The Lacemaker (Silver Linings Mysteries Book 2)

by Mary Kingswood

  Deep inside, he knew that Will was a far better match for her. A country parsonage was exactly the right setting for her, one where she could be easy in the society such a position afforded. She would never be at home at Starlingford, mingling with the gentry of the parish and the fringes of the nobility. He had done the right thing, he told himself. So why did it hurt so much?

  He never wanted the waltz to end, but end it did, with applause from within and a few figures emerging from the saloon to sample the cooler air on the terrace. They were not alone any longer. Yet their dance had brought them into one of the shadowy corners of the terrace, so they had privacy for just a few more precious moments. He longed to say something to her, something of what was in his heart, or at least something to acknowledge the momentous change in him, but no words came. That foolish awkwardness again. But he could not quite let go of her. His arm was still around her waist, and she made no protest.

  In the end, she was the one to break the silence. “Thank you, Mr Leatham. I enjoyed that very much. And now you had better go back inside, and resume your efforts to find yourself a wife. You have a fine array of young ladies to choose from this evening.”

  Because he could not help himself, he said quietly, “But none of them please me as well as you do.”

  Then he pulled her a little more tightly towards him, leaned forward and gave her the lightest kiss upon the lips.

  23: Welcome Home

  Caroline couldn’t quite believe what had happened. He had kissed her… actually kissed her! The tiniest, most delicate of kisses, so gentle it was barely felt, yet still undeniably a kiss. Her first.

  He had been so easy about it. What had he said? ‘None of them please me as well as you.’ Then he had touched her lips with his as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Before she’d recovered from the shock, he’d tucked her arm into his and led her back into the house.

  “Who is your next partner?” he’d said. “Ah, Redpath, are you claiming Miss Milburn? Thank you for the pleasure of your company, ma’am.”

  A quick bow and he was gone, and Mr Redpath had offered his arm and led her onto the floor. The music started up, they danced, they stood, they danced again, they stood again. Perhaps they talked a little, but she had no knowledge of what either of them had said.

  Afterwards, when he asked should he take her back to Mrs Leatham, or was she awaiting another partner, she murmured something about a headache, and made her escape up the stairs to her room. Then she sat on a chair and tried to work out what on earth had happened to her. Nothing had happened to her, that was her conclusion. Mr Charles Leatham had given her the briefest touch of the lips, and that was all. It had meant nothing to him, and it definitely meant nothing to her. She didn’t like him any better for it, that much was certain. He was still an obnoxious man… although his ill-manners had been better concealed lately, it was true. He was learning some gentlemanly behaviour.

  Eventually, Caroline decided that the shock of being kissed was quite enough to account for her state of mind. It was indeed shocking that any man should so take advantage of her. But she was not a green girl, to fall into a swoon or be overwhelmed by undesirable emotions. After all, it had not been the ardent kiss of a lover, more of a friendly peck. Nothing to alarm her. She would put it behind her, and meet Mr Leatham in future with equanimity.

  Accordingly, she undressed, recited her prayers and climbed into bed, and when Miss Law returned, some considerable time later, Caroline was able to give a convincing impression of a young lady worn out by the exertions of the evening and fast asleep.

  But she was not asleep. Long after Miss Law’s breathing had subsided to the slow rhythm of one deeply unconscious, Caroline lay awake, mulling over that kiss.

  It was the intimacy that most affected her, she decided. In all her two and twenty years of existence, no man had ever dared to venture so close to her. No man had ever placed his lips on hers in that familiar way. Once or twice a man had grabbed her hand, one had even pressed impassioned kisses on it, but she had been wearing gloves and he had been at arm’s length, with enough space between them that she had not felt anything more than annoyance. She had snatched her hand away and told him not to be an idiot.

  But Charles had not been at arm’s length. His arm, in fact, had been around her waist, his other arm held her hand and when he had leaned forward and kissed her, it was as if he had breached some otherwise impenetrable barrier. Always there was a barrier between men and women, and now, with Charles, it was swept away. She felt… what did she feel? Vulnerable? Perhaps, but she trusted him. He had not gone further than that playful little kiss, in fact he had released her at once. Exposed, perhaps, but not in a fearful way.

  For the first time in her life, she wondered what it would be like to be close to a man, to be more than friendly, to share one’s life with him. To be married. Strange thought. But not an unsettling one.

  She closed her eyes and slept.

  ~~~~~

  The journey home was much the same as their outward journey. Mrs Leatham chattered on in a steady stream of reminiscences, while everyone else was silent. Cresset fell asleep, and the carriage was so comfortable that Caroline might have slept too, had it not been for the unsettling presence of Charles Leatham opposite her. Every time she dared to look in his direction, he was watching her, although she couldn’t imagine why. Sometimes when he saw her looking at him, he gave her an odd, lop-sided little smile, which she couldn’t explain.

  Once, when his step-mother paused to draw breath, he leaned forward and said, “Are you quite well, Miss Milburn? Last night’s dancing has not overwrought you?”

  “I am quite well, thank you.”

  “You are so lucky to have such a robust constitution,” Mrs Leatham said. “You are like Mildred in that respect. She is never ill, either. I have often wished that I had such strength, but I never have. Even in my days of youthful vigour, the least little thing would knock me up, and I am still of a delicate constitution, even now. Goodness, how I have worried your papa once or twice, Charles! Do you remember that dreadful fever I had three years ago—? You would not, of course, for you were not here. It was Alfred who bore the brunt of that trial with your dear papa. Truly they thought they would lose me, that time. But just when they had quite despaired, and even Liversedge had said there was nothing more that his skill could do for me, I rallied and here I am still. But I do have to be careful of my chest, especially in damp weather. Charles, do you recall the winter of…?”

  She required no responses, even when a question was asked, and Caroline closed her eyes and thought about kisses and marriage and what it might be like to have a man underfoot all the time, one who was not Papa. A long time ago, when Papa’s business was thriving, he had employed an old friend who was a tailor to do repairs and make shirts. He had lived in one of the attic rooms, and he was a sweet, mild-mannered man, but he was always there, at every meal and all evening, for he was not exactly a servant and no one wanted to banish him. After two years, he had gone to live with his sister, and everyone had breathed a sigh of relief. Since then, Papa had only ever had employees who lived out.

  But marriage would not be like that, for a husband was not chosen for his skill with a needle. A husband, surely, would be like dear Papa, a gentle, smiling man, most of the time, who only got cross when he had to reconcile his accounts. And then she thought of Mr Charles Leatham as a husband, and had to smother a laugh. He was not in the least a gentle, smiling man, and he was cross almost all the time. Although, not so much lately, she had to admit, and when he’d asked after her health, his tone had been soft, as if he truly cared.

  After resting the horses at Alderbury again, it came on to rain, and even Mrs Leatham’s volubility could not withstand its depressing effect. They completed the journey in relative silence.

  When they reached Bursham Cottage, the rain was so heavy that Mr Leatham would not allow Caroline to alight until he had procured an umbrella from the driver’
s box. The door opened, Martin emerged to take charge of her box, Lin and Mrs Stratton smiled at her, and she was ushered inside without time for more than the most cursory expression of gratitude to Mr Leatham, who had got himself thoroughly soaked on her account. She was whisked into the hall and the door closed on him.

  “We should have invited them in for tea, or some such,” Caroline said, frowning. “It seems rude to just dash away.”

  “They will want to get home, I expect,” Mrs Stratton said. “There now, Lin, help your sister out of her wet coat. We have tea ready for you, and Molly’s made strawberry tarts.”

  “I hope you’re not too grand for strawberry tarts,” Lin said, giggling. “I expect you’ve been living on lobster and champagne, haven’t you? Tell us everything! Was it exciting? Did you dance every night?

  Caroline laughed at the deluge of questions. “I’m certainly not too grand for strawberry tarts, the lobster was horrible and most nights there was no dancing, although there was a ball last night.”

  “Ooh!” Lin said, wide-eyed, and Mrs Stratton laughed.

  “Let her get properly into the house before you pelt her with questions. There now, Miss Milburn, come into the parlour. Ah, here is Susie with the tea things. Thank you, Susie, just there, thank you. I shall pour, just for today, but tomorrow Miss Milburn must have her rightful place again.”

  Mrs Stratton was a pleasant woman, and her rounded figure and slightly old-fashioned clothes reminded Caroline forcibly of her mother. How wonderful it would be to have such a gently maternal person always on hand, someone to whom she might hand over most of the responsibility for the house and her sisters. How lovely to think only of her lace again! But they could never go back to the past. Mr Leatham was quite right about that.

  The tea was poured, and Caroline was on her second cup and her third strawberry tart before she noticed. “But where is Poppy? Not still unwell, I hope?”

  There was an abrupt silence. “Ah,” Mrs Stratton said, putting her cup down carefully. “She is perfectly well. I expect she is with the goats. Comfort, you see.”

  “Why does she need comfort?”

  “There was an incident. With John Christopher. Jane Wenham called yesterday with some little thing for the goats, and Susie went to find Poppy and caught her in the garden store with John and he was kissing her.”

  “Oh dear,” Caroline said, trying not to laugh at the outraged expression on Mrs Stratton’s face.

  “And then, if you please, he had the cheek to say that it was all right because he wanted to marry her!”

  “Heavens, no!” Caroline cried. “She is barely sixteen, and far too young to be thinking of marriage. I am not even certain she should ever think of it.”

  Lin spluttered in indignation, but Mrs Stratton shook her head sorrowfully. “She is a dear, sweet child, but no man of sense would want her for a wife, that much is certain. A doting man of wealth, perhaps, who could afford to indulge her whims, but where one would find such a man in these parts I cannot say. Society here is very confined. But John Christopher? The poorly educated son of an impoverished clergyman? He is only sixteen himself, and little better than a labourer, so hardly able to afford a wife, and Poppy would never cope with an army of children and one overworked servant. I sent John home until you decide what you want to do about the business, but I cannot see that he can continue working in the garden.”

  “No.” Caroline sighed. “I shall have to talk to his father and see what may be done about it, and we shall still need a gardener. It is very awkward. I imagined we would have years yet before we needed to worry about Poppy and young men. It was the wandering here and there that worried me, and once she had her chickens and goats, I’d hoped we were safe. Ah well. It is a pity, but it can’t be helped.”

  “You are very good to say so,” Mrs Stratton said, “but I feel my own blame in the affair very strongly. I am not a green girl, and pray do not fly into the boughs, Miss Milburn, but you are very young yourself and not terribly experienced in the ways of the world, so you could not have been expected to notice anything amiss, but I—! I should have realised there was something between them. I should have been watching more carefully, for that is precisely why I was invited here, is it not? To keep an eye on your sisters, and that duty I have failed miserably.”

  “You cannot blame yourself,” Caroline said firmly. “Poppy has always needed more watching than any normal person can provide, and unless she is locked up, or followed everywhere she goes, there is no possible way to keep her out of trouble. But she is such an innocent that I’ve always felt that she was safe, so it’s disappointing that John Christopher took advantage of her sweet nature. And now, I suppose, she is head over heels in love with him and distraught because she cannot see him.”

  “She’s not in love with him, Caro,” Lin said. “She’s fond of him, perhaps, but no more than she’s fond of anyone who’s kind to her. But she sees him as her special friend, who enters into all her feelings about her little creatures and helps her in a score of ways. She misses him dreadfully, and now she feels she has no friends at all except us, especially since she’s not allowed to go to the farm any more and—”

  “The farm? What’s happened there? Was she making a nuisance of herself?”

  “We don’t know that anything happened,” Lin said. “Mrs Neilson just said she preferred her not to come any more. She told us last week at church, but she didn’t give a reason. Poor Poppy was very upset about that. She cried a great deal, and I don’t know why Mrs Neilson should be so stuffy about her and talk about bad influences, because Poppy was helpful to them. That baby is always crying, and only Poppy could ever keep it quiet, and now it just cries and cries.”

  Caroline helped herself to another strawberry tart, and then, absentmindedly, yet another, while she thought about these difficulties. The others watched her carefully, but forbore to question her.

  “I must talk to Poppy first,” she said eventually. “But as to John… I don’t know. Perhaps his father will have something to say about it on Sunday, but there is no question of marriage, none at all.”

  She found Poppy out in the pen that John had constructed for the goats, the kid in her arms. Her cheeks were streaked with tears.

  “Caro? Did you have a lovely time?”

  “I did, but what is this I hear about John?”

  “Oh Caro, Mrs Stratton is very kind, but she doesn’t understand!” Fresh tears coursed down her cheeks, blotched from crying. “John is my friend.”

  “I know he is, and an excellent gardener, but he mustn’t kiss you, Poppy. It’s not right.”

  “But he’s so affectionate, and he’s never had a good friend like me before — a girl. It makes him so happy, Caro!”

  “I’m sure it does, dearest, but you mustn’t let any man kiss you, not unless you intend to marry him. You don’t want to marry John, do you?”

  A long pause. “I suppose not.”

  “Of course you don’t,” Caroline said briskly. “You’re far too young to think about it, and when the time does come, there have to be considerations of… of income and so on. John earns very little, certainly not enough to support a wife except in the most dreadful poverty. You don’t want to be poor, do you?”

  “Oh no! It was very disagreeable being poor and being cooped up in those two rooms and having to work all the time, because although I didn’t dislike weaving, it was hard to do it all day, Caro.”

  “Exactly. You wouldn’t want to go back to that.”

  “Oh, but I wouldn’t have to, because we’re not poor any more, are we? Lester said we’re very comfortably off and we each get a third of everything, and that’s why he and Lin can get married, so I could get married too, couldn’t I? If… if I wanted to very much? Couldn’t I?”

  Caroline was silenced. There was no arguing logic with a mind like Poppy’s, so in the end she just said, “Let us get Lin safely wed first, shall we? And then, perhaps next year, we’ll see.”

  Poppy
brightened. “Yes! But John can come back, can’t he? I need him back, Caro. He’s so good with the nanny goat, he knows just how to calm her when she gets cross.”

  “We’ll see. I’ll talk to him, and to his father, and perhaps we can find a way.”

  “Please, Caro! Please let him come back! I miss him.” Another tear trickled down one cheek.

  To distract her, Caroline said, “What is this about Mrs Neilson not wanting you at the farm any more? What have you done to upset her?”

  “Nothing, I swear it! I was always good, and only went there after church, like she said, and Ruby never minded me holding little Mary, because she never cries when I hold her. But Mrs Neilson said I was a bad influence on the younger girls and I’m not to be friends with them any more and I don’t know why, truly I don’t!” Her voice rose to a tremulous wail, accompanied by another flood of tears.

  “I shall go and see Mrs Neilson and ask what all that is about. Maybe Ruby could bring the baby here on Sundays, if Mrs Neilson doesn’t want you to go there, for some reason.”

  “She’s never liked me,” Poppy said mournfully.

  “Whatever the problem is, I’d better sort it out quickly,” Caroline said. “We get all our milk from them, and it would be very inconvenient to have to go further afield for our supplies.”

  Caroline threw on her old cloak against the rain, and walked across the field to the farm. Before she was half way there, she heard the baby crying. Poor Ruby! Deprived of the one person who could manage to calm the child.

  As she stepped carefully across the muddy yard, several of the men were gathered around a couple of heifers to one side. She gave them a cheerful greeting, and they shuffled their feet awkwardly. One or two nodded at her, but most avoided her eye. That was a bad sign.