A Family For Christmas (18 page)

Relieved to be alone, Eliza stared around the
modest room, which was furnished with a bed, closet and washstand. The rose coverlet matched the
curtains, which gave the room a cheery look. A tray was set on the little table by the window
and as she lifted the cloth a rich aroma assailed her nostrils, making her stomach rumble
hungrily. The platter of thinly sliced meat was arranged in semicircles around dainty triangles
of bread. She'd never tasted anything like it before and soon the plate was empty.
Replete, she sat back sipping the elderflower cordial that had also been left for her, and
looking out over the courtyard to the field beyond. How different it was to the doorsteps of
bread and mugs of tea she'd shared with Fay in the hobble.

That the woman had deemed herself to be
Eliza's guardian as well as handing over her precious receipts and paying for her
apprenticeship had come as a shock. As she'd never appeared to have any money Eliza
couldn't understand how she had managed to do this. Yet it would appear she had made
provision for Eliza's future. Perhaps it had been to assuage her guilt for wanting Eliza
gone. Had Duncan known, she wondered. If he had, why hadn't he told her instead of
disappearing like that? It was all very
confusing, but at least she should write a letter to Fay thanking
her for her generosity.

She might be housed in this prison-like wing but
she would work hard and successfully complete her training. Then as a fine perfumer she, Eliza
Dryad, would return to the moors and repay Fay's kindness. She would also show Mother
Evangaline that she was indeed good enough to mix with her daughter.

A knock at the door interrupted Eliza's
musing.

‘Mrs Buttons is here, miss,' the maid
announced. A cheery woman, tape measure round her neck, roll of material tucked under one arm
and a sewing basket in her hand, bustled into the room. ‘I'll take these back to the
kitchen,' Mimi added, picking up the tray.

‘That was quick, Mrs Buttons,' Eliza
said.

‘Don't do to keep Monsieur waiting if
you want his custom, ducks,' the woman said briskly. ‘Now, he's ordered you be
fitted for two day dresses and one jacket … oh, and a matching apron. He was most
insistent it be matching, too.'

Eliza grimaced as the woman unrolled the
mustard-coloured material across the bed.

‘All in this brownish-yellow?'

Mrs Buttons nodded. ‘Yes, he's
adamant your clothes match his amber scent bottles. Still, the colour will set off that pretty
hair of yours.'

Pretty? Since when had her mousy colouring been
pretty, Eliza thought. Then she remembered what else her new boss had said.

‘Monsieur said I had to wear my hair in a
Cadogan manner,' she said, trying to remember his exact words.

‘Smarter than wearing a cap, eh?'
Then she saw Eliza's expression and chuckled. ‘Want me to show you how it's
done?'

‘Please.'

‘I'll do the fitting first and then
we'll get you put in the net,' Mrs Buttons said, taking her tape from around her
neck. Put her in a net? She wasn't a fish. But the woman was too busy measuring and
jotting down numbers with a stubby pencil to notice her puzzled expression.

‘If you don't mind me saying,
I'm surprised Monsieur allowed you onto his premises dressed liked that,' she
murmured through a mouth full of pins, as she held the material up against Eliza. ‘Most
particular, he is, especially since he came back from France. Still, I guess he could see
you'd look elegant once you was properly attired.'

‘How much will all this cost, Mrs
Buttons?' Eliza asked, worried about Fay receiving a huge bill.

‘Don't ask me, ducks. I just does the
sewing. 'Tis the master who sees to the finances. This material don't come cheap,
though, that I do know. Now, I'm done with your measurements so let's see about this
hair,' the woman said, throwing her tape onto the bed and rummaging in her box. ‘Ah,
yes, thought I had one.' She held up some brown mesh. ‘You'll need to sit down
so I can get at you.'

Eliza perched on the chair while Mrs Buttons
twisted her hair into some kind of knot at the back of her head, then placed the net over it. So
it was her hair that went into the net, she thought, relieved that it wasn't to be all of
her. This was turning out to be such a weird place that nothing would surprise her.

‘Now I think this is how Monsieur would
like you to look for work. In the evenings you can tease out some ringlets and let them hang
down the back of your neck.
You looks a picture,
ducks,' the dressmaker pronounced, standing back and admiring her handiwork.

Eliza jumped up and stood in front of the mirror
on the closet door. Was that really her? Why she looked so smart and grown up.

‘Thank you, Mrs Buttons. Do you think
I'll be able to do the knot myself?'

‘Course you will. Everyone can fix a bun,
and that net will hide any stragglers. Don't worry, you'll look right dandy,'
she chuckled.

Eliza stared down at her ugly boots.

‘Want me to make them dresses longer to
cover them?'

‘Could you?' Eliza asked, brightening
again.

‘You leave it to Mrs Buttons, ducks,'
the woman said, winking and gathering up her things. ‘I'll see you in a couple of
days or so.'

‘That soon?' Eliza gasped in
surprise.

‘When Monsieur Charles wants something, he
wants it yesterday,' she said, shaking her head. ‘Course, he was always Thomas
before he went to France. Tommy two-ways, he was called, and it suit …' She was
interrupted by another knock on the door. Eliza hurried to answer it and found the maid standing
there, a white-haired man hovering behind.

‘Mr Leatherjacket's here to see about
your new boots,' Mimi said, bobbing a curtsy.

‘Well, I'll be on my way then,'
Mrs Buttons said, hurrying out.

As Eliza stood back to let the woman pass, Mimi
hesitated, looking unsure.

‘Is something wrong, Mimi?'

‘I've been told to stay here while he
measures you as it
would be inap … inappro
… wrong to have a man in your room with you being by yourself.' The words burst out
in a rush and the man laughed.

‘Begging your pardon, miss, but with me
rheumatics and everything, I hardly think you're in any danger – pretty lass though
you be,' he added quickly, doffing his cap.

‘Come in, both of you,' Eliza
invited. ‘We don't want to go upsetting anyone.'

Hastily stuffing his cap in his pocket, the man
picked up his workbox and followed the maid into the room.

‘See, I'm in the nick of time,'
Mr Leatherjacket commented, pointing to Eliza's boots. ‘Them soles is more off than
on. No good for that 'ere foot of yers, either. Let's take 'em off and get you
properly sized. Blimey, girl, bet you been limping like a good un,' he whistled.
‘Them's at least three sizes too small. It'd be better to walk around barefoot
till your new ones is ready.'

Eliza flexed her feet and had to admit they did
indeed feel better without the confines of the ill-fitting boots. Finally, the man was satisfied
and Eliza showed both him and the little maid out. She was just about to close the door when she
saw the driver of the carriage hurrying across the courtyard, her bundle over his shoulder.

‘Oh thank you,' she cried in
delight.

‘My pleasure, miss, shall I carry it
inside?'

‘I can manage,' she said, taking it
from him.

Placing it down on the bed, she perched beside it
and eagerly pulled at the knot. Carefully she pulled back the clothes that were wrapped around
her box, the black scent bottle and Fay's receipt book. She sighed with pleasure at the
sight of her treasures, running her fingers along the
polished surface of the box and was just about to pull out the
stopper on the little bottle when there was yet another knock on the door. Almost immediately
came another more insistent knocking. Quickly she covered her things and hurried to answer
it.

‘Ah, Mademoiselle, I came to make sure that
you have settled in,' Monsieur Farrant said, glancing past her to the things strewn across
her bed.

‘Thank you, Monsieur,' she said.

‘I happened to see Dawkins carrying your
bundle and wondered if you had perchance found something for me, like more receipts?' he
said, eyeing her closely.

Eliza shook her head. ‘I don't
understand. Why should I have more?'

‘That book your guardian gave me is not as
thick as I was led to believe. I have waited years to get my hands on her receipts and frankly I
was expecting more in exchange for your training,' he said, frowning.

‘I have just this minute unpacked
everything. They are mainly my undergarments and old clothes, but if you wish you can go through
them to check,' she offered, praying he'd decline.

‘Non, that is all right,' he said,
holding his hands up in horror. Then he spotted her bare feet and glowered. ‘I will see
you after petit déjeuner tomorrow morning and we will discuss your training.' He
hurried away, almost tripping over the rug in his haste. Eliza stifled a giggle. If he was so
appalled by the thought of seeing her underthings she knew the very place to conceal the receipt
book and scent bottle. And hide them she must, for hadn't Fay said they were her
insurance? She took out the little bottle and
studied it carefully for the first time. Its sleek black lines
screamed elegance and the blue stopper twinkled like a jewel. Carefully, she pulled it out and
inhaled the last traces of the lingering fragrance. It was unlike anything she had ever smelled
before and she vowed to find the source. Then she'd return to Fay and tell her.

The next morning, Eliza donned her clean skirt
and blouse, then spent ages trying to recreate the way Mrs Buttons had put up her hair.
She'd just managed a passable effort when there was a knock on her door. Honestly, this
place was as busy as one of those new-fangled railway stations she'd heard about.

‘I've come to show you to the dining
room for breakfast,' Mimi announced.

‘Thanks heavens for that. I thought I was
going to be confined to my room for all meals, Mimi,' Eliza said. ‘That's a
lovely name, by the way. Are your family French?'

The girl laughed and shook her head.
‘Monsieur called me that when I first came here 'cos he said everything I said
started with me this or me that. Oh, I'm meant to take your supper things back to the
kitchen,' she added, spotting the tray on the table. ‘You can have supper in the
dining room tonight, miss. I heard Monsieur tell Cook he'll be out this
evening.'

‘Does he usually eat with everyone
then?'

The maid dissolved into peals of laughter.
‘Hardly, miss, but I also heard him say you was a ragamuffin and not fit to grace his
house until you was suitably atti … dressed, but if he's out he won't know,
will he?'

Charming, Eliza thought as she followed the maid
through the courtyard and into the main house.

‘This door is always locked at 8 p.m. sharp, so make sure
you're in your room by then,' Mimi advised.

‘But why should the door to the main house
be locked so early, if at all?' Eliza asked, but they'd reached the dining room and
Mimi was showing her to the table. She was seated next to Dawkins, the driver of the carriage,
who explained that he was also the handyman.

‘And that's Mrs Symms, the
housekeeper,' he said, gesturing to the woman sitting at the far end of the table.
‘Though why she's keeping her distance this morning, goodness only knows. Anyhow,
help yourself.'

Eliza served herself a portion of the stewed
fruit and what looked like cream from the dishes set down the middle of the table. Cream at
breakfast? She helped herself to a generous portion then grimaced at the sour taste.

‘Whatever is this?'

‘'Tis called yogurt, apparently.
We've had to suffer it since his lordship came back from France,' Dawkins said
mournfully. ‘Afore that we always had a good healthy fried breakfast.'

Eliza ate her fruit then spread the ghastly
yogurt stuff around her dish before putting down her spoon. She hoped she didn't have to
eat this every morning. Remembering how she'd moaned about Fay's venison, she
sighed. What she wouldn't give to have a dish of red meat now. She jumped as Dawkins
patted her arm.

‘I think young Amos is trying to attract
your attention,' he whispered, nodding his head towards the door. She looked up to see a
young man with a flop of sandy hair smiling at her.

‘Who is he?'

‘The other apprentice. He's a good un, is Amos. Stick
by him an' you'll be all right,' the man advised.

Eliza smiled her thanks. Getting to her feet, she
noticed the housekeeper was watching her. Although the woman looked quickly away, Eliza
couldn't help thinking she'd seen her somewhere before.

‘Hello, you must be Eliza,' the young
man said, giving her another warm smile. ‘I'm Amos, Monsieur Farrant's
apprentice. Regrettably, he has been delayed and asked me to show you where you will be
working.' Eliza smiled back, taking to the man immediately. She saw that he was wearing a
short tabard over his shirt and trousers, all of which were in the same mustard-coloured
material Mrs Buttons had measured her for the previous day. Obviously, it was some kind of
uniform.

‘Ghastly colour, isn't it?' he
said, giving a rueful grin. ‘First thing I do when I get back to my lodgings of an evening
is change my clothes. My landlady thinks it's a hoot.'

‘You don't stay here, then?'
Eliza asked as he led her along another corridor hung with pictures of perfume amphorae,
atomizers and cut-glass bottles all in amber.

‘Not likely.' He grimaced and threw
open a door. ‘Here we are, the workhouse,' he announced. This room was cooler than
the rest of the house and she peered around, taking in the copper stills, various tubes and jars
on the worktops, the rows of amber-coloured perfume bottles lining the shelves that ran the
length of the walls. Amos walked around, pointing out what all the various equipment was and its
uses.

‘I thought it would smell of
perfume,' Eliza said.

‘It does when we're making it. Monsieur has just
perfected his special Christmas ones and it will be our job to bottle and label them ready to be
sold to his special clients.'