The Lacemaker (Silver Linings Mysteries Book 2)

by Mary Kingswood

  “I understand that,” he said. “However, if you place yourselves in a lower level of society, then that is where you will stay. It will reduce your prospects considerably.”

  “By prospects, I presume you mean marriage prospects,” she said. “They are not very great, with or without a widowed aunt. We are the daughters of a linen draper, Mr Stratton. Our place in society is settled, and our reputations will not be damaged by living alone.”

  He nodded, and said no more on the subject.

  In every room, Mr Stratton had folded away the shutters and peered through grimy window panes into the garden. Now he said, “I cannot see your sisters. Would you object if I were to go looking for them? You may be used to Miss Penelope’s sudden starts, but I confess to a touch of anxiety on her account.”

  “Pray go, Mr Stratton. I shall have a look upstairs.”

  But after he had gone, she walked around the downstairs rooms again, more slowly. All the furniture was of the same solidly serviceable style as the hall, plain oak or beech rather than mahogany or rosewood, and the rooms were cold, fusty from lack of use. In the parlour, she cleaned a patch of the sofa with her handkerchief and sat gingerly, gazing around her domain. Only two paintings on the walls, neither of interest, and few ornaments apart from some plain candlesticks here and there. A sofa to one side of the fire, and two chairs the other. A scattering of other chairs around the walls, stiffly aligned. Two small tables, and a writing desk by the window, but no paper, pens or ink. It was at present a cheerless, unwelcoming room but with fresh paint on the panelling and paper on the walls, a few of their own knick-knacks scattered about and a good fire blazing, it would be charming.

  The study was less interesting. The drawers of the big desk were locked, its leather chair polished to a pale sheen by Mr Wishaw’s rear. Beside the fire, a leather wing chair was likewise worn and cracked from use, while its twin, the visitor’s chair, was pristine, apart from the layer of grime that coated every surface. There was a window seat that would have looked inviting, had it been cleaner.

  The dining room furniture was a little better, the table and sideboards polished beneath the dust, but the cupboards were empty, with not a bit of silver or glassware to be seen. Probably there was a silver safe somewhere about the place. She counted the chairs — sixteen. A dining table big enough to seat sixteen people! She could not quite imagine entertaining so many. Even in Papa’s day, they had never sat down more than ten at table, and that was rather a squeeze.

  This was a gentleman’s house, she realised with a start. Or rather, a wealthy man’s house, for Mr Wishaw had not been a leisured gentleman. But neither would they be ladies, and sit around doing the boring things that ladies were expected to do — embroider unwanted cushions, net purses or paint indifferent landscapes. No, that would never suit her. At all costs, she must be busy. She would still make lace, and earn a little extra money by so doing. As for Lin… well, Lin would marry. She was too pretty to dwindle into spinsterhood. And Poppy? Caroline sighed. There was no knowing what Poppy would be when she grew up, or if that time would ever come. There was too much of the perpetual child in her for comfort.

  There was still no sign of her sisters from any window, but perhaps the view would be better from upstairs. The bedrooms had a sad, neglected air. There were four large rooms, the beds all stripped down to the mattress, but they were good, solid beds, with matching good, solid washstands and dressing tables and wardrobes. Mr Wishaw liked his furniture to last, clearly. There were two smaller rooms, which might be box rooms or dressing rooms, or perhaps a nursery. A door revealed narrow, uncarpeted stairs leading up to the attic. Not being equipped with a candle, she deferred further exploration for another day.

  But there was another door which led to a corridor under the apex of a roof, above the kitchen wing, perhaps. Skylights covered in green mould let in an eerie light. Another attic space, then, but divided into small rooms. One door led to a twisting stair. Servants’ quarters, she guessed. Susie might like a room here, instead of her pallet in the kitchen.

  A noise… What was that?

  Caroline stopped, listening. There it was again, and emanating from within the house, in fact from the room at the furthest end of the attic. Cautiously she crept nearer… a deep rumble, regular and steady. A dog, perhaps? It could not be a horse, not here on the first floor, but perhaps some kind of wild beast wandering in while the house was empty… no, that was a foolish idea. A hornets’ nest, perhaps. Or was it too early for such things?

  There was only one way to find out. She strode down the corridor and thrust open the furthest door.

  The room was in darkness, the shutters closed, but the noise was loud here. As her eyes adjusted, she examined the floor but could see no sign of a dog. There was a line strung across a corner of the room with a couple of shirts hanging on it. In another corner was a chamber pot. And there was a bed, with two large lumps in it.

  As she watched, one of the lumps stirred, shifted and opened one eye.

  Then it screamed.

  3: A Ride In The Woods

  The figure in the bed sat bolt upright, still screaming. A grey-haired woman, in a nightgown. The rumbling snores of her companion ceased, and he stirred.

  “Shut yer wailin’, woman!”

  Abruptly, the screams ceased, and Caroline and the woman stared at each other, transfixed. It was hard to say which of them was the more astonished.

  Caroline regained her wits first. “What are you doing here?” she said.

  The woman’s companion lifted himself on one elbow. “’Oy! What you doin’ ’ere!”

  “I asked you first,” she said crisply.

  “We live ’ere,” he said indignantly. “We’re the servants ’ere. Oo are you?”

  “I am Miss Milburn, one of the new owners of Bursham Cottage. We were not informed of any servants, and besides, your master has been dead for weeks now, so I have no idea why you’re still here. And if you are servants, which I beg leave to doubt, you are very poor ones. I never saw such a neglected house. There is dust everywhere, the windows are filthy and the carpets need a good beating.”

  “We’ve ’ad no ’structions,” the man said belligerently. “’Ow’s we s’posed to know what to do if no one tells us?”

  “You are not twelve,” Caroline said sharply. “You must know how to keep a house clean.” Abruptly she realised the futility of arguing with servants. “Get dressed and come downstairs, and then we will decide what must be done about you.”

  “Oh, please don’t turn us off, miss!” the woman cried, panic in her voice. “We’ve nowhere else to go, and we’d be ’appy to work for you. Please don’t send us to the workhouse!”

  “We will talk about it when you are dressed,” Caroline said more gently.

  Downstairs, there was no sign of Lin, Poppy or Mr Stratton, so Caroline ventured into the kitchen, which was in a sad state of disarray, the fire almost out, used pots and dishes everywhere, and the table covered with dirty plates, a half-eaten cheese, most of a loaf and three mice, who scattered at her approach. From above came the sounds of two reluctant servants rising from their bed in the middle of the day. Caroline could not help but smile at the man’s indignation at being expected to do his job. Indolence was not a sin she could in any way condone, but such brazenness was amusing too. The neglect everywhere did not dismay her. There was nothing she liked better than hard work, and with Susie’s help, the four of them would soon set Bursham Cottage to rights. If the two sleepers were prepared to work, then perhaps they could stay on. There was enough money to afford more servants, she thought.

  The scullery door was unlocked, so she ventured outside to find the others. Almost at once she heard voices coming from a low, barn-like outbuilding nearby. They were all inside, Poppy ecstatically stroking the soft mane of a horse. At the other end of the barn was a two-wheeled chaise with a folding roof. Despite the lack of care within the house, the stable was in good order, and the horse looked to be he
althy.

  “Look, Caro — a carriage!” Lin cried. “We shall have transportation. Won’t we be grand?”

  “I’m not sure we can afford to keep a horse and carriage,” Caroline said. “Papa always said it was too expensive.”

  “But they are here already,” Lin said. “We do not have to buy them.”

  “No, but think of the cost of hay and oats and shoes, and… and whatever else horses need,” Caroline said vaguely, not having much idea about such things.

  “There is also a tax payable on horses and carriages,” Mr Stratton said. “Besides the expense, there is a great deal of work required to take care of a horse, or else you would need to employ a groom. You would not want to undertake such a responsibility without much thought.”

  “I believe there is already a groom,” Caroline said. “There are two servants resident in the house, and one of them must have been looking after the horse.”

  “Female servants?” Mr Stratton said.

  “One man, one woman.”

  “There is a tax on manservants, too. I will let you have the relevant amounts so that you may decide what you can afford. However, your other expenses will be low, and you may find the gig useful to get about. There are several villages within walking distance, but if you need to go into Salisbury, it will be convenient to have your own vehicle. There are stairs at the side there, so probably there are rooms above to accommodate a coachman.” He paused, frowning. “Two servants in the house? Then why did they not make themselves known to us when we arrived?”

  “They were fast asleep,” Caroline said.

  “At noon? Good grief! Fine servants they will make.”

  “We shall see,” Caroline said. “They have nowhere else to go, so the threat of the workhouse may inspire them.”

  ~~~~~

  Two weeks later, a wagon laden with all their possessions, with Lin’s herb pots balanced precariously on top, made its ponderous way to Bursham St Matthew. Preceding it was a post chaise containing the Miss Milburns, in varying degrees of excitement and anxiety, and Susie, in phlegmatic acceptance, together with Mr Stratton, who had insisted on accompanying them. Poppy was the most excited, for she now had two acres of land to be filled with all manner of baby animals. They would start with a cat for the kitchen mice, and then chickens, Caroline had promised her, and then see what would be practical after that. Privately she suspected that Poppy would soon tire of the daily chores of feeding and egg-collecting and cleaning out the coop.

  Lin was excited in her quieter way, for she planned to grow enough fruit and vegetables to keep their table supplied. She already had lists of seeds to buy, and charts of the best sowing times, and had bought a stout book which described in excessive detail the requirements for every kind of produce. It all sounded very complicated to Caroline. But Lin was also rather subdued to be leaving Romsey and all their friends. Or rather all her friends, most of them male, it had to be said. Her departure had thrown all the apprentices and tradesmen’s boys of the town into the utmost distress, and the sisters’ preparations had been severely hampered by the constant appearance of one or other of Lin’s admirers, to congratulate her on her good fortune and to lament the fifteen miles which would now separate them.

  “I would not mind if even one of them could afford to wed her, but they none of them have two farthings to their name,” Caroline grumbled. “It is all very well for the apothecary’s apprentice to profess his undying love in the most poetic terms, and declare on bended knee that he cannot live without her, but whether she is in Romsey or Bursham St Matthew, he is going to have to live without her, and there is an end to it.”

  Susie, to whom these thoughts were offered, laughed and said, “Ah, you’re awful hard on them, Miss Milburn. You make no allowance for the pain of young love. Besides, an apothecary’s apprentice will one day be an apothecary himself, and then you’d be glad enough to have him hovering around her.”

  “And when will that be — years from now! She is nineteen, Susie. She should be going to balls and evening parties, as I did until Papa died. And there will be no one suitable at Bursham St Matthew, not even an apothecary’s apprentice. It is such a small village, and we will know no one and go nowhere.”

  “You worry too much,” Susie said. “There’s a church, isn’t there? Well, then. That’s where you’ll meet people. It won’t take long, you’ll see.”

  Caroline herself felt no excitement about the move. Anxiety gnawed at her insides, making her nauseous. What if the money ran out? Could they afford three servants, a horse and a gig on just three hundred pounds a year? How would she sell her lace and obtain new supplies once they lived such a distance from Winchester? How would they make new friends? Where would they fit in to the local society? Would the villagers treat them with respect or despise them? And how on earth was she to find a husband for Lin in such confined society?

  Their arrival at Bursham St Matthew on this occasion was more auspicious. The drive through the village was enlivened by an audience of cottagers’ wives, who emerged from their various abodes to point and stare and bob little curtsies as the procession passed by, and a horde of small children, who waved cheerfully and then raced the carriage all the way to Bursham Cottage. The padlock had been removed from the gates, which now stood wide open to welcome them. The two servants, Martin and Molly, emerged to greet them formally. Caroline had to admit that they looked more promising now. They were both clean and tidy, Molly attired in a business-like cap and apron, and Martin wearing a worn but respectable coat. Molly described herself as the cook/housekeeper, and Martin as groom, coachman and general manservant, so it had been decided that Molly could keep the kitchen, and Susie, who had struggled as a cook, would take the housekeeper’s rôle.

  Caroline introduced them to each other with some trepidation. If they could not get on, or if the two older servants could not manage the work, then they would have to go. However, Mr Wishaw had left them one hundred pounds apiece, and they had sons living in Salisbury, so they were in no danger of the workhouse. The three greeted each other stiffly, but with civility, so Caroline was cautiously optimistic, and even more so when she entered the house. It would be putting it too strongly to say that the house was immaculate, but the dust had gone, there were fires burning and the beds were made up ready for them. The choosing of rooms took some time, but Caroline left her sisters to settle the matter between them. For herself, she had no interest in where she slept, for having a bed once more must be an improvement on the pallets brought into the parlour each night for herself and her sisters, while Susie had had to sleep in the kitchen.

  Now that she had the full set of keys, Caroline was eager to explore the more interesting parts of the house — the linen cupboard, the store for silver and plate, the wine cellar and the safe. She was pleased to find the house very well supplied with all the necessities, and there was money, too. A box in a locked drawer of the desk contained over a hundred pounds, and in the safe was a delicately netted purse containing notes to the sum of five hundred pounds.

  Caroline looked at the money heaped on the desk and sighed wistfully. “I suppose this must go to Mr Wishaw’s business partner.”

  “He has already retrieved anything related to the business,” Mr Stratton said, with his beaming smile. “Everything left in the house is yours.”

  “I have never seen so much money in my life before,” she said.

  He laughed. “You are a wealthy lady now, Miss Milburn, but do not grow too attached to all this. It will soon be Lady Day, and you will have the servants to pay and all the tradesmen’s accounts to settle. No, no!” he said, seeing the look of horror on her face. “All the late Mr Wishaw’s bills were settled by the executors of his will, so you will not find yourself with a vast debt for barrels of brandy or anything of the sort. No, the only bills will be those you and your sisters incur. You should probably call upon the tradesmen yourself quite soon, to assure them of your custom.”

  “How will I know wher
e to find them?” she said, feeling as lost as if she were in a foreign country.

  “The servants will tell you, or it will be noted in Mr Wishaw’s account books, which are…” He rummaged about in cupboards and drawers, eventually emerging triumphant, a pile of leather-bound notebooks in his hand. “…here, you see. These will also give you an idea of likely expenses.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Thank you. You are very kind, Mr Stratton. I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

  “You must not worry so much, Miss Milburn,” he said gently. “You will soon grow accustomed to your new situation, I assure you. I shall call upon you in a few days to ensure that you are settling in well, but until then, might I recommend that you keep all this money tucked away in the safe?”

  Even as she followed his advice, and closed the cupboard door that hid the safe from prying eyes, she was filled with foreboding that could not be assuaged. They had given up everything that was familiar and moved to a strange house, in strange country and surrounded by strangers. However would they manage?

  ~~~~~

  Charles Leatham found his step-mother already at the breakfast table, and resigned himself to the inevitable tirade. He was not disappointed.

  “You must marry, Charles, and the sooner the better,” his step-mother said.

  “I know, Mama. I understand my duty, but I am only just returned home. Let me have a little time to catch my breath, at least.”

  “You have had plenty of time to catch your breath,” she said firmly. “It is more than a year since Alfred died, after all, and you could have extricated yourself from the army sooner, if you had set your mind to it.”

  Yes, he could have resigned his commission earlier had he wished to, that was true. A younger son who suddenly found himself the heir was always allowed to leave as soon as he liked. But he had had duties and men he felt responsible for and a career he loved, and no wish at all to hasten the moment when he must return to Starlingford and do his duty. His wretched duty! It must be done, he knew that. He was the last son, and he understood what was expected of him.