The Fairbairn Girls (20 page)

‘That’s right! You have, Laura.’ Mrs Sutherland squinted myopically at the letter. ‘She says . . . Oh yes, here we are! She says she met you at your sister’s wedding at Lochlee Castle. Fancy that!’ Her expression suddenly changed to one of anxiety. ‘I don’t suppose I’ll get any commission from work you do for her as you already know her?’

‘Of course you will,’ Laura replied reassuringly. ‘It’s you she’s written to and I don’t really know her at all. We just met briefly.’

‘Splendid, splendid!’ Mrs Sutherland’s expression brightened. ‘This is going wonderfully well, isn’t it?’

Laura agreed with equal enthusiasm and then decided to broach the question of working by a gas lamp at night. ‘Have you ever considered installing electric lighting?’ she asked in a casual way, as if it was really not of great importance.

‘Electric lighting?’ The little widow looked as stricken as if Laura had inquired if she’d ever thought of holding orgies in her house. ‘Oh, dear me, no! I think it would be far too dangerous. People can die from electric shocks, as they can from lightning. I believe it’s very expensive, too.’

Laura nodded, as if in understanding. It was stupid of her to have brought it up. She was just going to have to struggle for a bit longer with the old gas lamps. Meanwhile, her feelings about making clothes for Mrs Leighton-Harvey were uppermost in her mind. Would her husband come too? There was no private changing room for her clients; another reason why she wanted to move, so it was unlikely he’d accompany her.

When she was alone Laura found herself putting her work down on the table while she sat and stared out of the window, lost in thoughts of ‘Walter’ as she referred to him in her mind. She couldn’t help wondering how she was going to feel about making beautiful and seductive dresses for the wife of the man she was so deeply attracted to. Sometimes she dreamed about him, and in her dreams he was always standing with his hand outstretched, beckoning her to go with him. Then she’d awaken with a start. Would his wife talk about him? Would she refer to him as ‘my husband’ or ‘Walter’? Would she show Laura a new piece of jewellery he’d given her?

Laura decided she must be strictly professional in her dealings with Mrs Leighton-Harvey. They might be friends of Robert’s family but for her to encourage a social relationship would be a fatal mistake.

As she lay in her narrow little bed that night unable to sleep, she couldn’t get the memory of his rich yet mellow voice out of her mind. Normally she didn’t notice people’s voices, only what they said, but with Walter it wouldn’t matter whether he was reciting Shakespeare or a shopping list: his voice would thrill with its sensuality.

If only he wasn’t married, she reflected over and over again, remembering how charming and handsome he’d seemed and how she knew in her heart he’d found her attractive, too. It would be perilous for her to see too much of him but for a wild moment she longed for that danger, for the excitement of mutual desire and longing when their hands touched and they looked into each other’s eyes. Not since Rory’s death had she felt like this about a man.

Suddenly she sat up in bed, shocked by the intensity of her feelings. Walter Leighton-Harvey was a married man with a very sweet wife; what was she thinking of? How could she possibly entertain romantic notions about a man who had a wife and child?

She felt ashamed of herself for daydreaming about him in that way. What would Mama say if she knew? She’d forbade her brain to even
think
about him in future. Lying down again she curled up on her side but just as she was drifting off to sleep she remembered his dark, penetrating eyes and the way he’d looked at her at Lizzie’s wedding. A tear slid from her cheek and disappeared into the pillow.

‘I’ll never forget the exquisite wedding dress you made for your sister,’ Mrs Leighton-Harvey said as soon as she arrived for her appointment with Laura a week later. ‘I’m simply thrilled you’re doing this professionally. We need someone like you in Edinburgh. Many of us have had to go down to London or to Paris to get our clothes.’

‘I don’t think I can compete with Paris,’ Laura replied with a smile as she ushered Mrs Leighton-Harvey to a chair at one end of the table, ‘but I will do my best.’ She sat opposite and picked up a notebook and pencil in a businesslike manner. ‘First of all I suggest you tell me what you require for London’s Little Season, be it dinner dresses, ball gowns, or daywear suitable for luncheon parties? Maybe you’ll go racing? Or join country house parties at the end of the week?’

Mrs Leighton-Harvey blinked rapidly and looked confused. ‘I don’t know really,’ she simpered. ‘Maybe I need a range of outfits which will cover a lot of different social engagements.’

‘That’s always wise. The same dress can be made to look quite different with the aid of accessories. Then we can discuss style and suitable colours and fabrics, and what type of fur trimming you like on coats and jackets? Sable and ermine are the height of fashion at the moment but I think the new collections will feature red and black fox fur; red fox with tweed outfits will be the essence of smartness, and of course black for daywear and white Arctic fox for the evening. Although, of course,’ she continued conversationally, ‘black fox in the evening worn with a black satin dress and diamonds makes a magnificent impression.’

By now Mrs Leighton-Hartley was speechless, imagining herself gliding through the grand London drawing rooms of the Duke of Westminster and the Marquess of Londonderry, turning heads wherever she went, being flattered and feted and envied by other women.

‘Shall I take your measurements today and then I’ll have them on record for future purposes?’ Laura continued smoothly.

‘That’s a good idea.’ The dazed blue eyes blinked again. ‘A very good idea.’

‘Lastly, I’ll send you some sketches and you can choose which designs you favour. I’ll also pin to each sketch a small example of the fabric I suggest would be the most appropriate.’

‘Goodness, you’re so efficient.’

‘I like to be organized,’ Laura replied quietly, smiling with inner satisfaction. The woman was a fool. A sweet, brainless socialite
. What
did Walter ever see in her?
flashed through her mind unbidden
.

‘Yes. Of course. Now let me think.’ Mrs Leighton-Harvey frowned as if tackling a tricky mathematical problem. ‘Walter and I will be in London for the month of October so I suppose that will be quite a lot of clothes?’

‘If you’re going to a lot of functions, yes.’ Laura spoke briskly as she made notes. ‘Have you got a good milliner?’

Mrs Leighton-Harvey looked flummoxed. ‘I don’t know. I usually buy my hats from Fraser’s in Princes Street. My friends and I always shop there.’

Laura nodded. ‘I know it well. It might be a good idea to have a word with their chief milliner. We could show them the designs and the fabrics for your daywear so they could produce hats that went perfectly with the ensemble.’

Light at last dawned and Mrs Leighton-Harvey looked enraptured. ‘Fancy having hats made to match your outfits!’ She spoke wonderingly. ‘My word, you’re very clever.’

‘Not at all,’ Laura responded modestly. ‘I will enclose a list of my prices when you receive the designs and if you agree we should get started right away. We’ve only got four months if your new wardrobe is to be ready by the end of September.’

‘I’ll let you know at once. Wait until I tell Walter! He’s very particular about what I wear.’ She departed in a confused whirl of delight, leaving Laura feeling exhausted and tainted by the irony of the situation. She was about to make a lot of money as she slaved over making a dozen or more exquisite outfits for another woman to wear in order to please the one man she herself was in love with.

On a practical level one thing was certain: she was going to have to find an experienced seamstress to help her or she’d never be able to cope with the demands of the ladies of Edinburgh, who were now flocking to have her make their clothes.

‘How good it is to be home again, even if it is only for a few weeks,’ Laura declared as the family sat down for their trad-itional Hogmanay dinner. She’d returned to Lochlee in time for Christmas and was given a big welcome, not only by her mother but also by Lizzie and Humphrey with their two baby daughters, Diana and Robert with their baby boy, Richard, and Beattie and Andrew, who had come up from London by train, and then Georgie. The younger sisters, Alice, Flora and Catriona, who were fast growing up, had also greeted her with shrieks of awestruck delight, wanting to know what Edinburgh was like and what did she do in her spare time?

‘Spare time?’ Laura laughed, hugging them all. ‘What
is
spare time? It’s something I haven’t even heard of for the past year.’ She’d lost weight and her features were more delicately defined than before but, although her fingertips were always tender these days from pinning and stitching garments, she had a healthy glow and her hazel eyes sparkled with confidence. Her finances had allowed her to buy nice Christmas presents for everyone which she’d wrapped stylishly in green paper with scarlet ribbons, and they’d been placed almost reverently under the twelve-foot Christmas tree which stood in the great hall. Laura was the only one who had earned her own money with which to buy presents, unlike the others, who were given pocket money by Mama, and the married ones, who received an allowance from their husbands. This made Laura feel extraordinarily grown-up and independent, and she secretly relished her plans for the coming year, which she decided to keep to herself for the time being because she knew she’d be met by a barrage of opposition, especially from her mother.

Meanwhile, there had been so much to talk about during those first few precious days as the castle was being prepared for the celebrations.

On Christmas Day they all trooped merrily though the thick snow to church for morning service, after which they returned to the castle where log fires were blazing in all the reception rooms and two footmen stood with trays of champagne which was imbibed in the drawing room.

Then McEwan struck the big gong and everyone took their seats around the long table in the dining room, which had been decorated with fir cones and branches of holly thick with red berries.

‘This is the happiest Christmas we’ve all had since Papa died,’ Lizzie confided to Humphrey as the main course of roast turkey with chestnut stuffing and cranberry sauce was served with a variety of vegetables. This was followed traditionally by spicy mincemeat tarts dripping with rich brandy butter.

‘Your mother is bearing up very well,’ Humphrey agreed. ‘I’m glad Laura is here, too. She’s like a breath of fresh air.’

‘Yes. I miss her so much. This is like old times, us all being together again.’ Lizzie spoke almost wistfully.

He smiled sympathetically. The five eldest girls had always been close and as an only child he sometimes wished he’d had brothers and sisters to jolly him along. Lizzie was pregnant again and he was delighted at the thought of a third child.

‘Why are you grinning at Lizzie in that asinine way?’ Georgie asked him from across the table.

‘Wouldn’t you like to know,’ he teased.

She shrugged. ‘You used to be quite intelligent, Humphrey. Now you’ve become all soppy.’

‘While you’ve become all stroppy,’ he countered good-naturedly.

‘Stop it, you two!’ Diana said, laughing. ‘Robert is about to make a speech.’

‘Oh, Lor’,’ Georgie murmured. ‘How he loves the sound of his own voice.’

Diana gave her a warning glance as her husband pushed back his chair and rose to his feet.

‘Dearest mother-in-law,’ he began, bowing to Lady Rothbury before turning to the others. ‘Ladies and gentlemen. On behalf of Henry, who would be standing here now if he wasn’t fighting the Boers in South Africa, I would like to thank you, Mama, for giving us such a wonderful Christmas. Your generosity is overwhelming and we are all so grateful to you for inviting us to enjoy the splendour that is Lochlee Castle.’

‘Here, here!’ exclaimed Andrew and Humphrey in unison.

‘So let us drink a toast to our hostess!’ Robert raised his glass.

There was a chorus of ‘To Mama!’ and Lady Rothbury smiled although she felt like weeping, for she missed Henry so much. He should have been here, at home with them all, safe and well within the protective stone walls of the castle.

In the days that followed the festive air still pervaded Lochlee, and Laura realized that her three brothers-in-law were wonderful additions to the family, bringing with them a male sense of adventure. Robert went off to buy a couple of toboggans so they could have races down the hillside, and Andrew insisted they buy ice skates so they could whirl around on the large frozen pond and even have gentle games of ice hockey.

‘Why did we never do anything like this before?’ Laura demanded, her slender nose as pink as her cheeks as an icy breeze coming off the mountains invigorated them all into sporting activity.

‘Too many girls and not enough boys in the family,’ Georgie pointed out.

‘Come on,’ Laura called out and, gathering up some snow in her gloved hands, she quickly shaped it into a ball and threw it at Robert, catching him on the back of the neck.

His look of utter surprise made Diana laugh so much she tripped on her skates and fell over, while Humphrey and Andrew quickly joined in the fun, so that snow balls were being hurled through the air with speed and the girls were retaliating by throwing them back as they shrieked with laughter. Even Georgie was giggling and enjoying herself so much she actually called Lizzie ‘darling’ before tossing a snowball at her head.

Then Andrew threw a snowball at Beattie which landed on the side of her face and, turning, she gave a howl. A moment later their arms were around each other until they slipped on the ice and rolled helpless with laughter in the snow.

This prompted Diana and Robert to link arms and he gave her a quick kiss before she too lost her balance and he had to hold her tightly to prevent her falling over again. The air was filled with merriment and laughter, and for a moment Laura stood alone, watching her sisters with their devoted husbands. A sudden deep sadness welled up within her because she had no one. Unshed tears welled up in her eyes. It seemed a long time ago since she’d been so happily engaged to Rory. By now, if they’d married, they’d have had several children and London would have been as familiar to her as her rented room in Edinburgh. The thought flashed through her mind that it would probably always be like this and she’d better get used to it. When her much younger sisters married she’d be the old maid who sat in the corner, always smiling to hide her sadness, always laughing to keep her profound loneliness a secret. She resolved to put Walter Leighton-Harvey out of her mind completely. To even fantasize about him was stupid and dangerous. His pretty, vapid wife would flaunt herself in front of him in the gowns Laura had so painstakingly made and he’d never know that there were nights when she dreamed of him only to wake alone at dawn, cold and shivering in her single bed.