by Linda Finlay
‘Lemonade?’ he asked, pouring a glass from a pitcher.
‘Oh yes, please. This is so kind of you,’ she said.
‘There’s plenty,’ Joseph replied politely. ‘Haven’t seen much of you since you arrived. Liking Deb’n are you?’ As two pairs of eyes awaited her answer, Isabella forced a nod. ‘Expect you’re finding it different to London, though,’ Joseph persisted.
‘Oh, you’ve been there, have you?’ she asked, her eyes lighting up. He shook his head and pulled a face.
‘Nah, too much smoke from them manufactories. I likes the sea air.’
‘I’ve just been walking along the beach actually,’ Isabella replied. As they both stared at her in surprise, Isabella realized she’d revealed more than she should have and turned her attention back to her food. As she ate, she was conscious of Felix glancing at her across the table but he waited until she’d finished her meal before speaking.
‘Forgive me, did you say you’d been walking along the beach?’
‘I did, but that was after I’d visited the big house and sold my flowers,’ she replied truthfully.
‘I don’t wish to appear rude, but don’t you think you’re a little overdressed for the role of a flower girl. I mean, there are some men who might, er, get the wrong idea if they see you cavorting around looking like that.’
‘I’ll have you know that I do not cavort, Mr Furneaux. Besides, I am in mourning for Papa and lavender is an appropriate colour to wear,’ she told him, wishing he wouldn’t stare at her so intently. She took a sip of her drink. ‘This is delicious,’ she said, changing the subject.
‘Was he French?’ Joseph asked.
‘Who? Oh, you mean Papa? No, he wasn’t, why do you ask?’
‘Well, you always refer to your parents as Mama and Papa and she were Father’s sister so she couldn’t be French.’
‘Oh, I see what you mean. Do you know I’ve never really given it a thought? They’ve always been . . . I mean I always called them that,’ she frowned.
‘I expect you’re wondering what I’m doing consorting with the enemy?’ Felix asked, sensing her discomfort.
‘Well, to be honest, I was surprised to see you here,’ Isabella replied.
‘As you know Father and I recently set up our new market garden venture. Both Joseph and his uncle have been very generous with their advice on how to grow the best blooms to sell,’ Felix told her.
‘We’re ’appy to pass on our tips ’cos Uncle Bill says there’s business enough for us all. Best not tell Father, though,’ Joseph added quickly. ‘I was telling Felix we’d be planting teddies in the spring after we’ve cleared out the old plants.’
‘Why potatoes?’ Isabella frowned.
‘Violets take no phosphates from the soil but teddies absorb it, so it be ben’ficial to plant some and rotate everything, like.’
‘I see,’ Isabella replied, not really comprehending yet not wishing to appear stupid. Feeling Felix’s gaze on her once more, she looked up to see him grinning knowingly.
‘You needs to really understand the soil,’ Joseph continued unaware. ‘Uncle Bill grows lots of his flowers between the fruit trees which be good for naturalizing, see. If you’re taking them to market, you need to grow great blooms or it’s a waste of time,’ he smiled.
‘You seem very knowledgeable,’ Isabella replied, thinking how pleasant he was compared to his taciturn brother.
‘Uncle Bill’s the best teacher and he says when he’d old, even older than he is now, I’ll be in charge,’ he said, proudly.
‘And meantime, Joseph and his uncle are generously passing on their wisdom to Father and I, for which we are extremely grateful, I might add,’ Felix told her.
‘You’ll ’elp us if we ever need it,’ Joseph shrugged philosophically. ‘We were going to take a look around the gardens and talk about yield. You can join us if you want, Izzie?’ he invited, getting to his feet.
‘Please don’t feel you have to come, though,’ Felix added. ‘You might prefer to rest whilst you’re waiting for Bill to return.’
‘I’d love to see them,’ she replied, flushing as their gaze met and held. Steady, Isabella, men are fickle, she reminded herself. Turning quickly away, she retrieved her turnover.
For the second time that day, Isabella was pleased to feel the breeze cooling her cheeks as she followed them outside. The gardens wrapped around the house and were planted with violets in differing states of growth. They strolled on until they came to an orchard where mauve heads peeped out between the tree trunks.
‘We’ve just picked all the apples and pears and stored them in the shed,’ Joseph explained. ‘Mother would appreciate some Bramley’s if you could take them back with you,’ he told Isabella. ‘She makes a mean fruit pie and hopefully will have one made by the time we come for luncheon on Sunday,’ he said rubbing his stomach appreciatively. Isabella smiled at his expression but he had turned back to Felix. ‘What was it you wanted to know?’ he asked.
‘How much yield we could expect? We’re thinking of planting up another two acres.’
‘That’s a goodly amount,’ Joseph nodded, stroking his chin thoughtfully. ‘Should get about 100 to 150 pounds’ weight of flowers from that, I reckon. Best check with Uncle Bill, though.’
‘No need, Joe, you know your stuff and I’m mighty grateful for you taking time out of your busy day to explain everything.
Now, I’d better help you finish packing up your violets or you won’t have them ready for when Bill returns.’
‘I’ll help if you like,’ Isabella offered.
‘Never look a gift horse . . . ,’ Joseph began, then looked embarrassed. ‘Not that I was suggesting you look like one, of course.’
‘I should hope not,’ she exclaimed, laughing despite herself.
Joseph led the way into a huge barn which was laid out in a similar manner to Frederick’s but much tidier. Pails of violets were lined alongside a long trestle, waiting to be posied and packed and Isabella set about counting out the flowers.
The three of them worked well together and Isabella found herself enjoying the congenial atmosphere. From time to time, though, she caught Felix glancing at her and couldn’t help smiling back. By the time the job was finished Bill still hadn’t reappeared and Joseph was looking anxious.
‘Better pack them onto my cart and I’ll give you a lift to the station,’ Felix offered.
‘Thanks. Can’t afford to miss the train,’ Joseph replied. ‘Go and get your basket, Izzie, and we’ll fill it with apples for Mother before we go.’
Isabella did as he suggested, welcoming the kitchen’s warmth after the cool air of the afternoon. She stared around the room, marvelling at its order compared with the general clutter of her aunt’s kitchen. Then her attention was drawn to the portrait on the dresser and she went over to have a better look. The pretty young woman had her glossy hair falling in waves around her shoulders, and her sparkling eyes seemed to light up the room. Isabella thought how vivacious she was.
‘Here’s the apples.’ Joseph appeared beside her, making Isabella jump.
‘I was just thinking how happy the woman looks,’ she said, replacing the picture on the shelf.
‘That were Uncle Bill’s wife.’
‘Goodness, I never realized he was married,’ she gasped.
‘Love of his life, she were. Died in childbirth some years back now. Uncle blames himself,’ Joseph told her, dropping the large green fruits into her basket.
‘Poor Uncle Bill,’ she sighed.
‘I know. Sometimes he finds the memories too painful and goes on a bender to forget. Probably what he’s done today. Father gets right mad at him.’
‘Cart’s all packed,’ Felix said appearing in the doorway. ‘That basket looks heavy. We’ll drop you home on our way back from the station, Isabella.’
Isabella nodded, her attention returning to the young woman in the picture. Poor, poor Uncle Bill, she thought.
Chapter 20
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sp; The journey to the station was bumpy and Isabella clung to her basket as Felix urged his pony on. With the three of them squashed into the seat and the boxes of flowers piled in the back, it was a laden cart that made its way precariously along the winding lanes, swaying down the steepest hill Isabella had ever seen, before passing by a chapel and a school. There was a camaraderie between the two men that Uncle Frederick was evidently not aware of, Isabella thought, as they joked and sparred off each other. They were both looking dishevelled after their exertions and Felix had a dried leaf clinging to his hair. Supressing the urge to remove it, she stared down at her hands only to discover they were decidedly grubby. Then to her surprise she noticed they were rounding the Sod and turning into the road that led to Starcross. Before she could comment on the way all the lanes seemed to lead into each other, Joseph peered anxiously along the track and let out a sigh.
‘Don’t worry, we’ll make the train,’ Felix assured him.
‘Hope so or Father’ll pickle my plucks. It’s Uncle Bill I’m worried about, though. You know what happened last time he went on a bender. Disappeared for days, he did,’ Joe said. As they rounded the Sod they heard a blast from a whistle and Isabella could just make out the plume of steam in the distance.
‘We’ll do it,’ Felix assured them again, urging his pony along the lane that ran parallel to the railway line. Minutes later they turned into the station yard, and as the men hastily jumped down, two porters came running to assist.
‘Cutting it tight today, Joe,’ one said, as he hefted the boxes onto his trolley.
‘Your father’s flowers are already here,’ the other man chirped. Isabella looked over her shoulder and saw Frederick striding towards them.
‘What you doing with our flowers, Furneaux?’ he growled.
‘When Uncle Bill didn’t return, Felix offered to drive me here so I didn’t miss the train,’ Joseph replied, his voice breathless as he continued unloading. There was a shrill whistle and the screeching of wheels on the track.
‘Best hurry then. I’ll speak to you later, Joseph,’ Frederick muttered. As the men scuttled towards the platform, their laden trollies clattering before them, he turned to Isabella. ‘Get yerself into my cart, yer coming home with me.’ Isabella opened her mouth to protest, then saw the set of his face and promptly closed it again.
Ignoring the shouts from the other drivers, he drove straight out of the yard and onto the road. Seeing the way his hands clenched the reins, Isabella sat back in her seat and stared out at the rolling waves. Yet again, the steely grey reflected her uncle’s mood, she thought.
‘What the hell were you doing with Furneaux?’ he snapped.
‘I went to see Uncle Bill and Felix was there,’ Isabella replied.
‘And why would you be visiting Bill when you should have been in town?’
‘He gave me a lift to the big house this morning.’ Ignoring his surprised look, she continued. ‘We were talking about facing our fears and he seemed upset about something so I wanted to check he was all right,’ she said, giving him an edited version.
‘And what fears would a young girl like you have to face,’ he growled. Realizing she might as well come clean and see if she could get some answers at the same time, she turned to face him.
‘He knew I was scared in case I met Lord Lester again,’ she replied.
‘Again? You mean you’ve already met him?’ he asked, staring at her in amazement. Isabella nodded. ‘When? How?’ he barked. Knowing she had no choice, she explained about her faux pas the previous week. When she got to the part about ringing the front doorbell, she thought she saw his lips twitch, but it was gone so quickly she couldn’t be sure.
‘Let’s get this straight. You mean that bast—er, son of a bitch propositioned you?’ he snarled, yanking hard on the reins. She nodded but kept her gaze averted. As the cart shuddered to a halt, he turned to face her.
‘Why didn’t you tell me this last week?’ he asked. She shrugged, hardly daring to admit she found his forthright ways intimidating. ‘Yet you told Bill? When?’
‘He gave me a lift home from town. Knowing I was worried about today, he met me in the lane,’ she admitted, dreading him asking about her visit to the big house earlier. However, he had other things on his mind.
‘What time was this?’
‘Just after I left the cottage. He was on his way to visit you, I think. Why?’
‘We haven’t seen hide nor hair of him all day,’ Frederick declared.
‘Joseph told me about him losing his wife and how he goes on benders. What’s a bender, Uncle?’
‘Nothing for a nice girl like you to worry about,’ he muttered, jerking on the reins. Isabella was bursting to ask about her mama but they reached the cottage before she summoned the courage, and then her uncle spoke first.
‘You never said what Furneaux was doing at Bill’s place,’ he said, climbing down and giving her a penetrating stare.
‘He and Joe were having their luncheon when I arrived. They kindly invited me to join them,’ she said, trying to be tactful.
‘Eating luncheon?’ he bellowed. ‘What did they talk about?’
‘Soil and potatoes. Then . . . ’ Realizing she might be about to get Joseph into trouble, her voice trailed off.
‘Then?’
‘Yield,’ she admitted. The narrowing of his eyes told her she’d said too much. ‘But Joseph said Uncle Bill assured them there’s plenty of business for everyone,’ she added, staring at him hopefully. He gave a snort.
‘It’s taken a lot of hard work to get where we are. We’re only just turning a profit as it is, and if Bill doesn’t pull his weight, we’re in danger of losing our share of the market,’ he sighed and pushed his old straw hat to the back of his head. ‘Best not tell Mother about meeting Lord Lester, she’s worried about you as it is,’ he told her.
‘Why?’ she frowned.
‘Them fancy clothes for one thing. She’s afraid you might give the wrong impression at the big house. There’s been talk, see. Beside people round here have long memories.’
‘You’re referring to Mama and Lord Lester, aren’t you?’ she asked. He nodded. ‘Why did he refer to Mama as a good-time girl?’
‘Because that’s what she was. Now take these apples indoors,’ he said, handing down her basket. As he turned back to Silver, Isabella saw how weary he was looking, yet needing to know more, she stayed where she was. ‘Look, Isabella, I need to go and find Bill. We’ll talk more about your mother when I return.’
‘You promise, Uncle?’
‘Yes, if not tonight then tomorrow,’ he assured her. Feeling happier to be getting somewhere at last, she nodded and made her way down the path.
‘Coo, look at all them apples,’ Dotty said, coming out of the kitchen door with a tray in her hand. ‘Did you manage to get my note to Alfie?’ she whispered, glancing towards the barn.
‘Mrs Tripe promised to pass it on,’ Isabella told her. Her cousin’s eyes lit up.
‘I can walk properly without me stick now, so hopefully it’ll be me going to the big house next week.’ Isabella felt her spirits soar. She couldn’t bear the thought of bumping into his Lordship again, especially after retaliating this morning. Remembering his indignant look and the threats he’d made, she wondered if there would be any repercussions. Best not mention meeting him, she decided. Then she realized Dotty was waiting for an answer.
‘That is good news. Although, I shall be happy to take more flowers into town tomorrow,’ she said, remembering it was the day the sisters were holding their next seance.
‘You’ve changed your tune,’ Dotty replied, staring at her suspiciously. ‘Did you shift all of them today?’
‘I did. It seems I’ve got into the swing of this selling,’ Isabella shrugged.
‘That’s good ’cos Mother’s relying on the money. Now the weather’s getting colder she’s taken the little ones to get warmer clothes.’
Isabella felt a pang as she recalled the deal
she’d done with the woman on the beach and hoped the coins in her basket would be sufficient.
‘Better take Grandmother’s tea in to her before it gets cold. She’s having a better day so why not come with me?’
‘I’d love to,’ Isabella cried. ‘I’ll put my things inside and be right with you.’
Placing the basket on the kitchen table, she shrugged off the turnover and patted her curls into place under her hat. Her hair had grown so much, she really needed to get it cut. She must ask Dotty if she could recommend a good coiffeuse in the town, she thought, hurrying back outside.
‘How did you get on today? Did you remember to knock on the back door this time?’ Dotty asked as they walked through to the adjoining yard.
‘I did, but here’s a thing. When the maid answered, she took one look at me and said I should go around to the front,’ Isabella exclaimed. To her astonishment, Dotty nodded.
‘I’m not surprised. That outfit’s gorgeous but hardly fitting for a flower seller.’
‘Well, I feel more like myself wearing it,’ Isabella retorted.
‘All right, keep your hair on,’ Dotty laughed, unlocking the back door. ‘Cooee, only me,’ she called. To Isabella’s surprise, the woman was in the kitchen, standing by the unlit range. She was wearing a blue woollen dress and smiling.
‘Just going to cook my dinner,’ she told Dotty. Then she saw Isabella and her eyes widened.
‘Ellie, you’ve come home,’ she cried, throwing her arms around Isabella.
‘But I’m not . . . ,’ Isabella began, only to see Dotty shaking her head.
‘Oh, you do look grand,’ she said, eyeing Isabella up and down. ‘Always knew you’d get on.’ She spun round and grinned at Dotty. ‘I said Ellie would come back, didn’t I?
‘You did,’ Dotty replied, humouring the woman.
‘Well, don’t just stand there, come on through and tell me all you’ve been doing since you was last here.’ Trembling with excitement, Isabella allowed herself to be pulled into the living room. ‘Sit down, sit down,’ the woman instructed. Isabella did as she’d been told then watched as the woman tottered over to her own chair. But to her dismay, no sooner had she sunk into the cushions than she closed her eyes. Isabella watched and waited but within moments the room was filled with the sound of gentle snoring.
