The Shoemaker

by Lisa Prysock

  “That’s Mr. Wilmore’s daughter, River Joy Wilmore,” Kingston explained as he waved and nodded at the girl in the window.

  “River? What an unusual and lovely name…” she murmured.

  River Joy Wilmore wore a dark olive green shawl over a burgundy day dress to keep warm from the cold that surely leaked through the window. A burgundy linen bandeau wrapped around her reddish brown curls. She wore fingerless embroidered mitt gloves along with a sturdy metal thimble, leaving her hands free to accomplish her tasks while remaining warm. Her fingers worked quickly as she sewed a strand of tiny, pearl beads to decorate the pale pink, satin shoes. Two sets of a trio of darker pink satin flowers lay on the work table, ready to be sewn onto the shoes, along with two emerald green gems.

  “Ready to go inside?” he asked after they had studied her work for a few minutes.

  “Yes-s-s,” she laughed, her teeth beginning to chatter. “I’m be-g-ginning to freeze.”

  A little bell attached to the door rang as they stepped inside, alerting the shoemaker to the presence of customers. Kingston immediately drew her to the fireplace in the middle of the shop on the far right wall. The shop was tidy, clean, and spacious. She looked about as they warmed by the crackling fire. Dozens of ladies’ shoes were suspended over a number of wooden bars in pairs in the windows on each side of the door. Gentleman’s boots and shoes were lined up in a neat row along the bottom edge of the window. More pairs of shoes were placed neatly in wooden shelving on the wall opposite the fireplace and in shelves on each side of the fireplace. These were sectioned off like open boxes to display each pair to their best advantage. There were shoes with ribbon, beads, jewels, and bows. Some had flowers. Some had three tiers of ruffles. Some had lace, buckles, or rhinestones. A few were floral or striped patterns. Most had small heels. Many were trimmed in beads, pearls, jewels, buttons, or with silk embellishments.

  Along the far wall at the back of the shop, a long work table with four wooden stools pulled up to it displayed a neat row of tools and supplies. There were awls to punch holes in the leather, burnishers that rubbed the heels to shine, knives that shaped the leather soles, stretching pliers which stretched the leather uppers, marking wheels which marked where needles should go through the sole, sticks that measured the size of the foot, and many wooden shoe molds called shoe lasts. There were stacks of leather hide panels and squares of silk damasks in various colors. Rolls of other fabrics stood in a wooden box near the stacks of silk material. All sorts of embellishments were in a stack of little wooden drawers at the middle of the table. One young man sat at the far end of the table making a pair of brown leather boots. Another young man sat on the other end of the table cutting soles.

  The shoemaker himself, Mr. Wilmore, finished speaking to a customer who gathered her packages and exited the shop with a smile, pleased with her purchases. Another customer was trying to carry her packages out of the shop with a young son following, his arms also full. The little boy dropped one of the packages tied with brown paper just as he passed Winnie. She bent down and retrieved the package for him. He smiled when Winnie placed it back on his armload.

  Observing this was a pleasantly plump woman who had just entered the room from a side door carrying a basket of threads. Winnie thought she had probably entered the shop from the room where River had been at work. She wore a white lace matron’s cap and matching fichu over her brown day dress, along with a cheerful yellow-gold work apron, crisply ironed.

  Mr. Wilmore wore a long, caramel colored work apron over brown work trousers with a plain white shirt. He wore round spectacles. Winnie noticed a slight hunch to his broad shoulders, likely acquired from hours of being bent over his work. His hair and mustache were entirely white; his hands, remarkably worn and wrinkled. As other customers filed out the door, the shoemaker turned his attention on the Duke and Winnie.

  “How are you this fine day, Your Grace?” Mr. Wilmore said cheerfully, bowing the best that his body would permit him. “Have you brought your new bride to meet us?”

  “I have indeed,” Kingston beamed.

  Catherine glared at the Duke with wide eyes and pressed lips as she accepted the light handshake and congratulations of the shoemaker.

  “’Tis the perfect choice in a bride!” Mrs. Wilmore chimed as the bell rang on the door to the shop when the last of the customers exited. “She has kind eyes and a gracious demeanor. Congratulations my dear! What a lovely couple you make!”

  For some reason, Winnie’s tongue was completely tied. Why couldn’t she say anything to stop them from this assumption? Did some small part of her consider the marriage proposal of the handsome Duke beside her to be a very real possibility? She supposed she did, but he had not formally made a proposal yet. How could she even consider such remarks to be serious? She had known the man for little more than a day. She could not fall prey to a match with no engagement period. Duke or no, it was simply not sensible. One thing Winnie had always been was sensible. Well, perhaps not always, but for most of her life. Would not her three older sisters have jumped at such a suggestion? Why, nearly every young lady of marriageable age that she knew of would. As she wrestled with these thoughts, her mouth seemed glued shut. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She felt heat rise to her cheeks turning them the bright pink color of a primrose.

  Kingston was having a wonderful time carrying on in like manner, accepting their congratulations, agreeing with all that they said. Even the sons who had formerly been bent over their work now stopped what they were doing to discover who the Duke had chosen for a bride. They grinned from their work stools at the Duke as he introduced her to Seth and Anna, and their sons, General Samaritan Wilmore and Captain George Wilmore. “They call the older one General, and the younger, Cap.” Both sons nodded in her direction politely and diligently turned back to their work. Anna disappeared around the corner again.

  Before Winnie could recover, Kingston quickly took the market bag from her hands and pulled out the shoes inside. “Miss Lyndon would like to have repairs made to these shoes. As you see, there are scratches to the silk from an encounter with some of our barn yard animals. Could you tell me when they might be ready?”

  The shoemaker accepted the shoes, looking at them over the tops of his round spectacles. He inspected them closely, his white hair bent over the shoes as his wrinkled hands explored the damages. “As a matter of fact, we could have these ready in a day or two. I do believe I have some embellishments we could add to disguise these scratches and repair these shoes nicely. Lady Anne-Marie was just in last week and placed an order for shoes. You could come round Thursday, late afternoon, or at any time on Friday. We can have you fitted for bridal shoes at that time, if you like, Miss Lyndon?”

  “She would like that very much,” Kingston answered for her, drawing her close into an embrace. “Friday should be fine, won’t it be, my darling?” All she could do was look up at him in shock and nod, half mesmerized and half ready to explode with indignation.

  “A good pair of reliable shoes will protect our feet from the elements, just as the Lord will lead us where we are meant to go and protect us along the way,” the shoemaker remarked as he stepped around the corner of a counter near the window to place a tag on her shoes. She assumed he would then write her name on the tag since he reached for a quill pen after he had tagged her shoes. “He orders our steps. Welcome to Northampton, Miss Lyndon. We are very pleased to meet you.”

  Winnie recovered enough to nod cordially at the shoemaker though she thought she might faint into one of the three chairs she saw scattered about.

  “I see you are taking notice of the many tools we have in the shoe trade.”

  “Why, y-y-yes,” she stammered, glad for a change in the nature of the conversation.

  “Just as the good Lord has many tools he uses to shape and mold us, so have shoemakers in the making of shoes, though we shoemakers are merely His humble servants I assure you-- and no comparison to the glory of God. There are howe
ver, similarities in our work. God protects souls. We protect the feet of our patrons. That is what we call a lap-stone. ‘Tis been in my family for generations. That, over there is what we call a whet-board. There are pincers, nippers, and little hammers… a variety of awls and knives. We must often soak the leathers in the tubs, as you see Cap taking some out of the tub presently. That ball of wax General uses to apply to the threads. We also use glue, a bit of grease sometimes… and yes, shoe polish. Cap usually cuts the leathers and sews the uppers. General, he usually joins the heels and soles. They have apprenticed here since they were wee lads, just as I have, and my father before me, and so on. My Anna and our daughter, River… they do much of the binding for women’s and children’s shoes. Sometimes we order fine leather from Spain, or young goat skins for kid… and yes, those elaborate fabrics you see there come from all over Europe. We use Italian silks, silk damasks, silver buckles, and French prints.”

  “’Tis an amazing process, Mr. Wilmore,” Winnie replied, listening attentively. “I’ve been in a number of shoe stores having three older sisters, but none has ever explained much about the making of shoes to me before now.”

  “We will have your shoes ready for a fitting on Friday. If they don’t fit comfortably, we will make an adjustment for you. Sometimes it takes a number of fittings, but we have been blessed with a knack for getting the shoes to fit right, often, in the very first sitting.”

  “Now that is a rarity indeed,” Winnie replied with a smile.

  “Shoemakers abound in Northampton,” Mr. Wilmore added. “We’ve two or three on nearly every street and a number of shoe factories as well, but a master of the trade has efficient methods and a keen eye for detail. Though nothing can compare with our wonderful Lord, we learn from Him every single day. We can apply what we learn to our trade. Not a day goes by that the good Lord does not pay attention to the details of our lives, and so must we pay attention in our endeavors and do our very best since we represent Him on this earth.”

  “How excellent and true are your observations, Mr. Wilmore,” Winnie remarked.

  “You see part of why the Duchess brought her shoe business here,” Kingston inserted. Catherine nodded but she didn’t permit herself to appear too warm to the Duke. She was still reeling from his words.

  “We shall expect to see you Friday then!” the shoemaker smiled.

  The Duke leaned in closer to Seth Wilmore and said, “Be sure to put any costs for my bride’s purchases on my account.”

  “Yes, my Lord, of course!” Mr. Wilmore nodded as he observed Miss Lyndon’s slightly bewildered face with a warm smile before Kingston steered her outside toward the sleigh.

  Fashion Plate, Diana Walking Dress, Public Domain

  Revelation 19: 6-8, ESV

  6 Then I heard what seemed to be the voice of a great multitude, like the roar of many waters and like the sound of mighty peals of thunder, crying out, “Hallelujah! For the Lord our God the Almighty reigns. 7 Let us rejoice and exult and give him the glory, for the marriage of the Lamb has come, and his Bride has made herself ready; 8 it was granted her to clothe herself with fine linen, bright and pure”— for the fine linen is the righteous deeds of the saints.

  Chapter 6

  Revelations of Xander

  All she could do was let the Duke help her into the sleigh as she mulled over the last words of the shoemaker and all that had transpired. This changed everything! Soon, all of Northampton would assume they were engaged to be married. As he covered her with the lap robes, the look on her face said she was somewhere between the emotions of mortified and confused. She cast him a sideways glance as he settled into the sleigh beside her and gathered the reins in his hands. He bore a look of amusement but after meeting her stern gaze, he snapped the reins to urge the horses on and adopted a solemn demeanor. She remained silent on the return trip to Hillbrook Hall over snow covered roads and meadows. He decided it best to say nothing more of the matter for the time being.

  The audacity of Kingston had infuriated Winnie by the time the sleigh had returned to Hillbrook Hall. Because of the ice, she allowed him to escort her out of the sleigh, but she felt angry on the inside. He gripped her firmly by the elbow, guiding her over the snowy walkway leading to the front double doors. She found her heart racing to be so near him, which infuriated her further that she felt any attraction for him at all. Once he had deposited her into the foyer, she wasted no time in marching up the stairs toward her room to ready herself for dinner. She could feel his eyes follow her up the stairs from below where he stood removing his gloves and Cossack hat, but she would not give him the satisfaction of any words or the merest of looks in his direction. For the moment, she was cross with him and dare not permit him to think otherwise.

  As she reached the top of the staircase, she heard him say to the butler, “Something really must be done about the walkways before our dinner guests begin to arrive, Alton.”

  “Yes, my Lord,” Alton responded. “I will have Carlisle attend to the walkways at once. I believe our reliable and organized housekeeper, Mrs. Glenwood, has everything else well in hand. The arrival of a few extra servants she hired for the dinner party has been a welcome relief. I believe Mrs. Glenwood would like a brief word with you beforehand to go over the preparations and itinerary.”

  “Has she spoken to Lady Anne-Marie about these matters?”

  “Yes, but you know, even when your dear mother was with us, Mrs. Glenwood always took time to discuss things like this with your father and mother together.”

  “Yes, I think I do remember that now that you mention it…” Kingston raked a hand through his hair looking a little preoccupied as his eyes followed Miss Lyndon’s form as she ascended the staircase. Turning back to Alton he said, “Yes, tell the housekeeper I will meet with her in the library presently.”

  Paying no mind to the Duke, she continued toward the hall that would lead her to her room, thankful for a reprieve from the other ladies. She was glad the halls were silent other than a few maids scurrying about. The others were by now taking the customary afternoon nap in order to be refreshed and ready for the long evening ahead. If she hurried, she might have an hour to rest also. Once inside her bedroom, she shed her walking suit down to her chemise and climbed under the coverlet, noting with some relief that Beatrice had done as instructed and laid out her olive green silk dinner gown and matching shoes with the tiny heel and squared toes. She was thankful for the warm fire that crackled in the fireplace. The rose and peach room was a warm retreat after the sleigh ride.

  As she looked over at the olive shoes ready for that evening’s dinner, she recalled the words of the shoemaker: “Like a good pair of reliable shoes, the Lord will lead us where we are meant to go and protect us along the way. He orders our steps.”

  “Oh Lord, are you leading me to marry this man I barely know?” she whispered, her eyes wide with wonder, yet drooping with sleepiness. “A Duke, Lord?”

  “You’re missing mittens too?” Alton asked, scratching his head.

  The maid to Lady Jane stared blankly at the butler, nodding. “You’ve had others come up missing?”

  “We have, I’m afraid to admit.

  “About five pair now… it’s the oddest thing. I have already checked with Bernice, Laura, and Hattie. They share the laundry duties of the household. We have no idea what has become of the missing mittens.” Alton looked visibly troubled.

  “I smell a rat!” Lady Jane’s maid shook her head, passing by Winnie as she marched upstairs with a neatly folded pile of garments for her charge.

  Reaching the foot of the staircase, Winnie looked to her right through open double doors into the Dining Room. Covered in white linen, two long tables running side by side, with matching elegant chairs around each of them, had replaced the one that normally ran down the middle of the room. A few footmen, Scott and Benson, were meticulously making last minute inspections, measuring the place settings, and polishing long stem glasses and silver until everything sparkl
ed with a gleam to Alton’s satisfaction. He looked on in approval as another footman Winnie didn’t recognize placed candelabras every five feet or so down the middle of the table. Around the corner, another footman hurried from the direction of the kitchen with a tray of green glass vases filled with sprigs of holly, berries, red and white flowers, and other festive greenery. Each vase was tied with a red silk ribbon. She correctly guessed these would become perfect centerpieces for the tables as the footman began placing them strategically down the center of the tables. She noticed Lady Agnes in a bright red evening gown swapping place cards for the seating arrangements at one of the tables, though no one else seemed to notice.

  At the far end of the Dining Room, the double doors were open to reveal the Music Room. Mrs. Glenwood was setting up sheet music on a stand near the violin. Every fireplace in each room had a crackling fire and plenty of logs stocked nearby. To her left, Winnie noticed candles were lit on all of the end tables and sconces in the Drawing Room. Laura, the parlor maid, scurried through making one last inspection of the room, fluffing pillows as she did so. The Ball Room doors were open which made Winnie hope there might be a bit of dancing later in the evening. She wandered into the Ball Room to take a closer look, finding only a scullery maid she didn’t recognize tending the fireplace at the far end of the room. Dressed in a white lace cap, a faded dress that seemed too thin for winter, and a crisp, white, work apron Mrs. Polly Childers had probably lent her from those that hung from pegs in a corner of the kitchen, the slender waif stabbed at a few logs in the massive stone fireplace with a poker. Setting the poker aside, the waif then reached for a broom and swept up stray ashes and embers on the hearth. Miss Lyndon studied her for a moment, but was soon distracted by the appearance of Lady Anne-Marie at her side.