Nobody’s Darling

by Nobody’s Darling (retail) (epub)

  No! Whatever was he thinking of? It wasn’t Ruby’s nature to be jealous of Cicely’s happiness. Quite the contrary – she would be delighted if it was the right man. If it was the right man!

  He couldn’t rest. In a moment he had crossed the room. Flinging the door open, he went out in a hurry, then up the stairs to Cicely’s room. He must satisfy himself that all was well, and that Ruby’s dislike of the young man was at worst passing female envy, and at best a simple misunderstanding.

  Ten minutes later, he came down to the drawing-room. Cicely was with him and they were happy together. She had assured him that the disagreement between herself and Ruby was of a personal nature and had nothing whatsoever to do with Luke.

  ‘What could she know of him?’ she asked innocently, and Jeffrey was obliged to consider her point.

  All the same, he had not altogether forgotten Ruby’s sincere confession: ‘I don’t like him, sir.’ In spite of everything, it preyed on his mind.

  * * *

  Ruby didn’t go straight home. If she arrived early there were bound to be questions and she wasn’t ready for them. Instead she went into Blackburn town where she wandered about, gazing in the shop windows and searching her troubled mind for the best way to explain what had happened. If only she could find work before she went home, the shock to her mam wouldn’t be so bad.

  With this in mind, Ruby made her way to Widow Reece’s shop. It was a sizeable place, right at the top of King Street, straddling the corner and almost facing The Sun public house. This was a busy thoroughfare and Widow Reece did a thriving business here.

  Pausing outside, Ruby looked in the window, admiring the splendid display. At the back, the larger wide-brimmed hats, boaters and boas made a colourful collage from one side to the other, while smaller hats took up the foreground. These were cleverly positioned on stands of varying heights, each hat carefully chosen so that one colour complemented another. There were hats that were fancy and extravagant, exquisitely bedecked with feathers and veils, then there were small round hats with a variety of chin-straps – some as fine as gossamer that might snap in a high wind, others as wide as a woman’s neck, and beautiful silk straps that came over the hat to culminate in a beautifully tied ribbon at the throat. The colours were breathtaking: blue like a summer sky, pink as heather, and white as the winter’s snow.

  The shades and styles reflected Widow Reece’s many years of experience. She knew instinctively what kind of hat a woman would want to be seen in, and it was no wonder that her expertise was sought far and wide. It was even more astonishing that she did everything herself, with her own two hands, from design to creation. She chose the material, dyed it, cut and shaped it, moulded it into a hat, and finally dressed it with silk and feathers. According to the older inhabitants of Blackburn, Widow Reece had never been known to have an assistant.

  ‘What would I do with one?’ she had been heard to ask. ‘I’d only spend valuable time training her, and then likely as not, off she would go at the first sign of marriage and children.’

  It was fourteen years since her own husband had gone from this life, and she had thrown herself into her work to forget the loneliness. Now, at sixty-two years of age and no longer handsome, she was a private woman, accustomed to living and working alone, and preferred it that way.

  It was this thought that caused Ruby to hesitate. Somehow, she couldn’t really see Widow Reece changing her habits after all this time. Disillusioned, she toyed with the idea of not going into the shop at all. But then she reminded herself that there was only one other milliner’s in the whole of Blackburn. It was a miserable little place down Nab Lane, and the woman who owned it was even more miserable. No. Ruby told herself that if she really wanted to work in a milliner’s, she had to summon up courage and have a word with Widow Reece. After all, she could only say no. But Ruby hoped with all her heart that she would say yes.

  * * *

  Widow Reece stayed behind her counter, eyeing Ruby with curiosity, while Ruby did the same to her. The woman looked much older than when Ruby had last seen her, nine months ago when a selection of hats was brought to the House for Cicely to choose from. Widow Reece was now snow-white and her fine-featured face was creased with a multitude of deep meandering wrinkles. She seemed smaller too, and when she rounded the counter to examine Ruby more clearly, she walked with a slight limp. ‘I don’t know what makes you think I’m looking for an assistant,’ she remarked. ‘To tell you the truth, I’ve been considering selling up. Did someone send you here?’ She was not unfriendly.

  ‘No. I came of my own accord,’ Ruby answered. She thought that at one time Widow Reece must have been a real beauty. Her nose was straight and very slightly tipped at the end, and her pale eyes were round and smiling. There was an air of graciousness about her, although sadly overwhelmed by the onset of old age.

  ‘I’ve seen you before, I think.’ The woman peered through narrowed eyes at Ruby, at the lovely face and those rich blue eyes – dark striking eyes that a body would not easily forget. ‘You’re Cicely Banks’s lady’s maid. Am I right?’

  ‘In a way,’ Ruby affirmed. ‘I was her maid.’ It hurt her to say it in the past tense like that. ‘But now I’m looking for work in a milliner’s.’ Shame washed over her as she anticipated the next question. Ruby couldn’t bring herself to say she had just been dismissed, and so went on hurriedly, ‘I just wondered whether you might have need of an assistant? I’ve been told I have a natural talent for mending and making hats.’ She was so anxious not to be turned away that she hardly paused for breath. ‘I wouldn’t want a big wage, and I’ll stay as late as you like. I don’t mind how much sewing and mending I do, ’cause my fingers are used to it. Later, though, I would like to help make the hats. I don’t mind getting dye on my hands. In fact, I’ll do anything and everything with a good heart…’

  ‘Goodness me!’ Widow Reece put her hands to her face and rolled her eyes. ‘You’re making me breathless!’ she cried.

  Ruby drew in a great gulp of air. ‘Sorry, ma’am,’ she replied. ‘It’s just that… well, I really do need work, and I have such an interest in the making of hats.’ She saw how the other woman’s face fell, and her heart fell with it. ‘You’re telling me you ain’t got no work then?’

  There followed a long pause while Widow Reece looked Ruby up and down. Ruby stood stiffly to attention, her heart in her mouth and the faintest of hopes stirring inside her. She daren’t speak, was almost afraid to breathe. Presently she was told, ‘Come with me.’ As the other woman turned and made her way into the back room, Ruby followed.

  ‘Look around you,’ Widow Reece said, waving her slim gnarled hand in an extravagant gesture. ‘Tell me what you think.’ She went to the window, grabbing the curtains with both hands and thrusting them all the way back. The afternoon light flooded in, illuminating every corner of that little room.

  Ruby was astounded. Her mouth opened and her eyes grew round like two ocean-blue pools. ‘It’s wonderful!’ she said in a hushed voice. ‘Why! I ain’t never seen the like.’ There were trestles and tables, shelves and cupboards, a set of drawers and an oak wardrobe with its doors open; every available space, every shelf, every surface, and even most of the floor, was piled high with hats in varying stages of development. The colours were blinding, every one imaginable, all shades of pink and blue, green and brown, yellow, red and orange.

  Like a rainbow, Ruby thought. I’m standing in the middle of a rainbow! She was exhilarated.

  Over by the window a long shelf stretched right across the wall, and here, displayed in all their glory, were the finished articles, resplendent in veils and feathers, extravagant neck-ties and silken roses. ‘Oh! They’re so beautiful!’ Rushing to the window, Ruby couldn’t resist reverently running her fingers over them. In all of her life, she would never forget this glorious experience.

  When she turned, Widow Reece was smiling. ‘You’ll do,’ she murmured, nodding her head. ‘I wasn’t sure at first, but now I know.’ />
  Ruby daren’t believe what her instincts were telling her. ‘Are you saying I can work with you?’ she asked in a trembling voice.

  The other woman came to her then. Placing a gentle hand on Ruby’s shoulder, she said warmly, ‘To create a thing of beauty, you have to think with beauty. You need a certain love and reverence for the thing you are creating.’ She relaxed into the nearest chair and keeping her eyes on Ruby’s face, went on, ‘Any woman can appreciate a beautiful hat, but there are only a very few who can actually create it with their own hands. Though it isn’t the hands themselves that create it, because they are only the tools. It’s the heart that creates it, the heart that weaves the magic. You need to have a particular imagination, a certain passion for what you’re doing.’ She smiled wistfully. ‘Do you understand what I’m saying? You have to have the magic in your heart in the first place.’

  ‘I can see how that might be, ma’am,’ Ruby admitted. She understood everything that was being said, and she knew it was right.

  ‘Just now, when you came into my work-room, I watched you closely for a reason. Seeing you enthralled, seeing how your eyes lit up and the way in which you caressed the finished creations, I knew then… you have the magic in your heart. And, yes, I can find work here for you. If you still want it.’

  Ruby could hardly believe her ears. ‘IF I STILL WANT IT?’ she cried. ‘Oh, you can’t know how much.’

  ‘Very well then. One month’s trial. You may begin on Monday morning. You’ll start at seven and finish at six for six days a week.’ She was delighted to see that Ruby didn’t flinch at the mention of these long hours which might have daunted a less enthusiastic person. ‘Your wages will reflect the fact that you’re on a trial period. To start with, I’ll pay you ten shillings a week. Is that satisfactory?’

  The first thought that struck Ruby was that she would be earning less than before. Yet she set that disappointment against the fact that she would be doing what she had always wanted, and it would stand her in good stead for the future, ‘Very well, ma’am,’ she agreed. ‘And thank you.’

  ‘Don’t call me “ma’am”. There are no servants here. I am your employer and you my employee. You can address me as Mrs Reece. By the way, what’s your name, young lady?’

  ‘Ruby Miller.’

  ‘Miller, eh?’ That amused her. ‘Miller. Well, would you believe it! You’re already partway a milliner, aren’t you?’

  ‘I never thought of that.’ Somehow it pleased her. Perhaps the good Lord meant her to be a milliner after all.

  ‘And where do you live?’

  ‘Fisher Street.’

  The smile momentarily fell from her face. ‘Oh?’ She saw the disappointment in Ruby’s dark eyes and was instantly ashamed that she should have shown her distaste for that particular area. ‘We all have to start somewhere, I suppose.’ Beaming from ear to ear, she saw Ruby to the door. ‘Of course, you’ll be required to wear one of my straw boaters to and from these premises. A form of advertising do you see?’

  ‘I would like that.’

  Regarding Ruby with quizzical eyes, Widow Reece revealed, ‘It’s odd, you coming here today, because until this morning I had no intention of ever letting anyone else touch my precious hats. I suppose it’s been creeping up on me, but like the foolish old woman I am, I chose to ignore it. It’s my hands, do you see?’ She held out her gnarled fingers showing their bony crooked knuckles. ‘I’m losing my grip… and when a milliner begins to lose her grip, she begins to lose her livelihood.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Ruby thought it very sad.

  ‘Oh, you mustn’t be sorry. Especially when it’s got you into my work-room.’ She laughed out loud and startled Ruby by actually shaking hands with her. ‘I’m counting on you to be my fingers,’ she murmured softly. In a brighter, stronger voice she added, ‘Well, good day then, Miss Ruby Miller. I shall expect to see you at seven on Monday morning.’

  ‘And I’ll be here, Mrs Reece, ready and willing to get to work,’ she promised.

  ‘Hmmm.’ She looked Ruby up and down and was pleased with what she saw. This young woman was unusually lovely, trim and smart with a certain flair that would attract the customers. Oh, yes, she was good material, and eager to be trained. More than that, the young lady had a decidedly pleasant and engaging nature. Lately, Widow Reece had been afraid that she would be forced to close her shop. That would have broken her heart. Now, though, she saw a new lease of life for herself, through engaging Ruby, and it occurred to her that it must have been the hand of Fate that had guided the girl here today. Her gratitude shone through as she spoke. ‘I’m glad you came, and hope this is the beginning of a very fruitful association.’

  ‘So do I,’ Ruby answered. ‘Oh, so do I.’ And she could think of nothing else as she made her way back to Fisher Street. At least she could tell her mam she had secured other work. What was more, it was work she had always longed to do.

  All the same, as she pushed open her front door, Ruby was already missing Cicely. Even the thought of working in Widow Reece’s shop couldn’t take the heartache away altogether.

  * * *

  Lizzie threw up her hands and wiped them down her face, peeping at Ruby over her fingers. ‘God bless and love us, gal!’ she cried anxiously. ‘I knew there were summat yer wanted to tell me. All night long you’ve been fidgeting and fussing… hardly touched yer tea… and now, when yer dad’s out and the childer abed, yer after giving me a heart attack!’

  She had come into the parlour from putting Lottie upstairs and was seated in the horse-hair chair by the fireside when Ruby told her that she wouldn’t be going back to her place with Cicely. In an instant her mam was on her feet and pacing up and down. ‘What in God’s name have yer done, eh?’ she demanded. ‘I warned yer not to get too friendly with the gentry. And now it’s cost you yer job.’ She slewed round to see Ruby’s sad eyes staring up at her, and was filled with remorse. ‘Oh, sweetheart, I don’t mean to go on,’ she apologised. ‘I expect yer feeling bad enough, without me nagging at yer, and I know yer were that fond o’ Cicely.’ She sighed long and deep. ‘But we’ll all be worse off without that second wage coming in.’

  Ruby held out her hand. ‘Mam, come and sit down. It’s not as bad as it seems because I’ve got something else to tell you.’

  Perching herself on the edge of the chair opposite, Lizzie waited, her pretty brown eyes focused on Ruby’s face and her hands nervously folded on her lap. ‘Summat else?’ she asked. ‘Well, go on then, lass. What else?’

  ‘I’ll still have a wage coming in,’ she said proudly. ‘Widow Reece has set me on at her shop, and I’m to start on Monday.’

  Lizzie was agape. ‘Widder Reece? What… the milliner’s at the top o’ King Street?’

  ‘That’s right, Mam,’ she said proudly.

  ‘Well, I never!’ A reluctant little smile turned up the corners of Lizzie’s mouth. ‘Is that right, lass? Widder Reece has taken you on, when she allus swore she’d never let anybody within a mile of her workshop?’ This was a real turn up. But then, Ruby was allus interested in that kind of work, and no doubt the widder saw what a fine helper she’d be getting in Ruby.

  ‘There’s only one drawback, Mam,’ she admitted. ‘I won’t be getting the same wages as I was with Cicely. I’m to be given a month’s trial, and started at ten shilling a week.’

  ‘Ten shilling!’ Lizzie shouted. ‘I’m buggered if she ain’t taking advantage. Yer not accepting that, are yer?’

  ‘I’ve already given my word. And, to be honest, Mam, I’m really looking forward to it. You know I’ve always wanted to do that kind of work. Even though I think the world of Cicely, I knew there would come a time when I’d want to move.’

  She could hardly contain her excitement. ‘Widow Reece has given me the opportunity I need. I’ll work hard for her, and I’ll learn all there is to learn. I’ll save and save until I can start a shop of my own.’

  Lizzie was angry. ‘There yer go again!’ she snapped, ‘D
reams. Big impossible dreams. It ain’t right that a lass of your sort should be entertaining such grand ideas.’

  ‘They’re not impossible dreams,’ Ruby protested. ‘I can make them come true. It will take a long time, but I know I can make them come true.’

  To her mind, what she planned had never been a dream. All her life she had wanted something of her own, something that would bring her the kind of independence and respect that Widow Reece had enjoyed. Something that would raise them all out of this place. It hurt her when her mam spoke like this, dismissing her ambitions as though they were a sin. ‘Oh, Mam, don’t you believe in me at all?’

  Lizzie stiffened. ‘Well, o’ course I do,’ she declared. Though she would never admit it out loud, Ruby was her darling and her favourite. She was her first-born and, more than that, Ruby was herself when she was young. But the other side of her character belonged to her father, a man educated in the skills of business, a man with a razor-sharp mind and fine intellect. Lizzie was convinced that Jeffrey’s blood in Ruby’s veins caused the driving ambition that wouldn’t let her rest.

  There had been a time when Lizzie herself had entertained ideas above her station, when she too wondered what it would be like to be a lady of consequence, to be someone other folks would look up to. To her never-ending shame she had been drawn to Jeffrey Banks, a rich and powerful man above her station, a man whose attentions had set her foolish young heart racing. But for all that, he was a good man, and to this day Lizzie had no doubt that he had loved her. Yet she could never forgive herself for what took place on that night. To her dying day she would see it as a terrible sin and a shocking weakness in her past. Ruby was a constant reminder of that awful, wonderful episode. Now, in her, Lizzie saw a dangerous need that could only end in heartache. ‘I’ve told you afore, I don’t want you talking about not being content with what the good Lord gave yer!’