by Linda Finlay
Snatching up her shawl, she let herself out of the back door where, to her dismay, she was met by a bank of chilling mist. It swirled around her so that she couldn’t see a thing and her fingers froze as she carefully felt her away along the damp cob wall of the cottage. Finally, she reached the barn door and Doris brayed as Lily attached the cart, clearly reluctant to leave the warmth of her straw bed. Fearful of being late, Lily gave the donkey a good slap on her withers and urged her out onto the track.
Although it was June, the east wind was biting, stinging her ears and making her eyes water. Shivering, she pulled her shawl up over her head and peered into the mist, trying to make out where she was going. She could hardly see Doris, let alone the track ahead. Far below, to her right, she could hear the surf pounding against the rocks of the undercliff, and she had to fight her instinct to steer Doris further over to the left, but that was where the ruts were deepest. It was like riding inside a cold, grey cloud and she shuddered, remembering Tom telling her the smugglers used this very path.
How she wished he was by her side now to keep her safe. Thoughts of him made her smile, and she remembered her resolve to buy material for a new dress. Although, she’d have to wear black for a while longer, she could make one in a bright fabric and put it away in her betrothal drawer.
She was deliberating between blue or green when a prickle of unease crept up her spine, and she got the distinct feeling she was being followed. The donkey’s ears were pinned back as if she’d heard something and Lily shuddered, wishing she was safely indoors. It was foolhardy being out in this weather but she had no choice; Mrs Bodney was relying on her. Convinced she could hear the muffled sound of hoofs behind her, she tightened the reins and risked glancing over her shoulder. But all she could see was the mist swirling in sinister shapes, like ghouls suspended from the branches over the track.
To raise her spirits, she started singing one of the songs her father had taught her and as the lively tune of ‘Bobby Shafto’ rang out against the murk, she felt her mood lift. Then, as the cart began its descent, she again felt that tingling creeping up the back of her neck and her voice tailed off. She could hear the rattle of wheels now, and knew for certain someone was following her. She couldn’t understand why they didn’t try to overtake her, for Doris was hardly the speediest beast on four legs.
By the time she reached the sweep of Lyme Bay, the mist was beginning to lift and she took a quick look behind her, but there was nobody there. She shivered and tightened her grip on the reins. Then she noticed Tom’s lugger pulled up on the pebbles alongside the other boats. Its red sails were tightly furled so he wasn’t intending putting out to sea this morning. Her heart flipped and she peered around hopefully, but apart from the gulls scavenging, the beach was deserted. Fighting down her disappointment, she turned Doris away from the bay, and headed towards the stables of the hostelry.
Having ensured Doris was safely tethered and that she had a plentiful supply of hay, Lily pulled her shawl tighter round her and, head down against the buffeting wind, she carefully picked her way through the piles of seaweed that had been blown up off the beach and so to Mrs Bodney’s cottage. To her surprise, her employer was already in the workroom.
‘Good morning, Mrs Bodney,’ she said, hurriedly shrugging off her wet shawl.
‘Is it?’ her employer replied so curtly that Lily’s heart sank. ‘I’ve been inspecting the sprigs that have been made for the flounce. The work is good but we still need lace for trimming the neck and cuffs as well as the back panel. Then, of course, there’s the veil.’
‘We have a lot of lace still to make,’ Lily answered.
‘Yes, you do. Our Queen is having the silk satin for her dress woven in Spitalfields as we speak and it’s imperative everything’s ready for sewing up by the time it’s completed. Your ladies will be able to finish their part of the design on time, won’t they, Lily?’ her employer asked, looking at her searchingly.
‘Yes, of course we will,’ Lily said, crossing her fingers behind her long skirts and hoping it was true.
‘Good. Now, my services are needed in Honiton, so for the next two days you will be overseeing both groups of lace makers. It will mean dividing your time between here and High House but that shouldn’t pose any problem. I’ve told the maid there to expect you today,’ Mrs Bodney said.
As Lily didn’t appear to have any choice in the matter, she nodded dutifully, although when she’d have time to begin her search for lodgings, she really didn’t know.
‘Oh, and when I return I shall need your help writing up details of our work to date and the materials used.’
‘Pardon, Mrs Bodney?’ Lily said, frowning.
‘The Queen’s Mistress of the Robes will require this information. Don’t worry about it now,’ said her employer, waving her hand in the air. ‘I’ll bid you good day and good work. Remember to weave happy thoughts through your threads.’ With a brisk nod of her head, she swept out of the room.
Watching through the window as Mrs Bodney climbed into the waiting carriage, Lily wondered if the day could get any worse. At that moment she couldn’t think of one single happy thought. However, there was no time to dwell on her worries for the ladies were filing in ready to start their day’s work. As soon as they were settled at their pillows, she checked they knew what they had to do that morning and then made her way to High House.
Arriving outside the building, with its squared limestone frontage and tall casement windows, she climbed the three steps and knocked on the heavy panelled front door. The maid let her in and led her through to the high-ceilinged room the ladies were using.
To her relief, they were all competent lace makers, used to working without supervision. As she walked around the room, checking everything was all right, she noticed that the sprigs they were making were patterned with leaves. Her own ladies back in the workroom were making sprays of flowers. Immediately, she could picture what the lace for the Queen would look like when it was joined together. Now she could understand why Mrs Bodney had kept the work separate.
Satisfied that the ladies were happy and knew what they had to do next, she retraced her steps, impatient to resume her own work. But, as she hurried back down the lane, trying unsuccessfully to dodge the puddles that had pooled between the uneven cobbles, she felt moisture seeping through the soles of her boots. The wodge of straw she’d stuffed inside them the previous week had disintegrated, and the cold water was soaking her woollen stockings. Stamping her feet to try to restore some feeling, she was tempted to call at the cobbler’s before returning to the workroom. But that would delay her and she had far too much to do. With any luck his door would still be open when she’d finished work.
Relieved to be back at Mrs Bodney’s cottage, she emptied the water from her boots and hurried through to the workroom. Immediately, she could sense excitement in the air. Although apparently busy with their bobbins, the ladies were covertly watching her as she made her way round the table. She was about to ask them what the matter was when she noticed the posy of pale pink lilies bound with a contrasting blush silk ribbon, lying beside her pillow.
‘Oh,’ she exclaimed, ‘what beautiful flowers. Where have they come from?’
‘Tilda said they arrived by carriage. You lucky duck, they must have cost a fortune,’ Cora observed. ‘So who have you been pleasing to be sent such gifts?’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Lily spluttered.
‘Why don’t you see who they’re from?’ said Mary quickly.
Looking at the eager faces staring at her in anticipation, Lily smiled nervously. Then she realized they had stopped work. Knowing it wouldn’t do to fall further behind schedule, she adopted the brisk manner of Mrs Bodney.
‘Right, come along now, everyone, back to work. We have a deadline to meet, remember.’ Then, pointedly ignoring their whispers and murmurings, she picked up the flowers and carefully set them on the sill of the window. Settling herself at her pillow, she picked up her bobbin
s and hoped the other lace makers would follow her example.
Although her hands worked calmly, inside, her thoughts were gathering pace. The flowers were beautiful, but what did they mean? Who could have sent them? And why? Although she could feel the curious glances that were being cast her way, she studiously ignored them. They all had enough to do without added distractions. With luck, they’d forget about the flowers.
The church clock struck noon and relief flooded through her as she rang the little bell. But instead of filing outside as they normally did, the ladies remained on their stools looking at her expectantly.
‘Go on, Lily, open your card. We’re dying to find out who the flowers are from. Or are you too grand to share things with the likes of us now?’ Cora challenged.
‘Please do, Lily. Nobody’s ever sent me flowers,’ pleaded Anna, wistfully.
Seeing they weren’t going to move until she’d satisfied their curiosity, Lily got up and carefully detached the envelope from the flowers. Then, drawing out the card, she stared at the black letters but they blurred before her like scattering ants.
‘Come along, everyone, we mustn’t intrude upon our overseer’s privacy,’ Mary said, noticing her concern. ‘Let’s all go outside and have our break. I don’t know about you, but I’m famished.’
As they clattered out to the yard, Lily went over and picked up the flowers. They were beautiful, their subtle fragrance reminding her of something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Gently, she traced a finger over the bell-shaped petals, marvelling at their silky softness. Then she gasped. Lying in their midst was a single blood-red rose. Suddenly, the lilies no longer smelled fragrant. Instead the room was suffused with cloying sweetness, and she snatched up the bell.
‘Tilda, please put these in water and take them through to the parlour,’ she ordered. Then before the girl could ask any questions, she hurried outside, breathing in the fresh air to clear her lungs.
CHAPTER 13
All afternoon, Lily ignored the curious stares and whispered exchanges that stopped whenever she looked up. Finally, when the shadows had lengthened, and she could call a halt to the day’s work, she breathed a sigh of relief.
Still hoping to catch the cobbler, for she knew he too worked very long hours, she waited until the last of the ladies had left the workroom and then followed them out into the street. To her surprise, Tom was sitting on the wall outside and all thoughts of getting her boots repaired vanished. He seemed oblivious to the lace makers huddled in a group nearby, throwing speculative glances their way. Obviously they’d deduced he was unlikely to have sent the flowers, for a fisherman’s wages would never stretch to such luxuries.
His eyes lit up when he saw Lily and, taking hold of his arm, she led him down the hill, away from the others.
‘It’s nice to see you, Tom,’ she said, snuggling closer, breathing in the mixture of salt and sea that was him.
‘I was wondering if you’d time for a cold drink before you return to Coombe?’ he asked. She glanced down at her boots. Oh, what the heck, they’d last another day or so.
‘That would be lovely, Tom,’ she said, smiling up at him.
They sat together looking out over the harbour and for the first time that day Lily felt herself relaxing.
‘This fruit drink’s really refreshing,’ she said, having almost drained her jug in one go.
‘That it is. Eliza makes it herself. Says the recipe’s been handed down in her family for generations. You should ask her how it’s made, then you could make us some when we’re wed.’
She nodded then, remembering her news, began telling him about her aunt’s housekeeping position and Robert’s apprenticeship.
‘The trouble is they’ll be moving to Ilminster and taking the donkey-cart with them,’ she finished.
‘Well, Lily my love, I’m right pleased for Robert. It would’ve been hard for him to go from being man of the house to nothing when you move out.’
‘I must confess I hadn’t thought of that,’ she replied, feeling guilty.
‘You’ve had a lot in your bowl recently. Will Beth be staying with Mrs Goode when they go?’
Another stab of guilt pricked her. ‘Aunt Elizabeth says as she’s settled so well it’s best to leave her. I called to see her after you left yesterday and she was really happy. She showed me the lace she’d made and it’s really good. Mother would have been so proud of her,’ she said, looking sad for a moment. ‘Perhaps we could take her down to the beach at Coombe Head for a picnic one day soon?’ she suggested, brightening.
‘Don’t see why not, Lily. It would do us all good. We could take young Harriet as well and give Mrs Goode a break.’ Lily smiled fondly at him, thinking how thoughtful he could be. But his next words shattered her good mood. ‘Still, going back to what we were talking about. That just leaves you. It’s not long until your eviction notice expires, is it?’
‘I know, and I am giving careful consideration to what I’m going to do,’ she said, smiling sweetly at him.
He took a long swig of his drink, then looked at her speculatively.
‘I don’t know what’s been going on up at the manor, our Lily, but you can rest assured I’ll get to the bottom of it.’
She took a breath to calm herself and then forced a smile.
‘And I don’t understand why you should think anything’s been going on, Tom. Isn’t it reason enough that I want to stay working for Mrs Bodney?’
‘All I want is your happiness, Lily, but I can’t help feeling you are keeping something from me. Without complete trust between us, we cannot have a true relationship. Promise you’ll tell me if anything’s wrong?’ he asked, peering at her so earnestly she had to look away.
‘Maybe you could look for lodgings here in Bransbeer now you have only yourself to worry about. Just think of all that travelling you’d save each day. I’ll ask Mother if she knows of anyone with a room to rent,’ he continued, looking pleased with his suggestion.
‘What a good idea, Tom,’ she exclaimed, as if the thought had never occurred to her. If his mother knew of anywhere, that would be such a help.
‘Oh, Lily, if it wasn’t that you was in mourning, I’d suggest we marry right now for I’m sure we could scrape enough together to get ourselves started.’
Lily grimaced. There was nothing she’d like better, but people would say it was disrespectful and she didn’t want to begin their married life with a cloud hanging over them.
All the way home, her thoughts raged as turbulent as the weather was becoming. Tom’s words about trust kept going round her head.
Involuntarily her thoughts went back to the Harvest Supper. She shuddered, remembering how she’d been ferrying dishes along the dingy hallway towards the scullery, when the squire had pounced out from behind the linen cupboard. Laden down with crockery, she’d ducked and dived as his slug-like hands reached out, attempting to paw her private places while making the most lewd suggestions. How she hadn’t dropped one of his precious plates she’d never know. Steely determination to avoid both his advances and having her wages docked for any breakages had been uppermost in her mind. It was later that the feelings of revulsion had really hit her. It was the squire who’d made the advances, ensuring he’d caught her when she was alone. Never ever had she given him one ounce of encouragement. Her conscience was clear, she thought, remembering Tom’s words about trust.
It was only as she was leading Doris into the barn that she remembered she hadn’t mentioned the flowers. But as she let herself in through the scullery door all thought of Tom vanished.
‘Have you had a good day, my dear?’ Aunt Elizabeth asked as she continued stacking crockery. Then before Lily could answer, she said, ‘Oh, before I forget, Lady Clinsden is delighted you’ve decided to accept the position at the manor and wishes to discuss details of the summer ball. She’d be obliged if you would call upon her first thing on the morrow. I must say I was surprised. I didn’t know you’d changed your mind.’
Lily’s heart sank.
‘I haven’t. In fact, I’ve already told the squire I’ll be continuing to work for Mrs Bodney and won’t be accepting his position. Nor will I be serving at table at their summer ball.’
‘Well, her ladyship seems to think otherwise, Lily, so you’ll have to make your intentions plain,’ her aunt continued.
Lily nodded, distracted by the delicious aroma wafting from the pot over the fire. As often seemed to be the case these days, she’d quite forgotten to eat her noon piece.
‘I’m famished and need something to eat before I drop dead on the flags.’
‘Davey called by with a rabbit for the pot so I’ve made a nice soul-sticking stew for supper. They say poachers always make the best gamekeepers,’ Aunt Elizabeth laughed, giving a roguish wink. Impatiently, Lily watched as her aunt ladled a generous amount into a dish and cut her a hunk of bread. Good old Davey, she thought. Many a time, when their larder had been bare, he’d called by with a rabbit or pigeon he’d chanced upon.
‘Robert’s been clearing out the barn and chicken coup. He’s taken the fowl up to Grace as we’ll not be able to take them with us,’ Aunt Elizabeth said.
‘That was a kind thought,’ said Lily, as she mopped up the last of the savoury juices with her bread.
‘He says he wants to leave everything as neat as a needle,’ Aunt Elizabeth continued, and Lily smiled to herself. She was going to miss her aunt with her mixed-up sayings.
‘I’ve put your mother’s things in a pile on your bed. There’s not much of any use. Even her dresses are all worn through, though you might find the material useful for rag rugs.’
Lily had a sudden vision of her and Tom sitting in front of the fire, hooking strips of material into sacking, then realized her aunt was still speaking.
‘You’ll want to keep her wedding ring and Bible, of course.’
