The Sewing Room Girl

by Susanna Bavin

  ‘Well … you sound jealous of him.’

  Cecily looked at her. ‘It’s not William I’m jealous of. It’s Verity.’

  ‘Verity?’

  ‘For pity’s sake! Do I have to spell it out?’ Cecily fixed her with a look.

  She caught her breath. ‘Oh, Cecily, you mean …?’

  ‘Yes, I do mean, for all the good it’s done me. I’ve liked him since Archie’s birthday party.’

  ‘But that’s where they met.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘I had no idea.’

  ‘Good,’ Cecily said tartly. ‘I don’t want him realising. Look, I know I’ve been crabby. Let’s invite them to tea, and I promise to be on my best behaviour.’

  Juliet’s heart went out to her friend. William had handed himself into Verity’s keeping, lock, stock and honourable intentions.

  ‘I never thought there’d be anyone else.’ The crispness vanished as Cecily opened her heart. ‘I’ve had eyes for no one but Archie for so long, which was just as well, with me being a pretend widow and him illegitimate. But that’s just another thing that makes William perfect. He knows the truth and he’s never held it against me. I feel guilty about having feelings for him.’

  ‘Sweetheart.’ Juliet reached for her hand. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because all his life until now, Archie has been everything to me, and now … now he isn’t any more.’

  ‘You mustn’t blame yourself for that.’

  ‘Can’t help it.’ Cecily sniffed, giving her shoulders a shake. ‘What about you? It’s a long time since Hal.’

  Responding to Cecily’s honesty, Juliet opened up. Painful though it was, it was a relief to speak of it. ‘There’ll never be anyone else, if that’s what you mean. I still have feelings for Hal. I wrote to him, you know, when I was at my grandmother’s, but he didn’t write back.’

  ‘But you wanted him to.’

  ‘Oh yes, so much. I thought he’d want to come rushing to the rescue, but he didn’t, so that’s that.’

  William was so obviously delighted when Juliet invited him and Verity to tea that she was heartily relieved she had thought to issue the invitation when Cecily wasn’t present, but William came back a day or two later, rather shamefaced, with a refusal.

  ‘Verity would rather not, if you don’t mind. She doesn’t want us looking official.’

  ‘But you’re walking out,’ said Juliet.

  ‘Verity thinks once you start visiting folk as a couple, it raises expectations. She doesn’t want to feel she’s being rushed into anything.’

  ‘That’s a fine carry-on!’ Cecily exploded the minute William left. ‘She has the chance of this thoroughly decent man and she doesn’t want to be rushed. Stupid creature! Why is she walking out with him if she doesn’t have her eye on getting wed? That’s flighty.’ She had the grace to look abashed. ‘Hark at me sounding all prim and respectable.’

  ‘Pure as the driven slush, eh?’ Juliet hugged her. ‘That’s my girl. Help me get ready for Mrs Baker-Johnson tomorrow.’

  Mrs Baker-Johnson wanted a gown for what she grandly called the winter season, including Mrs Palmer’s Boxing Day do. Hope immediately leapt inside Juliet – surely Mrs Palmer or one of her daughters … But none of them sent for her, so there was no hope of news of Flora McKenzie.

  Mrs Baker-Johnson, whose taste ran towards garish colours, was tactfully persuaded into a handsome cream satin to which Juliet added crimson velvet at the neckline, cuffs and hem. She also provided a short matching cape trimmed with sable from a moth-eaten coat that had cost next to nothing, but which contained sufficient good strips to entice the Mrs Baker-Johnsons of this world to splash out on an exotic piece of trim. She imagined the discreet murmurs of, ‘Yes, dear, sable, so exquisitely soft to the touch,’ as if Mrs Baker-Johnson possessed a whole wardrobe stuffed with fur. It added to Juliet’s professional standing to be able to offer these special pieces.

  On her way home from her final visit to Mrs Baker-Johnson, she spotted Verity Forbes across the road. Should she? Yes, she crossed over to say how do.

  Verity looked embarrassed, then said straight out, ‘I hope you didn’t mind my refusing your invitation.’

  ‘William explained.’

  ‘No offence intended.’

  ‘None taken,’ she lied with a smile.

  ‘It’s just that William’s so keen—’

  Juliet stopped her right there. ‘I don’t want to discuss him behind his back.’

  ‘Of course not.’ Verity eyed the work basket. ‘Been out sewing?’

  ‘Delivering. The basket comes in case of last minute alterations.’

  ‘I hope your customer was pleased.’

  ‘She was, thank you, and believe me, Mrs Baker-Johnson would be the first to say if she wasn’t.’

  ‘Baker-Johnson? York Road? What a coincidence. A couple of our chaps were there yesterday, doing a repair.’

  ‘I was forgetting you work for a builder.’

  ‘Nasty business. They had burglars.’

  ‘How horrible. I didn’t know.’

  Going home, she was glad she had made the effort. She felt sorry too, because it had reminded her of her immediate liking for Verity the first time they met, but she couldn’t see anything coming of it, not with the way Cecily felt about William.

  Christmas came. Archie was almost hysterical with excitement. With much giggling and shushing, Juliet, Cecily and William dragged a tree inside while Archie was in bed, and decorated it with glass baubles and clip-on candles. Next morning, leaving the curtains closed, the girls lit the candles and watched breathlessly as Archie walked in and stood transfixed, mouth and eyes perfect circles of wonderment.

  Juliet thought of Izzie-Lizzie-Constance, and her heart swelled. Izzie-Lizzie-Constance: she had trained herself to call her that, preparing herself for her daughter’s different name. Preparing herself. That was a joke. She hadn’t heard of the McKenzies in months. January would bring not just a new year but a new century. Was it time to make a fresh start? To put Izzie-Lizzie-Constance behind her?

  Oh yes, and how was she supposed to do that? Even supposing she wanted to, which she emphatically didn’t. How could she ever turn her back on her child, however hard the circumstances?

  Because Hand-finished by Harper formed her one link with Flora and her children, the lack of contact left Juliet with the unsettling feeling that the business wasn’t flourishing, which was downright silly when the fruits of success were all around her. They had a woman three mornings a week to do the rough. They had bought a carpet sweeper, though Cecily hadn’t trusted it to start with, because it took so much less effort than a beater. They had a canteen of cutlery, and a marble clock that pinged the hour – both second-hand, of course, but in good nick. They had even invested in a shiny brass coal scuttle. It was the first time in their lives – coal scuttles at Moorside didn’t count – either of them had ever had a real coal scuttle instead of a bucket. They took turns to polish it, buffing it up with plenty of elbow grease, and graciously accepted compliments from Mrs Livingston on how they were going up in the world.

  At long last, the spring brought the summons Juliet had yearned for. Sally-Ann Thomas wanted a costume for bathing.

  ‘And the girls, too, of course. We’re taking them to Llandudno at Whitsun,’ she said, happy as always to spill information all over the place. ‘We’re staying at the Imperial. The girls can’t wait, and neither can I. My husband says I’m the biggest child in the house.’ She gave a gurgle of laughter. ‘Mama is outraged that I’m intending to bathe. Well, it’s not so much the actual bathing as the wearing of the costume.’

  Juliet was going to make the costume, and had selected a pattern with a skirted tunic and a choice of knee- or ankle-length trousers. With a daring twinkle, Sally-Ann chose knee-length. Juliet recommended a simple waist sash, and white braid and lace for trimming, together with a white cap.

  ‘Lots of lace,’ Sally-Ann decreed. ‘You can never have too muc
h lace.’

  Juliet jumped in. ‘I remember thinking Mrs McKenzie would suit lace.’ She held her breath.

  ‘She isn’t Mrs McKenzie any more,’ Sally-Ann said. ‘She’s Lady Darley.’

  ‘Lady Darley? You mean – Sir Henry Darley?’

  ‘The very same, and a pretty one in the eye for my mother that was, I can tell you. Refusing to have poor Flora to dine, because she wasn’t quite the thing any more – did you ever hear the like?’

  ‘When was the wedding?’

  ‘Last autumn. They met late summer and married two months later.’

  ‘That was quick – I mean, romantic.’

  ‘Helped along by the real world, I’m afraid. After the burglary, Sir Henry refused to wait a moment longer and had the banns called that same week.’

  ‘He was burgled?’

  ‘No, Flora was, poor love. They took a sapphire ring that belonged to her late mother. She was distraught. Sir Henry, dear man, couldn’t whisk her up the aisle fast enough. The two older girls were bridesmaids, and little Izzie carried a basket of flowers.’

  Izzie. Not Lizzie. Definitely Izzie. It was like being forbidden to call her Constance ever again.

  ‘She looked adorable,’ Sally-Ann went on. ‘Well, they all did, such pretty girls, and all so different.’

  Three girls, all different – because they had different parents? If Izzie was adopted, why not the other two? If the girls were adopted, might Sally-Ann be aware of it? Was there a tactful way …?

  But it was too late.

  ‘Not like my girls, peas in a pod …’ And Sally-Ann burbled on about them for the rest of the session. Deborah’s piano lessons were pure torture for everyone; and Grace was coming up sixteen now, imagine that, and they had got her a gold locket for her birthday, which was a kind of tradition, because her parents had given her and Emily gold lockets on their sixteenth birthdays; and Laurel had won the school prize for handwriting, which must mean she had inherited her handwriting from her papa, because Sally-Ann’s was appalling; and Maudie …

  Juliet made the bathing costumes in double-quick time, adding lashings of lace. She spent every waking moment devising subtle ways of bringing Flora and her daughters into the conversation, but when she went to deliver the costumes, she didn’t get over the threshold.

  ‘If Mrs Thomas is indisposed …’

  ‘Not unless sobbing yourself into a frenzy counts.’ Winnie dropped her voice and whispered dramatically, ‘We’ve had burglars. Some of Madam’s jewellery got took: her pearls and a gold locket and, such a shame, a matching locket that was for Miss Grace’s birthday.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear it. I’ll make another appointment when things have died down.’

  ‘No need.’ Winnie twitched the parcel from her hands. ‘She can send for you if owt wants doing.’

  And that was that. No more hope of access to Izzie.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  A fortnight later, the miracle happened. That was how it felt – a miracle. Lady Darley, Flora McKenzie-as-was, sent a postcard, requesting Juliet come to Darley Court.

  ‘Just like your mum,’ Cecily declared, ‘dressing a real lady.’

  On the day, she sent Juliet on her way with a goodbye hug.

  Juliet walked past Hardy Farm, which was as far as she had come in this direction before, and came to the walls of the Darley grounds, like the walls round the parkland at Moorside, only these walls were brick and his lordship’s had been stone. That wasn’t the only difference. You couldn’t see Moorside from his lordship’s front gates, but you could see Darley Court. It was nothing like as massive as Moorside, but it did have something Moorside didn’t. She didn’t know the right word, something French, but it was like a huge covered porch for a carriage to drive under so the ladies and gentlemen didn’t get rained on when they descended from the vehicle.

  Her daughter lived here. Constance Mary Harper of Darley Court.

  It was too much to hope that the girls would be present, though that hadn’t stopped her hoping every step of the way. She was shown into what she supposed from her skimpy knowledge of Lady Margaret was the morning room, a pleasant room with pale-green walls and that fancy plaster stuff that rich folk had round the tops of their walls. The chimney piece was white marble, and the soft furnishings were green and fawn and dusty pinks, so that even though the furniture was mostly of dark wood, the overall impression was of lightness.

  And there was Lady Darley, looking every inch like Flora McKenzie, except for being better dressed. In that moment, Juliet knew she wasn’t here to make something for her ladyship. Lady Darley would patronise a smart salon in town, possibly even Mademoiselle Antoinette’s. Flora McKenzie had been smart enough in the remnants of her former finery, but Lady Darley, in her morning gown of soft blue with its crossover bodice, was the last word in elegance.

  ‘Miss Harper, how good of you to come.’

  Her manner was elegant too. Flora had been civil – more than civil, Juliet thought, remembering the loving laughter with which she had introduced her daughters. But it was appropriate that a baronet’s lady should exercise more restraint, especially when dealing with the lower orders.

  ‘I’d like you to make a couple of dresses for my eldest daughter.’

  ‘Lily,’ said Juliet. To Flora, she might have chanced saying, ‘Lily-Lavender,’ but not to Lady Darley.

  ‘You remember,’ Lady Darley said, smiling. ‘I’d like her to have some new things, but she isn’t old enough to be taken to a salon.’ A pause, then she said delicately, ‘I want her to have new clothes, you understand. I know most of your work involves making over existing garments, and I deplore waste as much as anyone, but I want Lily to have something brand new and special. I hope … I hope it might cheer her up.’

  ‘I can easily sketch a few ideas for you. Perhaps if I could measure Miss Lily …?’

  ‘She’s supposed to be here.’

  Lady Darley tugged the bell, said Miss Lily was to go to her room to be measured, then led Juliet up a grand staircase. Lily’s room was formally furnished but with pretty touches, as befitted a privileged young lady: an embroidered silk coverlet on the bed, a basketwork chair with a chintz-covered cushion, white muslin drapes hanging from the half-tester and caught up by bows of lavender satin.

  While they waited, Lady Darley looked from the window. ‘My husband is having redesigning work done on the grounds.’

  Juliet joined her. She couldn’t see anything wrong with the gardens. More money than sense, some folk.

  ‘He’s having renovation work done too. Over that way – you can’t see it from the house – is the old folly, a circular building, and you can go upstairs and step outside and walk all round. When you leave, I’ll have you shown out of a side door. Follow that path – see? – and once you get past the laurel ledge, the folly will be in sight. Beyond it is a gate you can use. Much quicker for you than walking down the drive.’

  ‘Thank you. The folly sounds interesting.’

  ‘Not really. There’s a ditch all round that needs draining and filling in, with a ramshackle little footbridge that needs replacing. And when you’re up on the terrace, the parapet is way too low. I’ve told my daughters they’re not permitted anywhere near the folly until the parapet is made bigger – where’s Lily?’

  She rang the bell and gave orders for Miss Lily to come immediately. When Lily came, which wasn’t as immediately as all that, she slouched in, head down, not meeting eyes. Where was the pretty, smiling girl from last year?

  Lily submitted to being measured, but barely looked at Juliet’s swift sketches. Eventually her mother excused her.

  ‘I apologise for my daughter. I don’t know what’s got into her.’ Suddenly Lady Darley was swept away by the power of Flora’s anxiety. ‘She used to be such a sweet, happy girl, but in recent months she’s become … sullen, that’s the only word for it. When my husband is present, she behaves better, though she’s quiet. But when it’s just her and me – well,
you see the kind of behaviour I’m treated to.’ She blinked over-bright eyes. ‘I worry that … that she feels I’ve remarried too soon.’

  ‘What does Sir Henry say?’

  ‘I haven’t told him.’ A sigh. ‘I can’t bear to spoil things. He’s been so good.’

  Juliet put her heart and soul into Lily’s dresses. She visited Darley Court three times more, to show fabric samples, to perform the first fitting, then to deliver the dresses.

  In her room, Lily tried them on, then escaped.

  ‘As you can see, things haven’t improved,’ Lady Darley said. ‘Thank heaven my other two are still the children they were.’ She smiled. ‘I feel I ought to show them to you so you can see.’

  Please do! Eager to prolong her visit, she remarked, ‘Miss Lily said thank you this time without being prompted.’

  ‘Unlike last time. I do so hope she’ll grow out of it. Sir Henry would be deeply upset if he knew. Why, only yesterday he gave her the most thoughtful, personal gift. He thinks the world of her – of all three of them. I’m so fortunate.’

  ‘What was it, if I might ask?’

  ‘Do you remember Frances saying how Lily’s favourite—what is it, Banks?’

  ‘Sir Henry has come home, m’lady. You wished to be told.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She turned to Juliet. ‘I must go. Banks will see you out.’

  Juliet got ready to leave, then followed the lady’s maid along the corridor, but as they turned the corner onto the main landing, Banks stopped, and Juliet realised there were voices below. Lady Darley had run downstairs to greet her husband. Juliet couldn’t resist craning her neck to peep. Cecily would never forgive her if she went home without the baronet’s description.

  Her mouth slackened and heat filled her face. It was a struggle to breathe. She needed him to stand there, so she could look and look.

  Lady Darley disappeared arm in arm with Mr Nugent.

  Juliet trailed home, feeling she was part of a distant dream. Mr Nugent – here. It had been common knowledge back at Moorside that he was from a titled family and if enough people died, he would be a lord or a sir or something. Well, those people had died, but not for one moment, as she had lapped up Sally-Ann’s eager ramblings, had she imagined …