The Buttonmaker’s daughter

by Merryn Allingham

  She was an empty space it seemed, to be labelled as the world wished. At one moment, a grown woman exercising reason and responsibility, at another a giddy girl so capricious that in seconds she could change a life-altering decision.

  She bit down on her lip so hard that it hurt. ‘I may be trying to find my way, but I’m quite able to know which path I don’t wish to follow. And I don’t wish to marry. Ever.’

  His eyebrows rose ceilingwards. ‘That is a nonsense.’

  ‘But it’s not. I won’t be deflected, even if I have to make a lot of noise to follow my choice.’ There was satisfaction in confounding him.

  ‘More suffragette rubbish, I don’t doubt. Of course you want to marry. All women do.’

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘I know what it is,’ he said, in a small flash of understanding.‘It’s that young jackanapes I’ve seen you talking to.’ She could not prevent the fire from creeping into her cheeks. ‘There, I’m right. If that’s your plan, you can forget it. There is no chance that I will ever give my permission for you to marry a man like that.’

  She was raging inside; she wanted to beat her hands hard against his chest. Instead, she schooled herself to mockery. ‘A man like that?’ she echoed derisively. ‘What do you know of him?’

  ‘I know he works with his hands and that is sufficient.’

  ‘He works with his hands and with his brain. He’s a craftsman. But what would it matter if he were a humble gardener and grew cabbages for a living? If I loved him.’

  He swooped on her then, catching her by surprise, seizing her by the arms and shaking her forcibly. ‘You will not marry him or anyone like him. Do you hear? I’ve not struggled to get where I am, only for you to bring shame on me, not while I have the breath in my body to prevent it. And if you dare go against my wishes, you’ll not have a penny. Then we’ll see how your craftsman gets on, with a wife hung around his neck and working for a pittance.’

  ‘You had a craft once. You worked with your hands, made beautiful things, and taught others to do so. But then you turned your back on that gift and squandered it pursuing a foolish fancy. Aiden won’t make the same mistake, you can be sure.’

  Her father’s colour had risen to an alarming degree. ’The man has gone from Summerhayes. Gone for good. And you will not try to find him.’

  She had had enough and turned to go, but he shouted after her, ‘And what am I to say to Henry Fitzroy? You have spurned the match we asked him to make. He will consider his reputation damaged. That is your fault. You’ve deceived him and you’ve deceived me.’

  At this, she turned back. ‘I’ve deceived no one. The marriage was entirely your idea. And I don’t care what Uncle Henry has to say. If you’re wise, Papa, you won’t either. If you’re wise, you will have nothing more to do with him.’ Aiden’s warning was sounding loud and clear in her mind.

  ‘And what is that puny threat supposed to mean?’

  ‘He is a dangerous man.’

  Her mother had slipped around the door without either of them noticing. Joshua caught sight of her at that moment. ‘Did you hear that?’ he said mirthlessly. ‘Your brother is dangerous.’

  His wife’s silence was eloquent, if he had chosen to listen to it. Instead, he blustered on: ‘I have news for you, Alice. Our daughter has just announced that she will not marry Giles Audley after all. Better than that, if she can’t have her way, she’ll not marry at all.’

  Her mother’s expression was filled with sorrow. ‘Elizabeth, consider— ’

  ‘Oh, she won’t consider. She’s far too arrogant to listen to advice. Why don’t you tell her, my dear, what it feels like to be left on the shelf?’

  Alice turned a horrible white and clutched the door handle for support.

  ‘Do you see your mother’s reaction? Not pleasant, is it?’ he went on. ‘You would do well to think again. Time is what you need, my girl, time and space to think again.’

  He walked towards the door, his shoulders stiff with outrage, then stopped sharply. ‘A school, I think. That’s the solution. One of those places your mother is always bothering me about. A school that will keep you out of trouble and, with luck, teach you to respect your parents’ judgement.’

  ‘But you said—’ Alice began.

  ‘Yes, yes, I know,’ he said irritatedly. ‘But it’s what you’ve always wanted.’

  ‘But, surely, Joshua, it’s too late? Europe is in turmoil.’

  ‘Not Europe. And what a good job I didn’t listen to you,’ he said with satisfaction. ‘No, not Europe. But as far away from Sussex as possible. Scotland might be the perfect place. I’m sure they will have institutions that will be only too happy to discipline young ladies and imbue them with the right ideas.’

  And, looking pleased that for the moment he’d had the last word, he swept out of the room, leaving Elizabeth and her mother confronting each other.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  ‘I must talk to you. Please stay,’ Alice heard herself pleading.

  Her daughter, who had been halfway out of the door, retraced her steps, her feet dragging and every lineament of her body expressing reluctance. ‘If this is about Giles, there is nothing to talk about. I’ve already said it all – to Giles himself and to Papa.’

  ‘Then you must let me have my say.’ She sank wearily into a leather chair and Elizabeth was forced to follow suit. ‘I must ask you to think again,’ she said, with as much resolution as she could muster, then leant forward and took her daughter’s hand. ‘You have allowed your heart to do the talking, but your papa is right. There comes a time in everyone’s life when they must listen to their head.’

  ‘You are saying that I should commit myself to a man for whom I’ve no love? I cannot do it. I am not you.’ There was scorn in her face.

  ‘You should not judge harshly, Elizabeth. Whatever I have done has been guided by my duty to others.’

  ‘Duty?’ Her daughter almost choked on the word. ‘And that is your advice, that I should marry from duty?’

  ‘There are no easy choices, my dear.’ There had been none for her. She took a deep breath. She would share what she had never thought to speak. ‘I knew a different life once, one of which you have no idea. I fell in love. Very much in love, but I had to accept that it was not to be. I could not marry where I wished.’

  She saw the stunned look on the girl’s face and there was a long silence before Elizabeth found her voice. ‘Why not?’

  ‘I was very young, younger than you are now. The man I had set my heart on was not acceptable to my family.’

  ‘And so you gave him up?’

  ‘I had to. I had to do my duty,’ she repeated.

  ‘And that was to make an unhappy marriage.’

  The scorn was back and Alice braced herself to meet it. ‘I know what you think of the marriage I made, but you see only part of the truth.’

  ‘Really? It seems clear enough to me. You married to bring money into Amberley. But that hardly applies in my case, does it? Summerhayes needs no money. The estate is wealthy enough.’

  ‘It wasn’t only money that was in question. I needed a home of my own and that is true for every woman, even today when girls enjoy so much more freedom. I’m convinced the home you would make with Giles Audley would be a happy one. You enjoy his company – I’ve seen that for myself. And he enjoys yours. You are already friends and, given time, friends can become sweethearts. I’ve known it happen.’

  ‘But it wouldn’t happen for me. I like Giles enormously, but not in a way that would make our marriage a happy one. If I cannot marry a man I love, I will live alone.’

  Alice’s heart sank to somewhere around her feet. She had hoped Elizabeth had forgotten that foolish idea, but here it was again. Her daughter’s desire for an independent life still burnt bright. ‘My response is the same now as when you spoke of this before,’ she said as firmly as she could. ‘In my opinion, you have become far too influenced by the views of those whose lives bear no resemblance
to yours.’

  ‘Mrs Pankhurst says that as long as women consent to be unjustly governed, they will be. I don’t consent. I want the freedom to choose my own life.’

  ‘Mrs Pankhurst says a great many things,’ she said tartly. ‘Most of them impractical. A single life is not one to be envied. You will find yourself disregarded and a burden to others. How can you wish for that?’

  ‘I’ve no intention of being a burden to anyone.’

  Elizabeth’s tone was proud and defiant and she knew she must step carefully. ‘This is unwise talk, my dear,’ she chided. ‘You must believe me when I say that I cannot see any way in which you could support yourself.’

  ‘Apparently, you have as little faith in my talent as Papa.’

  ‘I have faith in you, but I know the world. And I know that what you are proposing – if indeed you’re serious – is impossible. You would not be able to support yourself from art alone.’

  ‘Then I’ll stay here and become the old maid that Papa has prophesied.’ The girl’s voice was becoming harsher with every exchange.

  ‘Would you really wish to stay here and live as his pensioner? And think, when we are gone and William inherits, what then? Will William’s wife want you here? Of course, she will not.’

  She saw a startled look cross Elizabeth’s face and pressed home her point. ‘You must have a home of your own and Giles Audley can provide one. Will it be so very bad? We are not asking you to commit yourself to a thoughtless or unkind man. Giles will make you a good husband.’

  The echo of her father’s words were sufficient to push Elizabeth into action. She started up from her chair and marched towards the door. ‘I don’t care how good a man he is,’ she flung over her shoulder. ‘Can’t you both understand? I don’t wish to be married to him, or to anyone.’

  Alice jumped up too, following close behind. ‘But that’s not true, is it?’ she asked gently. She had not wanted to mention him, but it seemed that she must.

  Elizabeth’s lips were tightly mutinous and she was forced to risk her daughter’s anger once more. ‘Do not think that we are ignorant of your friendship with the young man that Mr Simmonds employs.’ She could not bring herself to give him his name. ‘It is a friendship that will find no acceptance in this house, or anywhere else. And you must know that. He has been sent away, and not just from Summerhayes, if Mr Harris is correct. He has been asked to leave the village. You will not see him again, my dear, and you must stop thinking of him.’

  Elizabeth let go of the door handle. ‘What do you mean, he has been asked to leave the village?’

  Her daughter was past pretending, Alice thought, that Aiden Kellaway meant nothing to her. ‘I believe that he has been asked to vacate his lodgings.’

  ‘Mrs Boxall’s cottage?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘My uncle owns that cottage, does he not?’

  She said nothing. The authority Henry exercised in the district was not without its compensations. But then she looked at her daughter’s face, and her heart hurt. Elizabeth was trying so hard to maintain a blank façade, while she struggled with emotions that must be tearing her apart.

  ‘My dear girl,’ she said in her gentlest voice, ‘it is an impossibility. The young man has no money and whatever prospects he has are for the future. For his own sake, you should forget him.’ There was a pause while she gathered courage. ‘When I let Thomas go,’ she said in the quietest of voices, ‘I did it as much for him as for me. He could not afford to encumber himself with a wife from such a different world – and neither can your young man.’

  ‘And what if my young man should think differently?’ Her voice had only the slightest break in it.

  ‘Then he would be very foolish. Papa will never agree to your marriage. And if you are thinking that one day you will be twenty-one and can marry at will, I doubt the young man will wait that long. He will marry a girl from his own background, and that will be far better for him.’

  It was infatuation on both their parts. And perfectly understandable, she thought wistfully. They were two beautiful young people, it had been a beautiful summer spent in beautiful surroundings. But spent against a backdrop of threat, constant and always growing. The temptation to snatch happiness while it offered would be difficult to resist. But she could not allow herself to show weakness. Elizabeth’s future depended on her mother’s ability to remain stern.

  ‘If you marry to displease us,’ she warned, ‘your father will withdraw any financial help. You do know that? And he will make sure that on his death you do not receive a penny. Is that what you want?’

  ‘The money is nothing to me.’ The girl paused very slightly, but when she spoke again, there was a catch in her voice. ‘What would hurt me is to lose Papa’s love, and to lose yours.’

  ‘Then be guided by us. Do the sensible thing and make Giles your husband.’

  Elizabeth did not respond and her whole being looked weary and defeated. Alice hated to see her daughter so distressed and clung to the hope that her words might bear fruit. The girl walked to the door and out into the hall, barely able, Alice could see, to contain the unspilt tears.

  ‘I’m going to my room, Mama,’ she said over her shoulder.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  ‘Did you hear all that?’

  The boys had been bent double, looking through the fretwork of the oak bannister down into the hall, but on Elizabeth’s departure, Oliver jumped up buzzing with excitement. From their vantage point, they had been able to see through the open study door and to hear every word of the highly charged dialogue.

  ‘Elizabeth is being sent away.’ William said the words faintly, drawing them out as though with luck they might disappear into the ether. It was the one thing he remembered from what had been said, the one thing his mind repeated incessantly. When he stood up to join his friend, he was forced to lean against the bannister for support. His face was as white as his mother’s.

  ‘Phew!’ Oliver was still bouncing. ‘Your old man certainly has a temper. I thought my father was bad enough but—’

  ‘She’s going away. That’s what Papa said.’

  ‘Looks like it, old chap. But don’t get down. I’m here.’ He gave him a rough bear hug.

  William could only manage a sad shake of the head. Whatever Oliver said, he wouldn’t always be here. He would be leaving Summerhayes soon and if William had read the signs correctly, his friend wouldn’t be invited back. His mother didn’t like him and, as for Joshua, he liked no one – except Elizabeth. And Elizabeth was deserting them. She wouldn’t be here when he returned for the holidays. Elizabeth who was his friend and his shield. For weeks, he would be alone at Summerhayes, except for Alice. She would be unable to protect him from his father. And the two of them would have little to say to each other. It had been different when he was a small boy. Things had been simple then, but not any longer. How could he ever make his mother understand who he’d become? He would be truly and utterly alone, and his soul withered at the knowledge. If Olly should leave him, too… On impulse, he turned towards his friend and grabbed hold of him, clinging as though he would never let him go.

  Then shaken and disorientated, he allowed Oliver to lead him by the hand, down the two flights of stairs to the basement and into the kitchen. All summer, bad things had been happening at Summerhayes. Accidents that couldn’t be explained: the shelter he and Olly had built collapsing into firewood, those wild dogs rampaging through the garden right up to the house, the meetings between his sister and the architect, meetings that were secret and forbidden, and now Elizabeth’s banishment. And horrendous things were happening, too, just a few miles across the sea. Now that England was involved, they could happen here as well, in a country that had always felt so safe. Everything was going wrong this summer. Well, perhaps not everything, he conceded, feeling Oliver’s firm clasp on his hand. But the world he’d known seemed to be trembling on its axis.

  ‘What’s up, Master William? Cook greeted him cheerfully. ‘
Lost ten shillings and found a penny?’

  ‘He’s a bit upset,’ Oliver responded for him. ‘He needs feeding up. That lemon cake would be fine.’

  ‘It might be if someone hadn’t eaten it already.’ Cook fixed him with a minatory look.

  If there was anything less that William wanted, it was food. But he knew Olly meant well; for his friend, food made things right.

  ‘I don’t have lemon cake, my treasure.’ Cook turned to him. ‘But I could knock up a Battenberg in no time.’ He saw his friend’s face brighten. ‘Except –’ she rummaged in a cupboard, ‘– I seem to have run out of almond paste, dang it.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter—’ he started to say, when Olly interrupted: ‘We can go to the village and buy some, if you like.’

  ‘That’d be champion. The cake’ll take no time to rustle up once I get the paste. And you shall have the first slice, Master William.’

  He didn’t want to go to the village. He was too exhausted in mind and body to walk even a yard. Oliver could go by himself. He would sit in this comfortable kitchen and watch Cook at her business. She was halfway through preparations for that evening’s dinner and the smell of roast lamb filled the warm space.

  ‘We can take the bicycles,’ Oliver said eagerly. ‘We haven’t been out on them for an age, have we, Wills? And it will be quicker than walking.’

  ‘A nice bit of fresh air, Master William, that’s what you’re needing most,’ Cook decided, emptying a glass jar of a handful of coins. ‘Here. This should be enough. And, Master Oliver, don’t touch that plate – the Eccles are for the master’s tea. Go on, off with both of you now.’

  Shooed from the kitchen, Oliver led the way along the passage and out of the servants’ door. Eddie was busy in the courtyard, washing down the Wolseley.

  ‘What are you two young monkeys about?’ He barely looked up from the pail of water.

  ‘We’ve come for the bicycles,’ Olly said.