The Royal Lacemaker (9 page)

‘I suppose
I'll have to get a pass from the squire to come visiting,' Tom teased.
She tensed. Why hadn't she kept her mouth shut?

‘There'll be no need for
that, Tom. Oh, don't worry,' she added quickly, seeing his sharp look.
‘I have an alternative plan.' And she vowed she would make enquiries as
soon as she returned to Bransbeer.

‘Oh?' he asked, breaking
away from her and frowning.

‘Now I've been made up to
overseer it will make sense to live near to where I'm working. This is a fine
opportunity to earn extra money for our wedding.'

‘That's as may be, but
you're being evicted in less than a month and if you're not careful
you'll all be out on the streets, Lily.' She suppressed a shudder.
‘Remember, this job, however good, is only temporary,' he added.

‘It's for six months and I
can always find another position after that. The status of overseer is far superior
to that of a maid in service. Why, it could set me up for the future,' she
declared.

‘Pardon me, your ladyship. I
suppose you'll not be wishing to walk out with a humble fisherman now,'
he mocked.

‘Idiot,' she said, laughing
as she linked her arm through his. ‘You know I love you and the extra money
means we can marry as soon as I'm out of mourning.'

‘Lily, love, that's a
wonderful idea but the little extra you'll be getting won't make that
much difference,' he scoffed.

Irritated by his condescending attitude,
she stopped walking and turned to face him. With great delight, she told him just
how much she was now earning. His eyes
widened in surprise and he
stood there gaping like a freshly caught fish.

‘Come along or we'll never
reach the water,' she said, laughing.

They continued on their way, but Tom
remained quiet, seemingly lost in thought. Then, reaching the cliff edge, they stood
side by side gazing at the huge rollers breaking on the beach below. Although it had
been sad to lay her mother to rest, Lily couldn't help feeling she was now at
peace and hoped that she and her father had indeed been reunited.

The setting sun was painting the bay a
glorious riot of gold and scarlet. Lily closed her eyes and wished that their future
would be as rosy as the scene before them. It was some moments before she noticed
Tom was still unusually quiet.

‘Farthing for them?' she
asked.

He grinned wryly. ‘Funnily enough,
it's money I'm thinking about. Simon's been finding it hard
managing the lobster pots now his feet are bad, so I've taken them over. I was
hoping the extra would help with our wedding, but even now, I'll not be
earning anything like you, Lily.'

‘So?' she demanded,
puzzled.

‘So, it means you'll be
bringing in more than me, and that's something my pride won't allow.
It's the husband's duty to provide, so I guess I'll just have to
come up with a way of earning even more.'

‘But you work all the hours as it
is, Tom.'

‘But it isn't enough, is
it?' he insisted, his voice louder and echoing off the cliffs.

‘Surely, it doesn't matter
who brings in the money? It
will all go into the pot, won't
it? A lobster pot, even,' she said, laughing up at him. But, for once, he
remained serious.

‘It matters to me Lily,' he
said firmly. ‘Especially as you seem to have developed a taste for wearing
finely fashioned gowns. Though I must say, it does make you look right
comely.' Lily opened her mouth to say that it was one Mrs Bodney had lent her,
but Tom was speaking again. ‘Anyway, I'd better be on my way,
tide's early tomorrow.'

Watching as he strode down the path
towards Bransbeer, she sighed. She knew he was a proud man, but surely it
didn't matter a prawn who earned the most? He was so old-fashioned.

The sun had finally dipped behind the
horizon, but it wasn't only the gathering shadows that caused her to shiver.
What did her future hold? She so wanted to continue working for Mrs Bodney, she just
had to find suitable lodgings she could afford. Of course, the choice seemed easy to
him but he didn't realize the consequences if she went into service. She could
remember her father telling her you didn't get anything for nothing in this
life. Well, she wasn't afraid of hard work, but surely she had the right to
choose where she did it, and for whom?

Entering the workroom the next morning,
Lily set about uncovering the pillows, keen to have everything ready for the
ladies' arrival, for she knew each minute saved was an extra minute's
lace making. She also wanted to inspect the work they'd done in her absence,
but as she looked down at the lace pinned up on the first pillow, a frown creased
her face. It was in exactly the same state as it had been when she'd left to
go to the funeral. Quickly she moved to the next pillow, then the next, her frown
deepening. Unable to believe her eyes, she checked the pillows again, but not one
sprig of lace had progressed.

‘Morning, Lily. How was the
funeral?' Mary asked, entering the room closely followed by the rest of the
ladies, chattering together.

‘The funeral service went well,
thank you, Mary, which is more than I can say about your work here. Will someone
please tell me the meaning of this?' she asked, pointing to their pillows.

The room fell silent, as the puzzled
ladies stared at her.

‘Before I left, did I or did I not
remind you of the quota you had to achieve before you took your leave?' she
asked. They nodded in agreement. ‘Is this another of your pranks?' she
asked, turning to Cora.

‘No!' the girl protested,
looking bewildered.

‘Then why has no progress been
made?'

The ladies looked at
each other and then back to Lily.

‘Well?' she asked, hearing
her voice rising and fighting to control her emotions.

As usual, it was Mary who spoke.
‘What's wrong, Lily? We only did like we'd been told.'

‘What do you mean, you did as you
were told …' Lily began, but Nell butted in.

‘We just did what that lady
said.'

‘What lady?' Lily asked.

‘The one you sent to tell us the
pattern had been changed and we was to go home,' Nell said slowly, as if she
was talking to a child.

‘But I didn't send anyone.
What was she called?' Lily asked.

‘She didn't say. Just said
you'd told her to deliver the message straight away. As she was wearing a
black veil and long black gloves, we guessed she'd come from the
funeral.'

Now it was Lily's turned to look
confused. Casting her mind back to the small group gathered in the church she was
sure no one there had been wearing a black veil.

‘She spoke all genteel, like Mrs
Bodney does when she receives the merchants,' piped up Anna.

‘But I didn't send anyone
here and, as far as I know, no change has been made to the pattern. I'll go
and check with Mrs Bodney straight away,' she said snatching up her shawl.
‘In the meantime, please get on with your work.'

‘Tilda, did you let a lady wearing
a black veil into the workroom yesterday?' she called out to the maid once
she'd closed the workroom door.

Startled, Tilda looked up from her
duties and nodded.

‘You've
been told that only Mrs Bodney and the lace makers are permitted to enter that room,
Tilda, so explain yourself.'

Looking scared now, the maid explained
that the lady had told her that Lily had instructed her to speak to the workers.

‘Were you with her the whole
time?'

‘Yes, but she was only here a
moment.'

‘Did she look at the ladies'
work?'

‘Oh, no, she wasn't
interested in that at all. She just stood in the doorway and told them that as the
pattern had been changed, you'd said they were to stop work straight away and
go home. Then she rushed out like she'd been stung by a bee. Am I in trouble,
miss?' she asked, her lip wobbling.

As Lily looked at the worried girl, she
felt her anger evaporating.

‘No, Tilda,' she sighed.
‘Tell me, is Mrs Bodney working at High House this morning?'

‘Yes, she is,' she said,
nodding frantically.

‘I'm going to see her right
away. No one is to enter the workroom in my absence. Should anyone call, they are to
wait in the parlour until I return. Is that clear?'

‘Yes, Miss Lily.'

Rushing up the lane, her thoughts in
turmoil, she didn't see the women washing their clothes in the brook, or the
parson waving to her from the church steps. She was in such a state that her breath
was coming in noisy gasps by the time she reached High House. Rapping briskly on the
door, she could hardly contain her anxiety.

‘Is something wrong, Lily? I trust
all went well at the
funeral?' Mrs Bodney asked, as soon as
the maid had withdrawn.

‘Yes, well, no. What I mean
is …'

‘Calm yourself, Lily. Take a deep
breath then start at the beginning. It's the best way, I find.'

‘Mrs Bodney, something terrible
has happened. Whilst I was at my mother's funeral, a stranger visited the
workroom. She told the ladies that as the pattern had been changed, they were to
stop work and go home immediately.' There was a moment's silence as the
older lady digested what she'd said.

‘Well, the pattern's
certainly not been changed. Our dear Queen's known the exact design she wanted
from the start, I can assure you of that. Now, can you think of anyone who would
want to put a bobbin in our works, so to speak?'

There was only one person Lily could
think of but he didn't wear a veil. Anyway, as far as she was aware, it was
only Lily he had it in for, so she held her tongue.

‘Well, if you do think of anyone,
please let me know. Now you must make haste and get those ladies back to work. They
will be well behind schedule but you may assure them they won't have any money
deducted from their wages provided they've recovered output by my next
visit.'

Back in the workroom, the concerned lace
makers were relieved to hear they weren't going to lose any of their
much-needed money. As they were due to receive their first month's wages
shortly, they knew they'd have to work flat out to make up for all the time
lost. Gloom descended upon the workroom like a blanket of sea fog.

‘I don't
mind staying on, but the trouble is, the later I'm away at night the more the
kids play up,' Anna muttered, and the others nodded in sympathy.

‘What about us cutting our noon
break?' Mary suggested. Lily knew Mrs Bodney wouldn't approve but she
couldn't see any other solution.

‘Just until the schedule is back
on track then,' she agreed.

For the rest of the day they worked as
fast as they dared, fearful as ever of making mistakes, so that by the time she told
them they could cover their pillows they were boggy eyed with tiredness. However,
that didn't stop them speculating as to who the mysterious lady with the veil
had been as they hurried from the room.

Lily watched them go, then, determined
to start making up for the time she'd missed, resumed her work. It seemed only
moments later that Tilda popped her head around the door.

‘Pardon me, Miss Lily, but Mr
Mountsford wondered if you could spare him a moment. I've shown him through to
the parlour.'

‘Thank you, Tilda. Tell him
I'll be with him shortly,' she said, striving to keep her voice
pleasant, for she really could do without any interruptions this evening. Stretching
her back to ease her aching muscles, she straightened her cap and hurried through to
the parlour.

Rupert Mountsford rose to his feet,
greeting her with such enthusiasm that she found her exasperation disappearing.

‘Miss Lily Rose, I hope I find you
well?'

‘Indeed you do, Mr Mountsford. I
trust you are keeping well yourself?'

‘Rupert – please
call me Rupert,' he insisted. That idea didn't sit well with Lily at
all, but Mrs Bodney had insisted she was to keep him happy when he visited.

‘Well, Rupert,' Lily said,
blushing as she stumbled over his name, ‘how may I help you? I'm afraid
Mrs Bodney isn't here at present but I'll be happy to convey a message
to her.' She swallowed.

‘That's most kind. However,
I saw Mrs Bodney yesterday. The fact is, Lily … I may call you
Lily?'

She nodded, impatient for him to come to
the point.

‘My business today took longer
than anticipated and as it's too late for me to begin my journey back to the
city, I've decided to stay overnight at a hostelry nearby. I was wondering if
you would do me the honour of joining me.'

Shocked by his suggestion, her eyebrows
shot right up to her cap and she could feel heat burning her cheeks.

‘I beg your pardon, Mr Mountsford,
I can assure you I'm not …' Outraged, she stammered to a halt.

‘Forgive me, Lily, I've been
clumsy in my proposal. I was merely suggesting you might care to join me for a bite
of supper. My carriage would convey you safely home afterwards.'

‘Oh,' she muttered, looking
down at the floor and thinking how stupid she was. ‘I thank you for the
invitation, Mr Mountsford … erm, Rupert, but that will not be possible. We
have experienced a delay here and I must work on this evening.'

A glint hardened his eyes, but it was
gone so quickly she thought perhaps she'd imagined it.

‘That is most unfortunate. Forgive
my intrusion. I'll detain you no longer. Perhaps I shall be luckier on my
next visit. Good evening, Lily.' And with that he bowed and
made his exit, remembering just in time to duck to avoid hitting his head on the
door frame.

Eager to make up the hours she'd
lost and grateful for the longer hours of daylight the summer afforded, Lily worked
on each evening after the others had left. By the end of the following week,
although her lace had grown nicely, she thought that if she saw any more white
thread she'd go crazy. It was a relief to tidy her things away that Saturday
night, and after checking the workroom was neat for work to resume on Monday, she
snatched up her shawl.

Arriving at the stables, she was glad to
find Doris in her usual place. Having hitched up the cart, she was about to climb in
when something caught her eye. Lying on the seat was a black veil and a black glove.
Remembering the visitor to the workroom, she shivered. Whoever had placed them here
obviously knew this was her donkey-cart and was expecting her to find them. But why
only the one glove? she thought peering around. The cobbled yard, however, was
empty.

In church the following morning, Lily
looked to see if there were any strangers present. Suddenly a ripple of excitement
ran around the congregation and her eyes widened in surprise when she saw Squire
Clinsden ushering his wife into their family pew. What were they doing here, she
wondered. Usually they graced the village church only when propriety dictated,
preferring instead to worship in the far grander cathedral of Exeter.

All through the service she could feel
the squire's eyes upon her. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't
refrain from glancing up over her hymnal at him. Two hazel eyes
mocked her back and his thin lips twisted into a leer, making her feel so sick she
could hardly concentrate for the rest of the service.

As the final blessing was given, the
Squire and Lady Clinsden rose and swept regally up the aisle. The parson hurried
after them, bowing and thanking them for honouring his service with their presence.
Aunt Elizabeth was busy talking to Grace and didn't notice that Lily
hadn't followed them out. She was hoping that if she waited the squire would
have left, but to her horror, he was waiting for her by the yew tree opposite the
lich-gate.

‘Ah, Miss Rose, the very person I
was hoping to see,' he said, his lips curling upwards whilst his eyes
taunted.

‘Lady Clinsden and I have decided
to host our customary summer ball at the manor. You did such an excellent job at the
Harvest Supper, my wife would like you to serve at table on this occasion also.
You'll be happy to, I'm sure,' he said, giving his supercilious
grin.

What, after his behaviour last time?
Like hell she would. She'd rather ride Doris naked through the streets of
Coombe than serve at his table again.

‘In that case it would be
courteous of me to reply to her ladyship in person,' Lily said, realizing it
would be easier to make her apologies to Lady Clinsden, for she, at least, was
reasonable. Lily peered around, her heart sinking when she saw the lady was already
seated in her carriage.

‘We'll expect you on the
afternoon of the 24th,' said the squire, turning to go. Then, as if it were an
afterthought, he stopped and turned back. ‘Of course, that
will be quarter-day and you'll already be installed in the servants'
quarters. Won't that be convenient? I shall give instruction for the
gamekeeper's hut to be made ready for your family.' He gave another
smirk, and she was tempted to slap it clean off his face and into the sea. Instead,
taking a deep breath, she forced herself to look him straight in the eye.