The Royal Lacemaker (11 page)

Lily turned to her aunt and smiled.

‘I believe I spoke to you about
this before, Lily. After
his wife died, my brother threw himself
into his work and as a result his business has become very successful.' She
coughed, adding quickly, ‘He also needs a housekeeper and has asked if I would
consider the position.'

‘Is that what you want,
Aunt?' Lily asked.

‘Well, with Rob going to Ilminster
and Beth happy living with Grace, what reason do I have to stay?' she asked,
looking sad for a moment. ‘After all, you'll be moving on soon,
won't you?'

Lily knew what her aunt was saying was
true.

‘We'll always be grateful
for what you've done for us, Aunt Elizabeth, especially as you insisted on
paying for Mother's funeral. It was a good send-off, wasn't
it?'

‘Yes, Lily, it was and believe you
me, my dear, that was the least I could do for your poor mother. She was a fine
woman, God rest her soul.' Feeling tears pricking the back of her eyes, Lily
nodded. ‘Of course, I'll stay and help you with the packing up.
You'll need to decide what's to be done with your mother's things,
though from what I can see, she had precious few. It's been a very distressing
time recently, and I reckon a fresh start will be good for all of us. The only worm
in the wood pile that I can see is that we'll need to take Doris and the cart
with us when we go.'

Lily's heart sank. After spending
many hours worrying how she was going to find a new home for her family, it now
appeared she was the one who would be left without a roof over her head. As she
looked at her aunt and brother standing happily before her, their new lives
beckoning brightly, she suddenly felt very alone.

Lily blew out the candle, then lay in her
bed listening to the familiar sounds of the cottage settling for the night. A hoot
sounded nearby, but whether it was from the bird or an owler, she couldn't be
sure, for those devious wool smugglers who plied their trade by night had perfected
their call so that it was only discernible from that of the real thing by another
owler. Shivering, she snuggled further under her cover and thought of the surprises
Aunt Elizabeth and Robert had sprung earlier. She was pleased for them, of course,
but she couldn't help feeling a bit sorry for herself. Soon they'd be
going their separate ways, and for the first time in her life she wouldn't
have her family around her.

With her mind whirling like the sails on
a windmill, she thought she'd never sleep, but must have dropped off
eventually for the next thing she knew, the sparrows were chirruping in the thatch
above. Dressing quickly, she went through to the living room where she found Robert
stirring a pot of oats.

‘I've prepared you something
to eat, Lily. It's raw out there this morning and you'll need something
warm inside you before you leave. I take it you do intend to brave the
elements?' he asked, handing her a bowl of steaming porridge.

‘I must, Rob; Mrs Bodney wants to
discuss the project's
progress before the others arrive.
It's kind of you to prepare this for me, though.' She smiled at him as
she picked up her spoon.

‘Truth is, Lily, I'm feeling
a mite guilty.'

Puzzled, she stopped eating and looked
up.

‘Well, I was that excited about my
new position, I didn't think to ask how you're going to manage. I know
you're betrothed to Tom but it will be some time before you're wed.
I'd feel happier knowing you had a roof over your head and that's a
fact.'

‘Don't worry, brother. I
intend to find somewhere in Bransbeer close to where I work. I really like my job as
overseer; it's interesting and I feel I'm doing something
worthwhile,' she said, pushing her half-empty dish aside. ‘And when
you're mastering your new trade, you'll understand what I mean. Now I
must go, it doesn't do to keep Mrs Bodney waiting.' She leaned forward
and kissed his cheek. ‘Everything will work out, you'll see.'

Snatching up her shawl, she let herself
out of the back door where, to her dismay, she was met by a bank of chilling mist.
It swirled around her so that she couldn't see a thing and her fingers froze
as she carefully felt her away along the damp cob wall of the cottage. Finally, she
reached the barn door and Doris brayed as Lily attached the cart, clearly reluctant
to leave the warmth of her straw bed. Fearful of being late, Lily gave the donkey a
good slap on her withers and urged her out onto the track.

Although it was June, the east wind was
biting, stinging her ears and making her eyes water. Shivering, she pulled her shawl
up over her head and peered into the mist, trying to make out where she was going.
She could hardly see
Doris, let alone the track ahead. Far below,
to her right, she could hear the surf pounding against the rocks of the undercliff,
and she had to fight her instinct to steer Doris further over to the left, but that
was where the ruts were deepest. It was like riding inside a cold, grey cloud and
she shuddered, remembering Tom telling her the smugglers used this very path.

How she wished he was by her side now to
keep her safe. Thoughts of him made her smile, and she remembered her resolve to buy
material for a new dress. Although, she'd have to wear black for a while
longer, she could make one in a bright fabric and put it away in her betrothal
drawer.

She was deliberating between blue or
green when a prickle of unease crept up her spine, and she got the distinct feeling
she was being followed. The donkey's ears were pinned back as if she'd
heard something and Lily shuddered, wishing she was safely indoors. It was foolhardy
being out in this weather but she had no choice; Mrs Bodney was relying on her.
Convinced she could hear the muffled sound of hoofs behind her, she tightened the
reins and risked glancing over her shoulder. But all she could see was the mist
swirling in sinister shapes, like ghouls suspended from the branches over the
track.

To raise her spirits, she started
singing one of the songs her father had taught her and as the lively tune of
‘Bobby Shafto' rang out against the murk, she felt her mood lift. Then,
as the cart began its descent, she again felt that tingling creeping up the back of
her neck and her voice tailed off. She could hear the rattle of wheels now, and knew
for certain someone was following her.
She couldn't
understand why they didn't try to overtake her, for Doris was hardly the
speediest beast on four legs.

By the time she reached the sweep of
Lyme Bay, the mist was beginning to lift and she took a quick look behind her, but
there was nobody there. She shivered and tightened her grip on the reins. Then she
noticed Tom's lugger pulled up on the pebbles alongside the other boats. Its
red sails were tightly furled so he wasn't intending putting out to sea this
morning. Her heart flipped and she peered around hopefully, but apart from the gulls
scavenging, the beach was deserted. Fighting down her disappointment, she turned
Doris away from the bay, and headed towards the stables of the hostelry.

Having ensured Doris was safely tethered
and that she had a plentiful supply of hay, Lily pulled her shawl tighter round her
and, head down against the buffeting wind, she carefully picked her way through the
piles of seaweed that had been blown up off the beach and so to Mrs Bodney's
cottage. To her surprise, her employer was already in the workroom.

‘Good morning, Mrs Bodney,'
she said, hurriedly shrugging off her wet shawl.

‘Is it?' her employer
replied so curtly that Lily's heart sank. ‘I've been inspecting
the sprigs that have been made for the flounce. The work is good but we still need
lace for trimming the neck and cuffs as well as the back panel. Then, of course,
there's the veil.'

‘We have a lot of lace still to
make,' Lily answered.

‘Yes, you do. Our Queen is having
the silk satin for her dress woven in Spitalfields as we speak and it's
imperative everything's ready for sewing up by the time it's completed.
Your ladies will be able to finish their part of the design on
time, won't they, Lily?' her employer asked, looking at her
searchingly.

‘Yes, of course we will,'
Lily said, crossing her fingers behind her long skirts and hoping it was true.

‘Good. Now, my services are needed
in Honiton, so for the next two days you will be overseeing both groups of lace
makers. It will mean dividing your time between here and High House but that
shouldn't pose any problem. I've told the maid there to expect you
today,' Mrs Bodney said.

As Lily didn't appear to have any
choice in the matter, she nodded dutifully, although when she'd have time to
begin her search for lodgings, she really didn't know.

‘Oh, and when I return I shall
need your help writing up details of our work to date and the materials
used.'

‘Pardon, Mrs Bodney?' Lily
said, frowning.

‘The Queen's Mistress of the
Robes will require this information. Don't worry about it now,' said her
employer, waving her hand in the air. ‘I'll bid you good day and good
work. Remember to weave happy thoughts through your threads.' With a brisk nod
of her head, she swept out of the room.

Watching through the window as Mrs
Bodney climbed into the waiting carriage, Lily wondered if the day could get any
worse. At that moment she couldn't think of one single happy thought. However,
there was no time to dwell on her worries for the ladies were filing in ready to
start their day's work. As soon as they were settled at their pillows, she
checked they knew what they had to do that morning and then made her way to High
House.

Arriving outside the building, with its
squared limestone
frontage and tall casement windows, she climbed
the three steps and knocked on the heavy panelled front door. The maid let her in
and led her through to the high-ceilinged room the ladies were using.

To her relief, they were all competent
lace makers, used to working without supervision. As she walked around the room,
checking everything was all right, she noticed that the sprigs they were making were
patterned with leaves. Her own ladies back in the workroom were making sprays of
flowers. Immediately, she could picture what the lace for the Queen would look like
when it was joined together. Now she could understand why Mrs Bodney had kept the
work separate.

Satisfied that the ladies were happy and
knew what they had to do next, she retraced her steps, impatient to resume her own
work. But, as she hurried back down the lane, trying unsuccessfully to dodge the
puddles that had pooled between the uneven cobbles, she felt moisture seeping
through the soles of her boots. The wodge of straw she'd stuffed inside them
the previous week had disintegrated, and the cold water was soaking her woollen
stockings. Stamping her feet to try to restore some feeling, she was tempted to call
at the cobbler's before returning to the workroom. But that would delay her
and she had far too much to do. With any luck his door would still be open when
she'd finished work.

Relieved to be back at Mrs
Bodney's cottage, she emptied the water from her boots and hurried through to
the workroom. Immediately, she could sense excitement in the air. Although
apparently busy with their bobbins, the ladies were covertly watching her as she
made her way
round the table. She was about to ask them what the
matter was when she noticed the posy of pale pink lilies bound with a contrasting
blush silk ribbon, lying beside her pillow.

‘Oh,' she exclaimed,
‘what beautiful flowers. Where have they come from?'

‘Tilda said they arrived by
carriage. You lucky duck, they must have cost a fortune,' Cora observed.
‘So who have you been pleasing to be sent such gifts?'

‘I don't know what you
mean,' Lily spluttered.

‘Why don't you see who
they're from?' said Mary quickly.

Looking at the eager faces staring at
her in anticipation, Lily smiled nervously. Then she realized they had stopped work.
Knowing it wouldn't do to fall further behind schedule, she adopted the brisk
manner of Mrs Bodney.

‘Right, come along now, everyone,
back to work. We have a deadline to meet, remember.' Then, pointedly ignoring
their whispers and murmurings, she picked up the flowers and carefully set them on
the sill of the window. Settling herself at her pillow, she picked up her bobbins
and hoped the other lace makers would follow her example.

Although her hands worked calmly,
inside, her thoughts were gathering pace. The flowers were beautiful, but what did
they mean? Who could have sent them? And why? Although she could feel the curious
glances that were being cast her way, she studiously ignored them. They all had
enough to do without added distractions. With luck, they'd forget about the
flowers.

The church clock struck noon and relief
flooded through her as she rang the little bell. But instead of filing
outside as they normally did, the ladies remained on their stools
looking at her expectantly.

‘Go on, Lily, open your card.
We're dying to find out who the flowers are from. Or are you too grand to
share things with the likes of us now?' Cora challenged.

‘Please do, Lily. Nobody's
ever sent me flowers,' pleaded Anna, wistfully.

Seeing they weren't going to move
until she'd satisfied their curiosity, Lily got up and carefully detached the
envelope from the flowers. Then, drawing out the card, she stared at the black
letters but they blurred before her like scattering ants.

‘Come along, everyone, we
mustn't intrude upon our overseer's privacy,' Mary said, noticing
her concern. ‘Let's all go outside and have our break. I don't
know about you, but I'm famished.'

As they clattered out to the yard, Lily
went over and picked up the flowers. They were beautiful, their subtle fragrance
reminding her of something she couldn't quite put her finger on. Gently, she
traced a finger over the bell-shaped petals, marvelling at their silky softness.
Then she gasped. Lying in their midst was a single blood-red rose. Suddenly, the
lilies no longer smelled fragrant. Instead the room was suffused with cloying
sweetness, and she snatched up the bell.

‘Tilda, please put these in water
and take them through to the parlour,' she ordered. Then before the girl could
ask any questions, she hurried outside, breathing in the fresh air to clear her
lungs.