The Royal Lacemaker

by Linda Finlay

  ‘But if I’m in Honiton, who will oversee the ladies back at the workroom?’ Finally, she was able to ask the question that had been worrying her since they’d left Bransbeer.

  ‘As I said yesterday, the actual lace making is all but finished. When I decided I’d be travelling to Honiton today, I paid them their money and sent them home,’ Mrs Bodney replied.

  ‘What? Even Mary?’ Lily asked with a pang.

  ‘Mary is staying to look after things at my cottage in my absence,’ Mrs Bodney said, smiling. ‘That’s enough talking for now. We need to get as much rest as we can manage in this rattling contraption, for we shall be exceedingly busy over the next few weeks.’ And with that, her employer settled back on the squabs, pulled her cover over her, and closed her eyes.

  As the carriage trundled its way through the Devonshire lanes, Lily pondered on all Mrs Bodney had told her. Mary still had a job and she herself had work for a few more weeks yet. Although her employer hadn’t said, this job in Honiton must surely include board and lodging for they couldn’t possibly travel all this way each day. She looked at Mrs Bodney, who was now dead to the world, and smiled. Not only was this carriage quite comfortable, it afforded them cover. She bet Mrs Bodney had never travelled in a donkey-cart, open to the elements. Of course, Rupert Mountsford’s carriage had been plusher than this one, although in some ways it did appear curiously similar. And it had that same Christmassy smell. She really must remember to ask Mrs Bodney about it when she woke.

  How much further was this Honiton, she wondered, shading her eyes from the midday sun as she peered out of the window. The passing countryside had the mellow air of autumn, despite the breeze blowing the coppery leaves from the trees. She sighed, remembering how she and Tom had always caught one to wish upon. Last year, when she’d failed to catch a leaf of her own, he’d pretended to pluck one from her hair, insisting she’d caught it fair and square. She saw that the hedgerows were still groaning under the weight of luscious purple berries. Back in Coombe, they’d all have been picked and turned into pies and jellies by now. She wondered if Tom’s mother had baked him his favourite bramble cobbler. The thought made her mouth water.

  It had been wonderful seeing Tom again, especially as he’d been like the old Tom she loved. How she wished she’d had the opportunity to tell him she was going away. Round and round her thoughts spun, like the wheels on the carriage, so that by the time they stopped to change the horses, she felt quite worn out.

  ‘Come along, Lily, time for our break,’ her employer chirped, refreshed from her snooze. The driver opened the door, looking warily at Mrs Bodney. But she smiled and thanked him so profusely he stood there shaking his head, unable to comprehend the change in her demeanour. Then, shrugging, he turned away to attend to the horses.

  This hostelry was situated on the outskirts of a town and looked smarter than the one they’d stopped at earlier. They were shown into another private room, where they sat in comfortable chairs by a roaring fire. As they tucked into plates of cold meats, bread and pickles, followed by cake and hot sweet tea, Lily felt quite happy.

  ‘I could get used to living like this,’ she said, sighing contentedly as she sat back feeling replete.

  ‘Well, you had a taste of it at the Harvest Supper,’ Mrs Bodney pointed out.

  ‘Yes,’ Lily said, shuddering at the thought. ‘And I’d sooner be poor and principled than rich and rootless with my affections,’ she said firmly.

  ‘Bravo; well said, young Lily. I rather think you will go far in this life. Now we’d best be on our way.’

  ‘This Honiton is certainly some distance from Bransbeer, isn’t it?’ Lily moaned, for she was comfortable and would have preferred to remain by the fire.

  ‘Regrettably, owing to the valuable merchandise we are carrying, the driver wouldn’t risk travelling across open country. It’s tiresome having to travel the longer route, but safety is paramount. Thank heavens Rupert honoured his promise to loan me one of his carriages or we would be travelling by stagecoach,’ she said, her expression indicating she couldn’t imagine anything more awful. Suddenly Lily understood why the carriage seemed familiar and why it had the same smell.

  ‘May I ask you something, Mrs Bodney?’ she asked. The woman nodded. ‘I’ve noticed this strange smell in Mr Mountsford’s carriages that I can’t quite place. Do you know what it could be?’

  ‘I think it might be the spices that Mr Mountsford transports back to London. Now come along, we must be on our way,’ Mrs Bodney answered, jumping to her feet and heading for the door. Surprised at the other woman’s abrupt departure, Lily followed after her.

  They returned to the carriage and settled back against the squabs. With her employer soon asleep, Lily spent the rest of the journey pondering on their earlier exchange. Mrs Bodney had been distinctly uncomfortable when Lily had questioned her about the strange smell. In fact, she’d had the same look as when Lily mentioned the packets Mr Mountsford left for her on his visits. She couldn’t help feeling it was somehow connected with the activities on the beach that old Joe had mentioned.

  Dusk was descending by the time they arrived in Honiton, but Lily was hardly aware of her surroundings for as soon as the carriage door was opened, a strong gust of wind threatened to blow her off her feet. Revived from her rest, Mrs Bodney ushered her up the steps of a large town house, ringing the bell impatiently. The door was quickly opened by a grey-haired woman with thin lips, who stared at Lily suspiciously.

  ‘Maria?’ Mrs Bodney said, frowning. ‘I’m surprised to see you answering the door.’

  ‘I was just passing by when I heard the bell. Thought it sounded urgent, the way it kept ringing,’ she said pointedly. ‘You’d best come in,’ she added, somewhat grudgingly, before disappearing up the stairs. As Lily stood in the hallway glancing around, a stout, homely-looking woman bustled through to greet them.

  ‘Mrs Bodney, welcome. I trust your journey was not too arduous.’

  ‘Good evening, Mrs Staple,’ her employer replied. ‘It has been a most taxing time but we must bear these inconveniences for our Queen, mustn’t we?’

  Lily stared at Mrs Bodney in amazement. Taxing time? Why, they’d stopped at two coaching houses, been well looked after and eaten two splendid meals. How difficult was that? Noticing her expression, Mrs Bodney snapped her fingers.

  ‘Don’t just stand there gawping, girl. The driver will see to our things.’

  Mrs Staple turned and smiled kindly at Lily, then turned back to Mrs Bodney.

  ‘I’ve a nice bit of stew simmering, if you’re hungry.’

  ‘Thank you, no. We have already eaten and are ready to retire for the night,’ Mrs Bodney replied briskly.

  ‘Well, your rooms are ready so I’ll show you where to go,’ Mrs Staple said affably, and before Lily could blink, she was being led up a narrow staircase and shown into a bedroom. Glancing around, she saw it was smaller than the one she’d had at Picky Pike’s, but clean and tidy. To her delight, it also had a washstand in the corner.

  ‘Right, Lily, I think this will do fine for you,’ said the housekeeper. ‘Once your bag has been brought up, I suggest you get some sleep. I know it’s early but there’s much to be done in the morning.’ And with that she bustled from the room.

  Thankfully, Lily sank onto the bed and closed her eyes. She wished the room would stop swaying. Why, she felt as if she’d travelled halfway round the world today. She heard footsteps coming up the stairs and the murmur of voices as they passed her room.

  ‘It wasn’t fair on Margaret, though.’

  ‘I know, but there’s little we can do. This other one’s better at the job, I was told.’

  ‘She’s a right country bumpkin, by all accounts, so I’m having as little to do with her as possible.’ The voices drifted off down the landing and Lily couldn’t help feeling sorry for this poor country bumpkin, whoever she was.

  Waking the next morning in the narrow little bed, Lily took a few moments to remember where she w
as. Gingerly she sat up, relieved to find the room was no longer swaying. Then hearing the sound of people going about their business, she jumped out of bed and splashed her face with water from the ewer on the washstand. She’d only just finished dressing and was smoothing down her apron, when there was a brisk knock on the door. Before she could answer, Mrs Bodney entered the room.

  ‘Come along, Lily, Mrs Staple’s serving porridge. Apparently, everyone here eats together, so it will be a good opportunity to introduce you to the others.’ Then before Lily could answer, she disappeared down the stairs, leaving Lily to follow her.

  ‘Morning, Mrs Bodney,’ trilled Mrs Staple. ‘Did you sleep all right, dearie?’ she asked turning to Lily, who nodded happily.

  ‘Morning, Mrs Staple,’ Mrs Bodney replied. Then to Lily’s surprise she announced to the room in general, ‘This is Lily, one of the finest lace makers in Devonshire.’

  ‘Well done, dearie,’ the housekeeper answered. ‘Now you sit yourselves down and I’ll get serving.’

  Lily smiled as she sat down next to Maria, the sour-faced woman who had opened the door the previous evening. But her smile was met with a glacial glare. Shaken, she then noticed half a dozen other ladies eyeing her curiously.

  ‘Morning, everybody,’ she said brightly, but their bowls suddenly seemed to be of greater interest as they busied themselves with their breakfast. Silence hung heavily in the room but Mrs Bodney wasn’t having that.

  ‘Right, let’s enjoy our meal and then I’ll introduce you all to Lily,’ she said briskly. This was still met with silence but, to Lily’s amazement, her employer winked at her. Thankfully, it seemed Mrs Bodney was in charge here as well.

  Lily’s relief was short-lived, though, for no sooner had they finished than Mrs Staple reappeared saying, ‘Mrs Bodney, there’s a visitor to see you.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Staple,’ she answered, getting to her feet. ‘Right, everyone, as I said earlier, this is Lily, my overseer from Bransbeer. Whilst I attend to my guest, I’d like you to introduce yourselves and make her feel welcome. We will begin work as soon as I return.’

  As soon as the door shut behind her, Maria turned to Lily and glared.

  ‘Boss’s pet,’ she snarled. ‘You’re naught but a lace maker. We sewers and finishers are highly skilled and we look after our own. You mark my words, we’ll see you gone before the day’s out.’

  Murmurs of agreement rippled around the table and Lily’s heart sank. Their belligerent faces said everything. Well, she hadn’t asked to come here and she certainly wasn’t going to stay where she wasn’t wanted. She’d pack her things and return to Bransbeer on the first staging. Naught but a lace maker indeed!

  CHAPTER 40

  Peasants are plucky people. They don’t run when the going gets rough. Come along, Lily; show them lace makers are made of sterner stuff.

  As she heard her father’s words, strength flooded through her. She was proud to be a lace maker and had never been one to walk away when the going was tough, so why should she now? Squaring her shoulders, she stared back at the sewers and finishers.

  ‘I am not going anywhere,’ she announced. Judging by their astonished reaction, they’d obviously not been expecting her to bite back. As one, they turned to Maria.

  ‘You’re not wanted here, country bumpkin. Go back to Bransbeer where you belong,’ she snarled, her lips tightening into a mean slit.

  ‘But you don’t know anything about me,’ Lily said, trying to reason with them.

  ‘As if that matters. You took our Margaret’s job. We’ll not forgive you for that.’

  ‘Margaret’s not skilled enough to do this intricate work, as well you know, Maria,’ Mrs Bodney announced from the back of the room, where she’d slipped in unnoticed. ‘However, Lily is, and what’s more, she’s here to stay. If anyone has a problem with that, they can leave right now,’ she added, looking directly at Maria, who flushed as red as a rosehip. ‘Now, I want you all to welcome Lily.’ She paused, waiting until the old woman grudgingly mumbled some kind of greeting and the others, taking her lead, followed suit.

  ‘Remember, ladies, there’s never any excuse for being rude or offensive to anyone who’s trying to do their job,’ Mrs Bodney admonished, and Lily’s eyes widened at this pronouncement. Weren’t they her very words from the previous day? She had no time to dwell on the matter, though, for Mrs Bodney was clapping her hands.

  ‘Right, we’ve wasted enough time. I have sorted the exact number of sprigs required for assembly of the flounce, so follow me,’ she ordered, leading them into a light, airy room at the back of the house. ‘The designs I’m about to show you are confidential, so once you’ve seen them, you will be required to remain in this building until the sewing up is finished.’

  ‘But I’ve got to see to my mother,’ Maria declared. Lily gazed at the wizened old woman, whose face was as creased as a concertina, and couldn’t help wondering how ancient her mother was.

  ‘We’ve already discussed this, Maria,’ Mrs Bodney snapped. ‘When your cousin Margaret failed the sewing test, it was agreed she’d look after your mother whilst you stayed here.’ Turning to the rest of them she continued, ‘Before I show you the drawings, you must solemnly swear not to divulge to another living soul what you see in this room.’

  ‘Well, if we ain’t allowed out, we won’t be seeing anyone to tell, will we?’ Maria sniggered.

  ‘Right, that’s it. I’ve had enough of your obstreperous attitude, Maria. Pack your things and go.’

  ‘I was only—’ the other woman started to say, but Mrs Bodney was already calling for the housekeeper.

  ‘Mrs Staple, Maria has decided to leave, so please see that she packs her things and then escort her from the premises. Oh, and bring me a bell so I can ring for you in future. My voice is not used to all this shouting.’

  If the housekeeper was surprised by these requests, she didn’t show it. Nodding politely, she followed the protesting Maria from the room. The others started to voice their objections, but Mrs Bodney held up her hand.

  ‘That’s quite enough. None of you is indispensable, so if you feel unable to comply with my terms, please leave now.’ She waited, studying them closely but no one moved. ‘Then be seated and I’ll show you what’s to be done,’ Mrs Bodney continued, spreading out a drawing on the table before them.

  ‘Now, this is how the flounce is to look when it’s assembled,’ she said, and they all leaned forward in their seats to see where her finger was pointing. ‘You are to lay out the sprigs according to the design pattern. When you’ve done that, call me. I will check everything’s in order before you proceed further.’ Then she swept from the room in a rustle of skirts.

  ‘Cor, she’s a bit of a tartar, isn’t she?’ whispered the plump girl who was sitting opposite Lily. Lily knew that Mrs Bodney’s tongue was really no sharper than a blunt bobbin, so she merely shrugged. Her recent experience in the workroom had taught her that a little fear was no bad thing.

  When all the sprigs had been set out, Mrs Bodney was sent for. Anxiously they watched as she meticulously checked their work.

  ‘Right, ladies,’ she finally pronounced. ‘You may now begin to sew. As I have to account to the Queen’s Mistress of the Robes, all the materials have been weighed. There is no room for error.’ She eyed them seriously, waiting whilst her words sank in. ‘Work carefully and conscientiously. Remember, Her Majesty will soon be wearing what you are making here. Won’t that be something for you to tell your children and grandchildren?’ she smiled.

  ‘Aren’t you going to help us to sew it up, then?’ asked one of the women.

  ‘Now, why would I have a dog and bark myself?’ Mrs Bodney asked, before sweeping out of the room. So now it was dogs, thought Lily, shaking her head. Cats in Bransbeer, dogs in Honiton – really, it was all quite beyond her!

  Picking up her needle and thread, she started to sew. The others followed her lead, and the room fell silent as they concentrated on their work.


  At noon, Mrs Bodney reappeared ringing a little bell and announcing, ‘Right, ladies, Mrs Staple has broth ready for you in the kitchen. Whilst you take your break, I’ll inspect the work you’ve been doing this morning.’

  Lily stared at her employer in surprise. Not more food already? But to her amazement, when a steaming bowl was put before her she found she was hungry.

  ‘What’s Bransbeer like?’ asked the plump girl, who’d finished her meal in record time.

  ‘It’s a fishing hamlet by the sea,’ Lily answered. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Rosie.’

  ‘Yeah, dozy Rosie,’ chuckled the woman who was sitting next to her. ‘I’m Caroline, ducks. Sorry if we gave you a hard time earlier. Maria was that cross when Mrs Bodney told her you were to do the sewing up instead of her Margaret, she told us to ignore you.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Rosie chipped in, ‘she said, ignore the country bumpkin and she’ll go running home with her tail between her legs. You ain’t got a tail, have you?’ she asked, her eyes hopeful.

  ‘Don’t be daft, Rosie,’ Caroline chided before turning back to Lily and raising her eyebrows. ‘You can see how she got her name.’

  ‘Ah, but Rosie’s stitching is the finest here,’ Mrs Bodney announced, coming into the room. ‘Right, ladies, you’ve all done well this morning. Now I have some bad news, and some good news. The bad news is there is no one skilled enough to replace Maria. This means we will all have to work on later each evening to get the job finished in time.’ She waited for the groans to die down. ‘The good news is that you will be splitting her wage between you.’ Then, as they all cheered, she clapped her hands saying, ‘Right, ladies, back to work.’

  All afternoon they sewed, but the ice had been broken and the atmosphere in the room was convivial. Before long Lily found herself relaxing to the rhythm of her stitching, happy to listen to the conversation going on around her. Clearly, the sewers had all known each other for some time.

  As the shadows lengthened and their energy began to flag, silence descended. As Mrs Staple bustled in with candles and strikes, an enticing aroma wafted through the open door behind her. They all sniffed the air appreciatively.