by Linda Finlay
‘Are you feeling quite well, Felix?’ she asked. ‘Only you seem a little on edge.’
‘Me? Never,’ he grinned, jumping to his feet. ‘Would you care to dance, Miss Northcott?’
‘Why, thank you, Mr Furneaux,’ she replied, ‘I thought you’d never ask.’ He took her hand, sending shivers of delight shooting up her arm. As they circled the floor, pressed ever closer together by the throng, Isabella couldn’t help thinking how lucky she was to be in the company of such a wonderful man. She caught sight of Dotty dancing with Alfred and noticed how radiant she looked. Then, with the excitement in the room at fever pitch, the music stopped and a gong sounded.
‘Will our prospective Violet Queens please take their places,’ the compère announced.
‘Come on, Izzie,’ Dotty laughed, grabbing her arm. Before Isabella could protest, she was being pulled onto the stage.
‘What am I supposed to do?’ she asked, feeling self-conscious as she gazed at the assembled guests.
‘Beam beautifully at the judges, of course,’ Dotty chortled. ‘Oh Izzie, you look like a stranded fish gaping like that. Come on, it’ll all be over in minutes. Once they’ve made their choice, there’ll be more dancing and we can snuggle up to our men again.’ She waggled her eyebrows so outrageously that Isabella couldn’t help but laugh.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, silence please,’ the compère requested. ‘May I ask all our delightful contestants to parade along the stage, please.’ Isabella swallowed hard as she followed the other girls. All were smiling widely, some even performing a wiggle as they passed in front of the judges. ‘Thank you, ladies. You all look so delightful, it’s going to be a difficult decision.’
‘Smile, Izzie. It’s only a bit of fun,’ Dotty hissed as she took her place beside her. Fun? Why, she’d rather put pins in her arm.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, the judges have reached their decision. The Violet Queen’s first attendant is . . . ,’ he paused for the roll of drums, ‘Dorothy Northcott.’
‘Coo, blimmer, girl, that’s me,’ Dotty shrieked, jumping up and down so that the judge had difficulty in placing the purple sash over her head. As the crowd applauded, a delighted Dotty gave a curtsy.
‘And the second attendant to our Violet Queen is . . . ’ Another pause was followed by a roll of drums.
‘May Anning.’ Again, the room erupted into cheers and applause until the gong sounded once more. The room fell silent and this time the tension was tangible.
‘And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment you have all been waiting for. Our Violet Queen for 1893 is . . . ’ The compère paused and held up his piece of paper.
‘Isabella Northcott.’
‘What?’ she gasped, but already she was being ushered to the front of the stage, where a circlet of violets was placed on her head.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, before I ask you to give a rousing cheer for our new Queen, I have received a special request,’ the compere announced. ‘As if your evening hasn’t already been exciting enough, it is about to reach new heights,’ he announced dramatically. He turned and nodded to the floor where, to Isabella’s surprise, Felix stood waiting. Suddenly, in front of everyone, he threw himself down on one knee.
‘Isabella Odorata Northcott, would you please do me the honour of agreeing to become my wife?’ he asked, gazing up at her adoringly. Isabella stared at him in astonishment. How could he do this, she wondered, shaking her head. It was only when a groan rang around the room, that she realized what she’d done.
‘I mean, yes, I will be honoured to,’ she cried.
As a tumultuous roar went up, Felix leaped onto the dais and took her hand. Placing a star-shaped diamond ring on her finger, he whispered: ‘You had me going there, Isabella. I thought you’d rejected me again. And in front of all these people, too.’
‘Not this time, Felix. But in future please could you spare my blushes and do things a little less publicly,’ she scolded, her smile belying her words.
‘Your wish is my command,’ he grinned. Then right in front of everyone, he kissed her lips.
As the band began to play, seemingly hundreds of violets were released from the net suspended overhead, cloaking them in a confetti of perfumed purple blossom. Felix took Isabella in his arms and stared lovingly into her eyes, and she knew that for ever more she would associate the musky fragrance of violets with this magical moment.
Acknowledgements
Grateful thanks to:
Carol Lockton, who answered my endless questions on violets and provided me with so much information.
Grove Nurseries, Bridport for explaining about Parma Violets and how they first came to this country.
Dawlish Museum for showing me pictures of ‘Old Dawlish’.
My friends at BWC who patiently listened to my unfolding story and gave invaluable feedback.
Teresa Chris for her insightful comments and stirling support.
Kate Mills and her wonderful team for making me so welcome at HQ and helping me with the editing and production of this book. Your ideas have been invaluable, your enthusiasm heart warming. I hope I have repaid your faith in me.
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