by Linda Finlay
Coming to a crossing of the ways, she stared around in dismay. Which road should she take? She didn’t recognize any of the buildings. Remembering her last foray into town, she shuddered. She daren’t risk wandering into that red rhyll area again. Yet she couldn’t stay here. Not knowing if she was heading the right way, she turned into the widest street but hadn’t gone far when she heard footsteps behind her. Heart in her mouth and hand on her pocket, she quickened her pace. And as she did so, the person following did the same.
Chapter 16
Panic fluttering in her breast, Isabella stared wildly around for somewhere to hide, but all she could see were high walls with closed garden gates fronting onto the street. She must have turned the wrong way when she’d left the sisters’ house and instead of making her way back into town, had strayed into a more affluent area where the buildings were spaced much further apart. Hearing another shout from behind, this time much closer, she broke into a run, her shawl flapping like a sail in the breeze. The blood pounding through her veins marked time with her paces as she ran until her breath was coming in such painful gasps she feared her chest would burst. Finally she saw a wooded glade ahead and, unable to take another step, collapsed under a tree. Not knowing what else to do, she curled herself into a ball, shielded her head with her arms and waited.
‘Isabella?’ She flinched as the sound came from directly above her. ‘Isabella.’ The call was more insistent this time. It was only then she recognized the voice, and peering out from under her shawl she saw Felix Furneaux staring anxiously down at her.
‘What on earth do you think you were doing chasing after me like that? You frightened the life out of me,’ she cried, jumping to her feet. Relief at seeing a familiar face made her voice sharp and it was his turn to flinch.
‘You dropped these,’ he said, holding out his hand.
‘Oh,’ she gasped, staring at the copper and silver coins.
‘To be honest, I wasn’t sure it was you at first, then I recognized the blonde curls bouncing under your bonnet. I did call out, but you hared off down the road like the devil himself was after you,’ he explained. ‘I presume you’ve been selling flowers,’ he said, gesturing to her basket. ‘So, what were you doing in that part of the town?’ She hesitated, not wanting to lie yet remembering Agnes warning her not to divulge anything about their seance.
‘I managed to sell all my violets then got lost. I thought, I thought . . . oh, I don’t know what I thought,’ she murmured, realizing it would sound foolish to admit she’d feared she was about to be robbed or worse. He hunkered down on the grass and stared anxiously at her.
‘Are you all right? Only your face is all flushed and . . . ’
‘Of course I’m flushed, having just been chased halfway around Devonshire,’ she snapped.
‘Halfway around Devonshire?’ he chuckled. ‘The length of two streets, more like.’
‘It would help if they put signs up on the roads around here,’ she retorted, ignoring his attempt to humour her. ‘Every street in London is clearly named.’
‘Would it have made any difference when you don’t know the area?’ Felix asked reasonably. He was right, of course, but fatigue and fright had taken their toll and she wasn’t about to admit it. Instead she busied herself putting the money back in her pocket.
‘Best check you don’t have a hole in that,’ he said, indicating her skirt. ‘You were scattering a fair few coins as you went.’ Never having worn anything in such a poor state before, Isabella shot him a reproachful look which seemed to amuse him further. Determined to prove him wrong, she got to her feet and marched over to the pavement, only to hear the chink of coins falling to the ground as she went. Hearing a muffled laugh, she spun round, only to see he was walking away from her.
‘Country bumpkins, you’re all the same,’ she shouted. ‘Not one good manner between you,’ she called. He hesitated then slowly turned back to face her.
‘Perhaps you would care to explain that comment,’ he said.
‘Where I come from it is courtesy to offer a lady a lift, yet the other day when I was walking into town you drove straight by with the merest of waves. And now, knowing I haven’t the faintest idea where I am, you abandon me,’ she cried.
‘My home is over there,’ he explained, pointing beyond the trees to where she could just make out a long building. ‘As it’s a fair hike back to your uncle’s farm from here, I was going to fetch the trap and drive you home.’
‘Oh,’ she murmured, embarrassed at being wrong-footed. She was dog-tired, her feet were aching, and the thought of a lift home was appealing. ‘Thank you, that would be greatly appreciated,’ she added quickly in case he changed his mind. As a sudden gust of wind tugged at her bonnet and lifted her skirts, she sighed in despair. He smiled gently.
‘You look all in and it’s getting dimpsy. Might I suggest you put your money safely in your basket then wait for me under the tree? Sea breezes are fickle and, on an afternoon like this, can bring in heavy downpours that will soak you to the skin.’ Feeling humbled by his consideration, she did as he suggested then watched as he broke into a run. To think she was worried he’d been after her money when all along he’d been trying to return it. Not that she’d known it was Felix then, of course. She couldn’t help smiling at the irony.
He was back with his cart a short time later, and it was only when she collapsed into the seat beside him that she realized just how exhausted she felt. It was growing darker by the minute and Isabella wondered how she was going to explain her late return to her aunt and uncle. As if sensing her impatience, Felix coaxed the pony into a trot.
‘I was sorry to hear about your father,’ he said quietly.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured, biting down the knot in her throat. ‘It was a terrible shock.’ He nodded, then fell silent. Thankful for his understanding, she watched as unfamiliar landscape passed by. There were sheep on one side, cows to the other, while in the distance she could make out the gentle sloping of hills. A whiff of that musky scent she recognized brought her back to the present. Even here, laid out like a patchwork of purple, were field after field of violets.
‘Goodness,’ she murmured.
‘Your uncle isn’t the only one to grow them,’ Felix laughed, seeing her expression. ‘Still, it’s a shame he’s taken it so badly. There really is a big enough market for us all.’
‘These are all yours?’ she asked, in surprise. He nodded.
‘Well, Father’s and mine,’ he amended.
‘I love that smell,’ she sighed. ‘It reminds me of Mama. She came from around here, so I guess it must have something to do with that.’ He shrugged.
‘Violets have always grown around this part of Devonshire. Our mild, mizzly weather does have its compensations,’ he laughed. ‘Although it’s only relatively recently they’ve been specially grown for the London market. Your uncles are savvy fellows, I’ll give them that. Still, it’s only fair we should have a chance to expand our business too, although it would have been better if we could have done it without causing a rift between our families.’
‘Uncle Bill said the same,’ she told him.
‘He’s a good ’un,’ Felix replied. ‘It’s a shame Frederick’s not as understanding.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘He is totally engrossed in his violets. I must admit, I had no idea how complex growing and selling flowers was until I came here.’
‘It’s a fascinating process,’ he agreed. ‘But I’m sure you’ve heard enough.’
‘On the contrary, I’d love to hear more.’
‘Well, be warned, it’s one of my pet subjects. You say the smell of violets reminds you of your mother. That’s understandable because incoming smells get processed by the olfactory bulb in your nose. They then run along the bottom of the brain through the bits most associated with emotion and recall, the amygdala and hippocampus.’
‘Gracious, you sound like a scientist,’ she exclaimed, staring at his animated face in astonishm
ent.
‘Ah well, we country bumpkins do pick up the odd thing here and there, you know,’ he drawled. Recalling her earlier words, Isabella flushed. ‘Actually, I learned most of this from a man called Armand Millet. When Father realized farming was no longer viable, he arranged for me to spend time at his nursery at Bourg-la-Reine just outside Paris.’
‘Fascinating, although I don’t see how all that makes me remember Mama,’ she frowned.
‘Because sight, sound and touch don’t take that route, it’s our sense of smell that triggers powerful emotional memories. Perhaps your mother wore violets in some form when she was cuddling you?’ Isabella screwed up her nose and tried to picture such a scenario but could only recall the fragrance and a snatch of song. She closed her eyes, willing the words to appear, then shook her head in exasperation.
‘Don’t try too hard to remember,’ he said. ‘Sometimes these things surface when we’re not thinking about them.’ Isabella turned to face him.
‘You sound as if you’re speaking from experience. What’s your mother like?’
‘No idea,’ he shrugged. ‘She left when I was five.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know,’ she replied.
‘It was a long time ago,’ he replied, quickly turning his attention back to the pony, but Isabella had heard the bitterness in his voice. She sat back in her seat and watched as he expertly guided the trap down the narrow lane towards a hamlet of thatched cottages she recognized. They were nearing home and she crossed her fingers, wishing for her uncle to be in a good mood.
‘Just to clear the air,’ Felix said, breaking into her thoughts. ‘You looked quite happy striding into town the other day so I didn’t think there was a problem. Besides, courtesy dictates a gentleman doesn’t offer a lift to a lady who is promised to another. Unless she is in dire need, of course.’
‘Well, you needn’t bother yourself on that score,’ Isabella said, giving a harsh laugh. ‘It appears Maxwell is now promised to another.’ She saw a spark flash in his green eyes and quickly added: ‘I shall never trust another man again for as long as I live.’ He raised his brow, but didn’t say anything. The threatened drizzle began to fall and Isabella sighed.
‘Does it always rain around here?’ she asked, pulling her shawl tighter round her.
‘Most days,’ he nodded. ‘But then if it didn’t the violets wouldn’t flourish and emanate their delicate fragrance.’
‘Such eloquence, Mr Furneaux,’ she replied, staring at him in surprise. As a flush crept up his neck, she turned away, breathing in the country air. He was right, the smell of violets did seem extra sweet tonight, unlike the pungent nosegays at the seance. She must remember to ask the sisters what they’d added to her flowers.
As Felix drew to a halt outside the little gate, Isabella saw Silver munching at the sparse grass that passed for a front lawn. Her uncle must be back from delivering his flowers to the station, Isabella realized.
‘I’m much obliged for the lift,’ she said, jumping down.
‘My pleasure. I hope our paths cross again,’ he said, handing down her basket. As their hands touched, time seemed to stand still as they stood looking at each other.
‘Oh, er, yes,’ she murmured. Then she gathered her senses. With a polite doff of his cap, he called for his pony to walk on.
Feeling hot and bothered, Isabella made her way round to the pump in the yard. The cold water stung her flushed cheeks like needles and she couldn’t help longing for a warm bathe in a tub. Suddenly, the kitchen door was thrown open, spilling light from the indoor lamps onto the pathway.
‘Where’s yer been, girl? Mother’s worried sick,’ her uncle called. He was still in his outdoor clothes, the ubiquitous straw hat wedged firmly on his head. ‘I were just about to round up William and come looking for yer.’
‘I’m sorry. I got, er, delayed,’ Isabella replied, drying her face on her turnover as she followed him inside. She was just wondering how to explain her lateness when he spotted the money in her basket.
‘Well, I’ll be. Will yer look at this, Mother,’ he cried, breaking into a grin. ‘Our Izzie has sold all her flowers.’ Taking the basket from her, he upturned it and there was a jingle as the coins spilled out onto the table.
‘Well done, dear,’ she exclaimed, putting down her skillet. ‘That’s more than our Dotty usually brings home.’ Feeling pleased with their reaction, Isabella sniffed the air appreciatively.
‘’Tis stoo and dough balls,’ her aunt explained. ‘A good meal to reward a good day’s selling,’ she beamed.
‘Perhaps she had some help,’ William grunted, banging the mud off his boots on the kitchen step. ‘I saw Furneaux dropping her off just now.’
‘Felix kindly offered me a lift, but I can assure you he had nothing to do with selling the flowers,’ Isabella protested as Frederick turned and glared at her.
‘Leave Izzie be, you two,’ Mary chided.
‘You’re so pretty, Izzie, I bet lots of handsome men stopped to buy your flowers,’ Alice sighed, staring at Isabella as though she were a princess. Recalling the old man who’d tricked her out of a penny ha’pennny, and the snooty man in his carriage, Isabella shook her head.
‘I’m afraid they didn’t, Alice.’
‘I would have if I were bigger,’ Thomas told her, giving her a beaming smile.
‘And you won’t grow any bigger unless you eat up, young man,’ his mother told him.
‘You did really well,’ Dotty told her grudgingly. ‘Where exactly did you stand?’
‘Outside the circulating library and stationer’s, as you directed,’ Isabella replied.
‘Well, must be ’cos you talks posh, then,’ her cousin pouted, clearly put out that Isabella had sold all her flowers. ‘When this wretched ankle’s better, I’m going to come with you and see how you do it.’
‘Quiet now,’ Frederick ordered. ‘Sit and savour the good food Mother’s cooked for us.’
The rest of the meal passed in silence and Isabella began to relax her guard. It seemed everyone had taken it for granted that she’d sold everything in the Strand. Or had they? Feeling William’s gaze on her, she looked up to see him eyeing her speculatively. She turned her attention back to her plate and was surprised to find she could manage the large portion her aunt had given her. If she carried on eating like this, she would have to make allowances when she adapted the dresses she’d brought with her. She was just about to ask her aunt if she could go into her room and open her trunk, when her uncle’s voice brought her back to the present.
‘That were a lovely drop of stoo, Mother. Alice and Thomas, you can clear away while I go through the list of chores for tomorrow with the others.’ He waited whilst they gathered up the dishes and went out to the scullery before turning to face them. ‘Now listen ye up, the weather’s on the turn so we need to ensure our plants are covered. Boy, you’ll help me do that in the morning, after we’ve picked the flowers for Mother and the girl to posy and pack.’
‘I can help with the posy and packing too,’ Isabella offered, looking forward to spending a few hours with her aunt and Dotty in the barn. It would certainly be better than traipsing into town again. They stared at her in surprise.
‘But tomorrow’s Thursday,’ Dotty reminded her. ‘Mrs Tripe will be waiting at the big house for her flowers.’
‘You don’t mean I’ve to go there again?’ she asked.
‘Give me one good reason why you shouldn’t, girl?’ her uncle asked, turning his shrewd gaze upon her. Isabella returned his look.
‘They didn’t buy any violets last week,’ she pointed out.
‘Ah, but that were before you had the selling experience. We’re expecting great things of you after today,’ he told her.
Isabella stared at him in disbelief, shivers tingling her spine as she recalled the confrontation with Sober, the sneering look of Mrs Pride and, worst of all, the lewd looks and suggestive remarks of Lord Lester.
Chapter 17
&n
bsp; ‘Right, I’m off to get Mother ready for bed,’ Mary announced.
‘Do you need any help?’ Isabella offered. ‘I haven’t seen her since I returned from Papa’s funer—London,’ she amended, feeling the tears begin to well. Her aunt shook her head.
‘You look exhausted, dear. I told Father it was too soon to send you trekking into town but he insisted that being occupied would be the best thing. Seems he was right, too. I still can’t believe how well you did today, and you not knowing anyone round here, either,’ she exclaimed. ‘These will swell the coffers nicely,’ she added, collecting up the coins and dropping them into the pottery pig on the dresser. Embarrassed by the unmerited praise, Isabella stared down at her lap, then remembered the state of her skirt.
‘There seems to be a hole in my pocket, Aunt Mary, so may I retrieve some things from my trunk?’
‘Of course, dear. Not now, though,’ she said as Isabella got to her feet. ‘We’ll do it together when I get back, then you can tell me more about your day.’ She turned to Dotty. ‘You need to put your foot up and rest that ankle, so you can keep Izzie company. I’ll expect fresh tea in the pot when I comes back, mind.’
As the door closed behind her, Dotty turned to Isabella, shooting her a quizzical look.
‘So, where else did you go today then?’
‘What do you mean?’ Isabella frowned.
‘Oh, come on, Izzie. You can’t fool me. You’ve been gone since breakfast and everyone knows the law moves us on if we spend too long in one place. If you’ve found a good spot to sell, then it’s only fair you share.’
Isabella thought quickly. The sisters had been good to her and, having been asked not to say anything about the seance, it was only right to honour their wishes. Then she remembered the man in the carriage and began relating the incident.
