The Buttonmaker’s daughter

by Merryn Allingham

  ‘It’s possible,’ Henry conceded, ‘but by no means certain. What is more certain, however, is the solution I’m proposing. I trust you’ll both find it satisfactory.’

  ‘You’ve found someone,’ Alice rushed in.

  ‘I haven’t found someone, Alice,’ he responded tetchily. ‘I have spoken to a man we both know. Giles Audley. If you remember, he is our second cousin.’

  ‘I do remember. Of course, I do. But he is a widower.’

  ‘And pray what is wrong with that?’

  ‘He is a little older than Elizabeth,’ she said uncertainly.

  ‘All the better to control her. And, by the look of it, she needs control.’

  ‘I haven’t seen Giles for years.’

  ‘Nor have I, but I am happy with what I have found. He went abroad after his wife died, but is settled back in Sussex now. He’s a capital fellow. Nephew to the Earl of Pevensey.’ He said this with satisfaction.

  ‘And he wishes to marry again?’

  ‘Naturally, or we would not be having this conversation. I have spoken to him of Elizabeth and he liked what I had to tell him. I feel they should meet as soon as possible. Louisa and I have discussed the matter and decided that an informal gathering might be best for a first meeting – a tea party perhaps. It will be long enough for them to enjoy some conversation together but short enough for it not to become awkward.’

  ‘I think that’s a splendid proposal.’ She hadn’t expected her brother to exercise such subtlety, but perhaps she should not be surprised. Henry was a chameleon after all. ‘Joshua?’ She looked anxiously at her husband.

  He nodded an unwilling assent. He was shrewd enough, she knew, to see through her brother and recognise his manipulation, but the lure of marrying Elizabeth to a relative of the Earl of Pevensey was enough to suspend his suspicions. Money, land, title: they were the badge of belonging.

  ‘Very good. Then it needs only that Louisa arrange a convenient day. Where is she?’ He scanned the lawn, still crowded with parishioners eager to spend their halfpennies. Aiden Kellaway and Elizabeth had vanished, but so, it appeared, had Louisa. ‘Where the devil is she?’ he repeated.

  ‘She may have returned to the carriage,’ Alice suggested delicately, while having her own ideas where Louisa had gone. ‘The heat has become quite overpowering.’

  Henry looked unconvinced. ‘I must find her. I will bid you goodbye.’

  When he had gone, she said wonderingly, ‘Tea at Amberley.’

  Joshua huffed. ‘Nothing so wonderful about that.’ But she knew he was pleased. It was the first invitation to Amberley they had ever received. The first time since her marriage that she would return to her childhood home. It warmed her heart.

  ‘Amberley doesn’t matter,’ she said quietly. ‘What matters is Elizabeth. I remember Giles Audley as a very pleasant young boy. A gentle boy.’

  ‘He’ll need to be a good deal less gentle if he’s to wed our daughter.’ The pride in Joshua’s voice belied his truculence. He looked past his wife at the figure of Ripley making his way towards them and holding aloft a silver tray.

  ‘I have to admit when Henry first mentioned the name, I was concerned.’ Her words drifted unnoticed in the air. ‘Giles must be forty if he is a day. But I’m sure Elizabeth will like him, and his seniority will allow him to guide rather than rule her.’

  Her husband had taken the folded newspaper from the tray and was scanning the front page. A deep frown scarred his forehead.

  ‘If you say so,’ he said vaguely. ‘But we may have more pressing problems than Elizabeth. Look at this.’ He handed her the newspaper, pointing at a bold headline: ARCHDUKE ASSASSINATED.

  Alice read aloud the statement, then looked bewildered.

  ‘Why are you so worried? It’s very sad, but what has it to do with us?’

  ‘That’s precisely what people up and down the land will say, but I am not most people. Read on a little.’

  ‘“Archduke Franz-Ferdinand, heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne, and his wife, Sophie, were today shot dead in Sarajevo by a Bosnian Serb student.” Where is Sarajevo?’

  ‘I imagine we’ll find out soon enough, and wish that we hadn’t,’ he said grimly.

  *

  Elsewhere in the garden, Oliver was sauntering from stall to stall. He paused at each, looked longingly at the wonderful arrays of sweetmeats, but bought nothing. It didn’t feel right to be gobbling cakes when his friend was lying upstairs. In fact, it didn’t feel right at all being here without him. He was still convinced that the ropes of their retreat had been deliberately severed, but he could see that the suggestion made William anxious, and Mrs Summer had been adamant that he must say and do nothing that could upset the patient further. So he kept his counsel, while feeling angry that he couldn’t help William get better, and couldn’t help track down whoever had done this bad thing. He couldn’t even buy him a cake. Alice had decreed that her son must follow the blandest of diets until he was on his feet again, and Oliver was uncertain he could reach their room while concealing a large slice of cake. And as for the coconuts they’d been promised, the stall was nowhere to be seen. Maybe the man they’d spoken to had decided the fête was small beer and not worth his trouble or perhaps there was a shortage of coconuts in Sussex. But he would like to take William back something; a prize of some kind.

  He toured the stalls again. He would take a chance with the hoopla, he decided. Three times he threw, and three times he was unsuccessful. He was certain the little rubber rings had in some way been fixed to fall short of their target. On to the next stall, where he rolled pennies down a slot, only to find that they always came to rest on a line rather than in the square itself. By the time he’d worked his way to the bottom of the lawn once more, he was almost out of money and feeling despondent. Then he caught sight of a stall half-hidden behind a rowan tree. His last chance – a shooting gallery. He could shoot, he thought excitedly. His father had taken him out several times when they’d holidayed in the country and taught him how to manage a gun.

  There was one other person at the stall. The man was firing rapidly at the moving display of china, as though if he shot fast enough, he was bound to shatter a passing cup or plate or saucer. Oliver handed over his penny and weighed the rifle in his hands. A bit too heavy, but he would do his best. High up on the shelf that displayed the prizes, he’d seen a highly coloured box. A jigsaw puzzle. He stood on tiptoe, straining to see its illustration. It was a battle scene, a naval skirmish. The Battle of Trafalgar, perhaps. William liked jigsaw puzzles, though he couldn’t be bothered with them; but there was no accounting for taste, and he thought William would like it.

  The man alongside him was handing over yet another penny and firing again for all his worth. Oliver took considered aim and his first shot fell short. The same with the second. Before he raised the gun again, there was a shout of jubilation and the man began jumping up and down. He’d hit his target. The stallholder asked him what he wanted and he pointed to a large teddy bear at the back of the stall. When the man behind the counter told him the bear wasn’t a prize but belonged to his young daughter, the man pursed his lips and huffed his shoulders.

  ‘I’ll take that then,’ he said, pointing to the jigsaw puzzle. No, Oliver wanted to shout. That’s mine.

  But the puzzle departed with the scowling man and Oliver wondered whether or not to keep firing. None of the prizes that were left looked at all the kind of thing William would like.

  By the time he took his last shot, he had got his eye in, and a plate with a particularly garish pattern soon lay shattered at his feet. The stallholder shuffled forward apologetically. All he could offer as a prize, he said, was a tea towel or a picture of Shoreham harbour or a large and ugly floppy doll.

  ‘Her name’s Beatrice,’ the stallholder said. ‘Beatty, that’s what my girl calls her. She wanted her, but I said a teddy bear is all you’re getting.’

  ‘Give me Beatty, then,’ Oliver said gloomily.

 
; *

  When he crept into the bedroom half an hour later, having finally succumbed to the temptation of plum cake, William was sitting on his bed, bolstered by three or four pillows, and lethargically turning the pages of a book.

  He looked up as the door opened, and beamed. ‘Gosh, it’s good to see you, Olly. Today has to be the dullest day ever, and this is the dullest book I’ve ever read.’

  ‘Sorry I’ve been a while. What’s the book?’ he asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

  ‘Some kind of improving tome. Mama thought I’d like it.’

  Oliver gave a ”What do you expect?” grimace. ‘Better not complain too loudly though. I’ve got you something even worse.’

  ‘What?’ William’s interest was peeked.

  ‘Meet Beatrice, Beatty for short.’ And he brought the large doll from behind his back and dangled her soft stuffed legs in front of his friend.

  William gave a loud hoot of laughter. ‘Where did you get that monstrosity?’

  ‘Shush, you’ll hurt her feelings. I won her, fair and square.’ He jumped off the bed and gave an exaggerated bow. ‘Meet the shot of the year!’

  ‘You actually won her. Really, well done.’

  Oliver came back to the bed. ‘I’m sorry, Wills, there was nothing much left by the time I got to the stall.’

  ‘Don’t be sorry. She’s perfect. And you won her for me.’

  Oliver bent his head and kissed his friend on the cheek. ‘I did, William. I won her for you.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Elizabeth listened. The house was silent, not a creak on the stair not a restless footstep or a distant cough. She scrambled from her bed and dressed as quickly as nervous fingers would allow. A glance at the bedside clock – nearly midnight. It was time to go. If Aiden had caught her whispered farewell, he would be waiting. This afternoon, his eyes, his face, his outstretched hand, had said all she needed to know. He would be there for her.

  And now there was added urgency. He would know nothing of the tea party that had been planned and she must tell him. She’d known nothing of it herself until her mother had broken the news at dinner this evening. At first, she’d made no sense of the words. Then she’d been angry and defiant, feeling her life being plucked from her hands. That was what the parley in the churchyard had been about. That was why the Fitzroys had swallowed their anger and come to Summerhayes today. No wonder that she’d been summarily dismissed both times, or else how would they have parcelled out her future so conveniently? It took a few hours alone in her room before she regained a measure of calm, and realised that outright opposition would only strengthen the powers against her. She’d sat at the floral flounces of her dressing table, taken a deep breath and made a decision. For the moment, she would go along with her parents’ wishes. Act the part of a dutiful daughter and play for time, until hopefully they tired of their scheme. Or Uncle Henry did. Or Giles Audley himself.

  She would meet Audley just this once and hopefully he would take her in dislike. She wasn’t an amazing beauty, if that’s what he sought. But she was passable, more than passable, if she were to believe Ivy. Her maid never tired of praising copper tresses that shone and dark brown eyes that sparkled. But Ivy was prejudiced and perhaps Mr Audley, or was it Sir Giles, would not find her so very attractive. He might hate brunettes, or tall, slim young women. He would certainly hate one who appeared fierce and uncompromising. She could spout a passage from one of Mrs Pankhurst’s speeches maybe, or discuss the wave of strikes that trade unionism was bringing to the country. Men loathed women who talked politics. He would take flight at that, she was sure. But she needed to tell Aiden what was happening. She was galvanised by an impulse to explain, even to excuse herself, though why it was so necessary she had no idea. It simply was. She didn’t want news of the Amberley visit to trickle out unannounced. And it would be common knowledge soon enough, since no one from Summerhayes had visited that house for as long as folk could remember.

  Very carefully, she opened the window a fraction then threw a pair of soft walking shoes down on to the gravel beneath. They landed with an unusually loud thud and for a few seconds she held her breath. But the house and its inhabitants remained unstirred. She hoisted her skirt as high as its narrow cut would allow and clambered on to the windowsill. Then swung a leg out of the window to find a footing on the horse chestnut, whose branches grew so close as almost to embrace the house. She leant forward and grasped the spar of wood, pulling herself completely into the tree. From here, it was a matter of minutes before, branch by branch, she had climbed her way down to the ground.

  She tiptoed across the gravel and onto the soundless grass, walking swiftly to the rear of the house. From here, she could see that most of the fête’s attractions had already been packed and returned to the village. Mr Harris and his team had taken down the marquee, too, and cleared much of the detritus left by visitors, though traces of the day’s celebrations were still scattered across the lawn. She picked her way carefully through the trail of lost belongings, discarded posters and boxes awaiting removal. It had been a lively event and it would take a while for Summerhayes to regain its calm perfection.

  She increased her pace, feeling the minutes flying too fast. Aiden must not think she had failed him. Midnight, she’d said in a single breath, and it was nearly that now. There had been no time to say more, no time to fix a meeting place. But if he came, he would be in the Italian Garden, she knew. She told herself to be brave; she had nothing to fear while he was with her. Quickly, she passed beneath the overhanging roses now in full bloom, the warm night air heavy with their perfume, and through the kitchen garden where the scent of sweet peas supplanted that of the roses. For all kinds of reasons, it was a night to savour. She walked on, aware of the silence that was never wholly silent. Always the slight rustle of leaves, the scurrying of small creatures, the fluttering of an unquiet bird. But the bustle of the day was over and the world belonged to her, and to one other.

  He was waiting for her beneath the laurel arch. Together they walked to the summerhouse and the seat overlooking the lake. Across the water, the temple rose grand and stately, its marble pristine in the moonlight.

  ‘You came,’ she said.

  ‘Did you think I wouldn’t?’

  ‘I didn’t know if you had heard me. Or understood.’

  He didn’t answer but reached out and this time took her hand between his. Her heart gave another of the small thuds she was getting used to. She found herself adrift in a world of emotions that she had never before encountered, her senses so finely tuned they caught every fleeting sound or smell or touch. She could have sworn just then that she’d heard the slightest crackling of branches, as though the trees across the lake had become curious about the interlopers and decided to investigate. But that was foolish.

  ‘I’m sorry my aunt intruded on us so rudely.’ She kept her hand in his. ‘She can’t have realised we are friends.’

  ‘On the contrary, she realised it only too well. She has no wish for us to be friends. She is intent on saving you from a dreadful fate!’

  His tone was light and she wasn’t sure whether to smile or not. ‘That sounds very slightly mad.’

  ‘Not mad at all. In fact, highly practical. She is concerned you don’t become too close to a man who would prove the worst possible suitor – or almost the worst. I am without pedigree, without money and I work a trade.’

  ‘But you’re a professional man,’ she protested, aware that she was not disputing the idea of his being her suitor.

  ‘I can claim a profession, certainly, but in your aunt’s eyes, in your family’s eyes, I’m as suspect as any man who hammers a nail or wields a scythe. And, even worse, I’m Irish. The Irish are troublemakers, or so the English think.’

  Only last week, she’d heard Joshua voice similar sentiments and she wasted no time in arguing. Instead, her mind was taken up with this new and wonderful possibility. It was startling to think of Aiden as a suitor, but exciting
too. So different from anything she could have imagined. She snatched a quick glance at him. His eyes were narrowed and he was staring across the water at the temple and at its silver shadow floating serenely on the surface of the lake.

  ‘That was an odd business – what happened yesterday,’ he said at last.

  His remark was unexpected and she hesitated a little before saying, ‘In what way?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about it and I can’t understand why the boys’ shelter collapsed in the fashion it did.’

  ‘I doubt there’s any mystery to that. It was Oliver and William who built it,’ she joked.

  He shook his head, a flick of soft brown hair catching the moon’s silver. ‘But it was secure. I remember checking it the other day when I was walking through the Wilderness. It struck me then that it could be dangerous, if they hadn’t roped the wood together securely enough. But they had – I’d swear to it.’

  ‘Then it was probably William diving for cover in the way he did. He told me that he’d been terrified by dogs and, in a panic, had thrown himself into the shelter. It couldn’t have been strong enough.’

  ‘It should have been.’ Aiden remained unconvinced. ‘And in any case, why were those dogs running free?’

  She looked blank. ‘I thought he must be imagining them, but I didn’t want to cause more upset by saying so. We don’t have dogs, you see. We’ve not had a dog since the day William was bitten as a baby. It was a pointer we’d brought from Birmingham and I think the change of scene must have upset the animal. My father was eager to replace him with a Labrador. He said the breed would be more docile, but really I think it was because he saw Labradors as the right kind of dog for a country gentleman. Anyway, Mama would have none of it, and for once she won the fight.’

  ‘The dogs that scared William were real enough. They were from Amberley, a couple of your uncle’s hounds. They got loose and found their way into the garden. But the men rounded them up pretty quickly and blocked the breach they’d made in the hedge. William wasn’t in any danger.’