The Girl with the Red Ribbon (21 page)

The harder she thought, the quicker she sewed and it wasn't long before the dress was altered to her satisfaction. Trying it on, she checked her appearance in the gilt-framed mirror hanging on the wall. Looking at her reflection, her eyes widened in amazement. Why, she looked like a lady, she thought, twisting her hair up into a knot and securing it with a couple of pins from the little glass dish on the dressing table. Then, she donned the stockings, climbed into the golden slippers and went downstairs.

‘My, my, my,' Mrs Acland said as Rowan hesitated in the
doorway of the parlour. ‘Rowan, I can truly say the duckling has turned into a swan. Come in and take a seat, my dear.' She put down her embroidery hoop and indicated the chair opposite her own.

‘I don't wish to interrupt you, Mrs Acland,' Rowan said.

‘You are not, my dear. I only embroider to pass the time of day. The hours pass slowly when one is by oneself, so come and tell me all about yourself. First of all, though, I must have a look at that dress.' Rowan moved closer. As Mrs Acland inspected her stitching, she fervently hoped everything would meet with the woman's approval for, in truth, she'd done more contemplating than concentrating. ‘Well, Rowan, I am truly amazed,' the woman finally pronounced, shaking her head. ‘I have never seen such stitching.'

Rowan's heart sank. She should have paid more attention to what she was doing. The last thing she wanted was to upset the woman who had kindly taken her into her home by making a mess of her fine material.

‘I'm sorry, Mrs Acland –' she began.

‘What for, Rowan? That is the finest sewing I have seen. Why, even Mrs Pinker's stitches are not as fine as these. Now, take a seat and I'll ring for some refreshment,' she said, tugging at the bell pull. But before Rowan had moved over to the chair, Daisy appeared.

‘Ooh, miss, you doos look beautiful. You'd never think that was Mrs Acland's old dress – oh, sorry, ma'am,' Daisy said, blushing to the roots of her tawny hair.

‘Quite, Daisy,' Mrs Acland said, trying to smother a smile. ‘Now perhaps you'd bring some iced tea.'

‘Yes, ma'am,' she said, bobbing a curtsy. Then, turning,
she grinned and held up her hand so that Rowan could see the daisy chain around her wrist.

‘I'm pleased to see you are looking much happier today, Daisy,' Mrs Acland said, and the maid nodded and disappeared to fetch the tea. ‘Well, it seems as if our little maid has settled into her new job at last,' she declared.

Rowan nodded, knowing how important it was to have a sense of belonging.

‘I don't know what that daisy chain is about, but she has definitely taken to you, Rowan, and by the way she keeps staring at the ribbon around your wrist, she seems to equate it to that,' she said, giving Rowan a shrewd look. ‘Still, if the girl is happier then so be it. Now, Rowan, I'll just finish this, and then we will enjoy our refreshment.' Mrs Acland picked up her embroidery hoop and selected a skein of cerise silk.

‘Oh, no, that colour would be completely wrong,' Rowan said before she could stop herself.

‘What did you say, Rowan?' asked Mrs Acland, with a frown.

‘I just meant that I thought that the cerise would be too harsh against the soft green you've used for the leaves,' Rowan muttered, wondering how she could have been so rude as to voice her opinion out loud.

‘Really? What colour would you suggest I use for this sweet pea instead?' she enquired, staring at Rowan over the rim of her glasses.

‘I would opt for the paler powder pink,' Rowan replied. In the ensuing silence, she felt as if butterflies were holding their summer ball in her stomach. Now she'd really overstepped the mark.

‘And what colour for this flower, do you think?'

‘The light periwinkle,' Rowan said, studying the array of silks.

‘And for this one?' Mrs Acland persisted.

‘The blush pink,' she whispered.

Carefully, Mrs Acland selected the coloured silks Rowan had suggested, fanning them out on her fabric.

‘Unbelievable,' Mrs Acland exclaimed.

‘I'm sorry to be so rude,' Rowan said ruefully.

‘Rude, my dear? No, you have an amazing eye for colour. I can see now that the cerise would have been much too harsh, whilst these other hues complement each other
beautifully. You know, Rowan, usually I find embroidery quite tedious but you have made me see how using the right silks can bring the flowers to life.'

‘Oh, thank you –' Rowan replied, feeling relieved.

‘Ah, there you are, Daisy,' Mrs Acland said, looking up as the maid entered with their drinks. ‘Set the tray down on the table by the window, if you please.'

The maid did as she'd been asked, then with a big grin in Rowan's direction, held up her arm that still bore the chain of flowers.

‘Thank you, Daisy, that will be all. Yes, you definitely have a little admirer, Rowan,' she said with a smile, as the door closed behind the maid.

‘She's very willing,' Rowan said.

‘Indeed. Now let us sit by the window and enjoy our refreshment. I'd hate to spill any tea on my embroidery. It wouldn't do to end up with brown sweet peas after the care we've taken to get the colours right, would it?'

Settled in one of the comfortable chairs with their burgundy brocade cushions, Rowan sipped her lemon tea, thinking she'd never tasted anything so refreshing.

‘So how are you feeling after your unfortunate experience?' Mrs Acland said, studying Rowan with her shrewd blue eyes.

‘I'm quite well, thank you for asking, Mrs Acland.'

The woman nodded. ‘I hope you don't mind, but Alexander has filled me in on some of the detail leading up to your stay on the moors. You must be missing your family, Rowan?' she enquired gently.

Rowan thought for a few moments. ‘To be honest, Mrs Acland, I'm not sure I do,' she answered with a sigh.

Her
hostess smiled encouragingly. ‘Do go on, Rowan.'

‘Everything changed when Father married Fanny earlier this year. My stepmother made it quite clear she didn't want me around. She said that if my father had to choose between us, he would choose her.'

‘Why would your father have to choose between you?' Mrs Acland asked.

‘Because she wanted to take over the running of the household, and did not like the closeness I had with Father. She said she would win, as she could provide the womanly things a man needs.'

Mrs Acland, who was taking a sip of her drink, almost choked at this and quickly placed her cup on the table.

‘As he didn't come to find me, I've come to the conclusion that she is right,' continued Rowan. ‘He hangs on her every word, doing everything she wants, so I think he must be a weak man with no mind of his own,' she concluded, relieved to have put her thoughts into words.

Mrs Acland sat looking at Rowan for a few moments. ‘I do know some men are easily led by the lure of an attractive woman,' she said with such feeling, Rowan stared at her in surprise.

‘Mr Acland is away a lot on business,' the woman said by way of explanation. Then she turned to stare out of the window, but not before Rowan had seen the glisten of tears in her eyes. Busying herself with her drink, Rowan looked out over the garden, where the gardener was mowing the lawn. Daisy had made her chain just in time, she thought.

‘In many ways, man is the weaker sex,' Mrs Acland said, coming back to the present. ‘Therefore it is up to us to steer our lives in the direction we want. Now, Rowan, if
going back to your farm is not an option, what position would you like us to find for you?'

‘I was thinking about that earlier, Mrs Acland, and I'm afraid my talents are limited,' she said, shrugging, for in truth, although she was being shown nothing but the utmost kindness, she couldn't help feeling like a fish stranded on the shore at low tide.

‘Well, that's defeatist talk if ever I heard it. What we need is some fresh air to revive us,' she said, tugging on the bell pull. ‘Daisy,' she said, as the little maid appeared, ‘tell Coggins to make the carriage ready. When he says it's his day for doing the garden, you may tell him that Mrs Acland has been watching him smoking his pipe behind the potting shed for the past twenty minutes and as he has time to waste, he may switch his duties to the horses.' Daisy's eyes widened in amazement but she scuttled from the room so quickly that Mrs Acland burst out laughing.

‘Oh dear, that will set the fox amongst the chickens. Talking of foxes, in the wardrobe in your room, you will find a fox stole, Rowan. You can wear that when we take a carriage ride around the park.' Rowan glanced down at the dainty slippers on her feet and Mrs Acland followed her gaze. ‘We shall need to get you sized for some shoes whilst we are out. However, those will suffice for sitting in the carriage.'

Upstairs in the Lilac Room, Rowan stared at the glassy eyes of the dead fox and shuddered. Next to the stole hung a plaid cape and, hoping Mrs Acland wouldn't mind, she wrapped that around her shoulders instead.

‘Couldn't you find the fox fur?' Mrs Acland enquired as Rowan descended the stairs.

‘I'm
sorry, Mrs Acland, but I couldn't bear to wear a dead animal.'

‘Oh, well, as long as you have something to keep the chill at bay,' the woman replied.

Sitting opposite Mrs Acland in the fine carriage as they circled the beautiful parkland, Rowan began to enjoy herself. It was such a contrast to the stark airing courts with their towering walls that kept out most of the light. Here, the trees were bursting into leaf and the shrubs were ablaze with colour. They drove past a lake on which mottled, fluffy ducklings were being carried along on their mothers' backs. Further on, a pen swan was sitting on her untidy nest whilst her mate protectively stood guard. Lily pads were floating on the surface, and Rowan laughed as a dog chasing a stick slid from the muddy bank into the water. It gave an outraged yap and then, realizing the lake wasn't very deep, bounded out again, shaking itself all over its indignant owner.

‘It's good to see you happy, Rowan,' Mrs Acland said.

‘How could I not be when you have been so kind?' Rowan replied, glancing down at the parcel beside her. After having had Rowan sized for shoes in Exeter, Mrs Acland had insisted on treating her to a length of emerald silk from the nearby draper's.

‘You will have something to keep you occupied until we find a suitable position for you. I suppose if I were practical we'd have bought some cotton material for you to make another day dress, but it's so boring being sensible all the time, don't you think?' Mrs Acland's eyes twinkled in amusement. ‘Oh, there's Verity,' she said, suddenly tapping on the roof with her steel-topped cane. The
carriage duly drew up alongside another one, and Rowan saw an elegantly dressed young woman wave her gloved hand in acknowledgement. However, Mrs Acland had pulled down the window and was calling out in greeting.

‘Good afternoon, Verity. I trust you are keeping well?'

‘Oh, I mustn't grumble, but life can be such a trial sometimes, can't it?' Verity said, giving a sigh. From her expression, you would think she had the troubles of the world on her shoulders twice over, Rowan thought.

Mrs Acland ignored the sighing. ‘Verity, I'd like to introduce you to Rowan Clode. She is staying with us for the time being.' The young woman gave Rowan the ‘once-over assessing look', as her auntie Sal called it. Obviously, she found Rowan wanting, for her eyes narrowed.

‘Is Alexander at home?' she enquired, giving Rowan a dismissive look.

‘No, Verity, he is away on his rounds. However, he will be home at the weekend, so why don't you come for dinner on Saturday evening? Shall we say seven for seven thirty?'

The woman nodded and then signalled for her driver to move on. As her carriage drew away Rowan turned to Mrs Acland.

‘Is something wrong?' the woman asked, noting her concerned look.

‘No, not really, it's just that I thought Alex … I mean Mr Acland, would be returning tonight,' she said. She explained all about Susan and how bad she felt at leaving the asylum without her. ‘I'm so anxious to find out how Susan is,' she finished.

‘Yes, I'm sure you are, Rowan, and don't worry, Alexander will be home either tonight or tomorrow at the latest.
It all depends on how long his business at the asylum takes him. We all know how treacherous those peat bogs are, and I have forbidden him to travel once darkness has fallen. He chides me for fussing, but secretly, I think he's relieved,' she added, with a smile.

‘Then why … ?' Rowan came to a halt, not wishing to appear rude.

‘Why did I tell Verity he wouldn't be back until the weekend?' Rowan nodded. ‘Well, the truth is that Verity has set her cap at Alexander and he, naughty boy, is dragging his heels, as it were.' Rowan smiled at the superintendent being described as a ‘naughty boy'. ‘Of course, it is high time he remarried but Alexander is not a man to be hurried. Understandable, really. He was devoted to his wife. Alas, she died giving birth to their first child. She had a heart condition no one knew about and was just too weak,' she sighed.

‘What about the baby?' Rowan asked.

Mrs Acland shook her head sorrowfully. ‘Poor Alexander, he withdrew into his shell.'

‘Oh, how terrible for him, and for you, of course, Mrs Acland,' Rowan whispered, but the woman merely nodded and gave the roof a sharp tap with her cane.

As the carriage moved on Rowan couldn't help thinking of Susan, and her heart gave a lurch. She crossed her fingers that her friend would be all right, but her ribbon suddenly tightened. As if she'd picked up on Rowan's thoughts, Mrs Acland reached out and patted her hand. ‘Don't worry; I'm sure your friend will be fine. She sounds like a robust, bouncy kind of person from what you've told me.'

Rowan watched the scenery gliding by, but her
enjoyment was gone, for she couldn't shake off the feeling of foreboding that had settled over her like a shroud.

Back in her room, she unpacked the beautiful material and laid it out on the table. Then, overcome with restlessness, she went over to the window. The sun had disappeared, replaced now by ominous, lowering clouds. As she watched, one separated then appeared to curl into the shape of a baby, but where the neck should have been, a vortex of mist was spiralling round and round. The ribbon around her wrist tightened, and she tugged at the drapes to blot out the sight. She couldn't help feeling she should have asked for Susan to be released with her, yet she had hardly known she was being freed herself. Shivering, she settled into the chair beside the fire and waited impatiently for Mr Acland to come home. A tap on the door made her jump.

‘Come in,' she called, and immediately Daisy appeared.

‘Yous shouldn't be sitting in the dark, miss,' she said, scuttling over and lighting the lamp. ‘Mr Acland has arrived and said he'll see you in the parlour. He don't look none too happy.'

‘Thank you, Daisy,' Rowan said, her heart sinking. She smoothed down her skirts and then she ran down the stairs.

As soon as she entered the parlour, Mr Acland got to his feet.

‘Please sit down, Rowan,' he said. His expression was bleak and she sank into the chair beside Mrs Acland. The room was heavy with silence.

‘Susan and her baby are dead, aren't they?' she blurted out.

‘Yes,
Rowan, I'm afraid that is correct,' he confirmed.

‘They died this afternoon. The poor little baby had the cord wrapped round and round its neck,' she whispered.

‘But how could you possibly know that, Rowan?' Mrs Acland asked, staring at her in surprise.

‘I know it's true,' she answered. ‘I saw it in the clouds when we got home.'

Mrs Acland and her son exchanged looks.

‘I'm truly sorry about your friend,' Mr Acland said. ‘I have to return to the asylum first thing in the morning to continue with investigations into that and many other things. However, I promised I would let you know as soon as I found out anything.'