The Lacemaker (Silver Linings Mysteries Book 2)

by Mary Kingswood

  Caroline was incensed by his presumption that she might have set her cap at one of the brothers, but couldn’t think of a sufficiently cutting response on the spur of the moment, which only made her the angrier.

  “Some of us know the meaning of the word duty,” he said. “Ha! Some of us know what it means to suffer obligation and deprivation.”

  That was too much to be borne. “What have you ever known of deprivation!” Caroline cried, jumping to her feet in rage. “You were born rich! When have you ever had to decide whether to eat meat or buy new shoes? When have you had to go to bed at five o’clock because you couldn’t afford candles, or wood for the fire? When have you ever worked from dawn till dusk without a break because you needed the money? You know nothing of suffering!”

  He shot to his feet too, his eyes narrowed as he looked her up and down disdainfully. “And what do you know of the obligations of rank? Of tenants and servants and entire villages looking to you for help? Of having to decide whether to repair a roof here or improve the drainage there? Of not being able to work, even if you want to, because you have to be a landlord and magistrate and figurehead for the parish? Of having to marry without affection or even liking, because of duty? What do you know of that, Miss Milburn?” His face was contorted with anger. “Pa! It is useless to argue with someone like you! You know nothing of the realities of life.”

  And so saying, he stormed out of the room, leaving Caroline seething. When Mrs Leatham returned some minutes later, however, she only laughed.

  “Poor Charles! He has been like a bear ever since he came home from the army. He will be much more settled once he is safely married.”

  “Oh, is he engaged?” Caroline said.

  Mrs Leatham smiled at her. “Not yet, my dear, but he will be before long, I am certain of it. We shall have him married before the summer is out, I expect. Well, I shall take my leave of you, Miss Milburn. Do remember that we are at home on Thursdays. I shall expect to see you at Starlingford on Thursday next.”

  “But—”

  “No, no, I positively insist. You must not be shy, you know. Even though you have not been used to these morning calls, you are in a different level of society now. You may bring your sisters with you, if you wish.”

  So saying, she swept out, leaving Caroline with very mixed feelings. Although she automatically sat down at her lacemaking chair to begin work, she could not clear her mind sufficiently to pick up the bobbins. Making morning calls was for ladies who had nothing better to do. A different level of society? She had no ambition for it. Lin, perhaps… she was too beautiful to have to spend the rest of her life working for her bread, or grubbing in the dirt like a peasant, although any hope Caroline had harboured of Mr Charles Leatham appeared gone. He was already spoken for, it seemed. She could only hope that his wife might teach him better manners, or else plague him to death. Or both, and serve him right.

  It was just as well she had not begun to work again, for no sooner had the dust settled behind the Leathams’ carriage that Lady Elland’s rather grander one rolled up the drive. With a sigh, Caroline prepared to receive another morning caller. This visit was rather pleasanter, however, for her ladyship brought her two sons with her. They bounced in, dressed as extravagantly as if they were in London, as excitable as before, gaily wandering about the room examining this and that, finishing each other’s sentences and making Caroline laugh with their antics. And, miraculously, their happy natures had even affected their mother, who smiled and chuckled at their jests and said, “Oh, you two monkeys!” at frequent intervals. Caroline could see at once how it was that Mr Leatham described them as spoilt and over-indulged, for in their mother’s eyes they could do no wrong.

  They stayed for almost an hour, sipping tea and crumbling cake, and after they had gone, Caroline discovered a small posy of flowers and a box of some sugared confection left on the hall console, with a little note saying, ‘Welcome to Bursham St Matthew’. Mr Leatham, however, had only left his gloves. So careless with their possessions, these rich people! She placed them on the console, and supposed she was now obliged to go to Starlingford, if only to return his gloves to the forgetful Mr Leatham.

  ~~~~~

  That Sunday, Caroline began to feel for the first time that they were beginning to be part of the parish community. They were greeted by so many people, and introduced to as many more, that it was hard not to feel that they were making friends. John Christopher, their gardener, was instrumental in drawing them into his extensive collection of youthful relations and friends in a way that his father, being a generation older, could not do. Poppy, in particular, seemed to relish meeting so many people of her own age, and since they seemed to be sensible people, Caroline hoped they would be a good influence on her dreamy young sister.

  Not being able to work on a Sunday had not been problematic in Romsey, for they had sat out in their back yard, for once free of washing, gossiping with the house’s other residents or passing neighbours, and when it was wet, they had collected in the big kitchen. Here they were stuck out in the midst of fields and woods with no neighbours, and only Susie, Martin and Molly to gossip with. Luckily, they now had a big garden, and Lin took Caroline all round their domain for her to admire the early apple and pear blossom, the emerging lawns and the newly dug vegetable bed. Only a small portion of the kitchen garden was yet reclaimed, but Lin had great plans for the rest.

  “I’ll make some early sowings tomorrow, and then begin work on this next bed. Mr Wishaw left most of it in good order, but of course it was neglected over the winter, and he left some portions fallow by intent. His notes are in the tool room at the back of the stables, and there are some seeds from last year, too, so I’m very well supplied. But Caro, Poppy wants her chickens as soon as may be, and there’s an old hen house behind the stables that would do very well, if it could be repaired. There’s spare wood there, and tools, and John will do it, and he can get some layers for us from his mother for a few shillings, or chicks if we prefer. Poppy wants chicks, of course, but then we’d have to wait for eggs. What do you say? May I tell John to do it?”

  “By all means,” Caroline said. “Yes, we promised Poppy some hens, and we must keep our word. Get chicks if that’s what she wants, but she must take care of them herself. You two may have found new occupations for your hands, but I plan to continue making lace.”

  Lin looked slightly conscious. “You’re very good not to nag us about getting the looms set up,” she said. “At least my herbs and vegetables will save us some expense, and we can sell the surplus and Poppy’s eggs, too, eventually. She wants to get a milking goat, too, but I think I’ve dissuaded her from rushing into that.”

  “Yes, one thing at a time,” Caroline said. “Let’s see how she gets on with the chickens first. She’s not good at keeping to a task.” A pause, then she added, “Where is Poppy, anyway? Has she wandered off again?”

  “If she has, she’ll be back for her dinner,” Lin said with a slight shrug.

  “Just so long as she doesn’t go onto Lord Elland’s land,” Caroline said fretfully. “Mr Grison patrols in those woods very stringently.”

  “She won’t,” Lin said confidently.

  A quick look around the house showed that Poppy was nowhere indoors, and neither Susie nor Molly had seen her. Caroline scanned the garden, but there was no sign of her, nor was she anywhere in the stables. The fear that Poppy had disappeared into the woods grew on Caroline, and once there, she could easily encounter Mr Grison and his gun. He was clearly conscientious about his work and accidents happened.

  Her anxiety could only be kept at bay by activity. She left Lin to her contemplation of the garden, and walked across the road to the footpath that led into Lord Elland’s woodland. It was a wide, open track and anyone on it would be clearly visible for some distance… surely even Mr Grison could not mistake Poppy for a poacher? But she recalled that Mr Leatham had not seen Poppy in her dark cloak, even on the track, and if she should see something in t
he undergrowth to either side… It did not bear thinking about. There was nothing for it but to go in search of her.

  “Poppy? Where are you, Poppy?” she called out as she walked, but there was no answering cry.

  Instead, a man popped out of the trees directly ahead of her, a shotgun under one arm, and a bulging bag over one shoulder.

  “Oh, Mr Grison, you startled me,” she said. “I’m just looking for my sister.”

  “She ain’t here. I’ve been patrolling all day, and ain’t seen a sight of her, and if I’d have seen her, I’d have told her to get off his lordship’s land. And I’ll tell you the same, Miss. No business here, any of you.”

  “Oh. Well, if you should see her, please tell her to come home at once.” She looked again at the shotgun and the full bag. “Are you shooting things on a Sunday, Mr Grison?”

  He grinned at her. “Rabbits, poachers and thieves don’t take no notice of the Sabbath, Miss, so neither do I.”

  Caroline disagreed with him rather strongly, but she wasn’t about to argue with a man holding a gun, so she turned round and went back to the house to await Poppy there. But as the hour for their dinner drew near, there was still no sign of her. She was nowhere to be found in the house, the outbuildings or the garden.

  “She’ll come home when she’s hungry,” Susie said.

  “But when will that be?” Caroline said. “If Mr Grison—”

  “She knows not to go onto Lord Elland’s land,” Lin said. “Besides, Mr Grison said she wasn’t there. She likes the farm, where all the baby animals are. I expect she is there.”

  “Yes, of course,” Caroline said, relief hitting her with force. “That’s where she’ll be, and no notion of the time. I’ll just go over there and—”

  “You worry too much,” Lin said with a smile. “Poppy’s not a child, and she’s not stupid. She’ll be home when she’s ready, then she’ll be wondering what all the fuss is about.”

  Susie laughed. “No use telling your sister not to worry, Miss Lin. She took on the responsibility for you two when your mother died, and she’ll never stop fretting over you, so you might as well get used to it. The mutton’ll keep for another half hour yet, Miss Caro, so you go and see if she’s at the farm, petting the lambs or some such.”

  The afternoon air was cooler, so Caroline wrapped herself in a warm shawl and walked down the garden to the stile that led to one of their own two fields, now empty of crops or beasts. A narrow footpath led straight towards the farm, kept free of weeds by Martin’s boots as he passed to and fro to collect milk or eggs and the odd duck or pigeon that happened to fall into his basket when Mrs Neilson felt generous towards her neighbours. The farmyard was deserted except for one man tending the animals, but when she asked after Poppy, he smiled and directed her to the kitchen door.

  There she was, surrounded by various members of the Neilson family, and in her arms a tiny baby.

  “Caro!” she cried delightedly. “Look, isn’t she sweet? So tiny! Just three days old, and so good, not a whimper out of her all day. This is Ruby, her mother, she’s Davy’s wife, and you know Mrs Neilson, don’t you? And Alice and Dora and…”

  Caroline smiled and said hello and yes, she was a lovely baby and yes, she was very good and so like her father, and would Poppy like to hand the baby back to its mother now and come home for dinner?

  “Oh, is it dinner time already? But may I come again tomorrow? You won’t mind, Caro, will you? Ruby says I’m such a help, and I do love to hold her.”

  “You can come again if Ruby wants, and Mrs Neilson doesn’t mind, but just tell us where you’re going, won’t you?”

  “Oh yes, of course.”

  But she wouldn’t, Caroline knew that. The urge to wander was too powerful and too instantaneous for Poppy to take thought of others.

  That day, for the first time since their arrival, they sat down to eat in the dining room. At first it had seemed easier to eat in the kitchen with the three servants, but Martin and Molly had been uncomfortable with the arrangement and Susie had nagged them, too.

  “You’re not servants like us, you’re the family, and you should eat properly with the decent spoons and plates, and crystal for your wine, and covers on the table, just like you did when your poor, dear papa was alive,” she had said.

  So today they sat in state in the dining room, although there was only one course with no removes and the meat had been carved in the kitchen. Still, Caroline felt it was right. They had sunk in the world since Papa’s death, and now Mr Wishaw had raised them up again. They were not gentry, and never would be, but they were respectable and had their own place in the world.

  “Let’s have a glass of wine with our dinner, to celebrate,” Caroline said. “There’s some Madeira in the study still, from when those lawyers were here. I’ll fetch that.”

  She made her way quickly to the study, picked up the bottle of Madeira and turned back towards the door. Only then did she notice that one of the drawers of the desk was slightly open. She frowned. That was not as she had left it, for she liked order and tidiness, and leaving a drawer ajar was not something she would ever do.

  Alert now, she scanned the rest of the room. One of the cupboard doors was not properly latched, and a look inside revealed that the account books, left in a neat pile in date order, were now scattered higgledy-piggledy along the shelf.

  There was no doubt about it. Someone had been there, searching in haste for something, since she had last been in the room the previous day. One of the servants? Or had they been burgled? And if so, why?

  7: Locks And Keys

  Two minutes were sufficient to determine that no one in the house had been rummaging about in the study. The servants were convincingly outraged at the very idea, and Lin and Poppy knew nothing of it.

  “Why would I want anything from the study?” Poppy said, mystified. “If I did, I’d ask you.”

  “No one goes into the study but you,” Lin said. “Well, apart from Susie, to tidy the fireplace and dust.”

  “Someone must have got in while we were at church,” Susie said.

  “But I locked the front door,” Caroline said.

  “Kitchen door’s always open,” Susie said. “No one’d bother to lock that, would they?”

  After dinner, a search of the rest of the house revealed nothing out of place. The only room with any sign of having been searched was the study.

  “I expect it was one of Lord Elland’s sons,” Lin said. “They leave little surprise gifts everywhere, seemingly. So Anne Christopher said. They were not in church, after all. And Mr Leatham left his gloves. Maybe he came to find them.”

  “He was in church, and there are no gifts from the Alsagers,” Caroline said. “More likely it was that gamekeeper, Grison,” she added darkly. “He was wandering about the woods all day, so he said, and I can imagine him sneaking in and looking around for money.”

  But nothing had been taken. In the safe, the money box Caroline had removed from the locked drawer of the desk contained exactly the expected amount of coins, and the pretty netted purse with its five hundred pounds in notes lay untouched. She fingered the purse thoughtfully, admiring the expert workmanship in the delicate pattern. A very female pattern, she thought it. A strange purse to find in a man’s safe, but perhaps it had been a gift from a lady.

  It was unsettling, but, apart from resolving to leave all the doors locked when they went to church, there was nothing to be done about it.

  ~~~~~

  Charles was never fond of Sundays, with the need for sobriety and church, and no pursuits of a frivolous and therefore enjoyable nature. He could not ride or play cards or read anything other than sermons, and if he tried, ever so surreptitiously, to open a novel, his father would say in his mild way, “Whose sermons are you reading today, Charles?”

  Talking was permitted, if the subject were sufficiently serious, and his proposed marriage to Miss Caroline Milburn was serious enough even for his father to approve. After dinner, the
refore, when Mildred had gone to her room to write her weekly duty letter to her sole remaining relative, a very elderly great-aunt in Harrogate, Mrs Leatham laid out her strategy for a successful courtship.

  “You should not visit her alone, for that would look far too particular,” she said. “Nor can I visit again so soon. I have hopes, however, that she will call here on Thursday, so that Mr Leatham may meet and approve her.”

  “If she is your choice, my dear, I shall not have any grounds for disapproval, I am sure,” her husband said, beaming at her. “She sounds a very pleasant girl, and although her mother’s birth was rather unfortunate, she made a sound marriage, and the father was quite respectable.”

  “Respectable?” Charles said, eyebrows raised. “You find nothing objectionable in seeing your grandchildren raised by the daughter of a linen draper?”

  “We are no so high in the instep as all that, Charles. The children will live here where your dear mama will oversee their education, and ensure that your wife knows what is expected of her. No, I have no worries on that score.”

  “She has no dowry,” Charles said.

  “I am not quite destitute yet, you know.”

  His step-mother added, “It is simpler if she has nothing, for she will be so grateful when you offer that she will accept at once, and make you a docile and conformable wife.”

  “Do you think so?” Charles said dubiously. “She does not strike me as the docile and conformable type.”

  “She will be, once I have trained her for her position in society,” she said complacently. “Better by far a girl from a lower level of society who has the potential to be groomed than one already decided in her opinions and manners. You would not be comfortable with a high-flyer, you know. Now, dear, she will call on Thursday, so you must be at home for that. Then you will see her at church on Sunday, and make sure you spend some time talking to her this time. You were far too slow to approach her today, and barely had time to exchange more than a dozen words with her. She will come to dinner next week, and she will be obliged to call to thank us, you know, but if she does not, because she might not know the proper form, then we will call on her again. The following week, you may offer for her, and that will be the worst of it out of the way. After that, you may leave everything to me, to arrange the wedding clothes and so forth. She will need an entire wardrobe, for I am sure she has not a single gown worth keeping. We shall have you married by Midsummer, never fear.”