A Family For Christmas

by Linda Finlay

  ‘Circumstances? What do you mean?’ she asked.

  ‘Eliza, Mr Farrant is one of the most respected names in the business. To be trained by him would be …’

  ‘I’m not going,’ she insisted, jumping to her feet.

  ‘Why don’t you tell her everything, Fay?’ Duncan said.

  ‘Remember what we agreed, whippersnapper,’ Fay said, her tight voice brooking any argument.

  ‘What are you keeping from me?’ Eliza cried. ‘You are the dearest people in my world and I thought you cared about me too.’ Fay and Duncan exchanged meaningful looks but didn’t answer. Unable to bear the tense atmosphere any longer, Eliza ran outside.

  Throwing herself down on the little patch of grass, she stared up at the hobble and tried to make sense of what she’d been told. She was happy here and didn’t want to go away. This funny little place had become her home, Fay and Duncan her dearest friends. She loved this way of life. Why, she’d even got used to digging those perishing vegetables.

  Suddenly she became aware of Duncan hunkering down beside her.

  ‘Don’t cry, little un. Happen it’s for the best. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you.’

  ‘But I don’t want to leave you both,’ she sobbed. ‘Promise you won’t let her send me away?’

  ‘Fay’s become really fond of you, Eliza, and she wants to make sure you’re looked after.’

  ‘But I love it here and I love you, too,’ she whispered.

  He gave a lopsided grin, leaned over so that she caught the fresh smell of the woods that was him and gently kissed her cheek.

  ‘Love you too, Eliza Dryad. Be happy.’ Then with a tight smile, he jumped to his feet and strode purposefully down the path.

  ‘You will be back soon, won’t you?’ she called. When he didn’t answer, she ran after him but by the time she’d got to the gate he was disappearing into the trees.

  Fay was still sitting in her chair clutching the letter when Eliza went back indoors.

  ‘I’m not going to Devonshire,’ she announced stubbornly.

  ‘Why ever not?’ the woman asked.

  ‘It’s too far away, for one thing.’

  ‘Why, child, it’s merely a cat’s jump,’ Fay scoffed, clicking her fingers. ‘There is a huge wide world out there and you’re afraid of travelling as far as the next county? Pff. Now, Mr Farrant is calling for you on …’ She stopped and squinted down at the letter. ‘Well, shortly,’ she amended, ‘and you will be ready to accompany him back to his premises in Follytown.’

  Eliza glared at her. Next time she saw Duncan she’d enlist his help, she vowed. Between them, she was certain they could get the woman to change her mind. After all, Duncan had told her he loved her. He’d even kissed her, she thought, reaching up and touching her cheek. He wouldn’t have done that if he wanted her to go, would he?

  Over the next few days, while Fay cleaned and tidied the hobble, she insisted Eliza launder all her clothes. More to humour her than anything, Eliza took her things down to the river and vented her frustration and hurt bashing them with the largest stone she could find. All the while she waited for Duncan to call. As time passed and he didn’t appear, she began to worry. Surely he would come before this Mr Farrant arrived. He wouldn’t let her go, she just knew it.

  To her surprise, when she returned Fay had the flat iron heating beside the fire. Never before had she seen the woman press her clothes.

  ‘Come along, you can’t take wrinkled clothes with you,’ Fay admonished.

  ‘Look, Fay, I appreciate you trying to secure my future but I really love it here with you. When Duncan comes, he’ll make you see sense.’ Fay smiled sadly. ‘Duncan will be here soon, you’ll see. He loves me, even if you don’t. Why, at this very moment he’s probably arranging for me to stay with Rose,’ Eliza insisted.

  ‘Not with Mother Evangaline there.’

  ‘What’s she got to do with anything?’

  ‘Look, Eliza, there is no way to dress this up. Rose’s mother is an out-and-out snob. She expects her daughter to mix with people of a certain class. Unfortunately, she considers you a country bumpkin.’

  ‘Oh,’ Eliza said, collapsing onto the chair.

  ‘Why do you think Duncan’s never taken you back to the farm?’ Fay continued. ‘Now, if you go with Mr Farrant and train as a perfumer you will be able to hold your head up high in society. Then you can come back and show Mother Evangaline how well you’ve done. This truly is a wonderful opportunity for you. I know you think I’m trying to get rid of you but that is not the case. If things were different …’ She shrugged. ‘Now when we’ve sorted your clothes there’s something I wish to discuss with you.’

  Early next morning, dressed in the corded dimity gown and cotton lawn petticoat trimmed with broderie anglaise that Rose had given her, Eliza nervously waited for Mr Farrant to arrive. Fay had also donned a dress for the occasion and Eliza was surprised to see how elegant, yet frail, the woman looked. Although they’d been expecting it, the sharp ratatat made them both jump. Fay gave Eliza a reassuring smile before hurrying to open the door.

  ‘Bonjour, Madame Beaumont.’

  Eliza stared in surprise as the dapper gentleman, dressed in a smart frock coat, took Fay’s hand and kissed it gallantly. Was he foreign?

  ‘Mr Farrant, how kind of you to call,’ Fay said. ‘Won’t you come in?’ Deftly, he removed his top hat and stepped inside the hobble. As he stared around the little room, Eliza saw the lift of his brows before he turned to face Fay.

  ‘The pleasure, it is mine, Madame, and this charming mademoiselle is your daughter, Eliza, yes?’

  ‘Flatterer, you know full well if she were related, she’d be my granddaughter,’ Fay laughed. ‘Let me introduce you to Eliza.’

  ‘Enchanté, Mademoiselle Eliza,’ the man said, smiling and giving a slight bow. Eliza stifled a giggle. With his shock of fair, almost yellow hair and moustache shiny with pomade, he was unlike any male she had ever encountered before. She wrinkled her nose. He had a most curious smell about him too.

  ‘Please take a seat, Mr Farrant,’ Fay invited. ‘May we offer you some refreshment?’

  ‘Charles, please, Madame. That is très kind but I stayed in Dulvester and only recently partook of le petit déjeuner,’ he said, smiling politely. ‘Now, to business, oui?’

  ‘It’s funny, Charles, but I don’t remember you having a French accent before,’ Fay said.

  ‘Ah, business it has taken me to Grasse, and when in France …’ he shrugged. Now you have those receipts for me, oui?’

  ‘All in good time. First, I want you to assure me Eliza will receive the finest training in the art of perfumery.’

  ‘But of course, Madame. Mademoiselle Eliza, she will become the finest perfumer in the land – after me, of course,’ he laughed.

  ‘And you have a housekeeper, staff?’

  ‘Indeed. I will put my housekeeper at Eliza’s disposal. She will be looked after as if she were my own. The cook provides meals par excellence. As for my business, Eliza will train alongside my other apprentice, Amos. He is in his second year and très promising. I trust the terms I set out in my letter proved satisfactory?’

  Fay nodded. ‘And you engaged the services of a chaperone?’

  ‘Oui, at extra cost, you understand? Madame Simmons is waiting outside in my carriage.’

  ‘Chaperone?’ Eliza gasped.

  ‘Oui, Mademoiselle. Our journey to Follytown is long, necessitating an overnight stop at the hostelry in Tiffeton. It would be inappropriate
for us to travel alone, n’est-ce pas? Now tell me, have you made any perfume before?’

  ‘Oh, yes, I have made rosewater and other infusions, of course,’ Eliza said, producing a bottle.

  He inhaled and smiled. ‘Bon, you have used the roses well. With a little training in the blending you have the potential to be très bon. Now, Madame, I do not wish to hurry our discussion but we need to embark upon our journey. You have your receipt book?’

  ‘Indeed, Charles. Here is my part of the bargain,’ Fay said, handing over the book along with a sealed envelope.

  His green eyes glittered with greed as he jumped up and took them with almost indecent haste. But the look was so quickly replaced with that charming smile, Eliza wondered if she’d imagined it.

  Pocketing the envelope, he then began flicking through the pages. ‘Excellent.’ Then he frowned. ‘I had thought there to be more, however …’ he commented, raising an immaculately arched eyebrow.

  Fay shrugged but said nothing.

  ‘Well, if you are ready, Mademoiselle?’ he said, turning to Eliza and smiling graciously.

  ‘I would just like to say farewell to Eliza in private, if you could spare us a few moments, Charles?’ Fay asked.

  ‘Of course, Madame. I will wait outside in my carriage. It has been a pleasure doing business with you,’ he said, bending and kissing Fay’s hand.

  ‘And you will send me regular news of Eliza’s progress?’

  ‘Mais oui, of course,’ he confirmed.

  As soon as the door had closed behind him, Fay turned to Eliza.

  ‘Remember what I said?’ she asked, inclining her head towards Eliza’s bundle that lay waiting on the dresser. ‘On no account is Charles to know you have my other book of receipts. It is my present to you and insurance for your future. Promise me?’

  Eliza could only nod as the prospect of leaving made her too choked to speak.

  ‘I also want you to take this black scent bottle,’ Fay said, drawing a small parcel wrapped in velvet from her pocket. ‘When you are alone, inhale the aroma that still lingers inside and commit it to your memory. Once you are trained, see if you can find the flower to recreate it. Do that, Eliza, and you will become a woman of standing in your own right. I began once myself, but circumstances …’ She swallowed, then shrugged. ‘Well, let’s just say, sketching the flora became the focus of my life. This is also to be your secret. I’ll hide the bottle in your bundle whilst you put on your cape.’

  ‘Do I really have to go?’ Eliza asked, staring sadly around the hobble that had been her home these past months.

  ‘Yes, and you’d better not keep Charles waiting,’ Fay urged, gently smoothing down Eliza’s cape then all but pushing her out of the door.

  Making her way down the path, Eliza swallowed hard, determined not to disgrace herself by crying. At the gate, she turned back to give a final wave and was dismayed to see tears glistening on the woman’s cheeks. She hesitated and was about to go back, but Fay pushed the door closed and Eliza knew her old life was over.

  She sighed. Nobody truly wanted or loved her. Even Duncan hadn’t found the time to come and say goodbye. Well, she could stand on her own two feet. She would go with this Monsieur Farrant, learn what she could, then make her own way in life.

  18

  Eliza took a deep breath and hurried towards the waiting carriage. The driver jumped down and took her bundle. Then, as Charles Farrant put out his hand to help her up the step, he noticed her ugly boots and frowned.

  ‘Oh, I hadn’t realized,’ he muttered, looking quickly away.

  ‘It doesn’t affect my sense of smell,’ she advised him pointedly. As she took her seat opposite she caught a whiff of his peculiar aroma and wished it did.

  There was no time to dwell on it, though, for no sooner had she settled herself onto the plush leather squabs than the carriage began moving. Eliza glanced back at the hobble for the last time but could see no sign of Fay.

  ‘This is Madame Simmons, who will be chaperoning you until we reach Follytown,’ Charles Farrant said, gesturing towards the woman sitting in the corner. She was smartly dressed and wearing the most enormous hat Eliza had ever seen. Smiling and thinking it would be nice to have some cheerful company on the journey, she moved closer, but Madame Simmons merely nodded and turned quickly away.

  Charming, Eliza thought, staring out at the scenery as the carriage lurched and rocked its way down the steep incline of the moors. Ponies and sheep grazed contentedly on the heather and she wished she was out there with them. As the driver carefully negotiated his way over the stone bridge spanning the river, Eliza thought of Duncan and the night they’d found Fay by the side of the road. Then they were passing the hills they’d sledged down to reach the farm, and with every turn of the wheels taking her away from all that was familiar her heart grew heavier.

  Fay didn’t want her and she hadn’t seen Duncan since that day in the garden. Involuntarily her hand went to her cheek and she sighed. She’d thought he cared for her as much as she did him but as he hadn’t even called to say goodbye, obviously he didn’t.

  Now they were passing his beloved woods and she angrily dashed away a tear. If that was what they wanted, so be it. She would concentrate all her energy on becoming a perfumer. No, not just a perfumer, a master one – or should that be mistress one? She was pondering the conundrum when the hairs on her neck prickled and for one mad moment she thought she saw Duncan’s chestnut eyes peering out from the dense foliage. Hoping for a better look, she leaned against the window, but the carriage had already passed by.

  ‘You have travelled to Devonshire before, Miss Eliza?’ Madame Simmons asked, her West Country burr breaking the silence. Surprised but welcoming the diversion, Eliza looked up to find the woman smiling at her. Well, she assumed the woman was smiling but that outrageous hat obscured nearly all of her face.

  ‘No, I’ve lived in Somerset all my life,’ she answered.

  ‘And a beautiful place it is, too,’ the woman said.

  ‘Remember your status, please, Madame,’ Charles Farrant rebuked, looking up from the book to give her a warning glare. The woman flushed and Eliza caught the faintest whiff of violet before she stared down at the floor.

  Charming again, Eliza thought, turning her attention back to the passing scenery. Far below she saw Ben and Rose’s fields, brown speckled with gold now their harvest was gathered. What happy days she’d spent there, helping with Joshua, preparing for the Wassail celebrations and dancing with Duncan. It had been such a contrast to her unhappy life back home and for the first time ever in her life she’d felt wanted. Then she recalled what Mother Evangaline had purportedly said about her and sighed. Seemingly she wasn’t deemed good enough to mix with anyone, even this Madame Simmons. Well, whatever life had in store for her, she was determined to make something of herself. She’d show them all.

  The sun was high in the sky now, its rays almost burning Eliza’s cheek through the glass, the glare making her squint.

  ‘You wish some shade, Mademoiselle?’ Charles Farrant asked, reaching up and pulling on the cord to lower the blind. She smiled her thanks, relaxed back in her seat and closed her eyes.

  ‘Dulvester,’ the driver shouted, jerking her awake. No sooner had the carriage ground to a halt in the hostelry yard than it became a hive of activity with ostlers running out to see to the horses. As the driver threw open the door and let down the steps, Charles Farrant carefully alighted, smoothing the creases from his trousers. Then he helped them down the steps and ushered them into the taproom, which was gloomy after the brilliant sunshine o
utside. The buxom barmaid was clearly bowled over by his charm, fluttering her eyelashes and leaning lower over the bar to reveal her magnificent bosom. Eliza stared around the dingy room, grimacing at the smell of ale, tobacco and sawdust.

  Then the landlord appeared and the woman reluctantly left Charles to show Eliza and Madame Simmons where they could refresh themselves before luncheon. A little table had been set for two in the corner of a private room and platters of ham, pickles and bread were placed in front of them. Madame Simmons gasped in delight and immediately tucked in with relish, but the colossal hat kept coming between her mouth and the food. Finally, with a cry of exasperation she pushed it to the back of her head and Eliza was able to see her velvety brown eyes for the first time. The woman would have been quite attractive if she hadn’t been shovelling great handfuls of fare into her mouth as if she’d never been fed before. Well, Eliza thought, status or not, she at least had better table manners. They were just finishing when Monsieur Farrant appeared and glared at Madame Simmons, who hastily pulled her bonnet down over her face again.

  The tension in the carriage was palpable, nobody spoke and Eliza found the rest of the journey tedious. Tree followed tree, and fields stretched out as far as the eye could see as the carriage continued its seemingly endless descent. By the time they pulled up at the hostelry in Tiffeton where they were to spend the night, the shadows were gathering and Eliza couldn’t help yawning.

  ‘Show Mademoiselle to her room,’ Charles Farrant ordered as soon as the landlady appeared. The woman nodded and led the way up a steep flight of stairs and along a narrow corridor. Eliza tried to keep up but her legs were wobbling like jelly after being in the coach for so long and her foot throbbed, making her limp more pronounced. When she was eventually shown into the small but comfortable room, she sank thankfully onto the one single bed. She was surprised Madame Simmons wasn’t to share with her then remembered Monsieur Farrant’s earlier comment about status. Obviously, Eliza wasn’t deemed of the right class to associate with even the chaperone.