The Windfell Family Secrets

by Diane Allen

  ‘Danny’s to farm Crummock . . .’ Harriet echoed Charlotte.

  ‘Yes, I agreed to it last night, with his father. After your wedding you can move straight into the farm. Arthur, who farms there, is to buy Butterfield Gap, and then you and Danny are free to live in Crummock. It gives us six months to see if we can make a success of this shop, and for both you and Isabelle to decide if this is where your hearts truly lie. I thought if you both decided you did not want to continue with the venture, at least it has my name over the door and I’ll just employ a new seamstress.’ Charlotte looked at the delight upon Harriet’s face and then at Isabelle. ‘Don’t worry; we won’t forget you, when you find your ideal man. We’ll find you a property as well. But Danny is the farmer in the family, and it follows that he should have Crummock.’

  ‘I’m delighted for Danny and Harriet – of course he should have it. I wouldn’t want to live there anywhere, it is too far out in the wilds for me. But Harriet may find it hard to get into Settle every day, if our business is successful.’ Charlotte looked at Harriet with a worried expression.

  ‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Archie was talking about employing a farm lad to help Danny out, and he could always bring Harriet down to work, if she wishes. A lot can happen in six months. Now, what do you think of the shop? I’ve ordered three dressmaker’s dummies, and they should be getting delivered by wagon tomorrow. I thought you could dress three of them and place them in both windows, to show people what you can both do. And an order of silks, satins and some Irish linen, along with lace, cotton, bobbins, buttons, and all the things I thought that you would need to start your business, is on its way from Liverpool. Of course you have an ample supply of cotton from Ferndale; you just need to order direct from Bert Bannister once a week, and I’ve arranged for him to give you a good discount. The rest, ladies, is up to you. You’ve got to stun the good ladies of Settle and district with your designs.’

  Charlotte watched the two girls as they looked around the bare room. It was going to take a lot of work to knock the old shop into shape, but if they were determined enough, they’d do it. It could be the making of them both.

  ‘We could put the material on these shelves, for people to choose from; and these drawers are ideal for all the haberdashery pieces.’ Isabelle ran her hand along the dusty counter and screwed up her face. ‘Can we borrow Nancy for a day or two, just to clean the place?’

  ‘You certainly cannot. This is your business, and you can do the work. It will not kill you.’ Charlotte looked sternly at her daughter.

  ‘I don’t mind doing the cleaning, for it will mean that the business is truly ours. You draw some styles, while I spruce up the place. I see we have a back room, where I can do the sewing and the fitting, if customers prefer to have a personal fitting.’ Harriet’s mind was racing with the potential of the property.

  Isabelle gave a sigh of relief. She was above doing the cleaning. Besides, she had an important meeting at lunchtime.

  ‘Harriet, I wondered if I should look at one of those new sewing machines – the one that the salesman was showing me in a leaflet, when he came to the mill,’ said Charlotte. ‘Do you think you could use one? He said it saves hours of hand-sewing, but I don’t know how the stitching would compare.’ Charlotte admired Harriet’s sense of industry; she was the one with her heart in the business.

  ‘I could try one, but I must warn you: I’m not good with contraptions.’

  ‘Right, well, I’ll ask him for a demonstration and we will see if you like it. Also, Sally Oversby – a woman who works in the mill, and whom I have great admiration for – makes absolutely beautiful little posy bags in her spare time. Perhaps it might be an idea to come to an agreement with her, to display some of her work in your window. It would be extra income for her, and it would make a good complement to your clothes.’

  ‘If her work is to be trusted, Mother.’ Isabelle only wanted the best-quality goods in the shop. ‘And of course we will have to get a ready supply of black crêpes and silks for mourning dress, and be able to supply at quite short notice; and perhaps some furs, as they are so in fashion at the moment.’

  ‘Right then, ladies, here is the key. Have another one cut and then you have one each. And now the business is all yours. You’ll have to work hard, but that should be the making of you both. I’ll inspect the books on a weekly basis, to make sure you are heading in the right direction. And, Harriet, I will let you know about a sewing machine as soon as I see my salesman.’ Charlotte left the two young women looking around them, partly in awe about what they were about to take on, and partly excited at the prospect of having their own business.

  ‘It’s no good standing around, feeling sorry for ourselves. Let’s go and get a brush, some polish and some cleaning cloths and get ready for all the stock arriving tomorrow.’ Harriet picked up a bristleless broom from the corner of the room that was gathering dust. ‘I think this one’s had its day.’

  ‘Can I leave you to it, Harriet? I wouldn’t know where to start with cleaning, and I promised to meet up with a friend for lunch. I’ll take the key to be copied and cut, while you have a tidy up. I promise I’ll pull my weight, once the shop is up and running. Besides, I’m best at home sketching some designs for our portfolio, to show our customers.’ Isabelle made a flurry of excuses, not wanting to get her hands dirty.

  ‘I’ll clean the shop. Go on and have your lunch with your friend. The shop will be fine left unlocked while I go and get brushes and the rest from the hardware shop, and I’ll pick up the key from the locksmith’s before I go home.’ Harriet pulled her shawl around her and watched as a smile broadened on Isabelle’s face.

  ‘Thank you, my dear. I didn’t want to miss my lunch date, but please don’t mention it to my mother. I’d rather she didn’t know about my meeting.’ Isabelle checked that her hat was straight, in the long, dusty mirror behind the counter, before kissing Harriet on the cheek. ‘You are a true sister-in-law.’

  Harriet sighed as she watched Isabelle swan out of the shop. She hoped it wasn’t always going to be this way: her doing all the donkey work, and Isabelle doing as little physical work as possible. But Isabelle had the charm of her mother and would probably attract the customers they needed, while she herself lacked vital contacts, so all was fair in love and war. She leaned on the useless brush and looked around her; she’d soon clean it all up, and it probably looked worse than it was. Charlotte was right: it was a good premises, with just a rough exterior. She’d be forever grateful to her future mother-in-law: a business, and now a farm to raise her and Danny’s children in. Children: that would be the next step and one she looked forward to; but before then she would have to teach Isabelle to sew. Now, was Isabelle having lunch with someone or was that just a bluff – seeing that her mother was not to be told about it? She was definitely a dark one who liked to keep secrets to herself. She must get that from her real father, Harriet thought, because Charlotte was as open as a book and as honest as the day was long. The Atkinsons were not without their secrets; they were as plentiful as their bank account was bulging, she thought, as she stepped outside onto the street to buy her cleaning materials.

  Isabelle quickly made her way through the streets of Settle, turning up Cheapside and reaching the small, homely tea-room, where she had arranged to have luncheon, half an hour later than agreed. She opened the door with zest and quickly looked around the busy room, eager to search out John Sidgwick’s face. He was there, looking as dapper as usual, his grey hair and moustache immaculately preened, and he rose as he saw Isabelle enter the room. How she loved the man she had been meeting secretly at this intimate tea-room for the last few weeks.

  ‘I thought you weren’t going to show.’ John pulled back a chair for Isabelle to join him at the table, then reached out his hand for hers, as she smiled at him with all the love he had hardly dared to dream about.

  ‘Don’t be silly. You know I would never let you down. I just got held up with my mother a
nd Harriet, and the new venture with the shop. I’ve left Harriet cleaning, all by herself. I don’t think she was happy with me worming out of the cleaning, but I couldn’t say I was meeting you – not yet, not until my parents know about you.’ She looked into the hazel eyes of her secret lover and withdrew her hand quickly as the waitress came to take their order.

  ‘Your mother will not be happy, for she will remember me drinking with your father and will say that I’m old enough to be your father, which I am, in truth,’ John whispered, as the waitress politely took their order and disappeared into the kitchen to prepare the sandwiches they had both agreed on.

  ‘She should be glad that I’m happy. And just because you used to be friends with my father doesn’t mean you are like him. Besides, I don’t care what they say. I love you dearly, and nothing will ever change that. I am so glad we met that day when you nearly bowled me over on Skipton high street.’

  ‘In truth, I wouldn’t say I was friends with your father. I was taken in by him; he saw a future for cotton that none of the rest of us did. He was so enigmatic – you just believed anything he told you, and wanted everything he said to be true. I can understand your mother’s adoration of him. Alas, I’ve never been to university myself, although – as you know – my two sons are there, James at Oxford and Rob at Cambridge. I have great expectations of both of my boys and hope they prove to be worthy gentlemen, and make their way in society in a respectful and prosperous way. A way that would make their late mother proud of them.’ John hesitated and thanked the waitress as she placed their lunch in front of them, along with a teapot and cups of tea.

  ‘If they are anything like their kind father, you need not worry, sir. Because he is one of the kindest people I know.’ Isabelle squeezed her lover’s hand.

  ‘My dear Isabelle, you are like a breath of fresh air to me. You are beautiful, elegant and a joy to be with. I am simply afraid you will soon become bored with this old man who is in front of you.’ John smiled at the young woman whom he had led to believe had captured his heart, and held his breath, wondering if he dared ask the next question.

  ‘I will never get bored with you, John. You are everything I could wish for. As for age, what does that matter, as long as we are happy?’ Isabelle squeezed his hand. She loved John Sidgwick; young men were such fools, they had no common sense and did not know how to treat her. Whereas John had been the utter gentleman since the day they met.

  ‘Isabelle . . .’ He hesitated, not knowing if he was being a fool, as his close friends had told him he was. ‘Isabelle, would you do me an honour and make this foolish old man very happy, by marrying me?’

  Isabelle couldn’t believe her ears and was speechless as she looked across at John, who was waiting for her answer with bated breath. ‘Oh, I don’t know – I mean, you’ve taken me by surprise.’

  The bell rang on the door, interrupting Isabelle’s answer as she looked up at Lily, her mother’s lady’s maid, entering the shop.

  ‘Miss Isabelle, I didn’t expect to see you in here. Are you alright?’ Lily looked across at the mill owner from Skipton that she knew to be John Sidgwick; his reputation, known to all, was that of a hard man, with an eye for the ladies.

  ‘I’m fine, thank you, Lily. I was just keeping Mr Sidgwick company over lunch.’ Isabelle smiled at her mother’s maid, knowing that her secret was now out in the open.

  John rose from his chair. ‘Please join us, Miss, we have room for one more.’

  ‘No, thank you. I’ve just come to see if I can buy some ground coffee. My mother says the best comes from here, so I treat her once in a while, when I have the money. Are you sure you are alright, Miss Isabelle, you look quite flushed?’

  ‘I’m fine, thank you,’ Isabelle snapped. She was annoyed to have been found out and just wanted to give John her response.

  Lily looked at the couple. He was up to something, and Isabelle was definitely not herself. ‘I’ll see you this evening, Miss.’

  ‘Yes, Lily.’ Isabelle watched as Lily waited for her coffee to be ground and placed into a brown bag, for her to take home. She smiled at Lily, when she turned to look at them both as she closed the shop door behind her. ‘I’m sorry, John. That was my mama’s lady’s maid, and she is bound to tell my mother that she saw me with you, for they are quite close. All the more reason for my answer to you.’ Isabelle breathed in deeply. ‘The answer is yes, John, I will marry you – it will be an honour.’

  ‘Isabelle, I can’t believe it! You have made me the happiest man in the world. Now when are we to tell your parents? They must know of our plans. You must have no regrets, my dear. I will always be there for you and I will ever be the faithful husband. You will want for nothing.’ John beamed across at his dark-haired rose; not only had he got a young filly to keep his bed warm, but she was the heir to Ferndale Mill – a rival to his High Mill, which was doomed if he did not have an influx of cash.

  ‘Tonight – we will tell my mother tonight!’ Isabelle was adamant that the sooner her mother was told, the better, because she was sure Lily would have tittle-tattled to Charlotte. Besides, her father stopped over at Crummock on a Tuesday night, to play dominoes at The Gamecock with Arthur, and she would handle her parents one at a time.

  ‘Tonight it is, my dear. I will come to the manor around eight o’clock and, if she doesn’t agree, then we will elope, because you are to be mine.’

  ‘Elope – how romantic! But I hope Mother agrees to our plans.’ Isabelle’s face clouded over; she knew her mother and her family would not be happy with her decision, but how could it be so wrong? John was a respectful businessman with his own mill and home, and her mother should be proud that she had landed herself such a good catch, despite John’s age. ‘Until then, my love,’ Isabelle whispered as she left the tea-room, her heart racing at the thought of marriage, but her head aching with the knowledge that she needed to confront her mother with her news. Perhaps it would be better if they eloped.

  10

  Lily hung her shawl up behind the kitchen door and looked around the room, before sitting down at the table, sighing heavily.

  ‘What’s up, Lily? You look worried.’ Mazy sat down beside her, noticing that her work colleague and friend seemed perplexed.

  ‘Well, I don’t know what to do. I don’t like telling tales, and it might all have been quite innocent, but I’ve heard bad things about John Sidgwick.’ Lily rubbed her hands over her eyes and then looked at her friend. ‘Young Nancy isn’t in hearing distance, is she, if I tell you what I’ve seen – or think I’ve seen? She’s such a gossip, and Mrs Atkinson will not want this being made public.’

  ‘No, Nancy’s out in the kitchen garden, getting a cabbage for tonight’s dinner. What’s worrying you about John Sidgwick, and who is he?’ Mazy sat back in her chair and waited to hear what was on her friend’s mind.

  ‘I took advantage of being in Settle, while doing a few jobs for my mistress, and decided to pop into that little tea-shop on Cheapside, for some coffee for my mother. Anyway, as soon as I opened the door I spotted them: Miss Isabelle and John Sidgwick. They were like two love-birds sat in a quiet corner, holding hands. I couldn’t believe it; he’s just an old lecher and he’s such a nasty man. I hope I’m wrong, but I think Miss Isabelle and him might be courting. She was so abrupt with me, and obviously annoyed that I’d found them there.’ Lily looked at her friend and waited for her to say something.

  ‘Is he that bad, this John Sidgwick? And are you sure you might not have read it wrong?’ Mazy knew her friend was worried, and wondered what she was going to do next.

  ‘I wasn’t wrong, Mazy. He was making eyes at her, and she looked besotted. John Sidgwick was a friend of her father’s and he is an older man, in his fifties. He owns High Mill at Skipton. Other mill owners are not enamoured with him, and he gives mill owners in general a bad name. He treats his workers with no kindness whatsoever. Isabelle’s mother would be heartbroken, if she was to find out and if it was true. Now, am I to tell her w
hat I suspect, or do I keep my mouth shut and see if it develops or dwindles out?’ Lily didn’t know what to do for the best.

  ‘Well, I think I’d want to know. Miss Isabelle is a bit vulnerable, when it comes to men’s ways, as her mother has protected her so much. How can she prefer an old man to all the young men who are available to her? And if this man is as bad as you say he is, then Miss Isabelle wants nothing to do with him – he’ll just be using her. Go and tell Mrs Atkinson; if you are wrong, you can always apologize. She’ll understand that you are only looking out for Miss Isabelle’s future.’ Mazy thought of all the young men who had been at Isabelle’s twenty-first birthday party and remembered that Isabelle had not really given any of them encouragement. ‘You know, I bet you are right. She showed no real interest in any of the young men that came to her party, except perhaps Robert Knowles, and that was just because of that dratted kitten.’

  ‘I’ll have a word with her mother then, although I don’t want to. It’s only bringing bad news to her door.’ Lily stood up and felt her legs shaking at the thought of having to tell tales about Isabelle.

  ‘Mrs Atkinson is in the morning room – she’s going through some letters. I’ve just come back from showing her tonight’s dinner menu. Don’t worry, you won’t regret it; you are not doing anything wrong, just looking after Isabelle,’ Mazy reassured her.