The Ribbon Weaver (26 page)

‘I can’t even
begin
to think what has put this ridiculous notion into your head,’ he ground out. ‘But I’ll tell you now – you are
wrong
, and behaving like this doesn’t become you. I can’t understand what has got into you lately, Eugenie. If you don’t curb your spending habits soon, I shall be forced to sell the house in London and you will find yourself living here again. And to even
suggest
such a thing at a time like this …’ he cocked his finger towards the ceiling. ‘My grandmother is
dying
up there and I don’t need anything else to worry about at present, so for goodness sake get these foolish notions out of your head.’

Eugenie gaped at him as for once he stood up to her.

‘Now, if you will excuse me I am going to see my grandmother. I’ve no doubt you will have objections to that too. But frankly, I am beginning to be past caring.’ And without a backward glance he strode from the room, leaving her to stare after him.

When he entered his grandmother’s room, Amy and his mother were at the side of the bed. ‘How is she?’ he whispered.

Before either of them could answer, the old lady slowly turned her head and recognition shone in her faded eyes. She beckoned to him and as he leaned across her she tried to speak.

‘Where is Jessica?’

The sound of his sister’s name caused him to screw his eyes up tight and his mother’s hand to fly to her mouth in distress. But pulling himself together with an enormous effort he told her softly, ‘You will be seeing her very soon, Grandmother.’ All of them knew that the chances of that were highly unlikely now, but Adam would have said anything if it gave her comfort.

The old mistress visibly relaxed and her hand fell back to the bed. Adam took a seat at the side of her and there he remained until her eyelids eventually drooped and she found relief from her pain in sleep.

Leaving her in the capable hands of the nurse, the trio then crept from the room, and as Amy made her weary way home her heart was aching and she feared the worst.

She slept little that night and despite all of Molly’s pleas, was unable to eat a thing. The next morning she set off back to The Folly bright and early, and the first thing she saw as she approached the house was the familiar sight of the doctor’s pony and trap. When she entered the hallway she found him there talking to the master, whose face was grave.

‘I’m afraid my mother has suffered another seizure,’ he told her gently. ‘Mrs Forrester and Adam are with her now, but do go up. She has been asking for you.’

Amy silently nodded and when she entered the old woman’s room minutes later, Josephine and Adam rose quietly and tiptoed away, closing the door softly behind them. Amy sat down gingerly on the side of the bed as the nurse looked on and as the old woman’s eyes flickered open and came to rest on her, she smiled with her crooked mouth and squeezed her hand with her good right one.

‘I’m so glad you came.’ Her voice was weak and indistinct and Amy had to bend low to hear her. ‘There’s been too much sorrow in this house but you have brought joy back into it and I thank yer for that.’ The woman’s breath was coming in quick short gasps now, and the tears that had been trying to choke Amy suddenly gushed from her eyes and coursed unbidden down her cheeks. Willing the old woman to live, she gripped her hand tightly.

Now, as the pain subsided, Mrs Forrester’s eyes, that had always seemed so bright and alert, were clouded and she seemed to be looking beyond her.

‘Jessica … I knew you would come!’ A look of incredible joy played across her face, and perplexed, Amy looked towards the nurse for help. The woman ran from the room, her starched white apron rustling, and seconds later she returned with the old woman’s family, who crowded around her bed. Amy left the room, not wishing to invade their privacy, and once out on the landing she buried her face in her hands and sank on to the windowseat. And there she waited. Occasionally maids flitted by as they went sombrely about their duties, the only sound they made being the swish of their skirts as they passed. Below in the hallway she could faintly hear the tick-tock-tick-tock of the grand-father clock, and the urge came on her to rush down and stay its hands, for she was aware that it could be measuring the beloved old mistress’s last minutes on earth.

The minutes stretched into an hour and then two, but the bedroom door finally opened and Samuel Forrester appeared, his face deathly pale and his arm tight about his sobbing wife’s shoulders. Seemingly oblivious to Amy’s presence, he led her gently away and seconds later, Adam followed them from the room. As his eyes found Amy’s he slowly shook his head and rising without a word being spoken she made her way downstairs, her steps heavy. Lifting her bonnet and coat she soundlessly slipped from the grieving house. Inside, her heart was crying but she was dry-eyed and pale, for the pain she was experiencing went beyond tears. After leaving the grounds she walked blindly across the fields that would lead her home. The River Anker, its surface frozen to ice, stretched away into the distance like a silver ribbon, but Amy walked numbly on, heedless of her surroundings, and by the time the familiar cottages came into sight, still not a single tear had she shed. For no reason that she could explain, her steps led her not to her own door, but to Bessie’s, and as she approached it, the one person she had need of at that moment came into sight.

Toby had just stepped into the lane and immediately he saw her, the closed look she had come to dread dropped like a curtain across his eyes. But then as he noted her ashen face and obvious distress, he stepped quickly towards her, his indifference forgotten and his face a mask of concern.

‘What is it, Amy?’

‘Oh, Toby,’ she sobbed, and suddenly the tears that had been locked in her heart gushed out of her, threatening to choke her. ‘Sh … she’s gone. The old mistress has gone.’ Her voice held such a wealth of sorrow that he instantly pulled her into his arms and soothingly held her to him, stroking her hair whilst she sobbed as if her heart would break. Just as she had broken his.

The old mistress’s coffin was placed on a table in the magnificent drawing room at Forrester’s Folly, where she lay in state for three days, with the curtains tightly drawn and candles in heavy silver candlesticks shining down on her day and night.

On the day of the funeral, six perfectly matched black stallions with enormous feather plumes rising from their manes attached to the glass hearse that would take Mrs Forrester on her final journey, stood outside impatiently pawing at the ground. Inside, the mourners who wished to pay their final respects filed silently past her casket, their faces wreathed in sorrow, for despite the fact that Maude Forrester had been an abrupt kind of woman, she had also been loved by many. Finally it only remained for the close family to say their goodbyes. Amy was allowed to enter the room with them and as she looked down on the old woman she had come to love, a huge lump formed in her throat. At each corner of the beautiful mahogany coffin stood men in tall black silk hats encircled with purple ribbons, their hands encased in black gloves crossed respectfully in front of them, their heads bowed. This was the first time that Amy had seen the old woman since the night of her death and she knew that it would be the last. Just as she would have wished, Mrs Forrester had been dressed in her most flamboyant gown and she looked so peaceful that Amy could almost believe that she was simply fast asleep. Without their numerous rings, her hands were criss-crossed with veins, and death had kissed her lips with a faint tinge of purple.

They each said their goodbyes in their own way. Josephine bent and kissed the wrinkled cheek. Samuel and Adam stood with bowed heads offering up silent prayers. Eugenie chose to stand in a corner of the room looking totally disinterested in the whole proceedings, whilst Amy reached into the coffin and squeezed the hand that the woman had extended to her in friendship in life. It was as cold as marble but she hardly had time to think of it when a fifth man, who had been standing a respectful distance away, stepped forward. It was time and the family silently filed from the room whilst the coffin lid was nailed into place.

It was a silent procession that wended its way to Caldecote Church. It was some distance from The Folly, but the old woman had loved it there; Samuel’s father – her late husband Charlie – was buried there, and it had been her wish that she should be interred next to him. The snow had begun to fall softly and as each white flake settled on the cheeks of the mourners they mingled with their tears. The white carpet blanketed the sound of the horses’ hooves and the carriage wheels. The tiny church had never seen so many mourners, for the Forresters’ friends and colleagues had travelled from far and wide to attend the funeral. When the pallbearers finally placed the coffin in front of the altar, the church doors had to be left open so that the mourners who were forced to stand outside when the church was full could hear the service.

The vicar’s voice rang from the rafters and out into the snowy churchyard, and once it was over the pallbearers again lifted the heavy coffin on to their shoulders. Each perfectly in step, they bore it to the grave that had taken two gravediggers a whole day to dig in the hard ground of the peaceful little churchyard. There the coffin was lowered into the yawning hole, and by the time the guiding ropes had been removed and the men had respectfully stood aside for the final part of the commitment, the gleaming mahogany lid and the shining brass name-plate were already white over with snow. Loud and clear, the vicar’s voice echoed to every corner of the churchyard as he solemnly intoned the last words of the burial service, his heavily embroidered stole standing out in stark contrast to his crisp white surplice and his black clerical robes.

Amy’s eyes sought Josephine Forrester’s but they were hidden behind a heavy black veil. Samuel Forrester stood beside her, his eyes bottomless pools of pain, but he held himself erect, his shoulders straight and his head high, determined that his mother should enter heaven with the dignity that she deserved. It was unusual for the womenfolk of gentry to attend a funeral, but mindful of his roots Samuel Forrester had decided to ignore propriety so that the whole family could be there to say their goodbyes.

And then at last the mourners slowly turned from the graveside and began to make their way back to Forrester’s Folly, where a meal befitting a queen awaited them. Amy had been invited but had chosen not to attend. However, as she turned away, Adam’s hand gently settled on her arm and momentarily drew her to a halt.

‘Amy, could you come to the house this evening at about seven o’clock, please?’ he asked. ‘The solicitor should have read Grandmother’s Will and left by then and my mother and father wish to speak to you.’

Incensed that her husband should be seen speaking to someone whom she considered to be low class in public, Eugenie’s hand dragged on his arm and she began to haul him away, her once-pretty face set in grim lines. As she watched them go, Amy sighed before turning to make her way home alone.

Chapter Seventeen

Knowing how much the elderly mistress had come to mean to Amy, it hurt Molly to see the girl so low, and she fussed and fretted over her all afternoon. The wisdom of age had taught Molly that for now, no words of comfort she could offer would ease Amy’s pain; for now all she could do was be there for her. But it had also taught her that time was a great healer.

Amy sat staring morosely into the fire until the late afternoon gave way to evening and it was time to return to The Folly. For once, Molly raised no objections as Amy put on her warm outdoor clothes, although she did think it strange that the Forresters would want to see her on the evening of the funeral. Amy herself felt that no amount of warm clothes could warm her, for her heart was chilled.

Molly saw her off at the door with a kiss and then hurried back to the warmth of the fireside and settled down to wait for her return, her heart heavy for the girl.

As Amy approached The Folly it was ablaze with lights and seemed to shine like a beacon into the darkness. In the hallway she found the housekeeper and the maids rushing to and fro as they put the house back to rights following the endless stream of visitors. Lily stopped to divest Amy of her hat and coat and the thick shawl that Molly had insisted she should wear across her head and shoulders, and Amy then hurried towards the drawing room.

Mrs and Mrs Forrester were sitting either side of a blazing fire both dressed in mourning, and Amy was relieved to see that there was no sign of the obnoxious Eugenie. Although Josephine’s eyes were red and swollen from weeping she gave Amy a smile and held her hand out to her.

‘Thank you for attending the service today, my dear,’ she told her once Amy was seated sedately on the chaise longue between them. ‘I am sure Mother-in-law would have wanted you to be there. She had come to think a great deal of you.’

Unsure of how to answer, Amy simply inclined her head, deeply touched at the kindness of these two dear people.

‘It was a fine service, don’t you think?’ the master enquired.

Amy nodded quickly in agreement. ‘Yes, sir. Indeed it was.’

‘Well, perhaps now we should think of getting back to some sort of normality. My mother would not have wished us all to sink into the doldrums. She had very high hopes for your designs, as she was fond of telling you, and yesterday I received a letter from Mr Harvey asking if we could both visit him in London at our earliest convenience. Now that the funeral is over I thought perhaps the day after tomorrow might be a good time to go. Would that be convenient for you, Amy?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Amy replied without hesitation. She would be glad to get back to work because then she would have something else to think about, other than what she considered to be their mutual loss. Even so, she was curious as to why Mr Harvey should wish to see them both together, as for some time now she had been travelling to and from London alone, if and when she was needed. She also wondered if this was why Mr and Mrs Forrester had wished to see her this evening, but as she was soon to discover, they had sent for her for a totally different reason.