by Linda Finlay
Louisa nodded. ‘Mrs Parker was right when she said you have been missed. Even in the short time you have been away, I have been inundated with requests for your services.’
Rowan’s heart soared. This was going better than she’d hoped. Then the door opened and Maria clattered through.
‘Coo, look what the wind’s blown in,’ she said, putting the tray down on the table.
‘Maria, please,’ Louisa reprimanded.
‘Sorry, madam. I already poured it to save bringing up the pot,’ she replied, unrepentant as ever.
‘Thank you, that will be all, Maria,’ Louisa said, though as the maid retreated she continued staring at Rowan as if she had something she wished to say.
CHAPTER 40
‘Now about the mirror,’ Louisa said as the door closed behind the maid. ‘I have considered your proposition and am happy to accede to it.’ She handed Rowan a parcel.
Rowan recognized it immediately and her heart leaped. Placing her cup on the table, she eagerly folded back the soft material and lifted out her most treasured possession. As she sat tracing the etched scrolls tenderly with her finger, warmth flooded through her, bringing life back to her body which had felt numb since Jack had left her standing in the farmyard.
‘Thank you,’ she said, smiling at Louisa.
‘I knew as soon as you’d left that I’d been hasty. Forgive me, Rowan, but I was excited at the thought of being able to expand my business. However, if the mirror was your mother’s then I have no right to hold on to it.’
‘Thank you, Madame Louisa. You have no idea what this means to me,’ Rowan said, hugging it to her.
‘I take it you are agreeable to returning to your post?’
Tearing her eyes away from her beloved mirror, she smiled at Louisa. ‘Oh, indeed. I will work hard and try to master bonnet making.’
‘Good. I’ve had so many requests for our personalizing service that I was going to get your address from Alexander in order to call upon you.’ As Rowan stared at her in surprise, Louisa smiled. ‘You have a real talent, not only for assessing what suits the ladies of Saltmouth, but getting along with them as well. As I mentioned once before, some of them are not the easiest to deal with.’
‘But they are all happy with the service you provide, Madame Louisa,’ Rowan assured her.
‘Just as well or my business wouldn’t last long. Now as you know, it is imperative we move with the times. Only yesterday I was asked to call upon Lady Beliver. She recently had visitors staying with her from London, where apparently, a colour called magenta is what anyone who is anyone is wearing.’ Louisa leaned forward in her chair. ‘Would you believe, it is our dear Queen Victoria who started this mode. Of course, Lady Beliver wants her bonnets trimmed in this purple pink as soon as possible. I showed her the ribbons I had in stock, but they were nowhere near bright enough. Knowing you have such a good eye for colour, I wondered if you would know how to make this particular hue?’
Rowan thought for a moment. Rhododendrons! The flowers would be perfect for creating the right colour.
‘I think I know how to achieve that,’ she replied.
Louisa clapped her hands delightedly. ‘In that case, I shall arrange for you to call upon Lady Beliver. She is so well esteemed that if we can pull this off we will have clients queuing all down the street. You will find your room just as you left it, so I suggest you go and put your things away, then change into your apprentice attire.’
‘Thank you, Madame Louisa,’ Rowan said, gathering up her bundle and basket.
‘By then you will be ready for some nourishment, so ask Maria for a bowl of her broth. I don’t know how she’s managed it, but she’s made the most delicious one filled with all manner of different vegetables.’ Rowan grinned inwardly, thinking that despite her recent telling off, the maid must still be making her forays to the kitchen gardens in the area.
‘Now the shop has been closed for too long as it is. I shall go and reopen and see you downstairs when you’ve eaten.’ Louisa swept from the room in a rustle of petticoats.
Suitably attired in her working outfit and feeling revived from her broth, Rowan went through to the shop.
‘I have just taken an order for a new bonnet. The client would like it to be ready for collection tomorrow, so whilst I work on it this afternoon, I would like you to …’ Louisa was interrupted by the tinkling of the bell. She smothered a sigh.
‘Verity, how nice of you to call,’ she said graciously. ‘You remember Miss Rowena, of course.’
‘Darling, I have just heard about your new enterprise,’ Verity purred, ignoring Rowan completely.
‘And what might that be?’ Louisa asked.
‘That you are offering bespoke colouring, silly. I said to myself, Verity you really must call upon darling Louisa and offer your support.’ Rowan stared at the woman, wondering how word of their service could have reached as far as Exeter.
‘That is most kind, Verity. However, it is Miss Rowena who offers this particular service.’ In a flash, Verity’s attention was transferred to Rowan. ‘In that case, you may measure me for a new bonnet directly.’
‘I’m really sorry, Verity, but Miss Rowena’s service has proved so popular, her list is already closed for the season.’ As the woman’s face turned from pink to puce, Rowan had to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing. ‘However, I would be happy to put your name down for the next available appointment,’ Louisa offered.
‘That won’t be necessary,’ Verity said stiffly. Then, nose in the air, she turned towards the door.
‘Do give my love to Alexander, won’t you?’ Louisa called as the bell tinkled behind her.
‘I didn’t know Alexander was still seeing her,’ Rowan said.
‘He isn’t, thank heavens,’ Louisa replied, giving a wicked grin. ‘Now I want you to give priority to the magenta dye. I assume you’ll need to collect some plants or flowers before you can start?’
‘Yes, but …’ Rowan was about to say she didn’t know if Camilla had returned home yet, but Louisa interrupted.
‘As I said, making the dye is your most important task. I will keep an eye on things here whilst working on this new bonnet, so go and obtain whatever you need straight away. When you return, I shall inform Lady Beliver we can supply her with the magenta ribbons she requested. This is such good news for the business, Miss Rowena.’
Having secured her job and not wishing to prejudice her new position in any way, Rowan gathered up her cape and basket.
As she made her way to Poppy Cottage, her thoughts ran amok. Supposing Camilla wasn’t there? Would it be all right to pick a few flowers and leave a note explaining what she’d done, or would that be infra dig? Camilla was such a lovely woman, not like that awful Verity, who couldn’t abide flowers indoors. She was glad Alexander was no longer walking out with her. He would be much more suited to the gentle Camilla, she thought. They shared a love of gardens and plants and would get on well together.
Her thoughts, as she headed towards the seafront, turned to Jack. Now that she’d had time to think, she understood his being hurt she hadn’t confided in him about her past, but she was angry at the way he’d jumped to conclusions. How dare he presume she’d been walking out with someone else whilst he’d been away? Anger quickened her steps. She couldn’t believe he’d thought so badly of her. She was better off without him, wasn’t she? Her question hung on the salty air but her musing was interrupted by a carriage drawing up alongside her.
‘Rowan, how are you, my dear?’ Camilla was smiling at her.
‘Camilla, I was on my way to see you.’
‘Well, it’s a good job I spotted you then. I have an appointment in town and your journey would have been in vain.’
‘Oh, no,’ Rowan cried, imagining Louisa’s disappointed look if she returned without the wherewithal to make the new dye.
‘Was it a social call or did you want me for something in particular? Having recently returned from my vacation, I feel hopel
essly out of touch with everything here. Even that reprobate nephew of mine is monosyllabic at the moment. Getting more than two words out of him is harder work than digging up bindweed. It was a relief when he went out earlier.’ She drew to a halt, then, seeing Rowan’s crestfallen look, called to her driver, ‘Wait here, please, Perkins.’
‘You look dreadfully pale, Rowan. Has Louisa been overworking you?’
Rowan shook her head. ‘I only returned to work this morning and if I don’t get my new dye made, Louisa will tell me to leave, I know she will.’
Camilla stepped out of the carriage and studied her closely. ‘Come along, sea air is the best tonic there is to soothe the soul. We can talk whilst we walk. And don’t worry about Louisa,’ she said, as Rowan made to protest. ‘I will speak to her if necessary. Now tell Auntie Cam what’s wrong.’
They strolled along the front and Rowan began telling her about the magenta dye and how she’d been on her way to ask permission to pick some rhododendrons.
‘How clever of you to know that you can make this new purple pink colour from the flowers when you made yellow dye from the leaves,’ Camilla said. ‘But if you don’t mind my saying, you were sporting that long face before you knew I wouldn’t be at home.’
‘It was walking along the Mall that upset me,’ Rowan sighed.
‘Poor old Mall, what did it do, then?’ Camilla teased. When Rowan didn’t answer, she turned towards her, studying her intently. ‘I have to ask myself if the fact my favourite nephew and his intended are both unhappy is coincidental.’
Seeing the woman’s sympathetic look, Rowan’s pent-up emotion burst forth and she found herself pouring out everything that had happened. Camilla was quiet for a few moments.
‘When you really love someone there’s no room for pride,’ she finally said, before signalling to her driver. ‘Now I can easily walk to my appointment from here so Perkins will take you to Poppy Cottage. Collect as many flowers as you want, my dear, and let me know how you get on. It sounds an exciting venture.’
‘But …’ Rowan began.
‘In you get,’ Camilla ushered. ‘Everything will sort, it always does, one way or another.’ Before Rowan could answer, she called to the driver and the carriage began to move.
As soon as Rowan saw the profusion of beautiful mauve and red rhododendron flowers, her heart lifted. Eagerly she began gathering the brightest blossoms but, as ever, the best ones were just out of her reach. Determined not be beaten, she threw off her cape and climbed into the bush. Its boughs shook and wavered, but she clung on tightly, her eye on the prize blooms above. Then, she saw dark two eyes staring up through the bush at her, and froze.
‘What the heck … ?’ the faceless voice shouted, making her jump so that she lost her grip and fell to the ground. Stunned, she lay on the grass, her head violently spinning. Wildly reaching out, her hands made contact with some coarse material, and she grasped it tightly until the spinning began to subside. It was only then she realized that she was hanging on to a coat sleeve and, looking up, saw those same two dark eyes staring down at her.
‘Rowan, are you all right?’ a voice asked. It sounded like Jack, she thought, but he was out; Camilla had said so. Then she felt herself gently being lifted into a sitting position. ‘Speak to me, Rowan. Please tell me you’re not hurt?’
She blinked and shook her head, trying to clear the blurred image that swam before her.
‘Jack? But you’re not here,’ she murmured.
‘That bang on the head’s made you delirious,’ he said, smoothing back her tumble of curls. ‘I am very much here.’
‘Oh, you are,’ she gasped, as his face slowly came into focus.
‘Yes, and it’s just as well, if you must go clambering about in the bushes. Honestly, Rowan, when I looked out of the window and saw those rhododendrons shaking like billy-o, I wondered what on earth was going on.’
‘I was just collecting flowers for my dye. Camilla said I could,’ she assured him quickly.
‘Blow the flowers, and Camilla for that matter. You could have been hurt, Rowan,’ he said, staring at her so tenderly she had to look away quickly.
‘But I’m not,’ she said, struggling to her feet. ‘And I needed the flowers for a special dye.’
‘What about that special flower?’ he asked, pointing towards the bush where her bonnet was dangling. Grinning, he reached up and retrieved it. ‘I’m afraid the ribbon’s snapped,’ he said, handing the bonnet back to her.
‘Nothing that can’t be mended,’ she reassured him.
‘What about us, Rowan? Can we be mended, do you think?’
She stared at him, remembering Camilla’s words.
‘It was my pride …’ they both began, then burst into peals of laughter.
‘Well, we seem to think the same, so that must be a starting point,’ Jack said. ‘What do you think, Rowan, could we start again?’ Putting his hand in his pocket, he brought out her red ribbon. ‘I’ve carried this everywhere since it caught on my button.’
Smiling, she held out her arm and gently he tied it around her wrist. Immediately, she was filled with a sense of rightness. And as the ribbon gave a gentle tug, she knew they’d come full circle.
Acknowledgements
Grateful thanks to Teresa Chris for believing in me, Clare Bowron for her insightful input and BWC for their invaluable feedback.
Linda Finlay
THE SEA SHELL GIRL
Chapter 1
‘Merryn Dyer, pull your dress down this minute.’
As Grozen’s strident voice carried on the stiff breeze, Merry straightened up and climbed out of the pool. She eased her stiff back and then under her grandmother’s stern gaze, released her heavy skirts from her bloomers, grimacing as the damp material flapped around her bare legs. She’d been up since dawn prising limpets from the rocks where they clung when the tide receded, and she was cold and hungry.
‘Standards need to be maintained at all times, Merry. Showing what you’re made of to all and sundry, indeed,’ the woman continued, with a sniff. ‘How have you done, anyhow?’
‘Not too bad, Grozen,’ Merry replied, holding up her nearly full basket. ‘I’ll see what I can sell, then bring the rest back for our meal.’
Her grandmother nodded and gathered up her bundle of sticks. Merry watched as the old woman tottered back up the path towards their cottage, irritation turning to concern when she saw how frail and stooped she had become. The harsh winter followed by the long cold spring had taken its toll on everyone in the little fishing village of Porthsallos. Food was still scarce, with even the pilchards yet to appear.
Guessing her mother would eke out the limpet flesh by making a broth, she added a few strands of glistening sea-weed to her basket. Then, ignoring her stinging hands, she eased her frozen feet into her hobbies. Despite the old cloths she’d lined them with she could feel every sharp stone that dug through the worn soles as she squelched her way across the beach. No good moaning, though; it would be some time before she could afford to have them mended.
She made her way round the harbour where the usually bustling shore was eerily quiet, the fishing boats lying idle. Stopping outside the fisherman’s shack, she shook her basket, for the contents had settled as the limpets clung to each other and she was desperate to receive the best price for her labours.
‘You’ve been busy this morning, Sea Shell Girl. Come in out of the cold,’ Pucky Pint said, giving her the benefit of his toothless grin. Although most people in the village had nicknames, the one they’d given her as a child seemed incongruous now she was a young woman of seventeen, but she was here to do business and didn’t dare offend him by mentioning it. As the other men shuffled aside to make room for her, she smiled her thanks. The ramshackle shed, with its familiar smell of old fish and drying nets, was cosy and her fingers tingled as they began to thaw. Without looking inside, Pucky held up her basket and assessed its weight. There was no fooling the old salt, Merry thought.
&
nbsp; ‘Can you use them?’ she asked hopefully.
‘Aye, they’ll make good bait for the long lining if this wind ever eases and we can get the boats out,’ he answered, and her heart lifted at the thought of taking a few precious pennies home. ‘Trouble is, I’ll not be able to pay thee until the pilchards turn up. Soon as I get a catch, though, I’ll settle up with thee, you have my word.’
She turned to the other fishermen, who shook their heads.
‘’Tis the same with us, maid. Ain’t been out in a long whilst owin’ to they sheep’s-head winds. No catch, no money,’ Doy Boy shrugged. There was a murmur of agreement from the others. ‘Can’t remember when I last provided a decent meal for the nippers.’
‘Tell thee what, take some of these limpets home to break your fast and I’ll still pay you for the full basket when my boat comes in,’ Pucky offered. ‘Deal?’
‘Deal,’ Merry agreed, forcing a smile as he emptied three-quarters of the limpets into his pot and handed back her basket. Knowing he couldn’t really afford to be so generous, she was about to refuse. Then a picture of her grandmother’s pitifully thin body and pinched face flashed into her mind and she hurried away before he could change his mind.
Her mother looked up from her mixing bowl as Merry entered their little cottage.
‘Any luck?’ she asked hopefully.
‘Pucky Pint said he’d buy the limpets but can’t pay me until he can get his boat out,’ she sighed, placing her basket on the table. ‘He said we could have these on account.’
‘Well, that’s something. I see you brought some weed as well so at least we can have broth.’
‘If I have to sup another bowl of salty liquid with them sea snails floating in it, I’ll go as loopy as me stitches, Karenza,’ Grozen declared, frowning over her knitting.
Karenza winked at Merry. ‘I know, Mother, but we have to eat,’ she soothed. ‘Poor Merry’s been hopping in and out of that icy water since daybreak so you make room for her by the fire whilst I prepare our food. There’s not enough flour to make bread so I’m mixing dumplings to go in the broth. You know how you like them.’