The Sewing Room Girl

by Susanna Bavin

  ‘Mr Nugent! Good morning, sir, and what can I do for you today?’

  Juliet was as surprised as her employer when Mr Nugent entered the shop. He looked smart in his overcoat with its buttons concealed beneath a fly front and sharp creases down the fronts of his trouser legs, which was the new style for gentlemen, as Juliet knew from the fashion magazines her ladyship sent to the sewing room when she had finished with them.

  He glanced at Juliet, only a glance but it was frankly appraising. Did he like what he saw? Did he remember her as honourable for speaking up for Hal?

  ‘I’m here to enquire after your young assistant, Mrs Naseby. As a member of his lordship’s household, she is my responsibility. Is she giving satisfaction?’

  ‘Indeed, she is, sir.’

  ‘I’m pleased to hear it. Her mother is a skilled needlewoman, so Mrs Whicker informs me, and I never had any trouble with the father.’

  ‘Juliet is a credit to her upbringing.’

  ‘And to his lordship,’ Mr Nugent observed.

  ‘And to his lordship,’ Mrs Naseby agreed.

  Two pairs of eyes turned upon her. Mrs Naseby’s were kind and pleased, Mr Nugent’s dark and assessing. His nose was thin, as were his lips; his face was lean. His whole bearing was aristocratic, but then it would be, wouldn’t it, because he was a younger son or a distant cousin or some such, depending whose story you listened to, of a titled family.

  The bell pinged, and in came two customers. They saw who was in the shop and stood close to one another, as if dying to whisper.

  ‘I won’t detain you, madam.’ Mr Nugent raised his bowler to Mrs Naseby, then looked at Juliet. ‘How old are you now, Juliet?’

  ‘Fifteen, sir. Sixteen in May.’

  He nodded. ‘Ladies.’ He raised his hat to the gawping customers before he left.

  Silence quivered before Mrs Naseby exclaimed, ‘Well!’ and fanned her face with her hand. The customers surged forward for her explanation. ‘It’s what comes of having an assistant from Moorside,’ Mrs Naseby finished proudly.

  Juliet hurried home that evening, eager to tell Mother, but it was cast from her mind when she walked in and saw the work basket on the table beside the wing chair, even though Mother was at the sewing table. She had seen the work basket there several times and each time it had made her wonder. She had to ask.

  ‘What a nasty suspicious mind you’ve got,’ Mother exclaimed. ‘Honestly, I put it there just once while I have forty winks and now you’re accusing me of sleeping on the job every afternoon.’

  ‘I’m not. I couldn’t help noticing, that’s all.’

  ‘Well, I’ll make sure not to leave it there again. Have I your permission to leave it on the sewing table or will you read something into that as well?’

  Chapter Seven

  Mr Nugent! What an honour. He had singled her out, drawing her aside from the women outside church. Agnes drew herself up taller. His lordship’s land agent and Lady Margaret’s personal seamstress in private conversation: it underlined her importance. But when he mentioned calling at Naseby’s, her expression froze. Juliet hadn’t said anything. Wretched girl! As Mr Nugent raised his bowler to her and walked on, Agnes could feel the air crackling with interest as her former neighbours edged closer. Feeling smug, she was more than happy to be the centre of attention.

  ‘Mr Nugent was simply passing the time of day,’ she said. ‘One senior member of staff to another, you know. He wanted to congratulate me on how well Juliet is doing. He called at the shop to find out.’

  ‘You never said a word, Agnes,’ Ella accused her.

  She laughed. ‘I didn’t want to boast.’

  When they separated to walk home, Agnes was all smiles as long as she was in sight of her friends, but she hissed at Juliet from the corner of her mouth, ‘Why didn’t you tell me Mr Nugent went to the shop? Naseby’s can expect another visitor. I’m coming to stock up.’

  ‘I can bring anything you need.’

  ‘I’d like to come to town. I haven’t been for a while.’

  She went the following afternoon. As Lady Margaret’s seamstress, she was served by Mrs Naseby while Juliet dealt with other customers.

  ‘Juliet can carry everything home,’ Agnes said.

  ‘Of course,’ said Mrs Naseby. ‘I’ll lend her a basket.’

  Agnes glowed with satisfaction. She loved the way her former employer had to accommodate her.

  Climbing the hill at the end of the day, Juliet was surprised to find Mother sitting on the bench halfway up.

  ‘Goodness, is that the time?’ Mother exclaimed. ‘It’s so agreeable to be out that I stopped to enjoy the view.’

  Juliet joined her. Remembering how stifled she had felt in the sewing room when she was laid up, she couldn’t blame Mother for wanting to extend her outing. Mother lifted an elbow, and Juliet scooted along the bench to link arms and snuggle close, making contact with something hard in Mother’s pocket. Mother shifted it to the other pocket, but not before Juliet saw it.

  ‘Medicine? Are you poorly?’

  ‘Don’t panic. Mrs Whicker asked me to collect it.’

  ‘Who’s it for?’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s another reason I’m here so late: I had to wait at the doctor’s. Come along. We should be getting back.’

  Hal was waiting as Juliet left the shop. ‘Grandad sent me on an errand, so I thought I’d stop by and walk you home … if you don’t mind?’

  Mind? She was breathless with pleasure.

  ‘And who’s this?’ Mrs Naseby demanded from the shop doorway.

  ‘Hal Price, ma’am,’ said Hal, ‘one of his lordship’s gardeners.’

  ‘We’re friends,’ Juliet added.

  ‘Mm, I see. Very well, then, but don’t make a habit of it. I’m not having my assistant getting herself talked about.’

  Juliet went beetroot. When they set off, Hal mooched along, looking thoughtful, and she dreaded what he must be thinking after Mrs Naseby’s remark.

  As they started up the hill, he asked, ‘Did you mean what you said back there? That we’re … friends?’

  She panicked. Was friendship too much to claim? Then, through a terrific roaring in her ears, she heard what he was saying.

  ‘I’d like us to be more than that.’

  Her feet stopped of their own accord. She stared at him.

  ‘I’m asking you to walk out with me. I’ll be honest, I have to get on in life before I can wed, but if you’ll give me your support in that, I swear I’ll give you a good life one day. So, Juliet Harper, will you walk out with me?’

  All she could do was nod. Had she tried to speak, she might well have burst into tears. For the first time in her life, she climbed the hill without noticing the effort. She let her hand bump against Hal’s, wanting him to hold it, but he waited until they were in the parkland, where he drew her behind a tree, holding her shoulders gently as he bent his face to hers. Her eyes fluttered closed as his lips brushed hers, every nerve end in her body yearning towards him. His kiss was brief and soft, and left her wanting more.

  ‘I want to do this properly,’ he murmured. ‘I’ll ask your mum’s permission.’

  She nodded breathlessly. She couldn’t wait to tell Mother.

  But Mother burst into a fine old fury.

  ‘The gardener’s boy!’

  ‘Pop was only a groundsman.’

  Mother slapped her. Juliet gasped, lifting her fingers to where her face was hot and stinging. Mother looked ashamed, then obstinate.

  ‘It’s your own fault. You shouldn’t talk about your father like that.’

  ‘I didn’t mean any disrespect to Pop. Anyroad, Hal’s going to be a garden designer one day.’

  ‘That remains to be seen.’

  To Juliet’s relief, that got the snappiness out of Mother’s system. She went to meet Hal’s parents, which made Juliet feel both proud and horrified.

  ‘What did you expect?’ Mother demanded. ‘This is what you want, isn’t it?
Now is the time to back out if you’re not sure.’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  And she was – blissfully, deeply sure. She lived for the time she spent with Hal, hanging on his words as he described his future – only it wasn’t just his future now. It was theirs. And she didn’t mind waiting for him to get established. That would be her contribution to his career.

  ‘You should offer to sew for women on the estate and in the villages, women who can’t afford to have their families’ clothes made at Naseby’s,’ said Hal. ‘You could work up a good business if you put your mind to it.’

  She laughed. ‘I’m happy as I am.’ A thought struck her. ‘Do you mean I should earn money to help us along?’

  ‘I’ll be more than able to support us when the time comes. What I meant was that you’ll have a few years to fill while you wait for me. Wouldn’t you like to start a business of your own?’

  Frankly, she was too busy revelling in the joy of her new relationship and dreaming of her long-term future. Maybe she would think about it if and when Hal went away to work alongside a garden designer.

  Having walked on air for a while, she crashed to earth after Mother was sent for by Mrs Whicker. When she returned to the sewing room, she collapsed into the wingback chair.

  ‘Mrs Whicker says you must leave Moorside. Followers aren’t allowed. Out of respect for me, she’ll allow six weeks for arrangements to be made. By then, you must be living elsewhere. Maybe Mrs Naseby will have you. Or Beatrice.’

  Juliet’s panic at being given notice was transformed from blanket distress to crystal-clear reality. She didn’t fancy living with either woman. Miss Bradley popped into her head. Might Miss Bradley look kindly on her?

  With permission from Mrs Naseby, she loitered outside St Chad’s at the end of the school day, crossing her fingers tightly in the folds of her skirt as she explained her situation to her old teacher.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Miss Bradley said. ‘My landlady doesn’t have room for another. Best do what your mother wants.’ Then she added, ‘When you have more freedom, perhaps you could resume your drawing lessons. You’re a bright girl, Juliet.’ A sigh, a shake of the head. ‘You’ve got a young man now. You’ll be spending your time with him or sewing for your bottom drawer.’

  ‘Hal wants me to better myself. We both want to get on.’

  ‘Well, that’s something,’ said Miss Bradley.

  What was that supposed to mean? She had the obscure feeling she had let Miss Bradley down. Passing the doctor’s on her way home, she was hailed from the window by the doctor’s wife, who then came to the door.

  ‘Here’s the medicine Doctor promised your mother.’

  Juliet hurried home with this new worry chewing at her heart. But when she reached the sewing room, Mother wasn’t there. She came in a few minutes later, peeling off her coat.

  ‘Oh, you’re back. I was hoping for a lie-down before you got in.’

  ‘Where have you been?’ Juliet asked.

  ‘Beatrice’s. Mrs Whicker gave me the time. Beatrice says you can lodge with her. I’d rather have you in Clough than down below.’ Mother sighed. ‘I’ll be glad to get the weight off my feet.’

  ‘You’re poorly, aren’t you? The doctor sent this.’ She produced the bottle.

  ‘Oh, that. It’s a tonic, nothing more. This worry about you leaving, it’s keeping me awake.’

  ‘You never said you’d been to the doctor.’

  ‘Goodness, what a fusspot. It’s only a tonic. There’s just time for me to have a rest before tea. Forty winks and a glug of tonic and I’ll be right as rain.’

  Mother vanished into the bedroom, leaving unease flickering across the surface of Juliet’s mind. It was only a day or two since Mrs Whicker had given her notice. How could Mother have got run-down so soon? She thought back to the snow-headaches and the times she had found the work basket beside the wing chair. Now this. Living her life confined to the sewing room was sapping Mother’s energy.

  She kept one eye on the clock, waiting for Mother to reappear, but she didn’t, so Juliet went to wake her, opening the bedroom door to what sounded like a pig with a bad cold. She grinned and shook Mother’s shoulder. Mother snorted and sat up, pushing herself to her feet, smiling brightly.

  ‘See? Forty winks was all I needed.’

  ‘Forty?’ Juliet smiled back. ‘Two hundred, more like.’

  Mother’s hand whipped out and slapped her. Juliet stared in disbelief – though why was she disbelieving? It wasn’t as though it was the first time.

  ‘You have to stop hitting me. You never used to do it when Pop was here.’

  ‘You’re meant to be on my side.’ Mother glared at her, then turned with a swish and marched out.

  Hurrying to meet Hal, Juliet walked briskly, then rushed a few steps in an almost run. She ought to make the most of the drifts of snowdrops, which wouldn’t be here for much longer, but she was too eager to see Hal. They were permitted to meet once a week at the Prices’ cottage deep in the park.

  She was almost there when she saw Mr Nugent coming along the path. He stopped, so she had to as well.

  ‘Good afternoon, Juliet. Are you going to see your young man?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘I hear you’re in need of a new home.’

  ‘Mrs Grove has offered to have me.’

  ‘Has she? Well, we’ll see. I’ll be back this way in an hour or so. I’ll walk with you back to the house.’

  ‘But I stay longer than that.’

  Mr Nugent fixed her with a look. ‘I’m simply looking after your interests.’

  He dismissed her with a nod. She hurried on, hot with indignation and disappointment. She couldn’t wait to tell Hal that their precious visit was being cut short.

  To her surprise, he said, ‘It’s an honour to have Mr Nugent keeping an eye on you.’

  ‘I can do without the honour, thank you.’

  Laughing, he looped an elbow around her shoulders, hooking her close and dropping a kiss on her temple. ‘He had a word with me the other day. He told me straight not to take liberties.’

  ‘He never!’

  ‘He did. He said you might not work for his lordship but you’re still a member of the household.’

  Knowing Mr Nugent was coming for her, without knowing exactly when, only that it would be far sooner than they would like, lent an awkwardness to the visit, which was a horrible waste given that they wouldn’t see one another again for a whole week. Misery stretched tight across Juliet’s chest and the last thing she felt like, walking back to Moorside with her grand escort, was polite conversation.

  ‘I might have a solution to your problem,’ Mr Nugent observed. ‘Ah, I thought that might perk you up a bit.’

  When he said nothing more, she asked, ‘What solution?’

  ‘Wait and see.’ He sounded amused. Was he teasing her? Or trying to tempt her into pressing for details? She felt obscurely uncomfortable. Anyroad, she knew where she was going to live. She didn’t need another solution.

  Juliet came home from work to find Mother fluttery with excitement. Her eyes were bright and her hands couldn’t keep still. Usually at this time of day, she was tired and fretful.

  ‘Wait till you hear this,’ Mother said importantly. ‘Who do you think came to see me today? Mr Nugent himself, here in my sewing room.’

  ‘What did he want?’

  ‘You.’ Mother laughed. ‘He wants you to join his household. Think of it! His cook has a kitchen maid and a scrubbing girl, and there’s a chambermaid, a parlourmaid and a boy, but the parlourmaid, Dolly, is getting on in years. Her eyes aren’t what they were and her fingers aren’t as nifty, but she’s been with Mr Nugent a long time and he doesn’t want to lose her, which shows what a good master he is. That’s where you come in.’

  Juliet’s heart jumped inside her chest. ‘You don’t mean leave Naseby’s?’

  ‘If you were at Arley House all the time, there’d be no point in keeping Dolly, so you’ll ke
ep your job at the shop, then help Dolly in the evenings.’

  ‘You mean do a day’s work, then go home and do more?’ But then, wasn’t this what she did anyway? She had always helped a certain amount in the sewing room, but now she was helping every evening. At least she would get paid for it at Mr Nugent’s.

  ‘There’ll be no heavy work. You’ll be there to do the fiddly things Dolly can’t manage, like cleaning the silver.’

  ‘And sewing?’

  ‘That’s the best of it. You’ll be Mr Nugent’s sewing girl. I asked if that could be your title and he said yes. It’ll be a tremendous feather in your cap. Customers will be queuing up to have their alterations done by Mr Nugent’s sewing girl, and Mrs Naseby will have to pay you more – well, if she has any decency.’

  ‘Mr Nugent’s sewing girl,’ Juliet repeated. Better or worse than Mrs Grove’s lodger?

  ‘You’ll be closer to me than if you went to the village,’ Mother added.

  Closer to Hal too. He would be pleased. He would see it as a way of bettering herself.

  After church that Sunday, Mother was full of the news. It was as if she couldn’t wait for it to happen.

  Mrs Naseby was distinctly less enthusiastic. ‘Just so long as you don’t arrive here dopey-eyed every morning,’ she observed, but that was all she said, because criticising Mr Nugent’s idea would be tantamount to speaking against his lordship.

  ‘You could find yourself sharing a room with old Dolly,’ warned Cecily. ‘Servants always share, apart from the high-up ones.’

  So when Juliet visited Arley House with Mother to meet the staff, she was worried sick, but it turned out she was to have a room all to herself on the other side of the house from the rest of the other servants.

  ‘That shows you’re no ordinary maid,’ Mother whispered, and Juliet knew that the following Sunday, the whole village would know it too.

  The doctor’s wife waylaid Juliet, handing her a bottle for Mother.

  Juliet frowned. ‘I didn’t think she’d need more.’