The Buttonmaker’s daughter

by Merryn Allingham

  ‘He wouldn’t have known that.’

  ‘No, he wouldn’t,’ Aiden said thoughtfully. ‘I don’t like it that he could be so badly frightened.’

  ‘He has always been a little delicate.’

  ‘Unlike his sister then.’

  She gave him a saucy smile. ‘You’re not aware that I am the most delicate of flowers?’

  ‘A flower, I grant you. But delicate?’ Then more seriously, he said, ‘Were you in trouble for talking to me at the fête?’

  ‘I had a ritual scolding over dinner, first from Papa and then from Mama when we retired to the drawing room. But I was expecting that. And expecting that my father will be even more vigilant from now on. He’ll have to make sure I’m kept busy every minute of the day – it will be quite exhausting for him.’

  ‘Unless he feels there’s no longer a threat. He might insist that I go.’

  She felt a punch to her stomach and looked at him in alarm. ‘Has Mr Simmonds threatened to send you away?’

  ‘Not exactly. But I know that Jonathan has been told in no uncertain terms that I must leave the minute he has no further need of me.’

  She said as airily as she could, ‘They do see you as a threat, don’t they?’

  ‘Am I not then?’ He smiled, and she saw his eyes soft and dreamy in the moonlight.

  He was a very definite threat, but she could not bring herself to say so. She crossed her ankles, then uncrossed them, wanting to be honest but not entirely sure what her heart was saying.

  ‘They wish me to meet a relative of my mother’s – a second cousin.’

  He tensed beside her. ‘And why would that be?’

  Her answer skirted the question. ‘His name is Giles Audley. He is a relative of the Fitzroys, and very well connected. Papa likes that.’ The thought had her twist her lips in annoyance.

  ‘And why is it important that you meet him?’

  ‘He is looking for a wife,’ she said bluntly. There was little point in shadow-boxing.

  ‘And you are to be the wife?’ His voice had a sour edge to it now.

  ‘I think they are hoping so.’

  ‘And you, are you hoping so too?’

  ‘He is a widower and twenty years older than me.’

  ‘That doesn’t answer my question.’

  She could feel his antagonism but refused to be drawn. ‘I’ve been asked to go to tea at Amberley and meet him. I feel almost sorry for the poor man. He will be expecting a very different girl from the one he’s to meet!’

  ‘But you’ve agreed to go?’ He had shifted very slightly away, and the small distance between them seemed suddenly a chasm as deep as the Devil’s Dyke.

  ‘I will go since my parents are so insistent. It won’t hurt me to meet him. It’s not going to mean anything.’ She was trying to bridge the chasm, to recover something of their earlier happiness.

  He stood up and shook his shoulders, as though he would free himself of disagreeable thoughts. ‘It will mean everything, Elizabeth. It’s your future that is being decided.’

  ‘That’s nonsense. I decide my own future,’ she said boldly, wanting it to be true.

  He glanced down at her, a mocking expression clearly visible in the brightness of the night. ‘I think not. You may delude yourself into believing so, but the truth is very different.’

  She jumped up, stung by his accusation. ‘You are horrid.’

  ‘I am honest.’

  ‘Then I prefer delusion.’ She turned abruptly away, the long skirt of her dress swishing against the paving.

  ‘Elizabeth—’

  But she had gone, whisking her way sure-footedly along the path and out through the laurel arch.

  Chapter Fifteen

  July, 1914

  ‘You should be wearing the rose crêpe, Miss Elizabeth.’ Ivy was standing in the doorway, her mouth pursed in disapproval.

  She hadn’t heard her maid knock. She had been too busy gazing through the window, and thinking how much she’d prefer to be walking in the garden. How much she’d like to escape and go in search of Aiden. She was desperate to speak to him again. She had been from the moment they’d quarrelled. He’d misjudged her, misprized her resolve, but she should not have walked away.

  ‘I’m saving it for a special occasion,’ she said, turning from the window with a small sigh.

  Ivy tutted. ‘What could more special than this afternoon?’

  Her maid was as much a friend as a servant, a trusted confidante from nursery days. Ivy knew exactly what this visit to Amberley meant, and she clearly intended her mistress to make a lasting impression. She began to tidy the dressing table, clattering together boxes and pots and brushes with unnecessary force.

  ‘I shall wear the pink crêpe at your wedding,’ Elizabeth soothed. ‘That’s what I call a special occasion. In the meantime, the Russian green can do duty again.’

  ‘You’re too kind for your own good, miss,’ the girl scolded. ‘You should be worrying about your wedding, not mine.’

  She handed her mistress a beaded purse. ‘And I’m not sure when you’ll get to wear the dress. We brought the wedding forward, like I told you – Eddie couldn’t see the sense in waiting till September – but now Joe Lacey is real poorly with his hand. And he’s our best man.’

  ‘What’s wrong with Joe? Mrs Lacey has said nothing.’

  ‘She don’t want no fuss but Joe’s ma has been in and out of their cottage these past few days, she’s been that worried. And May has hardly touched her books all week, what with running around for her brother. Joe got caught by one of them nasty, vicious dogs. The day when Mr William had his turn. Joe went to help get the dogs back into Amberley and one of them went for him. His hand is swelled up something bad. But Dr Daniels is coming this afternoon, so mebbe he’ll fix it.’

  ‘I’ve never known the hounds to break loose before and I can’t imagine how they came to be in the gardens. I do know they’ve caused an amazing amount of trouble. I wish my uncle would get rid of them, but I suppose there’s no chance of that. He loves hunting too much.’

  ‘Loves killing things more like.’ Ivy waggled her eyebrows meaningfully. ‘Ask them folks at Amberley.’

  Her mistress looked puzzled, but the clock was ticking and there was no time to ask for enlightenment. ‘I had better go or my father will have worn out his boot leather pacing the hall. Tea is at four and it’s almost that now.’

  ‘I hope it goes well,’ Ivy said cautiously.

  She hoped so, too, although ‘going well’ was open to interpretation. Her version would be very different from her parents’. Or that of the unknown Giles Audley. He had no idea what was coming his way. He was expecting to share his tea with an agreeable girl, while the agreeable girl was intent on scaring him into flight. Aiden had suggested that she was a puppet whose strings were being pulled by others. She would show him that he was wrong. She would show them all. This afternoon she would be the one to pull the strings.

  *

  As Miller turned the car into the gates of the Fitzroy estate, Alice experienced a jumble of emotions. For the first time in very many years, she was coming home. Amberley’s battered decor, its old fashioned furniture, its plumbing that never quite worked, were still close to her heart. Louisa might bemoan the outmoded muddle of buildings, and envy her sister-in-law her modern conveniences, but, for Alice, Amberley would always be her true home.

  She sank back into the padded comfort of new leather, as the car swung smoothly around bend after bend, until it came to rest outside the turreted porch she knew so well. She gazed hungrily through the glass of the car window. Mullioned casements slept in the afternoon sun, white doves perched on a red roof of weathered tiles and on either side of the iron-studded oak door, the griffins sat proudly atop their pedestals, unwearied by the years. She had loved this house deeply, yet at the time she hadn’t truly valued it. It was an oddity of human nature that you never seemed to value what you had. Louisa here in Amberley, for instance, she at Summerhay
es. But if she’d known how that deal, made behind closed doors over a quarter of a century ago, would play out, she might have acted differently. She might have fought to stay. None of them could have known, of course, what would happen. Not really. Everyone involved had lost as much as they’d gained. Henry hated the very existence of Summerhayes, yet without it Amberley would no longer be his. Joshua had been denied entry to the society he craved, yet become master of an estate that was near to paradise.

  It was for her that the dice had fallen most extremely. After Thomas, she had not allowed herself to think too deeply about what might have been. She had accepted a fate she’d had no power to change. Joshua had possessed sufficient money to make his offer attractive to the Fitzroys. Ironically, as it turned out, he had come into Sussex on the advice of a distant member of the Audley family, one of his customers for whom he’d made exquisite buttons for an evening suit. The man, she’d never known his name, had been aware of Joshua’s ambition and known, too, something of the Fitzroys’ financial difficulties. It was he who had suggested that the next time Joshua was in London on business, he travel on to Sussex and meet the unmarried daughter of the house. She had had no say in it. She had relinquished whatever small power she’d ever had when she proved incapable of attracting a wealthy husband for herself. Instead, the family had found one for her, and it had been her duty to marry this unknown man and save Amberley for her young brother.

  *

  Now, that brother was waiting for them in the drawing room. Alice glanced around as they entered, and saw with surprise that Dr Daniels was one of those present. She had thought him at Summerhayes, visiting Mrs Lacey’s son, but here he was lounging comfortably in the old high-backed chesterfield and talking animatedly to Louisa.

  ‘How very good to see you.’ Henry stepped forward to greet them, bonhomie personified.

  How agreeable he could be if he chose. And how rarely he chose. Their mother’s frequent miscarriages meant that he was a full seven years younger than she, and when he was born – the son and heir finally arrived – he’d been lauded and spoilt by the entire household, while she had been largely ignored. Her role had been that of a subordinate, at the beck and call of a demanding small brother. She hadn’t protested, but simply retreated into herself and thereby gained the reputation of being vague and indecisive. It was more, she thought, that she was otherworldly. This world had proved an immense disappointment, and she had needed to find another place in which to exist.

  A tall pleasant-faced man had risen from the chair he was occupying next to Louisa, and walked towards them. Henry took him by the arm and, with a perfectly judged smile, made the introductions: ‘This is Giles Audley. Giles, my sister Alice – you will remember her – her husband and their daughter, Elizabeth.’

  ‘I’m delighted to meet you.’ His voice was mellow and, in contrast to his host, Giles Audley sounded sincere.

  Alice’s heart lifted. She remembered him only vaguely from family occasions many years previous. He would have been little more than a boy then. But the man who stood in front of her now was surely someone with whom Elizabeth could find little fault. It was of the utmost importance to her that her daughter was happy. She had been fearful that she was visiting on Elizabeth the very treatment she herself had suffered. But Giles Audley was clearly a gentleman in manner and voice, a worthy suitor. She could relax. She was doing the right thing.

  She slipped into the upright chair Louisa had indicated. Its ruby velvet was new but the woven tapestry cushion at her back was as old as she. Her mother had sewn it. Alice could remember her sitting in this very room, her head bowed low over the canvas as she worked in the fading light. The oil lamps would be brought early in the evening, but her mother would not rest; cross stitch would follow cross stitch. In all, she must have sewn a dozen of these cushion covers and this must be the one survivor that Louisa had not managed to jettison. There were other remnants of her parents’ reign, too. The Victorian sideboard still sat heavily against one wall, and above its carved doors perched a huge and hideous vase beloved by Alice’s father, its sickly yellow background aflame with pink cabbage roses.

  The maidservant had been busy at the tea trolley and was at her elbow now, offering her a cup. This at least was new. New and expensive porcelain. Royal Worcester. Most definitely not the choice of her thrifty mother.

  ‘So what’s the news?’ Henry asked, as he took the chair beside hers.

  Her eyes flickered with nerves. ‘News?’

  ‘From Europe. I’ve heard some disquieting things that I cannot really believe. Your husband keeps in touch with people on the Continent, doesn’t he? What does he say?’

  She looked across the room at the long windows that gave on to the terrace. Legs astride and hands clasped behind his back, Joshua was staring into the distance.

  ‘He rarely speaks of it and I know nothing of Europe,’ she confessed, knowing she was guilty of the vagueness Henry so hated. ‘You will have to ask him for yourself.’

  Joshua must have heard for he turned abruptly and, waving aside the offer of tea, collapsed into a buttoned-backed armchair a few feet away.

  ‘You asked about Europe, Henry. I believe that several countries have called up their reserves. One or two may have closed their frontiers.’ His tone was subdued, the familiar bombast absent. He was treading carefully, she thought, determined not to give his brother-in-law cause to complain of his manners during the few hours they were at Amberley.

  ‘But surely, it won’t come to war.’ The doctor had been busy collecting his and Louisa’s empty cups, but on hearing Joshua’s words, turned to face him. ‘I was reading only the other day that ties between Germany and Britain are stronger now than they’ve ever been.’

  ‘If we’re talking business, certainly,’ Joshua responded. ‘Britain is Germany’s best customer and, after India, they are our second-best market.’

  ‘And if we’re not talking business?’ Louisa put in.

  ‘Then it’s anyone’s guess. I think we should be prepared.’

  A grey cloud hovered over the gathering, but Henry was not so easily defeated and rallied his forces. ‘I don’t believe in listening to the gloom mongers.’ He looked pointedly at Joshua. ‘I’m certain Germany will not worry us. It’s far more likely we’ll be intervening in Ireland.’

  ‘This issue of Home Rule,’ the doctor said eagerly, wanting, it seemed, to be accepted as a member of the group. ‘The papers are full of it. I read that both Protestants and Catholics have formed their own military units and are importing quantities of weapons—’

  ‘Gunrunning on a huge scale. Yes, we know that,’ Henry said crushingly. ‘They’re drilling and practising marksmanship quite openly.’

  Joshua grunted disdainfully. ‘Let’s hope you’re right and that marksmanship is confined to Ireland. A European war would be another matter entirely.’ His tone had hardened. He was an intelligent man, a knowledgeable man, Alice knew, and he would not back down on his beliefs, even within the hallowed shades of Amberley.

  ‘You didn’t bring William,’ Louisa interrupted in a bright voice, and once more Alice had cause to thank her. ‘He must be up and about by now.’

  ‘He is much better, thank you, but we thought it best that he remain at home today. We have his friend staying – I think I mentioned it to you. Together they can be a little boisterous.’

  ‘That’s the Jewish boy, isn’t it?’ Henry had not enjoyed playing second fiddle to his brother-in-law and was ready to attack.

  Joshua stiffened at the implied criticism. ‘I believe his family is Jewish.’

  Henry ignored him and turned to his sister. ‘It doesn’t do you credit, Alice, you know. Intimacy with such a family.’

  ‘We are not intimate with the Amos family. We have merely had their son to stay with us for the summer holidays, as a companion for William.’ And I wish we hadn’t, she thought fervently. Oliver was a bad influence, though his Jewishness had little to do with it. It was the clo
seness of the two boys she didn’t like. It was unhealthy.

  Her brother had moved into full combat. ‘It amounts to the same thing. Parents or child. You’re giving house room to an alien.’

  ‘That’s a bit strong,’ Dr Daniels protested.

  ‘I’m not sure I asked for your opinion, Doctor. The fact remains that Jewish immigrants from the Russian pogroms are still coming here. These people don’t share our culture or our values. And weren’t we supposed to have an act of parliament restricting the influx of undesirable aliens?’

  ‘What’s so undesirable about Jewish immigrants, Uncle?’

  Elizabeth had sat silent until now, seeming intent on the ebb and flow of conversation, but really, Alice suspected, intent on ignoring Giles Audley.

  The question hung in the air, but before Henry could dignify it with a response, Elizabeth continued, ‘I realise that a dislike of foreigners is part of being insular, part of being British, but when you speak of aliens, you’re talking of a highly cultured people. Their civilisation is a great deal older than ours.’ She paused just long enough to get everyone’s attention. ‘Or perhaps that’s why you find them so undesirable? Their civilisation makes you feel inferior.’

  The silence in the room was so intense that the proverbial pin could easily have been heard. Henry glared at his niece while Louisa fiddled nervously with the folds of her dress.

  Giles Audley, taking stock of the situation, started up from his chair and walked towards Elizabeth. ‘The weather is very pleasant today, Miss Summer, and I wonder if you would you care to walk in the garden?’ In an instant, he was offering his arm and she had little option but to rise and take it.

  Alice breathed again. Mr Audley was the gentleman she’d taken him for.

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘Shall we walk in the rose arbour,’ he asked, as they emerged through the French windows.