Authors: Iris Gower

Tags: #Historical Saga

The Shoemaker's Daughter (26 page)

BOOK: The Shoemaker's Daughter

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It was beautiful in Cornwall, the rugged clifftops stretched away as far as the eye could see and the rolling waves crashed ashore, white with foam that raced and chattered over the rocks.

But after a week of enforced idleness, Hari’s mind was racing with ideas for a new business, her own business that she would run without help from anyone. Emily might have had the contacts to start with but now Hari had her own following of customers. It was her own skill that was in demand, her flair for design and the ability to make up the boots and shoes to the customers’ exact requirements.

She would invite Lewis and Ben to come to work for her, after all what could Emily do with them now? Unless she found another talented shoemaker who could match Hari’s designs, the business was finished anyway.

Hari recognized that she would need to find some modest premises, indeed, she might not bother with a shop at all but just rent a workplace. Customers could be fitted in their homes and perhaps they would even prefer the convenience of not having to stir from their own firesides.

Hari could take patterns with her, show samples enough to gain the customers’ interest. As for designing, she could do that in one of the many rooms in Edward’s house, her house, she felt sure he would be only too delighted to make her happy.

‘You are far away, my love.’ Edward was sitting easily in a rattan chair placed strategically on the lawn of the elegant house he had rented, where the full benefit of the splendid view could be observed.

‘I know, I am impatient to be back at work.’ Hari leaned towards him her arm resting easily around his shoulders. ‘You will let me work, won’t you Eddie, you won’t stop me from designing and making shoes?’

‘When could I ever deny you anything?’ He laughed, ‘Anyway, I’d be a brave man if I tried to stand in your way, you are a little virago when you get started.’

He leaned over and kissed her and, as his lips warmed against hers, Hari suppressed a sigh. Edward was a demanding husband, he seemed to want her at any hour of the day or night. But they were married, it was her duty to please him, no, more than her duty, it must be her pleasure.

She allowed him to lead her into the coolness of the big house and up the elegant curving staircase to the bedroom. To her shame, her initial response to him had not been often repeated and now she clung to him more in despair than passion as he made love to her.

Had she made a dreadful mistake? Should she have stopped to think about the step she was taking before rushing into marriage?

Edward fell asleep almost the moment their lovemaking ceased and, as Hari stared down at him, she knew deep in her heart that good and kind though he was and fond though she might be of him, she would never love him, not in the way a woman should love a man.

She cursed Craig Grenfell, it was him she loved and the fact that he cared nothing for her didn’t alter her feelings one jot. She had lain in his arms, given herself in love as well as in passion and he was the only man with whom she could ever be truly happy.

But she must put him out of her mind, she was married to Edward, that’s all there was to it. She would make Edward a good and faithful wife, she would do anything she must do to please him and after all once they returned home, they would both have their work to occupy their minds. Perhaps then, Edward’s ardour would cool a little.

She slipped from the bed and made her way into the dressing-room where the jug of water stood ready for use on the marble table, the rose-covered bowl standing beside it.

When she had washed and dressed, she slipped from the room and made her way downstairs to the writing-room.

Her only materials were some writing paper and ink and a worn-out pen but she was soon lost in her work, her mind rested, the ideas flowed and soon the paper was covered in drawings with small notes beside them and Hari felt alive for the first time in weeks.

Emily sat in the shop and looked around her fearfully, the stock of shoes that she and Hari had built was almost gone, the shelves depleted, the displays dusty and bare. She must do something before she was ruined, she owed rent on the premises as it was and the landlord would soon be getting impatient.

What did other shop owners do? They did not all have a Hari ready at hand to provide endless ideas and designs. Suddenly it came to her, she would buy in stocks from other areas.

There was Mr Clark’s factory in Street in Somerset and in addition the famous Lotus shoes had become fashionable; these would surely appeal to the ladies of the town. She would call her new store Emily’s Emporium.

Emily felt a pang of guilt, what about Hari? But then Hari was married, she need never work again and she had left of her own free will, Emily must think only of herself now.

She would have to travel to Somerset, she decided, see the Clark factory for herself, then she would have to raise capital to buy in stock and transport the shoes to Wales. Emily sighed, Craig could have been a great help to her right now but she would sooner starve than go to him for anything.

As though he’d been drawn to her by the thread of her thoughts, Craig entered the doorway of the shop and paused for a moment as though adjusting his eyes to the gloom. He took off his hat and stared at her, his eyebrows raised.

‘Am I to be welcomed or thrown out?’ he asked. Emily did not answer him but, as he drew nearer, she couldn’t help the thrill of excitement that his presence aroused in her.

But he would never have known it, her expression was stony as she looked up at him. ‘Are you enjoying living in
my
house?’ she asked icily.

‘It would have been our house if you hadn’t been so headstrong,’ Craig said easily. ‘In any case Emily, the male heir inherits, it’s just a fact of life, you know that.’

‘Don’t patronize me,’ Emily said hotly. ‘I know you had to have the house but it doesn’t make it any easier for me to be shut out of my own home.’

‘Why didn’t you marry me as we’d planned then?’ Craig said reasonably. ‘And the house would have been yours again.’

‘Don’t go making
me
out to be the culprit.’ Emily stubbornly shook her head. ‘You were to blame for my father’s disgrace, if you hadn’t been so idle and useless, papa would not have lost a fortune to that brother of yours.’

‘I was remiss,’ Craig said in a hard voice, ‘but don’t you think I paid for it? You think it’s hard to lose your home, I lost my liberty and my good name, not so easily regained, my dear Emily.’

‘It’s no use talking to you,’ Emily said, ‘I wouldn’t marry you if I remained a spinster all my life. I have to make my own way in the world, I want to be my own woman, to be a success.’

‘In other words you want to make up for your father’s failings. And he did fail, Emily, if I was wrong then so was he, we both trusted Spencer and that’s where we made our biggest mistake.’

Emily inclined her head. ‘You may have a point but, in any case, I don’t want marriage, at least not yet.’

‘Well, who is to say you’ll be offered marriage, Emily?’ Craig asked, his eyebrows raised and she had the feeling he was making fun of her.

‘I don’t want
you
to offer me anything!’ Emily said angrily. ‘Who do you think you are?’

‘You are a cold, carping woman, Emily,’ he replied, ‘perhaps you are right, you are not cut out for passion, you certainly don’t have the blood of the Grenfells running in your veins.’

Emily had difficulty controlling her breathing, far from being cold, his words had aroused a bitter anger in her. But she was not a woman to let her emotions run away with her, that was something Craig would learn.

‘Cold am I? Well, just because you fooled poor Hari into thinking you were wonderful, you needn’t think all women are that easily duped.’

Craig’s face darkened, he imagined they had been talking about him, about his night with Hari, he could not know that Emily was merely using Hari’s infatuation as a weapon against him.

‘Jealous because I slept with Hari, are you?’ he said angrily, ‘well, at least she’s a normal, hot-blooded woman not a cold fish like you, cousin.’

Emily gasped. She felt anger and an unexpected sense of jealousy pour through her like hot strong wine, she had not expected to hear such words from Craig, she had only been taunting him, not trying to extract a confession.

She clenched her hands into fists. ‘I presume Hari’s new husband doesn’t know about all this? How could you betray your friend that way?’

‘Don’t be foolish, “all this”, as you so elegantly put it, was long before Edward proposed to Hari.’

‘And you think that makes it all right? I despise you, Craig, and I despise Hari too, to think I was apologizing for deceiving her and all this time she has been your paramour! You’d better go, I have work to do even if you have not.’

‘Why blame Hari?’ he demanded. ‘You had made it quite clear that you wanted nothing to do with me.’

Emily wanted to lash out and hurt Craig. ‘I see you are defending her!’ she said hotly. ‘And that you are continuing your life of indolence, doing nothing to make a secure future for yourself. Don’t you want to see Summer Lodge restored to its former elegance?’

‘Summer Lodge, possessions, is that all you can think about, Emily?’ Craig said in exasperation.

She didn’t deign to answer him, as she swept up the stairs, Emily’s legs were trembling but she held her head high even though tears blurred her vision. She hated Craig, he was a ne’er-do-well and a deceiver, it seemed he could not be faithful to one woman even if he tried.

She began to pack a bag at once, the sooner she got her ideas put into practice the better, it was clear she had no one to depend on but herself.

Emily took lodgings in the Street Inn and settled down to rest, wanting to be at her best before she approached Mr Clark with her proposition. And yet the last thing she thought of before she fell asleep was Hari in Craig’s arms and bitterness filled her at the duplicity of the two people who once had been dear to her.

Mr William Clark’s factory was a gracious-looking building more like a large private house than the hive of industry it was. Its many windows looked down the High Street towards Glastonbury Tor.

It was with some surprise that the foreman showed Emily into the office and asked her politely to sit while he ascertained if Mr Clark was available.

The man introduced as Mr Clark was younger than Emily had supposed, perhaps twenty-five years of age. He sported a beard and his eyes were bright and intelligent as he looked questioningly at Emily.

‘I own a boot and shoe emporium in Swansea,’ she said without preamble, ‘and now I wish to expand my stock by bringing into the area some of your leather footwear. I have heard many good things about your boots and shoes, Mr Clark.’

William Clark’s quick glance betrayed his astonishment at the thought of a young lady of breeding being in business but, after a pause, he inclined his head and waited for her to continue.

‘This is a new departure for me so I propose that I take several hundred pairs of boots and shoes, show them in my emporium and in the event that they do not sell, return them to you without delay.’

He smiled. ‘In other words, I take all the risks, Miss, what was it, Grenfell?’

‘I’m sure that you and your forefathers have not built up your business by avoiding certain risks,’ Emily said softly. ‘I should expect you to send some representative to my emporium before you agree to assure yourself that I am running a legitimate business and then perhaps we can talk again.’

When William Clark didn’t reply, Emily searched in her bag for the references she had brought with her from various suppliers and from her solicitor in London.

‘These may prove that I am a legitimate businesswoman with a blameless character. I would like you to look at them, Mr Clark.’

He read the documents in silence for a few moments and then nodded.

‘I will take a chance on you, Miss Grenfell,’ he smiled, ‘I can not approve of a lady working in the trade but for all that I will send one of my men with a small load of boots and shoes to your emporium in Swansea and we shall see how you get on.’ He rose from his chair.

‘Perhaps you would like to see the factory before you begin your long journey home?’

Emily rose to her feet, she wasn’t particularly interested in the mechanics of the factory although Hari would have been agog to see the newest equipment and the famed machines that the Clark family had imported from America.

‘That’s very kind of you, Mr Clark,’ she said politely and followed him from the office.

The clatter of the treadles was the first thing Emily heard as William Clark opened the door to the long room. Men and women worked side by side, some of the women hand stitching and finishing on a small side table. Some younger girls rhythmically pressed the footplate that turned the wheel operating the needle.

In spite of herself, Emily was interested in the sole-cutting machine, with its various wheels and handles. It was an ungainly monstrosity but what a lot of time and effort it saved, doing the work of several cobblers in only a few minutes. How Hari’s mouth would have watered at the sight.

But she must forget Hari, she no longer felt guilty about deceiving her for Hari’s deception had been greater.

When she took her leave of Mr Clark, the sun was sending long shadows over the High Street. Emily made her way to the inn and ordered a meal of cold meat and fresh crusty bread.

She felt enthusiasm rise within her at the prospect of selling the boots and shoes and the soft Clark’s slippers with lamb’s-wool linings to the inhabitants of Swansea. She’d show them a thing or two, Emily Grenfell was not easily beaten.

The next day, Emily had barely arrived home, travel weary and longing for a cup of tea, when a van clattered to a halt outside the shop.

Written in bold letters on the side was the name C&J Clark, Street, Somerset.

BOOK: The Shoemaker's Daughter

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