The Buttonmaker’s daughter

by Merryn Allingham

  ‘We’ll need to move the wood plank by plank,’ Aiden said, ‘and be very cautious. The whole structure could fall otherwise. That piece over there first, I think.’

  Piece by painstaking piece, they worked their way down the pile of timber, until they could see William’s two legs. He had dived to the back of the retreat, where the roof was still intact, but he appeared horribly still. The men began to work even more slowly, holding a collective breath when they removed the last huge piece of wood and laid it to one side. Then Davy and Joe Lacey grabbed William by the boots and, with a sharp pull, dragged him clear of the tottering structure. Olly immediately threw himself to the ground and cradled his friend in his arms.

  ‘Let me look.’ Aiden bent down, pushing Oliver gently to one side. ‘The boy is breathing but I don’t like his pallor. Can you men rig up a stretcher?’

  In a few minutes, the men had lashed three of the wooden planks together and gently lifted William onto its hard surface. The movement woke the half-conscious boy and his eyes opened.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said dazedly.

  ‘Don’t try to speak, lad,’ Davy advised. ‘We’m getting you up to the house.’

  The men lifted the stretcher between them and were about to find their way back to the path, when William tried to sit up.

  ‘You must lie still, quite still,’ Aiden said. ‘The doctor will need to check you over but, hopefully, there won’t be broken bones.’

  ‘The message,’ the boy murmured.

  ‘Here.’ Olly plucked the paper from his friend’s pocket and pushed the crumpled missive into Aiden’s hands. ‘This is for you.’

  ‘Okay to go now, Mr Kellaway?’ Davy asked.

  ‘Yes, do,’ he said uncertainly. The men set off for the path and Aiden was left standing in the middle of the Wilderness, the scrap of paper clutched in his hand.

  *

  ‘It was deliberate. I’m sure it was deliberate.’

  William lay sprawled across his bed. Dr Daniels had come and gone and pronounced him uninjured, except for several cuts and bruises and a heartbeat that was not quite regular. Now he was feeling very tired and slightly bemused. ‘What do you mean, “deliberate”?’

  Oliver sat cross-legged on the floor, looking up at his friend with bright, enquiring eyes. ‘We roped the wood together as tightly as possible. The retreat couldn’t have just fallen apart.’

  ‘Maybe the ropes weren’t as well tied as we thought.’

  ‘I used my best knot on every piece of wood – it was a clove hitch.’

  ‘But even so.’ He picked at the counterpane, wishing Olly would stop playing detective. But his wish was in vain.

  ‘Look!’ his friend demanded, yanking a piece of rope from his pocket. ‘I took this after they stretchered you up to the house. Just look at it.’

  He looked. The rope seemed to have a clean cut but its edges were very slightly frayed.

  ‘See? I bet you anything it’s been sliced by a knife. And if I went back to the retreat, I reckon I’d find other cuts in the rope we used.’

  ‘That could have happened from the rope rubbing against wood.’ His protest was feeble. He had a bad headache and his heart still jolted occasionally.

  ‘It might have happened with one knot, maybe even two, but all of them? You dive into the retreat and brush against the walls and then, Bam!, the structure collapses. I don’t think so.’

  ‘But who would do such a thing, even for a joke? They would know that cutting the rope was dangerous.’

  ‘Someone who doesn’t like us?’

  ‘But who?’

  ‘I don’t know. The gardeners maybe. They’re fed up with us. They’re always moaning we’re in the way. And the head chap – Harris, isn’t it? – he gave me a real chewing over yesterday for picking apples before they were ripe.’

  ‘Harris would never do such a thing. He’s known me since I was a baby. And neither would any of the men – they rescued me, remember?’

  ‘Then who else?’

  ‘Maybe you’re wrong.’

  ‘I’m not!’ Oliver was adamant. ‘Someone did it and they did it to hurt us, or to hurt you.’

  He was more bewildered than ever, more weary than ever. He closed his eyes and lay back on the pillows. ‘No one would want to hurt me,’ he said quietly.

  Oliver’s expression said clearly that he knew he was right, but he didn’t again contradict his friend. Instead, he said, cheerfully, ‘The fair should be fun tomorrow.’

  ‘Except that I won’t see any of it.’

  ‘Why ever not? You’ll be fine by the morning.’

  ‘The doc says I have to rest for two or three days. My heart has had a shock, and I need perfect calm. Mama will make sure I stay in this room.’

  ‘But the fair…’

  ‘You must go, Olly,’ he said swiftly, opening his eyes again. ‘There’s no need for you to miss it.’

  Oliver looked torn. ‘I’d rather stay here with you. It won’t be any fun on my own.’

  ‘Of course it will. There’ll be lots of stuff to buy and stalls where you can try your luck. We were going to win a coconut, weren’t we? You can do it for me.’

  The boy brightened. ‘I could, I suppose. I could go for an hour and come back with a coconut. We could have a feast here. As long as your ma lets you eat it.’

  ‘Good idea,’ William said, and closed his eyes again. In minutes, he was asleep.

  Chapter Twelve

  Alice saw her brother long before Joshua spotted him. He was still at some distance from them, but moving at a leisurely pace through the fête, his wife, elegant in blue crêpe, draped across his arm. Today promised to be the hottest yet. The thermometer had stood high from early in the morning and, by midday, most of the stallholders and not a few of the visitors were seeking whatever shade offered. But Henry, dressed in a suit of French serge and sporting a grey silk waistcoat, appeared unmoved. Not for him the crumpled handkerchief dabbed ineffectually across a perspiring brow. He was the grand seigneur, Alice reflected, bowing to one person here, greeting another by name there, occasionally stopping at a stall to purchase some small item from a gratified owner. It was as though this was Henry’s fête, which in a way it was. The venue had changed, but the proprietor had not. Local loyalties were too strong for that.

  She sensed her husband’s bulky figure draw close. He had arrived while she was watching their Amberley visitors, and she was sure he was sharing her thoughts. By any measure, the event was a success. But she knew Joshua. He would be fizzing beneath the surface, unsure exactly whose success it was. She felt her mouth dry and her fingers twitch. She hadn’t realised how nervous she would be. If only the two men could meet in a spirit of conciliation, but that was next to impossible. Elizabeth’s future was their sole connection and her one hope was that it might produce at least a temporary peace.

  ‘Good afternoon, Alice.’ Her brother doffed his hat in greeting. ‘A fine day. And a fine turnout.’

  ‘A fine setting, too,’ Joshua could not resist adding.

  ‘Indeed it is,’ Louisa said smoothly and, for once, Alice was grateful to her. ‘And so much to interest people. It’s such a shame that William is missing all the fun. We heard he was unwell – I do hope he feels better very soon.’

  Alice’s face became very still and she took a while to answer. ‘Thank you. You are very kind. William is still a little indisposed, but I assure you, it is nothing serious. His friend is with him.’

  ‘These boys, eh,’ Henry said, ‘always up to mischief.’ His attempt at joviality was unexpected and jarring and Louisa once more moved to smooth the ruffled surface.

  ‘We came across some very clever sideshows as we strolled through. And the village band seems in fine form. But it’s far too hot to walk any longer and I know you are wishful to talk about Elizabeth before we return to Amberley.’

  Joshua’s face creased into a scowl but Alice was encouraging. She was eager to leave the subject of William behind. ‘An excell
ent idea,’ she said.

  ‘And a pressing one, too, it seems.’ Her sister-in-law gestured towards an open space to one side of the marquee. The crowds here had temporarily dispersed and two figures were etched clearly against the tent’s canvas, their shadows merging one into another and spilling across the grass.

  All four stared in the direction she had indicated. Henry was the first to recover. ‘Who the devil is he!?’

  Joshua’s scowl had deepened to such proportions that his entire face was consumed by it, and when he spoke, his voice was so tightly controlled it barely seemed to touch his lips. ‘The boy works for my architect. Kennedy or Kendall or some such name.’

  ‘He is Kellaway,’ Alice said.

  ‘His name hardly matters.’ Henry exuded disapproval. ‘It’s who he is that matters. And if he works for your architect – Simmonds, isn’t that the man? – he will be a mere apprentice.’

  ‘I believe so,’ his sister murmured despairingly.

  ‘In other words, a man with no money and few prospects.’

  ‘He may have prospects.’ Joshua’s intervention came as a surprise to his auditors, though Alice could have foretold it. Her husband would never allow a remark to pass unquestioned, that a working man had no prospects. His own rise from poverty was too deeply ingrained in his consciousness.

  ‘No real prospects, Joshua,’ her sister-in-law coaxed, throwing an anxious glance at Henry. ‘There is no reason to suppose that Mr Kendall will not do well in his trade, but is that what you want for dear Elizabeth?’ When Elizabeth’s parents were silent, she said, ‘Of course not. You want so much more and why should you not? Elizabeth is worth so much more.’

  ‘He’ll be going soon!’ Joshua snapped. ‘I’ve told Simmonds to send him packing as soon as the boy is no longer needed.’

  ‘Good, that’s good, but in the meantime—’

  ‘In the meantime, Elizabeth will be kept busy.’

  ‘As she is today,’ Henry remarked superciliously.

  ‘Let us not have hasty words,’ Louisa said. ‘Henry, you must explain our plan and, if Alice permits, I will bring to an end this improper tête-à-tête.’ Before Alice could give permission, her sister-in-law had released herself from her husband’s arm and begun to weave her way through the crowds to where Elizabeth and Aiden stood deep in lively conversation.

  *

  Elizabeth had walked out of the house and into the fête half an hour previously. She was nervous. This was the only opportunity she’d had in days to speak to Aiden and she wasn’t at all sure that he would come. She wasn’t sure if he had read her message or even if William had managed to deliver it before his accident. But she was here and waiting, while at the same time she tried to hide in plain sight. She’d made certain she was seen wandering among the stalls, sampling the sweetmeats, trying her luck at shove ha’penny, and been careful to speak to anyone she knew. She was just turning away from exchanging greetings with the postmistress, when she saw him. Her heart gave a curious little pinch. He was lingering outside the marquee, clearly expecting someone, and she hoped that people hadn’t noticed. She looked around. Summerhayes was transformed that day, the crowds buzzing from stall to stall, the air filled with shouts and laughter, and the low hum everywhere of people enjoying themselves. Nobody would take heed, surely, not amid this hive of conviviality.

  A strange energy swept through her. She walked quickly to his side, but no sooner had she reached him than she was overcome by awkwardness. This was the most embarrassing of situations and she had created it. She had asked a man she barely knew to meet her. What must he be thinking? She had offered no explanation in her note, other than she wanted to see him. He would think her fast. Perhaps she was, perhaps she was turning into the hoyden her mother predicted. She felt herself growing hot from her toes up and cast around for something to say.

  ‘The fête is proving a great success.’

  ‘It certainly looks it.’ He gave her the familiar half-smile and her heart pinched again. She forced herself to look away, gesturing with her arm to indicate the spread of crowded stalls.

  ‘My father is very pleased with the way the day has gone,’ she added desperately.

  ‘I imagine he must be.’

  He was not helping. He was standing so close to her that she could see the lines at the corners of his eyes, so close that she could smell the freshness of his skin.

  ‘I’m glad you came.’ The words were blurted out and immediately she wanted them back; her forwardness at sending the message was tormenting her. But he made no mention of it. Instead, he continued to look at her, thoughtfully, steadily, the half-smile still there.

  ‘How could I not come?’ He made their meeting sound the most natural thing in the world.

  He bent to retrieve the handkerchief she’d dropped, where it lay unnoticed on the trampled grass. As he did so, his hair fell across his forehead in a soft sweep of brown, and she felt an impulse to reach out and stroke it back into place.

  ‘How is your brother today?’ he asked, handing her the small piece of linen. ‘He gave us quite a scare.’

  His question came as a lifeline. With an effort, she managed an even voice. ‘He gave us a scare too. He’s suffered no obvious damage, thank goodness, but his heartbeat is a little irregular. The doctor thinks it best that he rest for a few days. He is very disappointed that he can’t be here.’

  How serious her brother’s heart defect was, she had no idea. Alice had always been keenly protective while her father ignored the problem, in the same way as he ignored William in general. He was blind to his son’s gentle soul, she thought, and blind to William’s true nature. She wondered whether her mother was too.

  ‘Poor William,’ Aiden said. ‘It was one of the worst things that could have happened.’

  ‘It was, but I must thank you for coming to his rescue. If you hadn’t been there, he might have been badly injured.’ She was feeling more secure now.

  Aiden shook his head. ‘It’s the gardeners you have to thank. They did the hard labour. But it was fortunate they were working close by.’

  ‘Is the new garden finished?’

  ‘Almost, though this hot weather has made working there difficult for the men.’

  She thought he might suggest she visit again to see the temple in its full glory, but she was glad when he didn’t. It felt good to be with him here in the fresh openness of a sunny day. The Italian Garden was beautiful, there was no doubt, but something about it was wrong. It was her imagination working too vividly, she supposed, but she could never feel wholly at ease there.

  ‘Are you all right, Elizabeth?’

  She looked up to see concern in his face and realised that she’d been frowning fiercely. ‘I’m fine. It’s nothing – a silly fancy.’

  It was the second time that he had used her given name, and it had come as naturally as everything else between them. The impulse to touch surged again. She wanted to reach out to him, reach out and cement the bond she felt, but that would be stupid.

  ‘Have you had time to look around the fair yourself?’ she asked brightly.

  ‘I came to see you, not the fair.’ His hand moved towards her. In what seemed like slow motion, he reached out and sought hers.

  Then, a voice from over her shoulder, a voice coming between them. ‘Elizabeth, there you are, my dear. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.’

  Aunt Louisa. In a second, Aiden had melted away and, from the corner of her eye, she saw that he was making his way towards the exit that led to the village. She’d had no time with him, no time to talk, to work out what was in her heart. Just a few whispered words in farewell.

  Her aunt readjusted the dashing hat she was wearing. ‘A wonderful day, isn’t it? Your father has done us proud.’

  She was too busy trying to order her thoughts to answer. What was Louisa doing here? Surely the Fitzroys could not have come to the fête? But then Gilbert sidled into view, tugging at his mother’s skirt and asking for pennies. />
  ‘You should ask your father, Gilbert. I am carrying very little money.’

  He cast a scared glance in Henry’s direction. ‘Please, Mama. Papa is busy.’

  Louisa tutted impatiently. ‘Oh, very well. But this is all I have.’ She dipped a gloved hand into the mesh purse she carried and brought forth a handful of coins, which she pressed into the pair of small, sticky hands.

  ‘Spend wisely,’ she admonished.

  It seemed that the Fitzroys had overcome their fury to attend the day, but how the breach with her parents had been mended and why, Elizabeth had no idea. It was all very puzzling. Her aunt offered a few more platitudes to which she barely responded, and then the woman was gone and she was alone again. She watched as Louisa zigzagged a path through the crowd, travelling in the same direction as Aiden. Evidently, her aunt, too, had no wish to stay at the fête.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘I suppose Simmonds knows of your concern about the man he employs?’

  Henry had continued with his questions ever since Louisa left, and Alice worried that he would antagonise her husband so badly that Joshua would walk away. There was certainly a snap in Joshua’s voice when he answered. ‘He knows that I don’t want the boy on my estate a minute longer than is necessary. In any case, Kellaway will go of his own accord pretty soon.’

  Henry’s face expressed disbelief. ‘I doubt it. If he did, he would be ignoring his most obvious advantage. And, for a man in his position, that would be unlikely.’

  ‘The boy is Irish, or so Simmonds tells me.’

  ‘So…’

  She could see Joshua relax. She sensed he had felt disadvantaged throughout this encounter, but now he wore a superior smile.

  ‘Do you not read the newspapers?’ he drawled. ‘They are full of the unrest that’s brewing. Ireland is a tinderbox. You have only to think of the Curragh. A mutiny! British officers threatening to resign rather than subdue a rebellion against Home Rule! That was a bare three months ago. There will be civil war in Ireland – in weeks. The government is already talking of some form of partition. The country will be in turmoil and Kellaway will run for home.’