made me look all womanly.’
Isabella stared at Dotty in astonishment. Beau or not, that he should have commented on her shape seemed very forward. But, undaunted, her cousin hurried from the shop. Back home they searched through the remaining dresses in the trunk.
‘Coo, this is the bee’s knees,’ Dotty said, holding up a ball-gown in rose with ivory silk underskirts.
‘It’s a good shape for you, Dotty, and if we add lace at the neckline you could get away with the colour. Try it on,’ she said but Dotty was already pulling her smock over her head.
Leaving her cousin to it, she rummaged through her now somewhat depleted wardrobe of clothes. Right at the bottom, she found the dress she’d worn to a charity ball she’d attended with Maxwell. She was about to put it back when she had second thoughts. The soft lilac chiffon shot through with silver was the ideal colour, while the draping neckline edged with tiny seed pearls was decorative without being ostentatious. All she needed was a wrap to cover her shoulders and perhaps a matching band for her hair, she thought, delving back into her trunk.
‘What do you think?’ Dotty asked, pirouetting in front of her.
‘You look beautiful, and with a lace panel to protect your modesty, it will be perfect.’
‘But I likes showing me bosom,’ Dotty protested. ‘It makes me feel womanly and Alfred will . . . ’
‘Alfred won’t want other men staring at his young lady,’ Isabella told her firmly. ‘Now, what do you think?’ she asked, holding her dress up in front of her.
‘You look like a princess, Izzie. But then you always does,’ she pouted. ‘Can I really borrow this dress?’
‘If you promise to sew this piece of lace here onto the front, it’s yours to keep, Dotty,’ she laughed. ‘Now, I think I’ve got some slippers to match that dress so let’s see what else we can find.’
Each evening, as soon as supper was cleared away, Isabella and Dotty worked on their outfits, planned what accessories would go with them and how they would wear their hair.
‘What about you, Aunt Mary? What will you wear?’ she asked. To her surprise, the woman smiled and put her finger to her lips. ‘Wait and see,’ she teased as the door opened and Frederick came in.
‘Such fuss for one night,’ he muttered. ‘And talking of fuss, Lord Lester’s been arrested.’
‘About time, too,’ Mary cried. ‘Got away with everything for far too long.’
‘What has he got away with?’ Isabella asked, looking up from her sewing.
‘Taking advantage of poor young girls. Ruins their reputations then abandons them. Obsessed with young flesh, he is.’
‘Mother, really,’ Frederick remonstrated.
‘Well, they don’t call him Lord Leper for nothing,’ Dotty sniffed.
‘What do you know about that?’ he frowned.
‘Alfie told me he lures the young maids to his room with promises of fine clothes and jewels. Mrs Tripe tries to warn them to stay clear but they don’t listen.’
‘I suppose it’s his word against theirs,’ Isabella mused.
‘That’s right. It seems this time he set his sights on one of his visitor’s daughters. Unfortunately for him, it turned out to be the offspring of no other than a judge from up country. They reckon Lester will go down for such a long stretch that by the time he gets out he’ll be so old he’ll be past it.’
‘Praise be,’ Mary cried.
‘Cors, me and William have had the real excitement, planting out the new cultivars. Strong and healthy they look, too. Won’t be long til we realize our fortune, Mother.’
‘Well, I’m pleased for you, after all that time and effort you’ve spent on them,’ Mary replied.
‘It’ll be a carriage and pony for you soon, my love. Did you see young Felix earlier?’ he asked, turning to Isabella.
‘No, why?’ she asked, looking up from her sewing.
‘Well, girl, he called by to ask me something,’ he said giving her a broad wink.
‘Something to do with your beloved flowers, no doubt,’ she murmured, returning her attention to the intricate pattern she was stitching onto the front of her wrap. Although she was delighted about Lord Lester, the ball was only the following day and she was determined to have it finished in time.
‘Oh ah, it were definitely about one of my blooms,’ he chuckled.
Chapter 36
At last, the day of the much-anticipated violet ball dawned. As the sun shone brightly from a clear blue sky, the excitement was palpable and they hurried through their chores, eager to change into their new dresses.
Finally, Frederick and William left for the station, leaving Isabella and Dotty free to get ready.
‘Of course, to prepare properly you should have bathed in the dew of the May dawn,’ Mary said as she filled every available container with water and placed them to heat on the range.
‘Not blinking likely,’ Dotty cried, helping set the tin bath in front of it.
As the fragrance of the violet soap wafted around the room, Isabella relaxed back in the warm water and almost forgot she wasn’t in her bathtub back home.
‘Hurry up, Izzie, we’ll be late,’ Dotty cried, impatient for her turn. ‘You will do me hair, won’t you? I’m that nervous me ’an
ds have gone all shaky.’
‘Calm down,’ Mary soothed. ‘You’re going to look bonny.’
‘Bonny?’ she screamed. ‘I want to look beautiful.’
‘And you will,’ Isabella assured her, wrapping the scrap of towel round her. ‘There you are, your turn.’
‘Alice and I will get ready in my room so you’ll have more space upstairs,’ Mary told them.
‘I’m wearing my new dress too,’ Alice grinned. ‘And Mother’s made me a matching band like yours, Izzie.’
‘You’ll look even more like a fairy than ever,’ Isabella told her.
Taking it in turns to use the looking glass, they arranged their hair, changed into their outfits, then bit their lips and pinched their cheeks to give themselves some colour.
‘How do I look?’ Dotty asked.
‘Pretty as a princess,’ Isabella assured her. ‘And if I’m not mistaken, Alfred has just arrived.’
As the girl clattered down the stairs, Isabella took one last look in the mirror. Who would have thought she’d be taking so much care for a local hop, she thought, smoothing down the folds of her dress.
To Isabella’s surprise, when Felix called for her the seat of his cart was draped in purple material.
‘Can’t have you getting that beautiful dress muxy, my lady,’ he said, helping her up. She stared down at the soft lilac gown shot through with silver and wondered again if it wasn’t rather grand for a local function. Still, her aunt had assured her it would be perfect, so she would have to trust her judgement. Felix was wearing the same evening attire he’d worn before, and as the soft rays of the setting sun illuminated his face, she marvelled again how good-looking he was.
The ball was held at the same hotel as the Christmas Eve dinner dance, but this time a raised dais had been placed at one end of the large room. Candles flickered and everywhere was a sea of mauve, with violets covering seemingly every surface. Soft music was playing as waiters circulated with trays of drinks.
‘Do you mind if we sit here for the moment?’ Felix asked, gesturing to a table set in an alcove. ‘We can join your folks later, but I’d like us to have some time to ourselves. That is, if you ever stop greeting all and sundry,’ he said, as she smiled at another girl she’d recently become friendly with. However, his grin belied his stern words, for Isabella knew he was pleased she was fitting in to life here in the West Country. He took a sip of his drink, and she was surprised to see his hand trembling.