The Workhouse Girl
Page 38
‘I’m earning money,’ Davey said firmly. ‘And I’m repaying Martin.’
‘But I’m still living in London.’
‘I’ve put the house in Elbow Lane up for sale,’ Moorcroft said, beaming. ‘Don’t look so alarmed, Sarah. It will take a few months to find a suitable buyer.’
She shook her head. ‘But where would Davey and I live if we married so soon? We must find somewhere in the village so that I can set up a pharmacy. It will take money that we haven’t got.’
‘There is a sweet house on the edge of the village,’ Mrs Arbuthnot said with a mischievous smile. ‘I’ve had my eye on it for some time. The present tenant is an elderly lady who is too infirm to look after herself and is going to live with her daughter in Colchester. It would suit you down to the ground.’
‘But there’s still the matter of rent,’ Davey said slowly. ‘Do you know who the landlord is?’
Moorcroft chuckled and winked at his bride-to-be. ‘It belongs to the Fitch estate. I’m sure that Nettie would not object to a peppercorn rent for the first year, and after that it would be up to her land agent to make arrangements.’
‘I didn’t know she had a land agent,’ Sarah said curiously. ‘Who is he?’
‘It’s Parker, of course. He deserved recognition for his loyal service, and he’s enjoying his new status.’ Moorcroft rose to his feet. ‘Come, Sophia. Let’s leave the youngsters to talk this over. It’s a fine evening and I could do with a breath of fresh air. We can discuss wedding plans as we walk.’
Davey waited until the door closed on them. ‘Well, Sarah. Will you give me an answer now?’
The house was decorated with boughs of holly, and Parker had mischievously hung bunches of mistletoe at strategic points through the ground floor of Blackwood House. A huge pine tree filled the entrance hall with its spicy scent and Mary had decorated it with new glass baubles and red candles in metal holders clipped to the branches.
Sarah had dressed in her wedding finery with Mary’s help, and she could hardly believe her eyes as she gazed at her reflection in the tall cheval mirror. The cream silk gown was lavishly trimmed with fringing and velvet bows. A pale pink satin sash encompassed her waist, which was laced in to measure a scant eighteen inches, and the full skirts were looped up to reveal an embroidered underskirt. The gown was a wedding gift from the newly-wed Mr and Mrs Martin Moorcroft, whose nuptials had been celebrated in late September.
For Sarah this was supposed to be a double celebration, as before she left Elbow Lane for the last time she had received confirmation that she had passed her examination with honours, but that did not help when it came to pre-wedding nerves. Her knees were shaking as she left her room followed by Mary, who was resplendent in her finery as bridesmaid and taking very seriously the task of keeping the train and veil from trailing on the floor. Sarah paused halfway down the stairs as she prepared to descend to the entrance hall where she could hear the babble of voices. Pearl and Franz had come down from London, as had Bertram. Mrs Burgess and Betty were now resident at Blackwood House, but Dorcas was in an advanced stage of pregnancy and could not make the journey to Essex. The church would no doubt be packed and everyone in the village had been invited to the wedding breakfast after the ceremony.
There was only one person missing and that was Nettie, who had sent a message to say that she had an important engagement and might not be able to make it. This had hurt Sarah more than she cared to admit, but then Nettie was doing very well for herself on the London stage. She now had a small but quite important part in a pantomime at the Olympic theatre, which was where she had begun her career, and although Sarah knew how much it meant to her, she still wished that her oldest and best friend was here to see her married.
She took a deep breath and rounded the curve in the staircase. She hesitated as the assembled guests gave her an enthusiastic round of applause. This kind of attention was what Nettie craved but Sarah was finding it overwhelming. If only Davey were here to support her, but he would be waiting at the church with Parker, whom he had chosen to be his best man.
‘Sarah, my dear, you look absolutely stunning.’ Moorcroft stepped forward, holding out his hand. ‘I know I’m not your father but I feel honoured to be giving you away.’
Sophia rushed forward, smiling through her tears. ‘You are beautiful, my dear girl. Davey is a very lucky young man.’
A thunderous banging on the front door made everyone turn their heads to see who had come so late in the proceedings. Lemuel dashed to open it and on a gust of feathery snowflakes Nettie burst into the hall, looking magnificent in a russet velvet cape edged with fox fur and a pert little hat trimmed with bronze feathers secured by a diamond hatpin to a coronet of curls. She hurried forward waving a fur muff. ‘We made it just in time then. Sarah, you look gorgeous.’
Sarah ran down the last few steps, holding out her arms. ‘I thought you weren’t coming.’ She hugged Nettie, breathing in the scent of cold winter air mingled with expensive French perfume.
‘I had my reasons.’ Nettie drew away, turning her head to cast a brilliant smile at Gaston Fournier who stood in the doorway, brushing snow off his overcoat. ‘And there he is.’ She took her hand from her muff, flashing her rings under Sarah’s nose. ‘I had a rather important appearance to make at my own wedding. Gaston and I were married by special licence yesterday afternoon.’
There was a stunned silence as everyone waited for Moorcroft to say something. Sarah held her breath, hoping that he was not going to spoil everything by being angry, but to her surprise he smiled and hugged Nettie. ‘You minx. You always get your own way.’
‘I know, Pa. You do forgive me, don’t you? My poor understudy had to step in at the last minute so we’ll have to return to London tomorrow. Isn’t that so, Gaston?’
He approached Moorcroft with an apologetic smile. ‘I’m afraid I didn’t have a chance to ask your permission, Martin.’
‘If you make my girl happy I’ll forgive you anything, Gaston.’ Moorcroft shook his hand. ‘But we’re forgetting Sarah. This is her day and we should be heading for the church before the snow makes the road impassable.’
Sarah hugged Nettie. ‘I’m so happy for you, and thank you for coming here today.’
‘I wouldn’t miss this for anything, nipper.’ Nettie became suddenly businesslike and she clapped her hands. ‘What are you waiting for? The carriages are outside and you should all be in the church, otherwise the poor sod will think she’s jilted him at the altar.’ She advanced on the surprised guests, shooing them out into the cold.
Gaston shook his head. ‘She is wonderful, is she not?’
The church was, as Sarah had anticipated, filled to capacity. The warm bodies of the congregation had taken the chill off the ice-cold air and the smell of hot candle wax took Sarah back to the tiny church in the French village where she had sought help for Grey and Davey. She might have lost them both but for Gaston’s help and now he was married to Nettie, who was her sister in all but name.
In a glow of happiness, Sarah walked down the aisle on the arm of the man whom she loved almost as much as her real father. She looked up and saw Davey gazing at her as if she were a miracle that had walked into his life. She knew then that she had come home at last. This was where her future lay and it would be theirs to face together, forever.
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/> Copyright © Dilly Court 2013
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This novel is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental
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