Hogmanay brought even greater celebrations to Lochlee as the whole of Scotland got ready to welcome in the coming New Year. No matter what, the Fairbairns feasted lavishly on the thirty-first of December but for Humphrey and Andrew, who were English, it was a new experience.
‘You two are Sassenachs!’ Georgie declared disparagingly.
Andrew, new to the aristocracy and especially the Scottish nobility, looked puzzled. ‘What’s a Sassenach?’
‘Don’t worry, dearest,’ Beattie, smiling, assured him. ‘It’s not really an insult, although Georgie seems to think it is.’
There was a mounting sense of expectation as they all gathered for dinner on New Year’s Eve, the women in all their finery and Robert in his kilt, but Humphrey and Andrew in white tie and tails, much to Georgie’s disapproval.
‘Not a kilt between the two of you!’ she scoffed. ‘Let’s hope Henry is back by next year to show you how it’s done properly.’
The new arrivals to the family privately noticed that Freddie, the disgraced eldest son, was never mentioned these days. It seemed the Fairbairns had decided he was persona non grata and might actually be presumed dead.
As they all sat around the long, candlelit dining table enjoying game soup, pheasant and partridge pie, venison served with creamed potatoes and red cabbage laced with bacon and chestnuts, followed by an array of puddings including Charlotte Russe, Baba au Rhum and raspberry tartlets, Laura realized how frugally she’d been living, partly to save money but also because she didn’t have time to cook in Mrs Sutherland’s almost medieval kitchen. Bread, cheese and apples were her main sustenance, with a glass of water or a cup of tea. As the wine flowed tonight she found herself relaxing as they waited for McEwan to perform the ancient Scottish tradition of being the First Footer.
‘It would, of course, have been Henry if he’d been here,’ Lady Rothbury explained, ‘but McEwan is a dark-haired man, or at least he used to be, so he’ll have to do it.’
At five minutes to midnight the family stood expectantly in the great hall, looked down upon by the heads of stags whose magnificent antlers gleamed in the lamp light, while McEwan stood in the drive, braving the freezing conditions until the church bell struck twelve times. Then, with a dramatic flourish, he pushed open the heavy oak door of the castle and strode across the threshold as the First Footer of the New Year, carrying in his outstretched hands a piece of coal for warmth, a small bag of salt for wealth, a piece of rich fruit cake known as a Black Bun for food, and half a bottle of whisky for sustenance. This ancient ritual based on the Pagan Winter Solstice ceremony was received by Lady Rothbury with gravity, before the family started clapping and cheering and McEwan looked suitably gratified. His role had been to bring good fortune to the family in the coming year and he felt deeply honoured.
‘Well done!’ Robert shouted above the din of approval. ‘Give the man a stiff drink. He must be frozen half to death!’
‘Thank you, M’Lord,’ McEwan replied with a little bow.
‘Let’s all drink to the New Year,’ declared Humphrey, who was particularly partial to the champagne he’d purchased in France and had brought two cases of it with him to Lochlee ‘to imbibe with the family over Christmas and the New Year’, as he put it.
There was a chorus of ‘Here’s to 1900!’ as everyone kissed and hugged, but then they fell silent as Robert raised his glass and announced another toast. ‘Let us give thanks for the blessings we have received in the past year and let us drink a toast to the family hero, Henry, and to his speedy and safe return from South Africa in the near future.’
‘Pray to God,’ whispered Lady Rothbury under her breath.
‘To Henry!’ Everyone raised their glasses, and Diana and Laura felt tears stinging their eyes. It didn’t seem the same without Henry and his vibrant youthful charm and energy. They all missed him deeply.
Robert put his arm around Diana’s waist. ‘The Boer War will soon come to an end,’ he said comfortingly. ‘Henry will be home before you know it.’ His strong, matter-of-fact tone lifted the moment that had plunged the atmosphere into darkness.
‘He’s right,’ Humphrey warmly agreed. Then he turned to Lady Rothbury. ‘Mark my words, I’ll get more of this very good champagne from France and we’ll give Henry the biggest welcome home party this castle has ever seen. Isn’t that right, girls?’ he boomed to all the others.
‘I’ll definitely come home for that!’ Laura declared stoutly.
‘We’ll all come home for that,’ agreed Beattie, smiling through her tears.
Laura stayed at Lochlee until Twelfth Night when, in another ritual, they all helped take down the Christmas decorations and get the groundsmen to carry the tree out of the castle and chop it up for firewood. The holly and the mistletoe also had to be removed, and suddenly it seemed the festivities were over for another year and it was time she went back to her new life in Edinburgh.
‘Are you looking forward to returning to Mrs Sutherland’s house?’ her mother inquired as they all had luncheon together for the last time. Lizzie, Diana and Beattie were also returning to their own homes later that day.
‘I’m not returning to Mrs Sutherland’s house,’ Laura announced.
Lady Rothbury put down her knife and fork. ‘So you’re going to continue your dressmaking from here?’ she asked hopefully.
Laura shook her head. ‘I’m expanding the business.’
‘In what way?’ Georgie sounded aggressive and almost envious.
‘I’ve taken a flat in a house, very near Mrs Sutherland, and it’s got a big room for my work, a small bedroom and a little kitchen and bathroom and . . .’
‘I forbid you to live alone, Laura,’ her mother said fiercely. ‘Getting a flat? What were you thinking of? A young lady living alone in the city will ruin your reputation.’
Laura’s jaw hardened. She’d known all along her mother would disapprove. ‘Times have changed, Mama, and I’m in a very respectable part of Edinburgh. I need a proper workroom and a changing room for my clients if I’m going to expand. Anyway, I’ve already taken it and paid a month’s rent in advance. There are other professional people living in the building and I’m employing a young woman who is an excellent seamstress to help me with the work. It’s all arranged and Mrs Sutherland is very happy to continue getting clients for me.’
‘Robert, tell her this is unseemly,’ Lady Rothbury begged. ‘She mustn’t be allowed to behave like someone in trade, for goodness’ sake! It’s one thing to make clothes for a few friends, but to set herself up as if she were practically running a shop! Oh, it’s out of the question. She must be stopped.’
Robert smiled gently and gave Laura a supportive nod of approval before turning to Lady Rothbury. ‘My dear mother-in-law, times are changing, alas,’ he said affectionately. ‘Laura is a very talented young woman and it would be cruel to deny her this opportunity to express her talent.’
‘But for money!’ she wailed. ‘And living alone in a flat could be misconstrued. Some men might think she was a . . .?’
‘Knowing Laura, no one would think that,’ he retorted firmly. ‘She is obviously a very respectable young lady who makes an honest living designing beautiful clothes for the aristocracy. It’s not as if she was running up garments to be sold in some cheap emporium,’ he added.
‘What she’s doing is a let-down for the Fairbairn family, though, isn’t it?’ Georgie remarked spitefully.
Lizzie turned on her angrily. ‘That’s a horrid thing to say and absolutely untrue.’
‘Yes, Georgie, and it’s a pity you don’t do something useful with your life instead of always criticizing others,’ Beattie snapped.
Then Diana spoke. ‘Why is it you haven’t a nice thing to say about anybody?’ she remonstrated crossly.
‘It’s all right for you lot,’ Georgie shot back rudely. ‘You’ve already found eligible men to marry.’
Humphrey’s mouth quivered with suppressed laughter. ‘I didn’t know we men were lost in
the first place?’ he asked, putting on a plaintive voice while his eyes twinkled with merriment. He turned to Andrew and Robert, winking as he did so. ‘Did you know we were lost, chaps?’
They grinned back, shaking their heads.
‘Well, I’m very relieved to hear we’ve been found anyway,’ Robert declared stoutly, taking Diana’s hand and kissing it tenderly.
‘Oh! You’re all so childish,’ Georgie sniped with chagrin as she got up and flounced out of the room.
‘And happy, too,’ Andrew said softly as they watched her departing figure.
Robert looked serious. ‘I must apologize to her. It was mean of us to tease her like that. We shouldn’t have done it.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Lizzie assured him. ‘Georgie brings it on herself every time she opens her mouth.’ She turned to Laura. ‘We all think what you’re doing is absolutely splendid and good luck to you.’
‘Yes, good luck,’ Humphrey echoed. ‘We’re all very proud of you and I think this new place sounds much more comfortable.’
‘I still think you should have a chaperone,’ Lady Rothbury fretted. ‘In my day if a girl lived on her own it meant she was a scarlet woman.’ She rose stiffly. ‘You’re over twenty-one, Laura, so I can’t forbid you, but I do not approve of what you’re doing.’
The men rose and Robert stepped briskly forward and opened the door for her as she swept grandly out of the room.
There was a moment’s silence, then they all turned eagerly to Laura, wanting to know more about her new premises.
Laura’s eyes were sparkling as she answered their questions. ‘Do you know the best thing about it?’ she asked, laughing.
‘What?’ Lizzie enquired.
‘It’s got electricity! No more working until the early hours by the dim light of a beastly gas lamp.’
‘Is it safe?’ Diana queried. ‘We were thinking of installing it at Cranley Court but then I became nervous, although Robert says everyone will have it within a few years.’
‘Of course it’s safe,’ Laura protested. ‘The first thing I saw when I went to look at the flat was this priceless notice pinned to the hall wall. It said, Do not attempt to light with a match! Simply turn the key on thewall by the door. So I did and the room was instantly filled with this brilliant light. I couldn’t believe it at first. It’s so much better than gas.’
‘Jolly clever chap, Mr Edison. I wish I could come up with an invention like that,’ Humphrey murmured thoughtfully.
‘You’ll enjoy living there,’ Lizzie remarked.
Laura beamed. ‘I don’t care what Mama thinks, I’m going to love it!’
Fourteen
Edinburgh, 1900
Laura spent the first few days settling into her new flat with the enthusiasm of a bird getting her nest in order. She’d brought a few things from Lochlee, too, which helped to make the rooms more like home. By the time she’d laid down some Persian rugs on the polished floor, scattered several petitpoint cushions on the chairs and sofa and hung a couple of framed watercolour paintings of Loch Etive on the bedroom wall, she realized with excitement that she’d actually created a home of her own. This was not just a room in someone else’s house, which was what she’d had with Mrs Sutherland, but her very own place where she could do as she liked. Energized at the very thought of being able to come and go and eat whenever she liked, it was so liberating she really didn’t mind being on her own at all. In fact, she rather enjoyed it.
By the time she went to bed that night, she’d set up her sewing machine beside the large work table she’d bought and filled the drawers of a chest with all the tools she’d need, and felt ready to start. Her desk was ready for work, too, with a box of index cards filed in alphabetical order of her clients names and addresses and all their measurements. She’d had writing paper for quotes and invoices printed with her name, Laura Fairbairn Designs, and address at the top. Mama was going to be horrified if she knew Laura had dropped her title but she felt it was necessary. It was not her business to be grander than her clients.
As she lay in bed that night unable to sleep, excitement flowed through her body, as heady as alcohol. Tomorrow morning her new assistant, Helen Miller, was arriving to start work at eight o’clock and she had no doubt that by the end of the week they’d be busy because the ladies of Edinburgh would want to plan their spring wardrobes.
Towards the middle of January Laura began to feel a flutter of anxiety. Only three clients had come to see her and they’d only wanted simple house dresses which she could easily have made herself without Helen’s assistance.
‘It’s the bad weather, my dear,’ Mrs Sutherland assured her when Laura dropped in to see her. ‘There’s always a lull after Christmas and Hogmanay in every line of business. People are tired, they’ve spent a lot of money and they’re not in the mood to go gallivanting off to get new clothes. For one thing it’s too cold. The horses find it slippery, which is dangerous. As soon as it thaws they’ll all come back, mark my words.’
‘I suppose so.’ Laura was worried, though. She only had a small amount of money saved and it wasn’t enough to pay her rent and Helen for much longer if the icy weather continued.
Mrs Sutherland wagged a finger. ‘The butcher was only saying to me yesterday that he’s never been so quiet.’
‘I’m sure you’re right.’ Laura felt angry with herself for not realizing that January was always a bleak month when even her own family was not in the mood to indulge in new clothes because there was little socializing until Easter. How had she gauged it so wrong? With hindsight she now knew she shouldn’t have taken her new premises until late February or early March.
As she walked home she decided to economize on food for the time being, and rather than ask anyone in her family for money because she had her pride, she might be forced to sell one of the Persian rugs to pay next month’s rent. That night she slept badly and awoke at dawn, deciding she might as well give Helen the day off because there was nothing for her to do.
Just before eight o’clock Helen came rushing into the flat, flushed and breathless as if she’d been running. ‘Have you heard the news?’ she gasped, clutching Scotsman newspaper.
‘Is the Boer War over?’ Laura asked instantly.
Helen looked at her blankly. ‘No,’ she replied, puzzled. ‘The old Queen has gone and died! Look!’
Laura skimmed the headlines in disbelief. Queen Victoria has died at Osborne House on the Isle of Wight, she read in heavy lettering.
For a moment she found it hard to believe. The Queen had reigned for sixty-three years and her subjects had become so accustomed to her being on the throne that it seemed impossible to believe she was no longer there – a familiar figure in her widow’s weeds, which she’d worn ever since her beloved husband had died.
Laura suddenly threw down the newspaper. ‘I’ve got to go out,’ she said urgently as she struggled into her long tweed coat. Then she jammed a fox fur hat on her head, grabbed her purse and gloves and spoke briefly. ‘Stay here until I get back, Helen. If anyone calls invite them in and take down their name, address and their order. Tell them I’ll get back to them later. Or tomorrow morning,’ she added. A moment later she was gone and her bewildered assistant heard her running down the front steps and along the street.
It was late in the afternoon when an exhausted but triumphant Laura returned, casting off her hat and coat and flinging herself into a chair.
‘Whatever have you been up to?’ Helen asked. ‘I was getting ever so worried. No one has called but about nine or ten letters have come for you. Put through the letter box, they were. By hand,’ she added, obviously impressed.
Laura gave a deep sigh of satisfaction. ‘First, I went to see my bank manager,’ she began, ‘and when I told him what I wanted to do he agreed to lend me quite a lot of money.’
Helen made no comment. She didn’t think it was her place to ask this nice employer, a real lady who belonged to ever such a grand family, what she needed the money for.
‘Then,’ Laura continued, enjoying drawing out the suspense, ‘I got a cab and went to the wholesale company, from whom I buy all the fabrics.’
‘But they’re near Glasgow,’ Helen exclaimed, as if they were on the other side of the world.
Laura nodded. ‘Do you know what I bought, Helen?’
The girl shook her head, her eyes wide.
Laura leaned forward and her eyes blazed with excitement in her flushed face. ‘I bought all the black fabric they had in stock.’ She started ticking on her fingers. ‘In tweed, soft wool, alpaca, velvet, silk, chiffon, lace, taffeta and crepe de Chine; hundreds of yards of fabric to make up for our clients, who are all going to be wearing full mourning for the next twelve months.’
Helen’s jaw dropped. ‘Because the Queen died?’
Laura leaned back, savouring the moment. ‘Yes, because the Queen died. I also placed orders for grey and purple fabric for the following year, which is what many of our elderly clients will move on to for a while. You do know what this means, Helen, don’t you?’
‘We’ll be busy,’ the girl replied solemnly.
Laura burst out laughing. ‘We’ll be more than busy. We’ve cornered the market. None of the other dressmakers in Scotland will be able to obtain quantities of black fabric for months to come because I’ve snapped it all up! We are going to dress all the ladies of Edinburgh with everything they will need for the coming year. Coats, cloaks, day and evening dresses, skirts and blouses . . .’ She paused and looked around the workroom. ‘I wish I’d taken a bigger place now. We’re going to need extra help, Helen.’
‘Where will you store all the fabric?’
‘I’ve already been to see Mrs Sutherland and she’s very kindly allowing me to rent a big room in her basement. The wholesalers are going to be delivering the material next Wednesday.’
The Fairbairn Girls Page 17
