by Gracie Hart
‘Both Eliza and myself have vowed the men we marry have got to be able to provide for us well. We won’t settle for less,’ Mary-Anne assured the old woman, picking up her bag and hoisting it on her back.
‘It ain’t just money, you want, lass. It’s love and respect – that’s what’s gold in a relationship and don’t you forget it. Money doesn’t make a man, you’ve just to look at some of the snobs around here that look at you and me like we’re dirt. Look for someone with a good heart, not a big wallet; he’ll make you more than happy and tell your Eliza the same. Just you two listen to Ma Fletcher, she’ll be straight with you. Now, same time next week? And I’ll hope to have a few more bits for you next time but, fair warning, I’ll be back to my usual prices. I’m not a charity after all.’ Ma Fletcher took Mary-Anne’s money and looked at her with her ice-blue eyes that looked as if they were reading your soul.
‘Thank you for your concern, I’m sure we will both know when the right man comes along, not that we are looking for one especially at the moment. Yes, I’ll be back next week and I thought you had charged me light today.’ Mary-Anne managed a grin.
‘Aye, I’m a soft touch really, but everyone needs a bit of help occasionally. You take care, Mary-Anne, and just you heed the words of an old woman, I might be long in the tooth now, but once I was young and pretty just like you. Time goes so quickly and you look in the mirror and realise all too soon that you’ve turned into an ugly old woman. Enjoy yourself while you can.’ Ma Fletcher watched as Mary-Anne made her way through the crowds. She shook her head and sighed. A girl like Mary-Anne would need all the luck in the world to find a man with money in his pocket willing to marry a common lass like her, no matter how good looking she was.
John glanced up at Mary-Anne who was warming her hands around the brazier. Her cheeks were flushed with the warmth and she looked even more beautiful than before. ‘Did you get some good bargains at the market?’ he asked as she sat down on a crate, her bag by her side.
‘I did actually, Ma Fletcher was kind to me today – she gave her sympathies on the loss of our mother. She also tried to give me some guidance when it came to living my life.’ Mary-Anne looked around her at the huge bales of wool that were piled high, waiting to be dispatched to the many woollen mills in Leeds.
‘She must think you’re in need of a steady hand now your mother is no longer with us. She’d probably not be impressed with you sharing your time with an Irishman whose only a wharf-man at that – and one that you hardly know.’ John rubbed his hands together and held them near the flames as he gazed over at Mary-Anne.
‘But, I do know you; you told me all about yourself the other evening. And whether you’re Irish or English makes no difference to me. You showed what sort a man you were by helping Eliza and me out. Besides, what does Ma Fletcher know really? A rag-and-bone man’s supposed wife who has never left Leeds … she is hardly one to give me advice, no matter how well intentioned. I didn’t tell her I was meeting you, only because it was none of her business. I can do what I like in any case. Anyway, we’re friends, I hope. And this is just a friendly chat over a cup of tea.’ Mary-Anne looked across at John and watched as he smiled.
‘No matter what she’d have said, you’d have done what you had wanted; I can see you that you’re a stubborn woman, Mary-Anne. A woman with a mind of her own.’ John grinned and turned to answer a work colleague who shouted at him to get his courting done as the gaffer was on his way.
‘I’ll go, I’ve appreciated the warmth. Perhaps we will see you again, you are most welcome to visit us, John Varney. Eliza would be delighted to see you, it would seem she has a soft spot for you.’ Mary-Anne thought back to Eliza’s kiss and found herself feeling jealous again.
‘Ah, Eliza likes me for the material I bring her – cupboard love, I think it’s called. Now I would hope you would just like me for my company, Miss Mary-Anne Wild, and that I keep you entertained with my stories.’ John’s eyes danced with excitement as he waited for her reply.
‘Indeed you do and, as I say, please visit us again; there will always be a welcome for you in Pit Lane.’ Mary-Anne lifted her bag of clothing over her shoulder and walked past the wharf-side workers with John by her side.
‘You’ll be seeing me again, Mary-Anne and not just for Eliza’s sake,’ John replied, watching as she turned around and smiled before weaving her way through off-loaded cargo, disappearing amongst the workers along the canal side.
‘You will be seeing a lot more of me, my auburn beauty, of that you can be sure,’ he whispered to himself. Mary-Anne was the woman he had been waiting for, of that he was certain.
Eighteen
Eliza and Mary-Anne stepped back onto the cobbled road and looked at their handiwork that they had just put on display in their shop window.
‘It works well, Eliza, whatever made you think of putting the dolly tub under the skirt to make it look like a crinoline?’ Mary-Anne folded her arms and looked at the first finished dress in the prize position of the shop window, the long billowing skirts cascading from the tight bodice, which was displayed on the dolly tub and the posser from their scullery, which was acting as arms and a neck on the display.
‘Well, neither of us have such a thing as a crinoline and I wasn’t going to attempt to make one.’ Her sister paused. ‘I guess I could have used metal hoops from a barrel for the width. Anyway, crinolines are definitely not for the likes of us, and just why anyone would want to wear one I will never know, you wouldn’t be able to move and they look that dangerous to me. I’d pity the poor man who was walking next to me if I had a crinoline on; he couldn’t get near to me for the hoops. Also, Anne Cookman told me that they can spring open and cut into your legs if you are not careful. She is really wary of standing next to ladies that wear them because of that.’
‘Aye, you can tell they are not for us working lasses, only the toffs are wearing these, those with nothing to do but to look pretty, but that’s who we need to sell this dress to so let’s hope we catch the eye of Grace Ellershaw or her friends.’ Mary-Anne shivered in the cold wind that blew along the cobbled street. ‘Let’s go in Eliza, it’s bitter out here and just listen to that poor beast making that noise in the slaughter house behind the butchers, it knows it is about to meet its death. I can’t abide thinking that its throat is about to be slit and its body cut up for sale in the shop.’
‘You’ll not be saying that when you are eating your stew later in the week. But aye, I’ll be glad when it’s been stopped from bellowing, even though the drain that runs in front of our shop will run red with its blood for a while. I hate the sight of that. I wish we could afford a better property; let’s face it, this is just a glorified shed that our father once built for all his bits, not the most attractive property on the row of shops that it stands on, but it will have to do for now.’ Eliza picked up her skirts and walked up the three shallow steps to the doorway and opened the weather-worn door that led into the wooden lean-to that they had converted to their workshop a few years after their father’s death. They had been trying to make a living mending and re-selling clothes from the market since both had learned to sew, kept warm by a small paraffin stove that filled the room with the smell of the burning oil through winter. In the summer, the wooden boards creaked in the warmth of the sun.
‘Well, we will just have to make the best of it, because it is all we have and we can’t do anything about it. I still worry that we can’t afford to live on Pit Lane, let alone look for a new shop. This month’s rent is not yet covered, so let’s pray that your new dress will bring wealthier customers in. I don’t fancy hiding from the tallyman or having to give myself again to Edmund Ellershaw.’ Mary-Anne sighed as she closed the door behind her.
‘Dear Mary-Anne, stop thinking about Ellershaw; you will not be going there again. Things will take a turn and we will be able to pay the rent when my dress sells, and it will sell, believe me. I’ve also enough material for at least one more. I only hope that John Vasey can ret
urn with more fabric. He’s been a godsend for us both in more ways than one if the way you spoke about the meeting with him the other day is anything to go by. Besides, you also got some really good bargains from Ma Fletcher the other day. I still can’t believe she did us a good turn over those, she must have had a pang of guilt for all the times she’s haggled with us over a farthing or so.’ Eliza knew her older sister was still worrying about how to pay the rent and the hold that Edmund Ellershaw had over her. But she had recognised a glimmer of the old Mary-Anne when she had told her about her chance encounter with John Vasey.
‘I don’t know what you mean about John.’ Mary-Anne blushed. ‘Though I agree he has been a godsend to both of us with his supply of material but it’s nothing more than that.’ Mary-Anne made herself busy making tidy the bobbin drawer and averted her eyes from her teasing sister.
‘I saw the gleam in your eyes and the blush in your cheeks when you talked of him. I might have been the one caught kissing him but I think it should have been you, my dear sister. However, I’m sure he will return and hopefully he’ll bring me some material as his excuse for paying a visit.’ Eliza grinned as she warmed her hands at the paraffin stove. ‘So much for us both wishing for a man with money: John Vasey has set his cap at you, an Irish man with not even his own roof over his head, and my Tom lives with his mother and daren’t stand up to her when it comes to visiting me. We truly are foolish. Was it not just more than a few weeks ago we said a man without money was no good to either of us?’
‘I know, but so much has changed in such a short time. Losing Mother has made me look at things in a different light. I still don’t wish for us both to scrimp and save all our lives like Mother did, but I realise that happiness is perhaps more important.’ Mary-Anne gazed out of the window and then quickly hurried to her sister’s side. ‘Grace Ellershaw is walking up the street with a group of her friends, they are heading this way. Do you think that they’ll like the dress and call in, or will she have been told not to visit us again?’ Mary-Anne felt her heart thumping and felt stupid for getting into such a fluster over a group of well-to-do young women. But in truth she couldn’t help but think whose daughter Grace was and that was giving her a sense of justice at the price that the two sisters were going to demand for their work if she showed interest in the dress.
‘Shush! Look busy, they are coming up the steps; they’ve seen the dress. Did you hear them gasp? What a racket, just listen at them giggling …’ Eliza sat down and made a show of looking busy, picking up her sewing of a new dress as Mary-Anne reached for her mending and tried not to look so interested as the party of young women entered the shop.
Eliza smiled at the noisy foursome and stood up to greet them as she would any customer. ‘Good afternoon, ladies. What may we do for you today?’
‘Good afternoon Miss … err …’ Grace waited and looked at Eliza, realising that she didn’t know if the sisters had taken their stepfather’s name.
‘It’s Wild, miss. I’m Eliza Wild and this is my sister Mary-Anne.’ Eliza smiled.
‘This is Miss Priscilla Eavesham, Miss Jessica Bentley and Miss Sarah Marsden.’ Grace introduced her friends who all stood gazing at both Eliza and Mary-Anne between glancing around the small wooden room. It was clear the young ladies felt out of place in such humble surroundings. Mary-Anne knew that Miss Priscilla’s father owned Leventhorpe Hall and the other girls were from similar well-to-do families. Even so, Grace smiled and continued, ‘My friends so admired the green dress that I bought from you for the Christmas season that I convinced them all to pay you a visit. And we can see that we will not be disappointed by the looks of the garment in the window.’ Grace turned and smiled at her group of giggling friends who by now were looking at the array of bonnets, gloves, shawls and second-hand wares that were placed around the shop.
‘Have you just finished it? We couldn’t help but admire your design. The colour is exquisite and the fact that the skirt is large enough to put a crinoline beneath it is absolutely marvellous. Even though our good Queen Victoria has been heard saying that she thinks the fashion to be degrading, dangerous and disgusting and she desires for us womenfolk to abandon it, we all think it makes us look more appealing. Don’t we, ladies?’ Grace turned to her companions and waited for their support.
‘Oh, yes, Grace. I love wearing mine, even though my grandmother does not approve either. I do want to follow the latest fashions, although I must confess sometimes a crinoline is not practical especially on windy days or when I have to travel in the carriage. In fact in can be quiet embarrassing.’ Sarah Marsden blushed as she watched Priscilla and Jessica feel the blue brocade of the dress in the window.
‘They are perhaps not practical for everyday wear, but I would not think to attend this year’s spring balls without one. This dress look would magnificent on me, I think. How quaint that you have placed it over a barrel, I notice. Did you not have a crinoline cage spare?’ Priscilla Eavesham looked across at Mary-Anne and down her nose at her, remembering that this was the common girl who, much to her disdain, had caught the eye of William Ellershaw.
‘I’m afraid mine has one of the steel hoops broken and Mary-Anne prefers not to wear one, as it prohibits her in her work. We thought it looked quite fitting over the dolly tub … err … barrel, as it was only to display our work.’ Eliza answered quickly. ‘Would you like me to take it down from the window for you to see more clearly?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid, just like you ladies today, I prefer not be quite so restricted when at work but the style of a crinoline is so extravagant and the gentlemen do look twice at a lady who wears one, of that there is no doubt,’ Mary-Anne said as she rose from her seat and joined Eliza at the window to reach for the admired dress. ‘We have only just put it into the window, so you are the first ladies to have seen it.’ Mary-Anne looked across at Eliza as they pulled the bodice away from the posser, showing off the lace around the sleeves and collar and listening to the four girls comment about the delicate stitching and the beautiful design.
‘The skirt has several yards of material in it; as you can recognise there are many layers and folds, it does take some considerable time to create, but of course each of our dresses is tailored to fit if you are all interested. Our stock of material is over here if you care to look and we have a new delivery arriving shortly.’ Eliza noticed the delight on each young woman’s face as they tittered and gasped between them. ‘I can take your measurements now or if you prefer to have your measurements taken in your own home you could perhaps ask your lady’s maid to take them for you. I can give you a list of measurements required. That is if you are interested in commissioning a gown.’
‘I want this blue dress; it will suit me perfectly. Can you adjust it for me if I find that it does not fit?’ Priscilla Eavesham held the bodice to her, and looked triumphantly at her three friends who wished they had got there first.
‘Yes, of course, and we will deliver and bill it to Leventhorpe Hall, if you wish. It will suit you perfectly. I should make you aware that the price is a guinea.’ Eliza held her breath.
‘The price is of no consequence to me, my papa will be paying for it, as long as it makes me happy he will not question the price.’ Priscilla looked admiringly at the dress; she’d known she wanted as soon as she’d seen it in the window. The shabby shop belied the mastery of the seamstresses, and both her and Grace had recognised that immediately.
‘Oh, Prissy, I wanted it.’ Grace wailed. ‘After all it was I who brought you here!’
‘We have a lovely red brocade fabric that would suit you more, Miss Ellershaw; it would go so well with your dark hair and we could soon put it together for you in a trice, once we have your measurements. Red is a little daring; it would make your sweetheart think you were mysterious and passionate.’ Eliza smiled as Priscilla’s face dropped, thinking that perhaps she should have looked at the option of a different colour.
‘Yes, I see. I don’t yet have a sweetheart but if it would make
me stand out more during the season … But I wouldn’t want to look too provocative. Well, only to a certain gentleman in my life.’ Grace giggled and looked at her friends as she blushed at the thought of James Bland, the man she had had her eye on for some time. ‘Could I possibly order myself one and send my size to you with my maid, although the previous dress I purchased from you fit like a glove if you can remember the measurements.’
‘Certainly, whatever you wish, and thank you for your custom once again, it is appreciated.’ Eliza smiled and glanced across at Mary-Anne who had returned to her work of mending one of the dresses she had bought from Ma Fletcher and had Jessica and Sarah watching her. ‘Can we tempt one of you ladies with a new gown?’
‘No, I don’t think so at this moment in time.’ Jessica turned around and gave Eliza a thin smile before addressing Mary-Anne. ‘Is that somebody’s offcast that you are mending? I seem to recognise the gown, I’m sure it is the dress that Gertrude Barker was wearing at last year’s hunt ball. I remember it because I admired the lace work on the cuffs and that is what you are sewing now.’
Mary-Anne stood up. ‘It is indeed, miss. Miss Barker had kindly given it to her maid to throw out or do with as she liked, and I am repairing it for her because, like you, her maid Tilly thought it to be a shame to lay waste such a lovely dress. We also do repairs and mending, though of course most of our work involves Eliza designing and making garments, like the one Miss Eavesham has just purchased.’ Mary-Anne knew if they suspected that anything was bought and sold second-hand they would lose their new customers, so covered her tracks with a straight lie, in the hope that not one of the ladies would know the name of Gertrude Barker’s maid.