The Royal Lacemaker

by Linda Finlay

  ‘It seems my secret is out,’ Rupert said, beaming, and holding out his arm, he guided her through the thronging guests into the ballroom where a string quartet was playing.

  Lily didn’t know what was affecting her most, the blatant stares of the other guests or the heat from Rupert’s arm. She could hear whispers of astonishment as they passed by, but if Rupert noticed he gave no sign. He stopped beside a table that was set back from the floor.

  ‘I think this will suit us well. We’ll be near enough to enjoy the music but far enough away to hear each other speak,’ he was saying, but she was aware of the sudden chill as he withdrew his arm. ‘Would you care for some refreshment?’ he asked as a servant hovered beside them.

  Lily nodded. Words were beyond her at the moment, and she busied herself studying the glass of sparkling pink liquid that was placed before her. Should she or should she not remove her gloves before picking it up? As the bubbles rose and popped, she surreptitiously glanced around, trying to ascertain what the other ladies were doing.

  ‘It’s only mildly intoxicating, Lily. Take a sip; it might fortify you,’ Rupert urged, mistaking her hesitation.

  Oh, what does it matter? she thought as, throwing caution to the wind, she did as he bid. She was pleasantly surprised to find it tasted of summer berries, and smiling, she took another sip.

  ‘Gently does it, Lily. We’ve yet to partake of supper,’ Rupert chided gently. Much to her embarrassment, her stomach rumbled, reminding her she’d been too excited to eat anything since breaking her fast that morning. If Rupert heard, he showed no sign as he sat there gently tapping his fingers on the table in time to the music. There was a sudden flurry of activity around them, as guests began making their way onto the dance floor. Smiling, he rose and held out his hand.

  ‘They’re forming squares for dancing. Come on, let’s have some fun.’ And before she could answer, she found herself being led onto the floor. Her movements were hesitant at first, but she followed his lead and was soon caught up in the rhythm of the music. Curious stares were cast in their direction but, following Rupert’s example, she ignored them. He was clearly enjoying himself and she intended to as well. By the time the quadrille was announced she had forgotten her nerves and was having fun herself.

  ‘You dance well, Lily,’ Rupert said, breathlessly, as they finally left the floor to take a break.

  ‘I just followed you, really,’ she said, sinking onto her seat, then remembering where she was, sat up straight again.

  ‘Then you are obviously a natural,’ he said, smiling at her so engagingly she found herself responding. Heedless of the others around them, he continued gazing into her eyes until she felt quite light-headed and that tingle began creeping up her spine again.

  The dinner gong sounded, shattering the moment and bringing them rudely back to the present.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, please make your way to the dining hall where supper will be served,’ the butler announced.

  Rupert grinned at her ruefully. ‘I have to admit I could eat the proverbial horse. What about you, Lily?’

  ‘Oh, I could only manage a pony, I’m afraid,’ she quipped, sending them both into fits of laughter, bringing more disapproving looks their way.

  ‘Lily, we must behave ourselves or I fear we shall be cast out on the streets, cold and hungry,’ murmured Rupert gravely. Then with a wicked smile, he jumped to his feet, holding out his arm for her to take.

  The dining hall was lit by myriad candles and, as they were shown to their table, Lily couldn’t get over how splendid the chandeliers looked, casting their flickering glow around the room. Of course, she’d never had time to look around and appreciate the grandeur when she’d been serving at the tables. A guffaw of raucous laughter caught her attention and she shivered as she saw the squire sitting close by. Quickly, she looked down, hoping he wouldn’t notice her.

  ‘Is anything wrong, Lily?’ Rupert asked, leaning towards her. Again, she felt that tingling sensation. Seeing the tender concern in his eyes, she thought again what a nice man he was.

  ‘No, everything is fine, thank you, Rupert,’ she answered, trying not to squirm as the squire turned and shot her a look of loathing. Remembering Mrs Bodney’s advice, she coolly returned his stare but it made her feel uncomfortable. Then his attention was diverted as his first course was served and she could relax. Saved by the soup, she thought, trying not to giggle.

  ‘Will there be more dancing after the meal?’ she asked, racking her brains for something to say as she turned her attention back to Rupert. Before he could answer, there was a ripple of anticipation as their soup was brought to the table. As a delicious aroma wafted her way, she looked up eagerly and then froze. The maid serving this table was Molly, and the look she was shooting Lily was one of pure venom. She slapped the bowl of soup before her, deliberately placing it right on the edge of the table, where it wobbled precariously. Before Lily could reach out, it toppled over, tipping its entire contents into her lap. She heard a collective gasp from the guests seated around her and, looking up, she saw a malicious grin splitting Molly’s face.

  ‘Oh dearie me, I seem to have missed the table,’ she cackled as Rupert sprang to his feet and began dabbing at Lily’s dress with his napkin.

  ‘And you will find yourself missing from all my tables in future,’ said Lady Clinsden, appearing at Lily’s side. ‘Remove your presence from my establishment this instant,’ she continued, her voice so sharp it could have carved through the joint of ham on the salver on the sideboard. Silence hung heavy in the air as the sulking Molly slunk out of the room.

  Turning to Lily, Lady Clinsden put her hand on her arm. ‘Come with me and we’ll attend to your dress,’ she said softly.

  Rupert made to follow, but Lady Clinsden shook her head. ‘Thank you, Rupert, but there’s no need for you to miss your supper. Don’t worry, I’ll bring her back safely,’ she added, and Lily followed her from the room, trying to ignore the stares of the other guests. If she’d had any doubt at all that it had been an accident, the gloating smirk on the squire’s face told her it had been anything but.

  CHAPTER 33

  ‘Molly did that on purpose,’ Lily burst out as soon as she was alone with Lady Clinsden.

  ‘I fear you may be right, Lily dear, and my husband was behind it, as usual,’ she said, sighing. ‘He was furious when you turned up as Rupert’s guest and must have thought up the ruse to get his own back; knowing, of course, that Molly would do anything he asked.’

  ‘Why would she do that?’ Lily asked.

  Lady Clinsden’s sigh was deeper this time. ‘Some women will do anything for money. Come along, let’s get your dress clean,’ she said, summoning her maid.

  However, no matter how hard they tried, nothing would shift the stain. In fact the more they rubbed the more it seemed to settle into the nap of the material. Finally, when Lily’s lap was all but saturated, they admitted defeat and Lady Clinsden dismissed the maid.

  ‘Whatever shall I do? Mrs Bodney will kill me,’ Lily wailed.

  ‘I doubt that very much. Don’t worry, a little specialist attention will put the dress to rights, but not tonight, I’m afraid. I’ll loan you one of my gowns, then you can enjoy the rest of the evening.’

  Glancing at the rose-pink silk gown Lady Clinsden was wearing, Lily frowned. She couldn’t risk wearing something as obviously expensive as that.

  Mistaking her look, Lady Clinsden added, ‘I know it won’t fit properly but at least you’ll be presentable and I’ll find a cloak to match. Rupert will still think you look delightful. You seemed to be enjoying his company before supper.’

  ‘Oh, yes, he’s wonderful, isn’t he, Lady Clinsden? I couldn’t believe it when he asked me to escort him tonight.’

  ‘But Jean did tell you about our little ruse, didn’t she?’

  Lily frowned, trying to remember exactly what Mrs Bodney had said.

  ‘And how is Tom?’ Lady Clinsden enquired. ‘Has he fully recovered from
his ordeal at sea?’

  ‘I don’t know, my lady. He’s not been to see me. Not that I care now,’ Lily added dreamily, looking down at her feet where the jewels on her shoes twinkled up at her. Following her gaze, Lady Clinsden frowned.

  ‘Did Rupert give you these?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, my lady,’ Lily grinned, and the other woman looked worried.

  ‘Has he told you anything of his life in London?’ Lady Clinsden continued, looking concerned.

  Lily shook her head, realizing that he’d actually said nothing about his life at all. Silence hung heavy in the room and she began to feel uneasy.

  Finally, as if she had reached a decision, Lady Clinsden leaned over and took Lily’s hand. ‘Lily, I can see from the way you were enjoying yourself this evening that you are becoming fond of Rupert. I would hate for you to get hurt so I feel you should know he is already betrothed to someone, how can I put it, of his own class.’

  ‘What?’ Lily exclaimed, snatching her hand away. ‘Then why has he been …’ her voice tapered off. She’d been going to say, why had he been paying her attention and compliments; giving her presents? Then she remembered what Mrs Bodney had told her about men liking to give presents to ladies in return for the delight of their company, and the farthing dropped. Why, she’d been merely a dalliance, a distraction for him.

  ‘My dear, men like Rupert are utterly charming. However, they do think they can have everything. I’m sure he didn’t mean to mislead you in any way, though.’ Now the veil had been lifted, Lily couldn’t believe she’d been so naïve. Rich men didn’t marry ordinary lace makers like her, did they?

  Lady Clinsden put her hand on Lily’s arm. ‘Look, slip out of those wet things, whilst I go and find you something suitable,’ she said, disappearing through a door at the back of the room.

  Lily looked around her, taking in the satin coverlet on the bed and the heavy damask curtains pulled tight against the night. Crystal perfume bottles adorned the dressing table, along with lotions and potions. So this was how the gentry lived. How could she have been so stupid as to think she could ever be part of it? Quickly gathering up the sodden folds of her dress, she stole out of the boudoir and tiptoed down the stairs. The sounds of laughter and tinkling glasses emanated from the hall. Storming through the servants’ quarters and out of the back door, she prayed no one would see her. She’d been taken for a right fool and needed to get her feelings under control before she could speak to anyone.

  Outside, using the hedge that sheltered the kitchen garden for cover, she ran towards the carriages that were neatly lined up for their owners’ return. Knowing Lady Clinsden’s kind hospitality extended to the staff of her guests, she crossed her fingers that Rupert’s driver would be tucking into his meal, along with the other coachmen. Locating his carriage, she tiptoed round to avoid the groom, before opening the door and climbing inside. Quickly, she removed the beautiful dancing slippers and placed them back in their box. Then, pulling her boots back on, she clambered out onto the path and sped down the gravelled sweep.

  She ran until her breath was coming in ragged gasps, the eerie noises of the night impelling her on. Until, to her dismay, she developed a stitch and the spasms racking her side forced her to stop. Collapsing onto a clome by an old barn, she thought back over her ruined evening, hardly noticing the rain falling around her. Rupert was betrothed. He’d merely been toying with her all along. How he must have been laughing at her expense. How could she have let herself be taken in? She wondered if Mrs Bodney knew. Glancing down at her sodden clothes, Lily dreaded to think what her employer would say when she saw the state her lovely dress was in.

  ‘Why didn’t I listen to you Father?’ she wailed into the darkness, but the only answer was the plopping of the raindrops as they dripped from the branches onto the fallen leaves, and the barking of a dog fox out on its nightly hunt. Perched like a pixie, her thoughts a jumble, she lost all sense of time.

  The hoot of an owl close by brought her sharply back to the present, but it was the answering call that had her jumping to her feet and haring down the hillside. Whatever had possessed her to take a short cut across the fields at this time of night? She knew the answer. It had been to put as much distance between her and Rupert as quickly as possible. The only sensible thing now was to head towards the lane leading to the village. It would take her longer but she hoped at least she’d be safe. Holding her skirts higher, she lengthened her stride.

  She was just gaining the hedgerow bordering the lane when she heard the galloping of horses coming towards her. Owlers? She shivered, swiftly stepping back into the shadows and holding her breath. To her relief, a coach and pair went thundering by and she let out a long sigh. With her nerves now completely shot, she ran as fast as she could until she reached Picky Pike’s.

  To her dismay, Rupert’s carriage was drawn up outside. She was just wondering whether she had the courage to confront him when he emerged and called to the driver to head for home. As soon as the sound of horses’ hooves had faded, Lily stole indoors and was just creeping up the stairs when Mrs Bodney’s strident tones stopped her in her tracks.

  ‘Running away again, Lily Rose? In my parlour now, please.’

  She could have cried but, seeing the set look on her employer’s face, she retraced her steps. With her heart racing, she stood in the room staring down at the slate floor.

  ‘I’ve just had the most unfortunate conversation with Rupert. He was out of his mind with worry, for apparently you left the supper table and simply disappeared. Lady Clinsden couldn’t enlighten him either. I trust you have an explanation for such outrageous behaviour?’ Mrs Bodney said, turning round and looking at Lily for the first time. ‘Goodness, whatever has happened?’ she asked, taking in her dishevelled state.

  ‘I’m really sorry about your dress. I’ll pay for any damage and—’

  ‘Sit down, Lily,’ Mrs Bodney said, her voice softer now. ‘Rupert has explained about the unfortunate incident with the soup, but surely that was no reason to abandon him?’

  ‘Lady Clinsden offered to lend me one of her dresses. Then when she saw the velvet slippers Rupert had given me she told me he’s betrothed to a lady in London.’

  ‘Ah, I see,’ Mrs Bodney said.

  ‘And he was so nice to me tonight, I really thought he cared for me.’ She saw her employer frown and her voice tailed off.

  ‘Sometimes, men like to try their chance with young ladies. It’s their pride. They see it as some kind of challenge. And, of course, there are those women who, once they get a taste of luxury, are only too happy to oblige,’ Mrs Bodney said, so matter-of-factly Lily couldn’t help but burst out, ‘Well, I think it’s horrible that he should pretend to have feelings for me.’

  ‘For what it is worth, I believe Rupert is genuinely fond of you and I did explain that his escorting you to the Harvest Supper was part of our plan to get even with the squire.’

  ‘Yes. I’d forgotten that until Lady Clinsden said. Still, it makes sense; men like Mr Mountsford don’t really have relationships with someone like me.’

  ‘It’s the way of the world, I’m afraid, Lily. I do think he might have had the decency to explain about his betrothal, though. He probably thought that Devonshire was far enough away from London for word not to get back about any …’ Unusually for her, Mrs Bodney stuttered to a halt.

  ‘I was thinking on the way back here and I reckon it’s one rule for men and another for women in this life. Men are deceitful wastrels and they can all go and hang themselves. I’ve finished with them.’

  ‘You are very idealistic, Lily,’ Mrs Bodney said, shaking her head.

  ‘If you mean I have principles, Mrs Bodney, then yes I do.’

  ‘Perhaps I was wrong to encourage you to accept his gifts but he so enjoyed treating you, and you work so hard I thought you deserved a bit of spoiling. Never mind, it will all come out in the wash, as they say. Which reminds me, tomorrow is the Sabbath, and after you’ve attended church, yo
u have my permission to make good my dress before that stain really sets in. Now I’ll bid you good night.’

  Cursing Mr Mountsford for trying to make a fool of her by playing with her emotions, Lily made her way up the stairs. Tearing off the boots, she flung them across the room, stepped out of the sodden dress and threw herself into bed. She pulled the bedclothes right up over her head, knowing she wouldn’t sleep, but hoping the warmth would penetrate her body and stop the shivers that were convulsing her.

  Exhausted, she fell asleep, only to dream of harvest festivities. But it was previous celebrations they’d had back in Coombe, where they’d spend all afternoon decorating the barn with greenery and wild flowers from the fields. Then, they’d sit on hay bales, laughing and drinking homemade lemonade or cider. The trestle would be piled high with hunks of bread, a huge ham, cheeses, savoury pies and apple pies. In the centre would be one of her mother’s specially baked loaves, shaped like a sheaf of corn. The men would play their fiddles, Rob would play his mouth organ and they’d dance and make merry until dawn. Best of all, though, was Tom holding her tight, whirling her round and round until she collapsed in his arms. Fun; they’d had such good fun.

  When she woke, sunlight was flooding her room. She lay there for some moments before realizing it was the brightness that came with midmorning. Jumping out of bed, she took her chair to the skylight and peered out, dismayed to see everyone streaming out of church. She’d slept right past morning service. When she saw the discarded dress on the floor the events of the previous evening came flooding back. Dressing quickly, she snatched up the offending garment and made her way outside to try to wash off the grease.

  ‘Lily, where’ve you been, I missed you in church.’ Looking round, she saw Mary hurrying towards her.

  ‘Oh, Mary, I’ve had the most awful time.’ The other woman glanced down at the dress she was holding and raised a questioning eyebrow.

  ‘What, in a frock like that? I’d give me front teeth to doll myself up in material that soft.’