Love Inspired Historical February 2016 Box Set

by Karen Kirst

  “These puppies.” She pointed her pencil at them. “They are adorable.”

  “It’s difficult to believe that someday they’ll be as dignified and composed as their mother,” he agreed, kneeling down beside her in the straw. “May I see your work?”

  “It’s nowhere near finished, but here’s the rough idea.” She tilted the sketch pad toward him with a slight feeling of unease. Other than Jane seeing her sketch that one time, she really hadn’t shown anyone her work and it was a trifle nerve-racking to share.

  “You have a real talent,” he said, after a moment’s silence. “These dogs look lifelike. Have you ever considered doing portraiture?”

  “No.” She turned the sketch pad back toward her. “To be perfectly honest, I had no aspirations beyond being a milliner.” Again, he compelled that admission from her. Her ambitions weren’t really any of his business, nor was it her place to reveal them to him. Why wouldn’t she learn to keep her mouth shut?

  “You know, when we go to London, I could introduce you to some people. Perhaps gain a couple of sittings for you.” He ran his gloved thumb meditatively over his bottom lip. “You could do quite well as an artist for the ton.”

  “I really don’t know what to say.” She had never considered anything like it, and the possibility was too much to contemplate at the moment. “I don’t know that I have that much talent.”

  “You know, it’s puzzling.” He sat down, stretching his booted feet out before him. “You have the absolute ability to cut through endless layers of dithering about other subjects, but not about your own talents, your own needs and desires. Why is that? If you can help me face the truth about my mother, why can’t you indulge the hope of a life that’s different from the one you currently have?”

  He had posed an honest question, and one that didn’t have the faintest trace of derision. He deserved an honest answer. “I suppose I learned my place early on. The world may be at your feet when you are young, handsome and wealthy—and a man, to boot. But when you are poor, have no connections and happen to be female, the world is very different. I have come to expect that I will end up as an old maid in one of my sisters’ homes if I don’t carve out a good living for myself.” She stopped, suddenly confused. Here she was, unleashing yet another torrent of words—and did she actually call Reed handsome?

  His cheeks were flushed a deep brick red, but he said nothing about her comments regarding his person. Instead, he picked up a piece of straw and twirled it around his fingers. Finally, he spoke. “I never thought of it that way, but I understand what you say,” he replied, quietly. “The only thing I would tell you is that you should dare to dream a little bigger for yourself, and to seize what opportunities come your way.”

  “Such as a trip to London?” She made a few more marks on her sketch pad. Outwardly, she must appear calm, even if he had caused a tempest in her emotions.

  “Precisely,” he responded. Tossing the straw away, he rose. “Shall we?” He extended his hand and drew her to her feet.

  They walked back to the manor house in silence, the glamour of the late spring day falling all around them. As they neared the front portico, he stopped. “Promise me you’ll make time for yourself, starting with your work in Tansley.”

  She clutched the sketch pad to her chest and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I promise to try.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Hannah opened the door to the Siddons Sisters Millinery Shop and breathed in deeply of the familiar smells—dust and fabric. This should feel like home, but it didn’t. Being back in Tansley felt temporary, like a perfunctory obligation to take care of on her way to do bigger and better things.

  She closed the door and walked inside. Both the girls were already gone for the day, but before they left, they had placed Mrs. Holdcroft’s new bonnet out for her approval. She picked it up, looking it over with a critical eye. “It’s very good, though Abigail still hasn’t learned how to make her stitches nearly invisible,” she muttered to herself. Talking aloud was better than the yawning silence of the empty shop. “I wonder if they let Mrs. Holdcroft know it is ready. I’ll have to deliver it myself, if she doesn’t come in the morning.”

  She looked around the shop, in the hopes that other orders had come in, or that she would see some evidence of work that had taken place over the fortnight since her last visit, but the shop was painfully empty. Other than her window display and Mrs. Holdcroft’s new hat, there was absolutely nothing that pointed to work or industry in the entire shop.

  A sinking feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. This was it, then. She’d known it was coming, all along. The store had finally died. She had failed, which was something neither Becky nor Susannah had done. When they left the store, it was still a vibrant and bustling enterprise. Now that it was hers and hers alone, it had faded away. Tears stung the back of her eyes, and she brushed her hand across them with an irritated gesture. Crying would do no good now. It was time to face facts.

  She dropped her valise off upstairs. Her workers had remembered to put fresh linens on the bed, as she had requested. However, they had neglected to draw fresh water from the well for her washbasin. She rushed out to get water and then gave herself the luxury of washing her hands and face, still grubby from travel. Then she removed the handkerchief case that Jane had tucked into her valise. If nothing else, she still had Grant Park, and Jane, and even Reed.

  Sighing, she made her way downstairs and placed the box back in her display, which still looked bold and valiant despite a few spider webs. Hannah brushed them away, and then she turned and left. Any other time, she would make the effort to clean the entire shop from attic to cellar, but not today. It was simply too defeated-feeling in there. She must leave.

  The main road into the village was sparsely populated, with only a few stragglers leaving the shops on their way to go home. She would go by the bakery and see if Bess, who had been their friend since they moved to Tansley, would have any scones left. She would certainly not look at the village shop, and she would definitely not go in and see what kind of business the milliner was doing. She’d had enough heartbreak for today—and besides, the sight of so much success would certainly wilt what little self-respect she had left.

  Across the village green, a door slammed and a rustle of activity caught her attention. A slight figure in an enormous hat marched purposefully across the green, swinging her arms with gusto. She was muttering to herself furiously. Hannah stopped still, blinking. The woman beneath the enormous hat was her archenemy, the Frenchwoman, and judging by her stride, she was furious.

  “Stupide!”

  Well, that word was rather unmistakable, no matter what language it was uttered in. Hannah stayed rooted to the spot, unable to move or look away. Clearly, the young lady was incensed. When the Frenchwoman came close enough that Hannah could speak without shouting, she murmured, “Good evening.”

  “Hello.” The woman snapped the single word out. “Tell me, miss, are all Englishmen stupide?”

  Hannah laughed at the impertinent question. She couldn’t help herself. “Many are, I am afraid. But not all.”

  The milliner pointed back at the village shop. “That man thinks I can work all hours and produce beautiful hats without going home for dinner or seeing my family or sleeping. Mais non! I am through.”

  Hannah’s heart leaped in her chest. Was she really quitting her position at the store? “You are so successful, though. How can you bear to walk away?”

  “I can leave because I know I can be successful somewhere else,” the woman said, putting her nose in the air. “I’ve done well in other places, and so I shall continue.”

  She was cheeky, and self-assured, and something in her tone made it clear that this was not the first time she had left a job. Her forthrightness brought out the truth in Hannah. “I must confess, it could do me a power of good to have you gone. You see, your work here has run me out of business. My name is Hannah Siddons, and I own the Siddons Si
sters Millinery Shop.”

  The Frenchwoman gave a curt nod. “Je suis Lillian Bellamy. I know your shop. I have seen it often. Did I really close it down?”

  Hannah shrugged. “I think you could easily claim the victory. You see, as soon as you moved in, I started losing business. Before you arrived, I was the only milliner in the village. Of course, your creations are so chic, I couldn’t really compete. I had planned to close the shop, so little business have I now.”

  “Well, you may open it again with pleasure,” Lillian replied. “I will seek employment elsewhere.”

  Conflicting emotions coursed through her. On the one hand, she had already prepared herself somewhat for the inevitable closing of the shop. On the other hand, did she really want to go back to the way things were? Obligation told her yes, she must continue with the shop. For weeks, though, she had been pulled in another direction; in fact, she had been led there by the Lord. Surely He in His wisdom knew what He was about. Dare to dream a little bigger for yourself, seize what opportunities come your way, Reed’s voice echoed in her mind.

  “Forgive me, Miss Bellamy, but I take it that this is not your first position?” A plan began to take shape in her mind, one that could leave her free to follow the path the Lord was setting for her, and at the same time, give Miss Bellamy some of the freedom she so obviously needed.

  “No,” Lillian sniffed. “I have had several millinery jobs, none of which turned out well. For every time, the person I worked for thought I was some kind of machine.”

  “Have you given any thought to owning your own shop?” Excitement thrummed through Hannah. If this worked, it would work so well. “If you have your own shop, then you can dictate what you do and for how long and so forth. You can hire people to help you. At the end of the day, you reap your own profits, too.”

  Lillian blinked her wide, dark eyes. “I had not considered it, no.”

  “I think you should, for you obviously have the talent to create business wherever you go.” Hannah gave her an encouraging smile. “Have you any money saved?”

  The Frenchwoman frowned. “Very little. That man kept most of the profits.” She pointed angrily at the village shop. “I take a room above the bakery, and most of what I have, I pay for my own room.”

  Hannah made a tsking sound and shook her head gently. “That will never do. When my sisters and I started our shop, we had almost nothing, as you do now,” she admitted. “We built our shop from the ground up. I imagine with your aptitude, you could do the same.”

  “True, I think I could.” For the first time in their entire conversation, Miss Bellamy was wavering. “I just never thought of it. I am not native to England, and I supposed I must be.”

  “I don’t see why that would make a difference.” This was the right thing to do. It was utterly mad, of course, but right. “What I would like to do is give you my shop. The whole thing. Take it and make it yours.”

  Miss Bellamy gasped, her alabaster skin turning whiter in the dimming afternoon light. “Qu’est-ce que vous avez dit?”

  Hannah shook her head. “I am so sorry, Miss Bellamy, but the only French words I know are peau de soie and mousseline and other phrases related to dressmaking and fabric and being fashionable.”

  “My apologies,” Miss Bellamy replied. “I just could not believe what you said. Are you certain? I cannot pay you much at all.”

  “To be honest, I am not sure the shop is worth all that much,” Hannah replied with a rueful chuckle. “But if you agree to take it, I will accept one thing as payment.”

  “Name it.” The Frenchwoman’s demeanor turned from shocked surprise to efficient, competent attention.

  “I heard from one of my best customers that when our shop came to the village, it changed lives here. All at once, women could get a beautiful hat without ever having to go to London. Suddenly, women who could not afford to make a journey could still have a nice bonnet if they wished. Promise me that if I give you the shop, you will always leave it here. No matter how angry you get, or how many customers offend your sensibilities, never give up on Tansley.” She sighed, finding it difficult to go on. “You see, it will actually be easier for me—it will make it seem all right—if I know the shop will always be here, no matter what I do with my own life.”

  “Not only do I promise, I will sign any paper you give me that will make it official,” Miss Bellamy replied. She drew herself up proudly, and it was clear that begging or accepting favors was not something that came easily to her. “Thank you.”

  “You are welcome,” Hannah replied. The weight was off her shoulders, she was as giddy as a schoolgirl. She could barely contain the urge to jump up and down, or toss her bonnet into the air. “I am in Tansley for the next few days, and I will help you get started and moved in. There is a flat above the shop, which will of course be yours. We’ll see if we can convince my workers to stay on for you, if you find them adequate to the task. I think that, within a few months, the shop will become a bustling center of stylish activity once more.”

  Miss Bellamy’s sharp features softened, and tears welled in her dark eyes. “You have changed my life.”

  “Fair’s fair,” Hannah replied, her heart light as a feather. “You certainly changed mine.”

  *

  “Are you out of your senses?” Susannah shoved her chair away from the dinner table, her lovely face a mask of disbelief. “You gave the shop away? Without consulting me? Without consulting Becky?”

  Hannah braced herself. Making this announcement at dinner at Goodwin Hall was surely not the most subtle approach, but it was the most efficient. Everyone was here. Daniel, Susannah, Becky, Paul—everyone who might have an interest or an opinion in the matter was dining in this very room.

  “I have tried to consult with both of you many times, but you were both too busy to advise,” she replied steadily. “You made it very clear to me that the shop was my sole responsibility. This is the best decision I could have made. The shop will be a raging success under Mademoiselle Bellamy. Her creations are exquisite.”

  “I am undone,” Susannah murmured, passing her hand over her brow. “The shop we worked so hard for—and you just gave it away.”

  “The last time I was here, Becky pointed out that it could well be that the Lord was turning me down another path, one that was separate from the shop,” she recalled. She turned and nodded to her sister, who shook her head furiously, waving her hands. Becky wanted no part in this conversation, and yet she was an equal partner in this debacle, too.

  “I don’t know that it’s such a bad notion,” Daniel put in, giving Hannah a wink. “You haven’t really had a part in the shop in some time, Susy. Becky will be far too busy soon, as well. Now we know that the shop will remain in Tansley and that the new milliner is talented. I suppose it really did work out for the best.”

  Susannah gave her husband a sideways glance that would have withered a lesser man, but Daniel just tossed a cheeky smile her way. Hannah looked down at her plate and bit her lip to stifle a sudden burst of laughter.

  “I can’t say I agree with giving a business away,” Paul chimed in. “Couldn’t you sell it for some profit?”

  “It was practically without value,” Hannah replied, looking at him steadily. “I have had one bonnet order for the past two weeks, and Mrs. Holdcroft came in with her son to pick it up today. Miss Bellamy has at least a dozen pending orders at the village shop, which she can now fulfill quickly since my workers are staying on board to assist her. She has the skill and the orders to continue the business. Moreover, the building has been being neglected while I am at Grant Park. She’s a Frenchwoman, so speaking natively, she’s a born housekeeper.”

  Paul nodded, considering his teacup. “It sounds like you thought it through. At the end of the day, I have no say in the matter, but if you want my opinion—well-done, Nan.”

  Actually, she hadn’t thought it through. Giving an enormous, life-changing event its due consideration would have put her off complet
ely. Instead, she had surrendered to the Lord, and followed His will. Somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to say it aloud.

  “You should be here, watching the shop. It would not have been neglected if you were here to take care of it,” Susannah began in the tone of voice that signaled an impending lecture.

  “I have another position at Grant Park, one that has been extended to include a journey to London next year,” she interrupted. “I cannot possibly care for the shop any longer. I gave it to her on the condition that she continues to run the shop in Tansley. I think it’s vital to our community that a stylish hat shop continues to thrive here.”

  “I agree with Paul,” Daniel replied. “Nan, I think you’ve made the right choice.” He smiled at her.

  Hannah’s heart warmed under her brother-in-law’s words. He said them in opposition to his wife, which could cost him dearly once everyone left that night. Daniel was a good fellow, and she’d always appreciated him for all he had done for their family. In fact, he kept her sister busy, which was enough reason to adore him.

  “Well, Becky? What say you?” Susannah turned to Becky, who rubbed her middle protectively. Hannah eyed her elder siblings, one after the other, and love suffused her for both of them. They might not see it now, but getting rid of the shop could bring them all close again. For years, it had been a millstone around their necks, a point of contention and an obligation. It was not now what it had started out to be, which was a way for three poor sisters to earn their way in the world. With it gone, she could go back to knowing her sisters as friends rather than business partners.

  “If Nan is being called to Grant Park, then I say she must answer the call.” Becky smiled slowly at Hannah. “The shop hasn’t been mine for quite some time. I really don’t see how I have a say in it.”

  Susannah shook her head slowly, looking at the assembled party. “I don’t know what to say,” she said finally. “It has been done, however, and there is nothing more to say.”

  It was hardly a victory, but it was as close as she was going to get for now. Hannah turned her attention back to her plate and conversation continued on a less rocky path. As her swirling emotions settled, one thing was certain.