by Linda Finlay
‘Tom,’ she shouted, running towards him. He turned, but the face that stared back at her was not his. ‘Hey, that’s Tom’s boat,’ she cried.
‘’Tain’t no more,’ the stranger muttered. ‘Sold it to me last night, he did.’
‘What? He can’t have,’ she gasped.
‘Bought it fair and square with my hard-earned money, I did. I’m preparing to sail out on the morning tide with the rest of the fleet,’ the man said.
Dumbstruck, Lily stared at him but his open face and clear eyes told her he was telling the truth.
In frustration, she kicked at the pebbles then, heedless of her new boots, crunched along the water’s edge. When she reached the spot where, only a short time ago, they’d stood together making plans for their future, it all became too much. Throwing herself down onto the beach, she let loose the tears that had been threatening all day. Finally, overcome by exhaustion, she fell into a troubled sleep.
As if from a long way away, she heard the crunching of a boat being dragged over the pebbles. Groggily she opened her eyes, wondering why she wasn’t in her bed. Trying to sit up, she grimaced. Her body was stiff and her left arm numb where she’d been lying on it. Then with her heart feeling as heavy as her pillow, she trudged back up the beach.
‘Hey, Lily, come on or you’ll be late.’
Looking up, she saw Mary beckoning to her.
‘Gosh, you’d give a scarecrow a run for his money,’ the other woman laughed. ‘You look like you’ve been up all night,’ she added, giving Lily a level look as she caught up with her. Lily blushed. ‘Love a duck, you have, haven’t you?’ she gasped. ‘Well, you’d best hurry and freshen up before Mrs Bodney sees you. Don’t worry; I’ll cover for you,’ she added when Lily hesitated.
Fearful that someone might see her if she went round to the yard, Lily kicked off her boots then stood in the brook, letting the cold water cascade over her. Where was Tom? Had he really sold his lugger? She found it hard to believe, for it had been handed down from his father and was his pride and joy. She’d have to call at his mother’s house and find out, she thought. Then hurriedly rearranging her dress, she bent down to pull her boots back on. But when she saw the state of them, she gasped. The sea water had stiffened the new leather and they were now streaked white with salt. There was also a dark stain on the toe that looked suspiciously like tar. She’d have to ask Albert how to remove it, she thought.
She was pulling down her skirt as far as she dared, in the hope of covering her feet, when she heard the clatter of wheels. Looking up, she saw Rupert’s carriage coming down the street towards her. Not wishing for him to see her in such a dishevelled state, she drew back into the shadow of the cliff. To her dismay, the carriage pulled up outside Picky Pike’s premises.
Thinking quickly, she decided that, rather than risk bumping into him, she’d make her way to Mrs Westlake’s cottage straight away. Lily knew full well she should be working, but the urge to find out about Tom was too great to ignore. Promising herself she’d work on after the others had finished for the day and trusting Mary would be true to her word and cover if Mrs Bodney came looking for her, she hurried off up the path.
It proved to be a futile journey, for when she reached the Westlakes’ cottage there was no answer to her knock on the door. She tried again, and was just taking a peek through the tiny window for any sign of life when a voice called out, making her jump.
‘Can I be helping yer, lass?’ Spinning round, she saw a wizened old man with a shock of white hair peering over the low wall that separated the gardens.
‘I’m looking for Mrs Westlake or Tom, sir,’ she answered.
‘Gone away, so they have. Left the key with me, so they have,’ he said in his singsong voice.
‘Oh, no, did they say where they were going?’ Lily gasped in dismay.
‘Why bless yer, child, calm yerself. They’ve only gone as far as Seaton, so they have. To stay with the old lady, they said.’
‘Oh,’ she said, relief flooding through her. ‘Do you know when they’ll be back?’
The old man shook his head. ‘Ah, ’tis disappointed they’re gone, so yer be?’ he guessed.
‘Yes, I am,’ she answered, trying not to break down. He must have heard the tremor in her voice for he got to his feet, opened his little gate and beckoned her towards the bench that was set on his neat square of grass.
‘Like a barley drink? I made some earlier, so I did,’ he asked gently, looking concerned.
‘Oh, please,’ she answered, suddenly realizing how thirsty she was. He scuttled indoors, reappearing moments later with two filled tumblers. The barley water was so cool and delicious she drank it down in one gulp.
‘Well, that was worth making it for, so it was,’ he said, laughing. ‘Now tell me what’s ailing thee, young Lily.’ Seeing her surprised look, he continued, ‘Thought I recognized yer earlier. I knew yer father, so I did. Fine man he was. It was a sorry thing, that accident.’
The old man looked down at Lily’s feet and frowned.
‘Yer’ve made a fine mess of they boots. A good bit of leather that, too, so it is.’
‘I know. I shall be in right trouble with Mrs Bodney when she sees them,’ she said, grimacing.
‘Mrs Bodney, eh? Well, lass, happen I can help yer.’
She looked at him in surprise. ‘That’s very kind of you but I’m pretty sure that’s tar,’ she said, sighing and pointing to the thick black stain on the toe. To her surprise the old man laughed.
‘’Taint nothing a spot of eucalyptus oil won’t fix or my name’s not Bobby Fixit, so it is.’
‘Oh, Bobby Fixit, can you really get rid of that?’ she asked, her eyes widening in surprise and hope.
‘Take them off and let’s see, shall we?’ he said, chuckling as he disappeared indoors again and by the time she’d done as he’d bid, he was back carrying a bowl and cloth. Sitting himself back down on the step, he worked in silence, concentrating so hard she didn’t like to interrupt him. Finally, he sat back, held out the boots at arm’s length and smiled.
‘There, young Lily, if these aren’t as good as new then my name’s not Bobby Fixit, so it’s not,’ he said, handing them to her. She stared down at them in amazement for indeed they did look as good as new.
‘Bobby Fixit, I’m that grateful I could hug you,’ she squealed, and to her surprise the old man burst out laughing.
‘Let’s just say if we’ve beaten the old harridan it’s made my day, so it has. Now it’s time for my nap. Good day to yer, young Lily,’ he said, nodding to her. Then, leaning back, he put his hat over his face and promptly began to snore.
Whilst she hadn’t got a clue what he’d meant about beating the old harridan, she felt relieved that Tom had only gone as far as Seaton. She’d visit him when he’d had a chance to calm down, she thought, as she made her way back to Agent Pike’s house.
To her dismay, she noticed the sun was already warm. How could she have been away for so long? Haring back down the hill as if the devil was after her, she prayed her absence hadn’t been noticed and, if it had, that Mary had been able to cover for her, otherwise she was in deep trouble.
CHAPTER 29
The church clock chimed ten as Lily arrived back in the workroom. Mary shot her an enquiring look but Lily shook her head and then picked up her bobbins. Determined to produce a fair amount of lace, she worked furiously.
The day sped by so quickly, Lily could hardly believe it when the ladies began tidying away their things. She stared around the workroom, gratified to see the pile of sprigs had increased significantly. Stretching to ease her cramped muscles, she bent back over her pillow and picked up her bobbins.
Absorbed in the lace for the collar, she lost track of all time. Only when the shadows had lengthened so that she could hardly see her hands in front of her did she put down her pillow. She was just making her way up the stairs, when Mrs Bodney’s voice rang out from the parlour.
‘A word, if you please, Lily.�
� Smoothing down her dress, she made her way back down the hallway.
‘Come in, Lily. Rupert is here to see you,’ Mrs Bodney said, her eyes twinkling.
‘It’s good to see you again, Lily,’ Rupert said, rising to his feet and looking down at her black work boots quizzically. Noticing his glance, Lily quickly gave him her best smile.
‘Good evening, Mr Mountsford, I see you noticed I’m not wearing those beautiful boots you kindly gave me. They are so delicate they would be quickly ruined if I tramped round in them all day, therefore I am saving them for a special occasion.’
‘Well, that’s opportune then, for our dear merchant craves a boon,’ said Mrs Bodney.
‘A what?’ Lily looked at her employer in bewilderment.
‘A boon is a favour, Lily,’ Mrs Bodney said, shaking her head. Then, leaning forward in her seat, she said, ‘Lady Clinsden has invited Rupert to her Harvest Supper and he would like you to accompany him as his guest.’
‘Me? Be a guest at the Harvest Supper?’ Lily spluttered.
‘For heaven’s sake, Lily, stop parroting,’ Mrs Bodney snapped. ‘Considering the squire’s outrageous behaviour towards you, I rather think it would be the perfect reprisal.’
‘Not that that is the reason for my invitation,’ Rupert hastily intervened. ‘What do you say, Lily? Would you do me the honour of escorting me?’ he asked, looking at her so expectantly she couldn’t help smiling up at him. ‘I think that would be an eminently suitable occasion for showing off the cherry-red stitching,’ he added.
‘Well, Lily looks suitably appreciative, so I think we can safely say she accepts your kind invitation, Rupert,’ Mrs Bodney said, smiling like a cat that had discovered a churn full of cream.
‘Oh, but I don’t … I mean I can’t …’ she stammered to a halt as she saw his crestfallen look.
‘Why can’t you, Lily?’ Mrs Bodney exclaimed, looking affronted.
‘Because I’m betrothed to Tom,’ she said. But even as she uttered the words, she wondered if they were true.
‘We understand that, don’t we, Rupert?’ said Mrs Bodney, looking at him for confirmation.
‘Indeed,’ he replied.
‘And, as I said earlier, it would be the perfect way of getting our own back on the squire,’ Mrs Bodney added, grinning.
‘But, I’ve not got a suitable gown and—’
The other woman waved her hand dismissively. ‘Then I shall loan you one. Let me see, the evenings will be a little nippy by then, so the sapphire velveteen, perhaps? There, that’s decided then. Now, after your recent traumas, I’m sure you are ready to retire. You may leave it to us to finalize the arrangements.’
‘Good night, Lily, I trust you will sleep well,’ Rupert said, smiling at her so charmingly, her cheeks began to burn and she had to look away. As she did, she noticed a package similar to the one he’d recently asked her to give Mrs Bodney lying on the table. He was clearly a generous man, she thought. But Mrs Bodney had followed her gaze and was frowning.
‘Good night, Rupert, Mrs Bodney,’ Lily said quickly and left the room.
In the sanctuary of the attic she sank onto the bed, her thoughts reeling. How could she, Lily Rose, accompany Rupert Mountsford to the squire’s Harvest Supper? She’d only ever attended functions at the manor in the capacity of servant. She couldn’t possibly go as a guest. Could she? Imagine the surprised look on the squire’s face. He’d be livid, she thought, smiling.
Why shouldn’t she go? She was as good as any toff. Besides, she hadn’t heard from Tom, who could have resolved never to see her again, for all she knew, and Rupert seemed to like her company. Mrs Bodney had offered to lend her a suitable dress, hadn’t she? The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea.
All that week Lily was at her pillow as soon as dawn broke, determined to make progress on the Bertha collar before Mrs Bodney could accuse her of shirking. The empty workroom was peaceful and as she moved her bobbins over the pillow, she couldn’t help thinking of the Harvest Supper. She couldn’t believe it was approaching that time of year already. They’d been so busy the summer had passed in a blur.
Her resolve to attend had wavered in the cold light of day. She wouldn’t have the audacity to go up to the manor house, would she? A whole week had passed and she was still undecided. Before long, though, the peace of that early morning was broken by the clattering of the ladies on the cobbles outside.
‘Good morning,’ she called brightly as they settled themselves down to work, conscious of their ever-approaching deadline.
By the time the day was darkening, the piles of sprigs on the dresser had greatly increased. Lily was just wondering who would have the job of sewing them onto the netting backing, when Tilda appeared in the doorway.
‘Mrs Bodney wants to see you, Lily,’ she said.
‘I’ll be right through,’ she answered, hastily tucking the hairs that were escaping their braid back under her cap, and smoothing down the folds of her dress.
‘Lily, please sit down. I need to speak with you on a serious matter.’
She felt her throat tightening as she glanced anxiously at Mrs Bodney, who, unusually, was pacing the room. Lily perched nervously on the edge of the chair and waited. Then, to her surprise, Mrs Bodney drew up the other chair beside her.
‘Lily, this is a somewhat delicate matter. You remember the time you took to your bed without undressing?’
Perplexed and embarrassed, she could only nod.
‘Well, when Tilda took your dress for laundering, she found this letter in your pocket and handed it to me. In all the recent upheaval, I quite forgot to return it to you and must apologize for my tardiness. Now do you recognize this?’ she asked.
Lily looked at the creased paper she was holding out and, seeing Aunt Elizabeth’s writing, nodded again.
‘Lily, I have taken the liberty of reading what your aunt has to say and can only assume she is not aware that you are unable to read.’
‘The subject never really came up,’ she answered, looking down at the floor. ‘We never saw her much when we were growing up, as she had a position in Exeter …’ Her voice petered out as she saw her employer frowning. ‘Why, Mrs Bodney, has something happened?’
To her surprise the other woman reached out and covered her hand with her own. ‘My dear, what I have to tell you is going to come as a shock. I’ve thought about whether to reveal the contents of your aunt’s letter, but reasoned she wouldn’t have written it if she hadn’t wanted you to know.’
‘Know what?’ Lily asked, wriggling impatiently in the chair. Would she never get to the point?
‘Did your parents ever speak of why your aunt went to Exeter?’
‘No,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I presumed it must have been because of her job.’
‘Well, yes, in a way it was,’ Mrs Bodney said slowly.
‘What did you used to call your parents, Lily?’
‘Mother and Father,’ she said, shaking her head at such a ridiculous question. ‘Why? What does that have to do with anything?’
Mrs Bodney sighed. ‘I think it would be best if I just read out her letter. But, my dear, you must prepare yourself.’
And Lily watched in amazement, as the ladylike Mrs Bodney cleared her throat before she began to read.
My dearest daughter, for indeed, Lily, that is who you are,
Now that the woman you always believed to be your mother has departed this earth, I feel it is my duty to inform you of your true parentage. Sadly the only man I ever loved, your father, Ernest, was lost at sea before we could be wed.
To save me from disgrace, your mother, my dear sister, and her husband offered to raise you as their own, provided I removed from Coombe. You can believe me, Lily, when I tell you that it was the saddest decision I’ve ever had to make, but what kind of life could I offer you? I hope you will find it in your heart to understand and forgive me, Lily dearest. You may rest assured I have followed your progress from when you were a baby
and wish you to know that I am truly proud of the fine woman you have grown up to be.
I know I can never hold a candle to the wonderful woman who raised you as her own, but pray you can find it in your heart to forgive me, and that we shall meet again soon.
God Bless You always, my darling daughter.
Aunt Elizabeth
As Mrs Bodney finished reading, Lily sat there, shaking her head.
‘Are you all right, my dear?’ the other woman asked gently, patting her hand.
‘I think so,’ she answered, her voice shaking. Vaguely, she was aware of Mrs Bodney getting up and ringing her bell. Then Tilda appeared with a tray of tea and Lily was being urged to take a sip of the hot, sweet liquid. But all the time her mind was spinning faster than her sister’s toy top as she tried to take in what her employer had just told her.
The woman she’d always thought was her mother wasn’t. Aunt Elizabeth was. Her father wasn’t her real father. That meant Rob and Beth weren’t really her brother and sister. It was unbelievable; too much to take in. Suddenly, she felt as if the walls were closing in on her and could hardly breathe. Desperate for fresh air, she jumped up, sending her cup and saucer flying as she fled the room.
Instinctively, she headed for the harbour and Tom’s boat. Except, of course, he wasn’t there and nor was his boat. She stood on the pebbles staring at the distant horizon, her thoughts as turbulent as the tide in full flood, as she tried to make sense of what Mrs Bodney had told her.
How could Aunt Elizabeth, a comparatively rare visitor in her life, be her mother? She’d had a mother, Sarah. A gentle woman, who’d raised her, loved her and passed on her own skill of lace making. Lily shook her head, trying unsuccessfully to clear the thoughts that were whirling around her mind like a spinning top. To think, the life she’d always known and thought normal, sometimes even humdrum, had been a sham. Her family was not really her family at all. The woman she’d thought was her aunt was actually her mother. A mother who’d abandoned her, no less. Just like Tom had. Nobody wanted her. Everybody left her. She stared at the huge breakers rolling ever closer and then slowly took a step forward.
