Miss Moonshine’s Emporium
of
Happy Endings
A Feel-Good Anthology
by
Authors on the Edge
Mary Jayne Baker • Sophie Claire • Jacqui Cooper
Helena Fairfax • Kate Field • Melinda Hammond
Marie Laval • Helen Pollard • Angela Wren
Authors on the Edge are a group of nine authors from Yorkshire and Lancashire in the north of England.
Copyright © 2018 Copyright in each story lies with the individual author
All rights reserved
Editors: Helena Fairfax and Mary Jayne Baker
Cover Art © 2018 by Mary Jayne Baker
First eBook Edition May 2018
The stories in this anthology are works of fiction. All characters, organisations, and events portrayed in these stories are either the products of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously.
CONTENTS
Fair Fugitive, by Melinda Hammond
A Regency romance
*
Beatrice Marches for Women, by Helena Fairfax
An Edwardian romance
*
The Man in Her Dreams, by Jacqui Cooper
A supernatural romance
*
Take a Chance on Me, by Marie Laval
A musical romance
*
The House on the Hill, by Helen Pollard
An unexpected romance
*
Miss Moonshine Says, ‘Go!’, by Angela Wren
A vintage romance
*
The Angel Stone, by Sophie Claire
An empowering romance
*
The Girl Who Didn’t Win, by Kate Field
A secret romance
*
The Last Chapter, by Mary Jayne Baker
A bookish romance
Fair Fugitive
by
Melinda Hammond
April 1816
Thick, grey cloud hung like a blanket over the moors when the stage finally stopped in the small market town of Haven Bridge. Diana climbed stiffly down onto the cobbles, thankful for her cloak and bonnet to keep off the chill of the dying spring day. She collected her small portmanteau, squared her shoulders and walked into the inn. The coffee room was almost empty and she sank down gratefully at a table. The landlady came over, wiping her hands on her apron.
‘Good day to ’ee, mistress, what is your pleasure?’
‘A cup of coffee, if I may.’
While the landlady bustled away, Diana took out her purse and counted out her coins. The total sum of her wealth was depressingly small. Papa had always despised material gain, but then, he had never expected to be taken so suddenly, leaving her with nothing more than a few pounds. Perhaps if Mama had not died so long ago she would have advised him to be more prudent. Most of his books were religious texts, which Diana had left for the next incumbent. Of the rest of his few possessions, she had kept only his well-thumbed Bible, which was safely packed in her portmanteau with the few clothes she had brought with her. Everything else she had left at the church door, with instructions that it was all to be given to the poor.
A cup of steaming dark liquid appeared before her. ‘Someone meeting you, miss, or will you be wantin’ a bed for the night?’
‘No.’ She tried to keep the fear from her voice. ‘No one is meeting me. And I will require somewhere to sleep, while I look for work.’
‘Will you now? And what sort of work would you be wanting?’
Diana did not miss the note of suspicion in the landlady’s voice. It was to be expected, she supposed. She was a single woman, travelling unaccompanied and with little money, no friends and no letters of introduction. A tiny dart of anger stirred her to fight back.
She raised her head, saying with cool dignity, ‘I am a clergyman’s daughter. Circumstances oblige me to make my own way in the world and I am looking for respectable employment. As a housekeeper, perhaps, or a governess. Naturally I can do nothing now until the morning.’
For a long moment the landlady held her gaze, then she nodded, as if satisfied. She said, in a softer tone, ‘If that’s the case you might want to try Miss Moonshine. I heard today she has a room to spare, and it will be cheaper than staying here.’
‘Miss Moonshine?’
‘Aye, that’s right. She has a shop on Market Street. Strange place,’ continued the landlady, becoming chatty now she had decided Diana was a respectable traveller. ‘She buys and sells all sorts. Hard to see how she makes a living, though.’ She scratched her nose, pondering. ‘She calls it her emporium, but to my way of thinking it don’t sell much that anybody needs.’
‘Thank you,’ murmured Diana. ‘I shall make my way there directly I have finished my coffee.’
The landlady beamed at her. ‘Aye, you do that, miss, and if she can’t help you, then you come back here for the night.’
‘On Market Street, you say?’
‘Aye. You can’t miss it. Across the bridge, turn left and you’ll come to Market Street. Hers is one of the first houses you come to. Fine stone place it is, too, with a pediment over a black door.’
‘It sounds very grand,’ said Diana doubtfully, thinking of her meagre purse.
‘Built as a chapel some forty years ago, it was,’ explained the landlady. ‘But it weren’t long before the congregation had grown so much they was obliged to move to bigger premises. ’Twas then that a fine gentleman bought it.’ The landlady crossed her arms, warming to her tale. ‘He died without any children to inherit, and the house passed to Miss Moonshine. She’s been here, oh, well, can’t quite remember how many years now. ’Tis said she came from Pendle way. But for all that, she’s a pleasant enough lady and will see you right.’
With an encouraging smile the landlady went away, leaving Diana to finish her coffee.
*
The earlier clouds had broken up and the sun was setting in a blaze of golden light when Diana left the inn. She stopped for a moment, dazzled by the brightness. There was little warmth in the low sun, but just the sight of it lifted her spirits. She turned towards the stone bridge with renewed energy.
Obedient to her instructions, Diana made her way to Market Street and soon reached her destination. She hesitated for a moment before walking up the short path. The landlady’s words came back to her. It was indeed a strange sort of shop, for the windows, though large, began at least four feet from the ground. A lamp burned in one of the windows, its golden light glinting on the objects displayed. A Malacca cane with a chased silver top was propped against the glass in one corner. In front of it was a metal birdcage and a bronze desk-set that appeared to be missing one of its inkwells. In the centre of the window was a small shepherdess figurine that could be French. Meagre fare to entice customers, she thought.
‘But that is none of your business,’ Diana told herself, taking a firmer grip on her portmanteau. ‘All that concerns you is getting a room for the night.’
In the near corner of the window, next to a very ugly Toby jug, was a tiny brown dog. At first she thought it was another ornament, until she saw its ears prick up. It was watching her with huge, dark eyes as she surveyed the property, but as she walked up to the black door it began to bark before jumping down and disappearing.
It did not look like the sort of shop where one could just walk in, and besides, it was gro
wing late. Diana raised her hand to the knocker, but before she could reach it the door was opened by a petite, white-haired lady in a silver-grey gown. She was cradling the dog in one arm, shushing it gently while smiling at Diana, her hazel eyes bright and inquisitive. Diana thought that she must have been a very beautiful young lady. Her hair beneath the lace cap was silver and the delicate features a little lined now, but Diana found it impossible to put an age to her.
‘Napoleon always informs me when there is someone at the door.’
The soft voice captured Diana’s attention and she blushed a little, realising she had been staring.
‘Miss Moonshine? My name is Diana. Diana R– Riston.’
‘You are here about the room.’
‘Why, yes. But how did you –’
The little dog barked, interrupting her, and the older woman smiled.
‘Napoleon wants to greet you.’
‘He is quite delightful.’ Diana put her hand out and after a cautious sniff, the tiny creature licked her fingers. ‘I have never seen a dog quite like this before.’
‘He is from the Americas,’ replied the old lady, stroking the tiny head. ‘He was originally called something quite unpronounceable, so I renamed him. I hope you do not think it very bad of me, but with Bonaparte now safely put away on St Helena, I thought it could not hurt to call him Napoleon. But let us not stand on the doorstep, Miss Riston. Come in, do.’
Diana stepped over the threshold and found herself in a large, high-ceilinged room, where the candles had already been lit against the impending gloom of the evening. It was like no shop she had seen before. In the centre of the floor stood a large mahogany table, its smooth surface gleaming a deep red-brown in the candlelight. A few chairs were dotted about, but whether these were for sale or for the comfort of customers, Diana could not be sure. Against the walls stood highly polished desks and sideboards, their surfaces covered with an assortment of items, from mundane objects such as books, wicker baskets and pewter candlesticks, to toy soldiers, oriental porcelain and strange ornaments that she could not identify.
‘Heavens, what a, a varied collection,’ she murmured, trying to be polite.
‘Well, I take whatever people bring to me, and my customers come and buy.’
‘So they never know what they will find?’
‘No.’ Miss Moonshine gave a small, enigmatic smile. ‘But they mostly find what they need. Now, what you require,’ she continued, suddenly brisk, ‘is a room. I have just the one, and that is very fortunate for you. It is on the first floor, across the landing from my own apartments. One day I shall expand my shop to include the upper floor, but that will not be for a while yet.’
She went on to set out her terms, which were indeed very reasonable, and Diana accepted with alacrity.
‘I do not know how long I shall need the room, Miss Moonshine. That rather depends upon the employment that I find.’
‘Naturally. Shall we begin with a month’s rent? And of course I shall require a bond.’
‘A … a bond?’
Miss Moonshine frowned a little. ‘I am not well-versed in the ways of business, but I believe it is customary for a tenant to provide some sort of surety to the landlord. Usually in the form of a lump sum.’
‘Oh.’ Diana’s heart sank as she thought of the contents of her little purse. ‘Until I can find some work, I am afraid I do not have a great deal. However,’ she rummaged through her reticule, ‘I do have one item of value.’ She pulled a small hip flask from the bag and held it out. ‘It is silver.’
Miss Moonshine put the little dog down carefully on a chair and took the flask. Diana watched as she turned it this way and that, the light catching on the delicately engraved ivy leaves around two initials, “A.S.”
‘Andrew Sturton.’ Diana was unable to keep the slight tremor from her voice. ‘My fiancé. He was a soldier, and I intended to give the flask to him when he returned from the Americas, but he was sent directly to Waterloo. He did not come back.’
‘I am so very sorry.’ Miss Moonshine’s bright eyes held Diana’s for a long moment, then she nodded and held out her hand. ‘Of course I will take this as surety. I shall lock it in here. It will be quite safe.’ She pulled up one of the keys from the chatelaine around her waist and unlocked a drawer in the nearest sideboard. When the flask was safely put away, she turned back to Diana, smiling. ‘Now, I suppose you would like to see your room.’
‘Thank you, it is very kind of you.’ Diana followed her up the stairs. ‘I hope I shall not impose upon you for too long.’
Miss Moonshine looked back and smiled.
*
The chilly spring was eventually replaced by a cold, wet summer, and Diana was still at Miss Moonshine’s. She had settled in well; her room was comfortable and she had found enough work to pay her way. Mrs Lomax, the wife of a local mill-owner, had had a baby in the spring but she had not recovered sufficiently to look after Edwin, her seven-year-old son, who was too sickly to go to school. Diana was employed to give him three hours of lessons, six mornings a week.
Miss Moonshine had also introduced her to Mr Philip Booth, the local vicar. He was a young, energetic man who wanted to open a Sunday School and needed a teacher.
‘It will only be for a few hours each Sunday,’ he told Diana, his blue eyes shining with enthusiasm. ‘But it could make such a difference to the lives of the poorest children here. If we can teach them to read and write, their prospects will be greatly improved. We are dependent upon subscribers, so the post will be poorly paid, at least at first, but it is a very worthwhile cause. I would be delighted if you would consider it, Miss Riston.’
Diana did not hesitate. The payment might be small, but it would supplement the wage she received from Mrs Lomax and would enable her to keep her lodgings with Miss Moonshine. It would also give her more to think about, and less time to dwell on the past.
Naturally she missed her home, but her landlady was very kind, and often invited Diana to take tea with her in her own little sitting room on the first floor. It was on one such occasion that Diana found herself telling Miss Moonshine how she had come to be here, and how her fiancé, Andrew, had been killed at Waterloo.
‘I read all the reports about the battle, looking for news of his regiment. They were defending La Haye Sainte and were under attack from the French. The artillery bombardment was fierce.’ Diana blinked away a tear. ‘We read about the action in the newspapers, but there was no news, until Andrew’s parents received a letter from his commanding officer.’
‘How dreadful for you, my dear. But what made you leave Shawton and all your friends?’
Diana put down her cup. ‘My father died of a putrid sore throat during the winter, and I was obliged to move from the rectory, which was needed for the next incumbent. Andrew’s parents took me in and were very kind to me, but they were struggling with their own grief. My presence only reminded them of what they had lost. Also, they have very little, and although they welcomed me into their home, I know my being there was an added burden on their limited funds. I could not live on their charity.’
She did not elaborate, not wanting to explain that Mr Moulton, one of the churchwardens, had become very particular in his attentions. So much so that one day she had packed up her few possessions and fled to the crossroads, climbing on the first coach to come along. It had been a wrench to cut off all ties with everyone she knew, but her persecutor was the main employer in Shawton, a man of influence, and she was very afraid that he would discover her direction and come after her.
Diana worked hard with the vicar to set up the Sunday School for the poorest children. She discovered she had a gift for teaching, and the school, plus her work with Mrs Lomax, kept her busy for most of her days. When she had any free time, she was happy to run errands for Miss Moonshine and to assist in keeping the shop clean and tidy. It all helped her to endure the overwhelming grief of losing both her fiancé and her father the previous year. Those six months had been almo
st unbearable. The pain of it was still there when she woke every morning, sometimes so sharp it was like a knife in her stomach, and she wanted to scream with hurt and despair.
Diana soon came to regard Miss Moonshine as a kindly aunt. Mrs Lomax treated her with kindness and respect, and the vicar was very pleased with her work in the Sunday School. It was a comfort, knowing her efforts were appreciated. Diana would always miss Andrew and her father, and her heart ached whenever she thought about them, but gradually, as the summer wore on, the constant, aching loneliness that had wrapped about her for so long began to ease.
‘I should be thinking about the future,’ she said to her landlady one afternoon.
It had become a habit to take tea with Miss Moonshine in her snug little parlour, and Diana knew she would miss the cosiness of these regular meetings when the time came to leave, as it surely must.
‘Oh, there is no rush, my dear.’ The old lady broke off a piece of cake and dropped it on the floor for Napoleon, who was sitting at her feet.
‘Mrs Lomax is recovering well now,’ Diana went on. ‘Soon I shall no longer be required to teach little Edwin. And the Sunday School has proved such a success that the committee want to open a poor school. Mr Booth tells me they are even now setting up a subscription to raise funds to buy Lees Hall, on the edge of the town. It needs a little work, but it will provide schoolrooms and a sizeable house. He mentioned outbuildings, and enough land to be farmed for additional income.’ She sighed and plucked at her skirts. ‘So you see, they will be looking for a husband and wife to run it.’
‘Yes, yes, but none of these things has yet come to pass,’ replied Miss Moonshine, refilling the teacups. ‘You are still needed here in Haven Bridge at present, and you are free to keep your room for as long as you need it. Indeed, I am glad of the company.’
Diana thanked her, grateful for the older lady’s kindness. She remembered when she had arrived, and Miss Moonshine had told her how she planned to expand her business into upstairs rooms. Upon reflection, however, Diana thought that perhaps she was right, and there was no rush for her to move out. After all, in all the months she had been here, and although she often helped Miss Moonshine to tidy and rearrange her shop, she had yet to see a single customer.
Miss Moonshine's Emporium of Happy Endings: A feel-good collection of heartwarming stories Page 1
