The Fairbairn Girls

by Una-Mary Parker

  ‘You have organized everything,’ Helen said with admiration.

  ‘Not quite everything.’ Laura looked thoughtful. ‘We need to get in a good stock of nice black buttons, including ones made of jet, and also poppers, hooks and eyes and a thousand reels of black thread. I think I should also buy a second sewing machine.’

  ‘What about the people who can’t afford to go into mourning?’

  ‘They always wear black armbands out of respect.’ Laura paused, her mind still working feverishly. ‘We’ll offer to make small armbands for the children of our clients,’ she continued, ‘because they won’t have to wear black clothes unless they’re eighteen.’

  After Helen had gone home, with instructions to help find two more experienced seamstresses, Laura made herself a cup of tea and then sat at her desk making some rough calculations. She’d borrowed a large sum of money from the bank and the manager, who knew her family well, had been quite happy for her to have the loan because her business plan was impressively well thought out and planned, but now she had to work out for herself the exact cost of materials, extra staff, a new machine and everything else she’d need for this sudden expansion, coupled with how much she’d need to earn to pay back the loan and hopefully show a profit by the end of the year.

  Lord Rothbury had often talked about businesses that had expanded too quickly and eventually led to a financial loss, and this was at the back of Laura’s mind now as she tried to forecast exactly how much business she was hoping to acquire during the next twelve months. Had she been stupidly impulsive today? Wouldn’t it have been more sensible if she’d asked for someone else’s advice? Andrew was a successful businessman as his father had been before him, and now she wondered if she shouldn’t have consulted him first? It was too late now. Her euphoria of earlier had been replaced by anxious tiredness as her mind revolved around whether she should have gone ahead without thinking it through or not?

  By three o’clock in the morning she comforted herself with the belief that by the time she’d taken advice from some experienced source another dressmaker would have gone along and bought every length of black material available from the wholesalers, and she’d be sitting here now kicking herself for having lost such a wonderful opportunity.

  At present the reality of the situation was that she was up to her neck in debt. Now it was a case of sink or swim.

  As dawn stole over the sleeping city and Edinburgh Castle perched high above gleamed in the first pink rays of the sun, Laura bathed and then put on the black gown she’d made for her father’s funeral. She was facing the biggest challenge she’d ever had and there was no going back now.

  This was a turning point in her life. If she got through this she could get through anything.

  ‘Laura, you’ve got so thin!’ Diana exclaimed, hugging her sister affectionately. ‘Are you all right?’

  Laura smiled merrily. ‘I’ve never been better,’ she laughed. ‘Rushed off my feet but everything is going so well. Even better than I expected.’

  ‘I can’t wait to hear all about it! Let’s order tea and then we can talk.’

  They had arranged to meet in a restaurant in Princes Street because Diana had come down to Edinburgh for the day to do some shopping.

  ‘So tell me what’s happening? I haven’t seen you since Christmas.’

  ‘When the Queen died in January it became a mad house. We’re partly working at my flat and partly at Mrs Sutherland’s house which luckily is just around the corner. Imagine this – I’ve had to rent a room from her just to store the bales of black fabric I ordered. Actually there isn’t much of it left. I’ve got Helen and two other seamstresses and we’re all working night and day.’

  ‘You must be exhausted,’ Diana sympathized.

  ‘Actually I’m quite energized. I acquired a lot of new clients and I’m hoping they’ll stay with me when they want new clothes next year,’ Laura said hopefully.

  ‘I’m sure they will. I for one will be back by next February. I can’t wait to get out of mourning. I fancy having dresses in red and pink and maybe primrose yellow.’

  ‘I can’t wait to get back to working with bright colours for a change,’ Laura agreed. ‘Tell me, what news of Lizzie?’

  Diana grinned. ‘She’s had a third daughter.’

  ‘She was hoping for a boy this time.’

  Diana had more news to tell. ‘Beattie is also expecting!’

  ‘Already? What a family we are for having babies! Don’t tell me you’re expecting, too?’

  Diana shook her head firmly. ‘Nicolas and Louise are enough for me and as Robert has got his heir he’s happy.’ She leaned forward and whispered confidentially. ‘I don’t want to end up like poor Mama with eleven children. Have you seen how her body has been ravaged by all those pregnancies?’ She gave a little shudder. ‘I’d be afraid that it would put Robert off . . . you know.’

  Laura nodded but didn’t reply. As a family they never talked about such private matters. ‘So when is Beattie’s baby arriving?’ she asked instead.

  ‘In October. Goodness, Mama is going to have so many grandchildren by the time we’re all married, isn’t she?’

  ‘Probably, except that Georgie and I might not get married,’ Laura pointed out.

  ‘Goodness! You haven’t heard?’ Diana asked in surprise.

  ‘Heard what?’

  ‘Georgie’s met a man and he’s mad about her.’

  Laura’s eyes widened. ‘Why didn’t you tell me before? What’s he like? Have you met him?’

  ‘No, we haven’t met him but Lizzie has told us all about him and there is a problem.’

  Laura looked cynical. ‘There’s always a problem with Georgie. What is it this time? Is he already married?’

  ‘No, he’s not married,’ Diana declared. ‘You know what a terrible snob Georgie is? How she even looks down on Andrew as being nouveau riche? Remember how she said you might let down the family by becoming a dressmaker?’

  ‘I do indeed!’

  ‘Well, this man, a bachelor of thirty-three whose name is Shane O’Mally, comes from a working-class background and owns several pubs in Scotland and Northumberland. He’s very successful and very rich.’ Diana started to giggle. ‘Georgie is mad about him, too, but she’s torn between the thought of marrying for love but to someone lower class or not getting married at all! Can you imagine how tormented she is?’

  Laura nodded wistfully. Georgie’s lack of self-esteem had always made her feel that her only asset was belonging to a titled family and so to marry someone who wasn’t listed in the peerage was unthinkable.

  Diana guessed what she was thinking. ‘Poor Georgie! I hope she doesn’t make him feel inferior? Frankly I’d love her to marry someone who seems to be devoted to her. It’s just what she needs.’

  ‘What about Mama? What does she say?’

  ‘I think she’s rather relieved that Georgie has found someone. This is the first time she’s had a man who has shown the slightest interest in her and apparently he’s very nice and very kind. He’s not in the least interested in her having a title and he’s not impressed by Lochlee at all, so he’s not after Georgie in order to better himself.’

  ‘He sounds perfect for her,’ Laura exclaimed. ‘She’ll be far more comfortable with someone like that than if she married someone like Robert or Humphrey.’

  ‘Yes. It’s a pity she has such an inferiority complex. You’ll soon be getting an order to make another wedding dress!’

  ‘You have come to town with a bag full of surprises,’ Laura remarked. ‘By comparison my news is desperately boring. Mrs So-and-so has ordered a black lace dinner dress and Lady Such-and-such wants a black taffeta cloak for the summer; not exactly riveting gossip!’ She began gathering up her gloves and handbag. ‘I must be getting back to work.’

  ‘Can’t you come shopping with me?’ Diana asked in disappointment.

  ‘I wish I could but I’ve got a client coming at five o’clock to collect some new o
utfits I’ve made for her.’ Her mouth tightened. ‘I’ve never known a woman who spent so much on herself. Thank goodness her husband seems to be very rich.’

  ‘She sounds like the new Queen, Alexandra. Who is she?’

  ‘Mrs Leighton-Harvey.’

  Diana frowned. ‘I think I’ve heard of her. Where does she live?’

  ‘In Lasswade. She and her husband came to your wedding. I believe they’re friends of Robert’s parents.’ Laura’s expression had become grim and she spoke tightly.

  ‘I remember being introduced to them. She’s quite a pretty woman, isn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, and extremely vain and stupid.’

  Diana looked surprised and amused. ‘I can see you don’t like her, but she must be a good customer? Isn’t that what you want?’

  ‘Of course it is,’ Laura agreed, pulling herself together. ‘I’m just a bit tired and I’ve still got hours of work ahead of me tonight.’

  ‘Darling, you’re exhausted. Why don’t you come and stay with us for a couple of days at the end of the week? You need a rest. Do say you’ll come?’

  Laura thought about the sheer luxury of staying at Cranley Court and how she’d wake up in an enormous bed in the morning and have a maid bring her breakfast on a tray. What heaven it would be to relax on the terrace and instead of the constant clatter of the sewing machines the only sound would be the drowsy hum of the honey bees as they hovered over the lavender beds. The food was always exquisite too, and Diana and Robert were generous and undemanding hosts. ‘I’d love to,’ she said without hesitation. ‘I should stay in town and work but I can’t think of anything nicer than going to stay with you.’

  Diana beamed. ‘Excellent. Then that’s settled. We’ve no other visitors so we can do exactly as we like. If the weather is fine we might have a picnic luncheon on Saturday in the folly. You’ll arrive on Friday afternoon, won’t you? And stay until Monday?’

  Laura shook her head regretfully. ‘I’ll have to leave on Sunday. It wouldn’t be fair on the others if I was away any longer.’ She gathered up her fine black kid gloves and her purse. ‘I must fly now but I’ll see you on Friday.’

  The sisters kissed goodbye and Diana watched as Laura hurried out of the restaurant, a slim, vibrant-looking young woman who attracted admiring looks from other people as she passed their tables.

  If only . . . Diana reflected, if only Laura could meet some wonderful man who would sweep her off her feet and give her the sort of life she deserved.

  On Sunday evening Laura was back in Edinburgh feeling refreshed and relaxed by her stay at Cranley Court, which had passed all too swiftly.

  ‘You’re not so washed-out looking,’ Helen observed by way of a compliment when she arrived for work the next morning.

  Laura smiled as she threaded a sewing needle with a fine strand of black silk before she began the laborious job of hand stitching it on to the cuffs of a black crepe dress. ‘Washed out? What, like an old piece of faded chintz?’ she teased.

  Helen blushed with embarrassment. ‘Oh, I didn’t mean, that is, I just thought you looked, well, a bit tired,’ she stammered.

  Laura laughed. ‘I’m only teasing,’ she began when they heard knocking on the street door and then the bell to her flat rang loudly.

  ‘It’s a bit early for a client,’ Laura observed, putting down her sewing. ‘Can you go and see who it is, Helen? I’m not expecting any deliveries this morning.’ She rose to her feet while Helen scurried down the stairs. A moment later she recognized Mrs Sutherland’s voice and she sounded quite agitated.

  ‘Terrible news, Laura,’ she exclaimed, pushing past Helen into the workroom. She looked upset and her tiny frame was trembling.

  ‘Come and sit down,’ Laura said in concern. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Mrs Cavanagh called in to see me first thing this morning. Oh, it’s too shocking for words! They were great friends, you know.’

  Laura frowned. ‘Fetch Mrs Sutherland a glass of water,’ she told one of the junior seamstresses as she led the old lady to a chair. ‘Is Mrs Cavanagh all right?’ she asked, knowing they were old friends. She’d also become one of Laura’s regular clients, too.

  ‘She’s all right. She said it was an accident. They found her body at the bottom of the staircase. Stone cold, it was.’ Mrs Sutherland’s bony hand covered her mouth in anguish. ‘Have you ever heard anything so dreadful?’

  Laura stared at her in bewilderment. ‘Whose body?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m trying to tell you, my dear.’ Tears welled up in her faded blue eyes. ‘She was such a good customer, wasn’t she? I was terribly shocked when I heard what had happened. I knew you’d want to know.’

  Laura sat down beside Mrs Sutherland and took her hand. The old lady seemed deeply shocked and she was still shaking all over. Speaking slowly, as if she was addressing a small child, Laura said, ‘What was the name of her friend? Do I know her?’

  From the wrinkled face two button bright eyes snapped with impatience as she turned and glared at Laura. ‘I told you! Mrs Leighton-Harvey! They think she tripped and fell down the stairs in the middle of the night. Her neck was broken when they found her this morning.’

  Laura felt her own head spin and her heart contracted painfully as she took in what it could mean, but then in an instant she was overcome with shame. A woman in her late thirties had died as a result of a tragic accident and a devilish voice in her head was saying, He’s freenow. He’s not married any more! And the voice was getting louder and louder.

  She struggled to her feet while the wicked thoughts that had sprung to mind like a sudden forest fire raged in her head. They must be crushed and stamped out before they took hold. How could she live with herself while a part of her grappled with the appalling thought that because his silly little wife was dead she stood a chance of having him for herself?

  ‘I’m very sorry to hear that. How tragic,’ she heard herself say, but it wasn’t really her speaking. Dear God! What was she really thinking of?

  Helen and the two other assistants were showing all the right emotions: gasping with shock and exclaiming ‘how terrible’ and ‘she was such a sweet lady’ and ‘we’re really going to miss her’, all the time Laura was fighting to quell the spring of hope that had opened up in her heart.

  ‘We must send a nice wreath, Lady Laura, mustn’t we?’ she heard Helen say.

  Laura nodded in agreement. ‘Of course we must.’

  Mrs Sutherland dabbed at her eyes with a damp handkerchief. ‘Perhaps you should write a little letter to Mr Leighton-Harvey. Offering your sympathy,’ she added.

  There were nods of agreement from the others and Laura felt her face flush red and grow hot. How could they know what they were asking of her? she reflected, but at the same time terrified that they’d guess. Rising from her chair she covered her face with her hands for a moment before saying firmly, ‘I’ll send him a letter from us all because we all had a hand in making Mrs Leighton-Harvey’s clothes.’

  ‘That would be more seemly,’ Mrs Sutherland agreed, perking up a bit, and she left soon after in order to spread the sad tidings, which she considered her duty to do.

  When she was alone that night Laura composed the letter to Walker Leighton-Harvey with infinite care, stressing how ‘they would all miss’ his wife and offering both him and his young son their profound condolences in their terrible loss. It had taken her several hours to strike just the right tone, but at last it was done and, slipping it into an envelope, she addressed it to Lasswade Hall, Lasswade, Midlothian, Scotland. An address she knew by heart and wondered now if she would ever see.

  ‘A letter for you on the mat, Lady Laura,’ Helen announced cheerfully a week later as she arrived for work.

  Laura knew instinctively even before she’d seen the large, generous handwriting that it was from him. That’s how she thought of Walter now. Him. Whom she loved but would never have. And might not even see again. Opening the envelope her eyes skimmed the page and there was
nothing there to raise even her faintest hopes. He thanked her and her staff for their kind thoughts and added he was taking his son abroad ‘for a change of scene’ and didn’t know when they’d return to Scotland. He ended by wishing her well and his sprawling signature covered the bottom of the sheet of thick black bordered writing paper.

  Laura laid it on the work table so the others could read it too. There was nothing to hide from them because nothing of importance had ever existed between them in the first place. Except in her heart.

  ‘He sounds like ever such a nice man,’ Helen commented when she’d read it.

  ‘Yes,’ Laura agreed distantly. ‘A very nice man.’

  Fifteen

  Lochlee Castle, 1901

  ‘Mama, have you seen today’s newspapers?’ Georgie asked excitedly as she rushed into the study where her mother was sitting at her late husband’s desk.

  ‘I haven’t had time,’ Lady Rothbury replied without looking up. ‘I’ve got all the bills to pay and it’s such a lot of work. I miss your father dreadfully, for he took care of everything like this.’

  Georgie hurried to her side. ‘Look! Apparently the Boer War is about to come to an end.’

  Her mother rose to her feet, relief melting away the deep frown lines on her forehead. ‘What does it say?’

  ‘TheTimes has quoted a communiqué from Pretoria dated the twenty-ninth of April – that’s yesterday – in which it seems representatives from Great Britain and the Boer States are in talks about signing a Peace Treaty. They’re calling it the Treaty of Vereeniging.’ She looked up in delight. ‘That does mean the war is ending any minute now, doesn’t it?’

  Lady Rothbury sank back into the chair and clasped her hands together. ‘Thanks be to God,’ she prayed. ‘I feared it would never end. That’s the most marvellous news.’

  ‘So Henry will soon be back,’ Georgie declared, still gazing at the news print as if she couldn’t believe her eyes.

  ‘The journey home will take several weeks,’ her mother pointed out. ‘Henry might not be able to get leave to return here until June or even July.’