A Family For Christmas

by Linda Finlay

  Too exhausted to remove her clothes, she closed her eyes but it seemed like she was still moving. Although the bed was comfortable, she tossed and turned, wild thoughts going round and round her head. Unused to noise, she was kept awake by the loud voices and bawdy laughter rising up from the taproom. Grey dawn was lightening the sky before all went quiet and she fell into a dreamless sleep.

  When she woke the sun had already risen and she could hear men shouting and the sound of hooves on the cobbles outside. Quickly splashing her face with water from the ewer, she ran her fingers through her hair, smoothed down her crumpled clothes and hurried down the stairs.

  Charles Farrant glanced impatiently at his fob watch as she reached the hallway. ‘Bonjour, Mademoiselle Eliza, I trust you slept well? You are requiring le petit déjeuner, non?’ From the way he emphasized the non, Eliza took this as a signal she was to refuse. Ignoring her rumbling stomach, she shook her head then followed him out to the carriage where Madame Simmons was already seated. As the carriage moved away, Eliza leaned back against the leather squabs and promptly fell asleep.

  When she woke some time later, they were travelling alongside a river. Nearby was a huddle of buildings from which the most noxious stench emanated. She wrinkled her nose.

  ‘Ah, you have woken, Mademoiselle,’ Charles Farrant commented. ‘That delightful smell it comes from the tanyard, but luckily for us the prevailing winds blow from the south-west. It is fortunate my premises are situated on the far side of town, for perfume and tanned hides are not usually renowned for mixing,’ he said, rocking with mirth so that his shiny moustache quivered. Eliza stared at it in fascination wondering what could have amused him so much.

  Fearful of being thought rude, she turned to look back out of the window and her eyes widened in amazement. She blinked and looked again but there it was, a monster cockerel rising up from behind the trees. Why, it must surely be as tall as me, she thought.

  ‘That’s the octagonal lantern of St Andrew’s church,’ Charles Farrant said, serious once more. ‘It is beautiful, non? Truly a sign of money and worth,’ he added, puffing out his chest as if he was personally responsible for building it.

  After that, Eliza didn’t like to admit she’d been looking at the church’s weathercock, which she could now see was perched magnificently atop the tower.

  ‘My perfumery is but a few moments’ ride from here.’

  They were passing through the town square now. How busy everywhere seemed and how smartly dressed the people were. The men wore toppers, frock coats edged with braid down the front and brightly coloured cravats showing at the neck, while the women were attired in tailored dresses, matching waisted jackets and high plumed hats. Eliza gazed down at her crumpled gown and worn, down-at-heel boots and wondered how she’d ever fit in.

  The carriage duly slowed outside an imposing grey limestone and flint house, with so many chimneys on the roof that Eliza could only wonder how many rooms were inside. It was surrounded by a weathered stone wall with a bolted arched gate at the front and a wide-open gate to the side. The coachman turned into this gate and onto the drive, coming to a halt by the front door. It was opened by a butler wearing a white shirt, long black coat and grey striped trousers, who greeted Charles Farrant as if he were gentry.

  Monsieur Farrant nodded and turned to the little maid who was standing behind him. ‘Mimi will show you to your room where a light lunch should be ready and waiting?’ Turning, he quirked an eyebrow at the little maid, who nodded vigorously.

  ‘Bon. Now Eliza, do you have any formal attire with you?’

  ‘Formal?’ she asked.

  ‘Oui. I noticed that what you wear is past its best and many seasons out of mode. As for your bundle, it is well …’ he grimaced and shook his head, ‘… hardly worth bringing inside.’

  ‘But it contains some precious personal belongings,’ she said quickly, thinking of her treasured box and the things Fay had given her.

  ‘Then I will order it to be sent to your room. When you have decided what you really must keep, perhaps you would be good enough to get the housekeeper to dispose of the rest. Ask Mrs Symms to arrange for the dressmaker to call at her earliest convenience,’ he said, turning to the maid, who nodded and bobbed a curtsy.

  ‘But that will cost money and …’ Eliza began.

  ‘Your guardian, she has provided.’

  ‘My guardian?’ Eliza muttered, shaking her head in bewilderment.

  ‘Oui. I explained in my letter to Madame Beaumont that your attire will need to befit a perfumer’s apprentice, and perhaps a linen cap would also be in order,’ he said, frowning at Eliza’s head.

  ‘A cap?’ she gasped.

  ‘At the very least you must wear your hair Cadogan manner. It would be unseemly for you to be seen around my premises with it dangling, how you say, like drowned rat’s-tails. I shall expect you to look smart and dignified at all times. Remember you represent moi, Monsieur Charles Farrant, Master Perfumer. I am very well known around these parts,’ he said, puffing up his chest in the way Eliza had come to recognize. Hearing a titter from behind, he spun round.

  ‘And servants are easy to replace,’ he added, frowning at the little maid who stared nervously down at the floor. ‘Now Mimi can show you to your room and I will see you later, Mademoiselle Eliza.’

  He hurried away leaving Eliza to follow the maid along a light airy vestibule, its walls hung with ornate pictures of amber-coloured amphorae and amber-coloured scent bottles similar to the ones she’d seen in Fay’s book. Then the maid threw open a door and led her across a little courtyard and into another, more modest building.

  ‘This be where you sleep, miss,’ the maid said, opening yet another door. ‘Monsieur likes his staff to be housed here in the west wing,’ she lowered her voice, ‘out of the way.’ Before Eliza could say anything, she gave a quick bob and left.

  Relieved to be alone, Eliza stared around the modest room, which was furnished with a bed, closet and washstand. The rose coverlet matched the curtains, which gave the room a cheery look. A tray was set on the little table by the window and as she lifted the cloth a rich aroma assailed her nostrils, making her stomach rumble hungrily. The platter of thinly sliced meat was arranged in semicircles around dainty triangles of bread. She’d never tasted anything like it before and soon the plate was empty. Replete, she sat back sipping the elderflower cordial that had also been left for her, and looking out over the courtyard to the field beyond. How different it was to the doorsteps of bread and mugs of tea she’d shared with Fay in the hobble.

  That the woman had deemed herself to be Eliza’s guardian as well as handing over her precious receipts and paying for her apprenticeship had come as a shock. As she’d never appeared to have any money Eliza couldn’t understand how she had managed to do this. Yet it would appear she had made provision for Eliza’s future. Perhaps it had been to assuage her guilt for wanting Eliza gone. Had Duncan known, she wondered. If he had, why hadn’t he told her instead of disappearing like that? It was all very confusing, but at least she should write a letter to Fay thanking her for her generosity.

  She might be housed in this prison-like wing but she would work hard and successfully complete her training. Then as a fine perfumer she, Eliza Dryad, would return to the moors and repay Fay’s kindness. She would also show Mother Evangaline that she was indeed good enough to mix with her daughter.

  19

  A knock at the door interrupted Eliza’s musing.

  ‘Mrs Buttons is here, miss,’ the maid announced. A cheery woman, tape measure round her neck, roll of material tucked
under one arm and a sewing basket in her hand, bustled into the room. ‘I’ll take these back to the kitchen,’ Mimi added, picking up the tray.

  ‘That was quick, Mrs Buttons,’ Eliza said.

  ‘Don’t do to keep Monsieur waiting if you want his custom, ducks,’ the woman said briskly. ‘Now, he’s ordered you be fitted for two day dresses and one jacket … oh, and a matching apron. He was most insistent it be matching, too.’

  Eliza grimaced as the woman unrolled the mustard-coloured material across the bed.

  ‘All in this brownish-yellow?’

  Mrs Buttons nodded. ‘Yes, he’s adamant your clothes match his amber scent bottles. Still, the colour will set off that pretty hair of yours.’

  Pretty? Since when had her mousy colouring been pretty, Eliza thought. Then she remembered what else her new boss had said.

  ‘Monsieur said I had to wear my hair in a Cadogan manner,’ she said, trying to remember his exact words.

  ‘Smarter than wearing a cap, eh?’ Then she saw Eliza’s expression and chuckled. ‘Want me to show you how it’s done?’

  ‘Please.’

  ‘I’ll do the fitting first and then we’ll get you put in the net,’ Mrs Buttons said, taking her tape from around her neck. Put her in a net? She wasn’t a fish. But the woman was too busy measuring and jotting down numbers with a stubby pencil to notice her puzzled expression.

  ‘If you don’t mind me saying, I’m surprised Monsieur allowed you onto his premises dressed liked that,’ she murmured through a mouth full of pins, as she held the material up against Eliza. ‘Most particular, he is, especially since he came back from France. Still, I guess he could see you’d look elegant once you was properly attired.’

  ‘How much will all this cost, Mrs Buttons?’ Eliza asked, worried about Fay receiving a huge bill.

  ‘Don’t ask me, ducks. I just does the sewing. ’Tis the master who sees to the finances. This material don’t come cheap, though, that I do know. Now, I’m done with your measurements so let’s see about this hair,’ the woman said, throwing her tape onto the bed and rummaging in her box. ‘Ah, yes, thought I had one.’ She held up some brown mesh. ‘You’ll need to sit down so I can get at you.’

  Eliza perched on the chair while Mrs Buttons twisted her hair into some kind of knot at the back of her head, then placed the net over it. So it was her hair that went into the net, she thought, relieved that it wasn’t to be all of her. This was turning out to be such a weird place that nothing would surprise her.

  ‘Now I think this is how Monsieur would like you to look for work. In the evenings you can tease out some ringlets and let them hang down the back of your neck. You looks a picture, ducks,’ the dressmaker pronounced, standing back and admiring her handiwork.

  Eliza jumped up and stood in front of the mirror on the closet door. Was that really her? Why she looked so smart and grown up.

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Buttons. Do you think I’ll be able to do the knot myself?’

  ‘Course you will. Everyone can fix a bun, and that net will hide any stragglers. Don’t worry, you’ll look right dandy,’ she chuckled.

  Eliza stared down at her ugly boots.

  ‘Want me to make them dresses longer to cover them?’

  ‘Could you?’ Eliza asked, brightening again.

  ‘You leave it to Mrs Buttons, ducks,’ the woman said, winking and gathering up her things. ‘I’ll see you in a couple of days or so.’

  ‘That soon?’ Eliza gasped in surprise.

  ‘When Monsieur Charles wants something, he wants it yesterday,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Course, he was always Thomas before he went to France. Tommy two-ways, he was called, and it suit …’ She was interrupted by another knock on the door. Eliza hurried to answer it and found the maid standing there, a white-haired man hovering behind.

  ‘Mr Leatherjacket’s here to see about your new boots,’ Mimi said, bobbing a curtsy.

  ‘Well, I’ll be on my way then,’ Mrs Buttons said, hurrying out.

  As Eliza stood back to let the woman pass, Mimi hesitated, looking unsure.

  ‘Is something wrong, Mimi?’

  ‘I’ve been told to stay here while he measures you as it would be inap … inappro … wrong to have a man in your room with you being by yourself.’ The words burst out in a rush and the man laughed.

  ‘Begging your pardon, miss, but with me rheumatics and everything, I hardly think you’re in any danger – pretty lass though you be,’ he added quickly, doffing his cap.

  ‘Come in, both of you,’ Eliza invited. ‘We don’t want to go upsetting anyone.’

  Hastily stuffing his cap in his pocket, the man picked up his workbox and followed the maid into the room.

  ‘See, I’m in the nick of time,’ Mr Leatherjacket commented, pointing to Eliza’s boots. ‘Them soles is more off than on. No good for that ’ere foot of yers, either. Let’s take ’em off and get you properly sized. Blimey, girl, bet you been limping like a good un,’ he whistled. ‘Them’s at least three sizes too small. It’d be better to walk around barefoot till your new ones is ready.’

  Eliza flexed her feet and had to admit they did indeed feel better without the confines of the ill-fitting boots. Finally, the man was satisfied and Eliza showed both him and the little maid out. She was just about to close the door when she saw the driver of the carriage hurrying across the courtyard, her bundle over his shoulder.

  ‘Oh thank you,’ she cried in delight.

  ‘My pleasure, miss, shall I carry it inside?’

  ‘I can manage,’ she said, taking it from him.

  Placing it down on the bed, she perched beside it and eagerly pulled at the knot. Carefully she pulled back the clothes that were wrapped around her box, the black scent bottle and Fay’s receipt book. She sighed with pleasure at the sight of her treasures, running her fingers along the polished surface of the box and was just about to pull out the stopper on the little bottle when there was yet another knock on the door. Almost immediately came another more insistent knocking. Quickly she covered her things and hurried to answer it.

  ‘Ah, Mademoiselle, I came to make sure that you have settled in,’ Monsieur Farrant said, glancing past her to the things strewn across her bed.

  ‘Thank you, Monsieur,’ she said.

  ‘I happened to see Dawkins carrying your bundle and wondered if you had perchance found something for me, like more receipts?’ he said, eyeing her closely.

  Eliza shook her head. ‘I don’t understand. Why should I have more?’

  ‘That book your guardian gave me is not as thick as I was led to believe. I have waited years to get my hands on her receipts and frankly I was expecting more in exchange for your training,’ he said, frowning.

  ‘I have just this minute unpacked everything. They are mainly my undergarments and old clothes, but if you wish you can go through them to check,’ she offered, praying he’d decline.

  ‘Non, that is all right,’ he said, holding his hands up in horror. Then he spotted her bare feet and glowered. ‘I will see you after petit déjeuner tomorrow morning and we will discuss your training.’ He hurried away, almost tripping over the rug in his haste. Eliza stifled a giggle. If he was so appalled by the thought of seeing her underthings she knew the very place to conceal the receipt book and scent bottle. And hide them she must, for hadn’t Fay said they were her insurance? She took out the little bottle and studied it carefully for the first time. Its sleek black lines screamed elegance and the blue stopper twinkled like a jewel. Carefully, she pulled it out and inhaled the last t
races of the lingering fragrance. It was unlike anything she had ever smelled before and she vowed to find the source. Then she’d return to Fay and tell her.

  The next morning, Eliza donned her clean skirt and blouse, then spent ages trying to recreate the way Mrs Buttons had put up her hair. She’d just managed a passable effort when there was a knock on her door. Honestly, this place was as busy as one of those new-fangled railway stations she’d heard about.

  ‘I’ve come to show you to the dining room for breakfast,’ Mimi announced.

  ‘Thanks heavens for that. I thought I was going to be confined to my room for all meals, Mimi,’ Eliza said. ‘That’s a lovely name, by the way. Are your family French?’

  The girl laughed and shook her head. ‘Monsieur called me that when I first came here ’cos he said everything I said started with me this or me that. Oh, I’m meant to take your supper things back to the kitchen,’ she added, spotting the tray on the table. ‘You can have supper in the dining room tonight, miss. I heard Monsieur tell Cook he’ll be out this evening.’

  ‘Does he usually eat with everyone then?’

  The maid dissolved into peals of laughter. ‘Hardly, miss, but I also heard him say you was a ragamuffin and not fit to grace his house until you was suitably atti … dressed, but if he’s out he won’t know, will he?’

  Charming, Eliza thought as she followed the maid through the courtyard and into the main house.

  ‘This door is always locked at 8 p.m. sharp, so make sure you’re in your room by then,’ Mimi advised.

  ‘But why should the door to the main house be locked so early, if at all?’ Eliza asked, but they’d reached the dining room and Mimi was showing her to the table. She was seated next to Dawkins, the driver of the carriage, who explained that he was also the handyman.

  ‘And that’s Mrs Symms, the housekeeper,’ he said, gesturing to the woman sitting at the far end of the table. ‘Though why she’s keeping her distance this morning, goodness only knows. Anyhow, help yourself.’