by Linda Finlay
‘Not yet. I heard him arranging a lift with the carter for two days’ time,’ Delen said. ‘You’d best hurry if you want him to notice you, girl. Not that you’ve had any luck so far.’
The others chortled and their good-natured banter followed after Merry and her mother as they made their way home. Merry hardly heard, though, for her thoughts were racing. Her appointment with Mr Fairbright was in two days’ time.
‘So I was wondering if I could travel with you as well,’ Merry asked, staring up at the kindly carter.
‘Well, there ain’t much room but …’
‘I can squeeze up, sir, and I’ve provisions enough for three in my knapsack,’ Otto assured him, shifting from one precariously balanced piece of wood to another.
‘Oh, go on then,’ the carter muttered.
‘I truly appreciate it,’ Merry said, handing her parcel to Otto, then clambering up beside him.
With a jolt they began to move and Merry looked furtively over her shoulder. It was much earlier than when she usually left home and she was hoping Nicco would still be in bed.
‘You seem edgy,’ Otto said.
‘I’ll be pleased when we’re out of the village,’ she muttered.
‘Ah,’ Otto said, looking at her knowingly. She peered round again, then realized they were passing the fork where the lane veered off to Plymouth.
‘Are you not turning off here?’ she asked the carter.
‘Never get this lot along that narrow track,’ he said. ‘I’ll be taking the high road. ’Tis further but will be quicker in the long run.’
Merry let out a sigh of relief.
‘I take it Nicco uses the other route?’ Otto said.
She nodded. ‘Not that he makes any arrangements. He just waits on the track with his cart.’
‘He’s definitely a man on a mission,’ Otto said grimly, and Merry remembered their last meeting on the beach.
‘What happened between you two? Nicco said your work wasn’t up to scratch but old Mr Neaple wasn’t having any of it.’
Otto grimaced, his hand automatically going to his eye and in the growing light, she saw the livid bruise. ‘He didn’t do that?’ she gasped.
‘Don’t concern yourself. It was merely a lads’ tussle.’
‘Is that why he sacked you, because of me?’ she asked, suspicion rising.
He shrugged, then grabbed hold of the side of the cart as it lurched to the right.
‘Hang on,’ the carter called. ‘’Tis a sharp bend coming up.’ They laughed at his belated warning.
‘Don’t you worry about me, Merry. I’m used to looking after myself. Like as not I’ll get work in Devonport. They’re always looking for good coopers there.’
‘But Nicco said …’ she began, remembering the discussion between him and old Mr Neaple.
‘I can imagine,’ Otto smiled wryly. ‘But I know my trade and am good at what I do. Nicco sure is possessive about you, though, Merry.’
‘Tell me about it,’ she sighed, automatically casting a glance behind them.
‘What are your plans? I know you’re going to see that agent today but how will you get home again?’
‘I can walk. It’s these frocks that are bulky,’ she said, patting her parcel. ‘Once Mr Fairbright has purchased them, I’ll just have the wool to carry and besides I shall have time to look around the market,’ she added, brightening at the thought. Picking up her pins, she began to knit.
‘That looks interesting. Is that the pattern you were telling me about?’ Otto asked, peering at her work.
Merry nodded. ‘I got bored doing the same every day and just sort of saw it in my head.’
‘My mother used to vary her work too. That’s quite effective, though, I must say. Have you shown the others how it’s done yet?’
‘They’re more interested in the St Peter’s Fair celebrations,’ she sighed, turning her work.
As the sun climbed higher in the sky, they lapsed into companionable silence and Merry couldn’t help comparing Otto’s easy way with Nicco’s haughty manner and interminable questions. She stared around at the unfamiliar scenery. Here the road was bordered by fences with stiles interspersed along the route. Cows and sheep grazed the pastures and in the distance she could see what looked like mauve hills rising, seemingly to the sky.
‘Goodness,’ she exclaimed.
‘They be the heatherclad moors,’ Otto said, smiling at her expression. ‘Hope you’ve been good or the Boggy Beast will be after you.’
‘What?’ she gasped, then saw he was teasing.
‘You’ve never seen the moors?’
She shook her head. ‘I’ve only been out of Porthsallos twice before,’ she admitted.
‘’Tis a bit different the village, isn’t it?’ he asked, lifting his cap politely as another cart passed. ‘Mind you, Porthsallos is a nice village.’ She gave a snort and he laughed. ‘Sometimes you have to experience other things to appreciate what you have,’ he said then lapsed into silence as if his words had reminded him of something.
The cart rattled precariously as it turned down the hill leading to the water and Merry and Otto giggled as they clung to the sides. When they finally reached the ferry, Otto scrabbled in his knapsack, sharing out the bread and cheese he’d brought with him. As the vessel clanked its way across the river, Merry ate ravenously, enjoying the simple meal far more than Nicco’s proposed extravagant feast.
‘I was intending getting off when the ferry docks but could always travel on to Plymouth with you,’ he offered, but Merry knew the best offers of work came first thing and she shook her head.
‘That’s kind of you, Otto, but I really do want time to visit the market in Plymouth. I’m sure you’d be bored stiff wandering around stalls laden with materials, ribbons and lace.’
‘Happen you’re right,’ he said, gathering up his things as the ferry bumped to a halt. ‘Take care of yourself, Merry.’
‘You too, Otto,’ she said.
Otto hesitated then turned to face her. ‘Look, Merry, Nicco is a nice man but he can be hot-headed. I guess what I’m trying to say is, nobody can make you marry if you don’t choose to.’
‘I understand,’ she replied, knowing what he was trying to say. ‘What about you, Otto? Do you have anyone special in your life?’
He shook his head. ‘Like a rolling stone, me,’ he laughed. ‘I ain’t the marrying kind.’
‘I’m sure there’s someone who would love to receive your attentions,’ she said, thinking of Wyllow.
He patted her hand. ‘Like I said, marriage ain’t for the likes of me. Now I’ll bid thee farewell, Merry. Carter, stop here, if you please.’
The cart shuddered to a halt and Merry watched as Otto bent and whispered something to the kindly man before handing him some coins. What a nice man Otto was, she thought. He’d confirmed her suspicions about Nicco, though.
To her surprise, the carter followed the same route from the ferry as Nicco had. She’d become used to the noise and the bustle but was surprised when the cart came to a halt outside the premises of Mr Fairbright.
‘Here you are, miss,’ the carter said, grinning broadly.
‘But how did you know where I was headed?’ she asked.
‘The gent insisted I deliver you to the door,’ he said. ‘Paid me handsomely too.’
‘Oh,’ she said, drawing out her purse. The carter shook his head.
‘No need for that, miss. Hope you have a good day,’ he called.
Smiling her thanks, Merry took her parcel and walked up the steps.
‘Yes?’ the formidable Miss Brown asked, as she stood by the counter.
‘I have come for my appointment with Mr Fairbright,’ Merry said, forcing her lips into a smile.
‘Name?’
‘Miss Dyer,’ she replied. Really, she could do without these games, she thought, watching as the woman slowly ran her finger down the list of appointments.
‘You are very early, Miss Dyer.’
Me
rry stared at the clock on the wall and shook her head. ‘I think you will find I am on time, for it is almost eleven o’clock.’
The woman gave a supercilious sneer. ‘Ah, but your appointment is not until tomorrow.’
‘No, it’s definitely today,’ Merry began, but the woman was already looking past her.
‘Good morning, Mr Didcot,’ she gushed as a smartly suited gentleman walked through the door, the tapping of his silver-topped cane echoing on the stone floor. ‘I’ll let Mr Fairbright know you’re here.’
‘Thank you, Miss Brown,’ he said. ‘It was good of you to fit me in at the last moment.’
‘But …’ Merry began.
‘Is something wrong?’ the gentleman asked, turning to Merry.
‘Yes, you see my appointment is …’
‘Please do not trouble Mr Didcot; he is a very busy man. I’ll announce your arrival, sir,’ the woman effused, patting her bun and hurrying over to knock on Mr Fairbright’s door.
‘Mr Didcot is here to see you,’ she announced importantly. With a puzzled look at Merry, the man followed her.
‘Miss Brown, it is such a long journey from Porthsallos that I would hardly mistake the date of my appointment with Mr Fairbright. It was definitely for eleven o’clock today and …’ Merry began.
‘As I said, you got it wrong,’ Miss Brown hissed. ‘Now some of us have work to do, so kindly go away and come back on the right day.’
CHAPTER 10
Merry stared at the woman in disbelief but could see by her dismissive attitude that further argument would be futile. Picking up her parcel, she turned to go.
‘Could we have some refreshments, please, Miss Brown?’ Mr Fairbright said, appearing at his door. Catching sight of Merry, his eyes widened. ‘Miss Dyer? What are you doing here? I was given to understand you had to change your appointment?’ he said frowning.
‘Change my appointment? I would never do that,’ she replied.
‘It would appear she got the day wrong,’ Miss Brown said, raising her eyebrows.
‘I most certainly did not. I meticulously noted it down,’ Merry said, scrabbling in the pocket of her skirt and pulling out her little notebook. ‘I would never get such an important thing wrong.’
‘Clearly you have,’ Miss Brown sniffed. ‘So if you’d like to come back tomorrow, Mr Fairbright will see you then. Now, sir, I’ll get your tea,’ she said, disappearing through a door behind the counter.
‘There seems to have been some misunderstanding, Miss Dyer,’ the agent said, frowning again.
‘I guess it can’t be helped, Mr Fairbright,’ she answered politely, her heart sinking. She couldn’t possibly travel all this way again tomorrow.
The agent was staring at her thoughtfully. ‘Look, Miss Dyer, my business with Mr Didcot will take about an hour. I usually take a break at noon, but if you wouldn’t mind waiting I could see you then?’
Her heart lifted. ‘That would be most kind, Mr Fairbright,’ she said, gathering up her parcel once more.
‘You are welcome to wait here. Perhaps you’d like to sit by the window – you can at least watch life go by?’ he added.
‘Ah, Miss Brown,’ he said, turning as the woman bustled through the door carrying a tray of tea and cake. ‘I’ll take that.’
‘But Mr Didcot’s waiting and I …’ the woman began. Ignoring her, the agent took the tray from her hands.
‘Miss Dyer has graciously agreed to wait until noon so perhaps you could make her some tea and show her where she can refresh herself after her long journey?’
‘But you take luncheon then, and Mr Didcot …’ she began, glaring at Merry.
‘Mr Didcot will be gone by then and I will require an explanation as to how this unfortunate mix-up with appointments has occurred, Miss Brown.’ He gave the woman such a searching look, her cheeks flushed and she looked down at the counter. ‘Please make yourself comfortable, Miss Dyer,’ he said, turning back to Merry. ‘I will try not to keep you waiting longer than necessary.’
As Mr Fairbright disappeared back into his office, Miss Brown looked up and glowered at Merry.
‘I don’t know what you said to him but if you made him any promises …’
‘Promises? I’m sure I don’t know what you’re insinuating, Miss Brown. Now I believe Mr Fairbright said you would make me some tea,’ she said, smiling sweetly. The woman’s eyes widened and Merry was sure she heard her utter a curse as she disappeared.
Merry shook out her skirts, then settled herself in the chair. Taking up her pins, she continued with her knit frock. Clearly someone had muddled her appointment and it didn’t take a genius to work out who. The question was: why? She hadn’t intentionally upset the formidable Miss Brown, although she supposed Mr Fairbright would have taken her to task about the overpayment. Still, that wasn’t Merry’s fault and she couldn’t have pocketed the extra money, could she?
She jumped as a cup of tea was slammed down on the table in front of her, the hot liquid spilling into the saucer.
‘You needn’t think I made that out of the goodness of my heart,’ she spat.
‘Why, Miss Brown, I didn’t know you had one,’ Merry quipped. The woman might be Mr Fairbright’s assistant but Merry had no intention of putting up with rudeness. She turned her attention back to her knitting, leaving the woman no choice but to return to her stool behind the counter.
Her fingers automatically settling into the rhythm of the pattern, she glanced out of the window. People were bustling about their business and, further down the street, she could see the brightly coloured booths, their stripy coverings flapping in the breeze. Excitement bubbled up inside her. With no Nicco waiting for her, after concluding her business she’d be free to browse the materials and trimmings. She was so busy planning what she might buy that she only noticed Mr Didcot had emerged from the office when the tap tap of his cane on the floor came to a stop by her side.
‘Miss Dyer?’
She looked up quickly. ‘Yes, sir?’
‘I understand you have been inconvenienced this morning and I wish to convey my apologies.’
Merry stared at the dapper businessman in surprise. ‘It’s no trouble, sir,’ she answered, putting down her pins and smiling up at him.
‘You are right, Fairbright. Miss Dyer is charming in the extreme. She has also put the time she had to wait to good use,’ he said, turning to the agent, who was hovering behind them. ‘Good day, my dear. I’ve a feeling our paths will cross again very soon.’ Before Merry could ask him what he meant, he gave a little bow, put on his topper and tapped his way smartly from the premises.
‘Come along, Miss Dyer,’ Mr Fairbright said. ‘I can only apologize again for the misunderstanding. You can be assured, however, that I will be getting to the bottom of it.’ He frowned at her untouched cup with its tea-filled saucer. ‘Miss Brown, please bring us some refreshment and do try to keep a steady hand, if that is not too much trouble.’ Merry could feel the woman’s glare on her back as Mr Fairbright showed her into his office. She might be able to afford fancy leather for her feet but Merry wouldn’t like to be in her shoes later.
She waited patiently whilst the agent spread her knit frocks over his desk, then inspected them. His room smelled of beeswax polish and tobacco, and she relaxed back in her chair, content to read the titles on the bound volumes in his bookcase while she resumed her knitting. He was still checking the tension of stitches and regularity of the pattern when Miss Brown slunk into the room and put the tea tray on the table. She stood there awaiting acknowledgement but Mr Fairbright ignored her and with a sniff she flounced from the room.
‘Those pockets for the watches have been worked impeccably and I am pleased to say I have received more orders for your shell-patterned ones. I see you have produced the required dozen frocks this time,’ he said, pushing them to one side. Taking up his pad he scribbled, then tore off a chit, but instead of passing it to her as usual, he sat back in his chair and eyed her candidly. ‘Tell me, Miss
Dyer, are you happy in your work?’
The question took her by surprise. What should she say? If she told him she was bored with knitting day in and day out he would certainly cancel the order. Yet she’d been brought up to be honest.
‘Well, it is certainly satisfying to finish a garment,’ she began. ‘And I’m grateful that you pay a fair price.’ She was about to add, ‘unlike the stingy Sharp’ but thought better of it. Mr Fairbright smiled and passed her cup to her.
‘You must be thirsty after your travels for it is some distance from Porthsallos. How did you get here, by the way?’
‘I caught a lift with the carter.’
‘Hmm,’ he said, steepling his fingers. ‘I dare say the journey there and back must take the best part of a day?’
‘Yes, it does, and that is why I would never make a mistake about the date,’ she said.
He took a sip of his tea and seemed to be pondering his next words. ‘Now young ladies are beginning to travel more, there is a demand for suitable attire, waterproof clothing being a prime example.’
‘And you think because I travel from Porthsallos I require such things?’
To her surprise Mr Fairbright rocked with mirth.
‘You are such a tonic, my dear. No, I’m talking about ladies who travel the globe. Those with money … Look, Miss Dyer, I have been most impressed with the way you conduct yourself and think you would be perfect. Why, I was saying the very same thing to Mr Didcot earlier and he seemed most interested in you.’
‘Interested in me?’ she frowned. ‘Why?’
‘Have you ever thought of procuring work in the town?’ Her heart skipped a beat. Had she? Then she saw the serious look on the agent’s face and her heart flopped. Was he going to cease trading with her?
‘My dear, forgive me; as ever, I am ahead of myself. Mr Didcot and I are jointly investing in a draper’s shop in the town.’
‘So you won’t be requiring my knit frocks any more?’ she gasped, staring at him in dismay.
‘While there is still a demand for those, one must move with the times. Young ladies in particular no longer wish to spend time visiting their dressmakers for numerous fittings. They want nice quality clothes, customized to their personal requirements, that they can take away from the shop and wear that same evening if they choose. There is an increasing demand for a more up-to-date service and this is where I think you would be ideal.’