A Family For Christmas (25 page)

‘Goodness me, I couldn't eat another
thing. As it is still light, a walk in the garden would be nice,' she ventured.

He glanced out of the window. ‘Alas, it is
raining,' he said with a shrug.

‘I don't mind, in fact it would be
quite refreshing,' she said.

‘
Non.
However, Charles, he has
been thinking. He has been very remiss.'

‘He has? I mean you have?'

‘Oui. All the time you have been here, you
have been cooped up like a chicken, yes?'

‘Well I …'

‘Non, it is true,' he said.
‘And tomorrow, we shall ride out in my carriage so I can show off my future wife to all
the people of Follytown.' Eliza was stunned into silence. Show her off? Surely he
wasn't serious?

‘It will be a joy, oui?' he said,
rising to his feet. ‘Now, I thank you for the pleasure of your company, but alas, being a
busy man, even at Christmas I have things to attend to. I will meet you in the hall tomorrow at
two o'clock. Sleep well, ma petite.'

Realizing she was being dismissed, Eliza got to
her feet.

‘Thank you for a lovely meal,' she stammered,
remembering her manners as she hurriedly took her leave.

Passing the dining room, she could hear the staff
making merry. How she'd love to be in there with them. She would join them now, she
thought, reaching for the handle. Then she remembered the housekeeper's glare, Mimi
ignoring her, and carried on walking. They wouldn't welcome her for it was obvious they
thought she'd chosen to spend the day with Monsieur Farrant.

What a day it had been, she thought, carefully
removing the shimmering dress and hanging it in the closet. Although it was still early, the
events of this strange day had caught up with her and she climbed into bed. It appeared Monsieur
Farrant was serious about her becoming his wife after all. But why? He was heaps older than her,
smelled vile and had the table manners of a pig. As for riding out in his carriage, she really
didn't want to be seen with him. And it didn't form part of her apprenticeship
agreement, did it, so she'd spend the next day in her room. If she ignored his proposal
perhaps he would too, she thought, falling into a dreamless asleep.

However, despite her resolve, just after two
o'clock, there was a sharp rap on her door.

‘Monsieur Farrant is waiting in the main
hall,' Bertram sniffed and, as on the previous day, he marched off, leaving her to
follow.

Their ride around the town square would have been
enjoyable if Monsieur Farrant hadn't insisted on waving to everyone they passed. The
little place was thronging with people taking their Boxing Day constitutional. He
couldn't have picked a busier time if
he'd tried, Eliza thought.

‘Wave, Eliza,' he encouraged. She did
as he ordered but couldn't help noticing the surprised look on all their faces and the
nudging that ensued. Meanwhile, Monsieur beamed and preened, acting as if he were royalty. It
was embarrassing and Eliza was glad this was the only time she'd have to witness such
behaviour.

Finally, they pulled up outside the house and
Eliza gave a sigh of relief that her ordeal was over. Monsieur Farrant smiled as he helped her
down from the carriage.

‘That was most enjoyable, Eliza, and I
shall look forward to our ride out again next Sunday.'

She stared at him in surprise. ‘Next
Sunday? But I thought we'd be riding out just the once.'

His smile widened. ‘We shall make it a date
each Sunday afternoon. I want everyone to take a good look at my future wife, Eliza.'

‘But, Monsieur Farrant …'

‘You are wondering at my generosity,
non?' he beamed, but before she could say what was bothering her, he'd snapped into
tutor mode. ‘Right, festivities are over. I will see you in the laboratory first thing
tomorrow. I suggest you study your notes to be ready for my little test. Supper will be sent to
your room in future as I do not wish you to mingle with the staff in the dining room.'

Her heart sank. Surely he didn't intend
keeping her away from everyone else?

‘But …' she was about to
protest, then realized she had no choice in the matter.

When Eliza arrived in the laboratory the next
morning, she was overjoyed to find Amos already there.

‘Why, there's a sight for sore
eyes,' he chirped. ‘Did you have a good Christmas?'

‘Not really, how about you?'

‘Got spoiled rotten by Father and fussed
over by Mother. Hey, what's up?' he asked, seeing her frown.

‘I was just thinking how lucky you are to
have such caring parents,' she sighed.

‘I know. They are the tops and I
shouldn't make light of them. Still, you have the staff here and they're all right,
aren't they? Well, aren't they?' he asked when she didn't answer.

‘They're not talking to me or, as
Mimi informed me, I've been sent to Doventry, wherever that is.'

‘I think she means Coventry, but
why?'

‘Oh, Amos, I've had the most awful
time,' she wailed. And like water released from a dam, everything burst out of her as she
told him what had gone on whilst he'd been away. ‘So you see, the staff ignore me, I
have to eat in my room and Monsieur insists he is marrying me.'

Amos stared at her in horror. ‘That
can't be right. I mean he can't force you to …'

‘Bonjour, mes enfants,' Monsieur
Farrant said, breezing into the room. ‘We have all had a good Christmas,
non? Now I have exciting news for whilst you have been chitting
and chatting the morning away, I have been devising the new perfumes.'

‘We're making perfume today?'
Eliza asked, brightening at the thought.

‘Non, Mademoiselle, I shall be making
perfume while you and Amos pack away the Christmas merchandise and prepare the perfumery for the
new stock. We are in the lead-up to spring and summer and must prepare, non?'

Seeing Eliza's face, Charles said,
‘You think you are not learning that way, but everything you touch, see and smell is a
lesson in itself. And,' he paused dramatically, ‘when my perfumes are ready, you may
assist Amos in measuring them into the amber bottles, oui? Now, have you been studying your
notes?' As his green eyes bored into her, she nodded. ‘Bon, then you will be ready
with your mathematics, non?'

Mathematics? What had sums got to do with
anything? But Monsieur was waving them away.

‘Amos, you know what needs to be done so
you will instruct Eliza. Here are the keys to the perfumery. Make sure it is locked each night
before you leave.'

‘Yes, Monsieur Farrant,' he said,
catching them and snatching up his lunch tin.

‘What are you looking so happy
about?' she asked as they made their way towards the perfumery.

‘A bit of freedom, that's what. We
will be able to talk while we work without being overheard.'

Although they worked hard, Amos's cheery
banter soon raised Eliza's spirits. He was right, she thought. Nobody could make her marry
against her wishes. If Monsieur
mentioned it
again she'd let him think she was going along with it until she'd completed her
apprenticeship.

‘He will soon tire of these Sunday jaunts,
believe you me,' Amos reassured her. ‘Try to get ahead with your studying. The
sooner you have absorbed all his notes and passed his tests, the sooner you will be able to
assist him making the perfume. In the meantime, sharing my luncheon will be the highlight of
your days,' he quipped.

She grinned, thankful for his down-to-earth
reasoning.

It took them all week but finally both the
stockroom and perfumery met with Monsieur Farrant's approval.

‘Amos, enjoy your day off and I will see
you in the laboratory on Monday.' He waited until the young apprentice had left, then
turned to Eliza. ‘And I will see you in the hall at two o'clock tomorrow for our
ride around Follytown. Monsieur, he remembers he must not keep you cooped up like a chicken,
non?' he grinned.

Although Eliza nodded, her heart sank.

This trip was even more embarrassing than the
last, for Monsieur Farrant insisted Dawkins pull over so that they could promenade around the
town.

‘I remember you say you like the fresh air,
non?' he said, taking her arm as they walked by the church, resplendent with its cockerel,
and on through the square. Eliza might have enjoyed the outing had he not greeted everyone he
saw, raising his hat and introducing Eliza as his future wife. The looks she received were
incredulous to say the least, and she was relieved when they returned home and she could escape
to the sanctuary of her room.

Although she arrived at the laboratory early the
next
morning, Monsieur Farrant was already deep
in conversation with Amos. Numerous bottles were laid out on the counter in front of them and
Amos was busy taking notes.

‘Ah, Mademoiselle, I have been instructing
Amos that in my absence he is to take charge. Amos, tell Dawkins to have my carriage waiting in
ten minutes, non?'

Amos jumped up, then, pausing in the doorway,
grinned and gave Eliza the thumbs-up sign behind Monsieur's back.

‘You are going somewhere, Monsieur?'
she asked, her heart soaring.

‘Exciting new things are happening in the
perfume world and Monsieur, he intends to be part of it. Do not worry, ma
petite, I
will only be gone a matter of weeks,' he shrugged. Her heart soared higher and she tried
not to grin. ‘Amos is to continue your instruction including the mysterious art of the
bottling. Regrettably, I have been too busy to test you on the mathematics so it will fall upon
his shoulders to make sure you get the measurements right. Alas, I shall not be able to take you
out for our Sunday rides.'

‘I'd be happy to escort Eliza into
town in your absence,' Amos offered, coming back into the room.

‘Indeed you will not!' Monsieur
cried. ‘Mademoiselle she has her reputation to think of.' He turned to Eliza.
‘Do not worry, ma petite. When Monsieur returns, we will have dinner together in the
parlour. That will be something to look forward to, non?' She nodded, hoping that would be
a long time in the future.

‘I wish you a successful trip,' she
said. Please don't hurry back, she thought.

During the following weeks Amos diligently showed
her how things were done and Eliza found his
enthusiasm for making perfume stimulating. His relaxed approach was more conducive to learning
than Monsieur's pernickety ways, although her favourite time of day was when they broke
for luncheon. Along with his food, he shared tales about his antics on his days off and before
long she found herself opening up a little about her time on the moors with Fay. In return for
his generosity, she sewed back the buttons that popped from his shirt with amazing regularity.
He insisted it was his landlady's fault for feeding him so well but, in truth, both
enjoyed the enforced closeness.

One day she was stitching up the hem of his amber
jacket after he'd caught it on the still when their gaze met and held. Energy crackled
between them, her pulse quickened. Slowly he leaned towards her and if the little bell in the
perfumery hadn't rung, she was certain he would have kissed her.

‘Don't go away,' he said
huskily as he reluctantly shrugged his jacket back on. Her laugh sounded squeaky even to her own
ears. Where would she go even if she wanted to, which she didn't? She wanted to stay in
this room with him for ever.

To her disappointment, he didn't return to
the laboratory and she didn't see him until the next day.

‘Morning, Eliza, I trust you slept
well?' he asked, smiling as usual as she entered the laboratory.

Although she'd been awake half the night,
she nodded.

‘You didn't come back
yesterday,' she said, trying to keep her voice light.

‘Sorry, the gentleman was one of
Monsieur's best clients,
nice but hard to
please. He insisted on sampling every perfume before buying the first one I'd
suggested,' he grinned ruefully. ‘Still, we will work hard this morning to make up
the time and then enjoy our luncheon break, non?' he added, looking at her
meaningfully.

Her spirits rose. ‘So what will you be
teaching me today, Oh Master?' she quipped.

‘Today, Mademoiselle, we will be
discovering how to discern the different constituents in this perfume,' he said, carefully
pouring liquid from a flagon. ‘This is one of Monsieur's new fragrances,' Amos
explained, passing her the glass tube. Inhaling deeply, she raised her brows.

‘That's actually nice. Quite strong,
but it's kind of green and leafy.'

‘And then?'

‘A kind of minty undertone.'

‘And what do you smell now?'

She frowned. ‘It smells like some kind of
rose.'

‘Well done, Eliza. You're very good.
As Monsieur would say, it all comprises the symphony, non?' he grinned, wagging his finger
as he did so in a passable impression of their boss.

She laughed, suddenly feeling she could burst
into song herself but Amos was continuing.

‘Monsieur likes to give his clients
something that reflects the seasons, so his fragrances for spring and summer all contain
geranium. However, as ever he has worked his magic and by blending other components, has created
three quite different perfumes. Remember, it is all in the power of the ingredients,
Mademoiselle, non?' he said, waving his hands in the air.

‘Blimey, it's just like listening to him,' she
grinned. ‘Where are the other two you mentioned?'

He pointed to bottles under the counter and she
leaned down and took off their lids.

‘That's incredible. They really are
quite different,' she said, blinking in amazement. She sniffed them again.

‘Careful, Mademoiselle, remember to
over-smell will confuse the nose,' he remonstrated. ‘And please put the caps on so
the precious liquid it does not evaporate.'

Eliza laughed. ‘You might sound like
Monsieur but at least you don't smell like him.'

Amos looked at her in surprise.

‘My stomach tells me it is time for
luncheon,' he said. ‘Let's sit at the other table and you can enlighten me
while we eat.'

‘So you think Monsieur smells?' Amos
asked, having made short work of his bread and cheese.

‘Pongs, more like. Surely you must have
noticed?'

‘Can't say I have,' he frowned.
‘Well, that's a good reason for not marrying him.'

‘I have no intention of doing so anyway,
thank you,' she protested.

‘No, seriously, this could be the answer to
your dilemma. It's a well-known fact that if you don't like the smell of your
partner, you won't get on. It's the chemistry. Have you not been reading my notes,
Mademoiselle?' Amos quipped, but Eliza was deep in thought.

‘I've really enjoyed learning from
you, Amos.' She sighed. ‘And I'm dreading Monsieur coming back. I'm not
sure I can put up with his fastidious ways again.'

He stared at her, his gaze serious. ‘You
must complete
your training, Eliza. Monsieur is
one of the finest perfumers and a testimonial from him will guarantee a good placement in the
future.' He sighed. ‘Which reminds me, he is likely to be returning soon and I have
important work to complete before then, so why don't you go to your room and study your
notes?' he suggested.

‘Can't I stay here and help?'
she asked, loath to exchange his warm company for her solitary room.

Unusually, however, Amos was emphatic she leave
him to get on.

‘Sorry, Eliza, I love you being here but
your presence is distracting and puts me behind.'

Not wishing to show her disappointment, she got
to her feet. He had spent a lot of time teaching her and it wouldn't be fair to get him
into trouble.

‘Be here first thing in the morning,
Mademoiselle, and we will continue your instruction, non?' he quipped, but the look in his
eyes promised more. Her spirits soared and, grinning broadly, she nodded.

Over the next week, Amos showed her some of the
finer points of perfume making. They worked closely together, the bond between them
strengthening.

‘Just wait until I show Monsieur what I can
do now,' she said, jubilantly holding out her glass for him to smell.

‘That is indeed very good, Eliza,' he
cried. ‘Well done. We work well together, non?' he quipped.

She flushed with pleasure both at his praise and
the look in his eye.

‘Now off you go, ma petite,' he said
quickly. ‘For I have work to do and your delightful presence it distracts me, non?
Tomorrow we will work out how much of that,' he
tapped the glass, ‘will go into that,' he said,
picking up the perfume bottle. She pulled a face but hurried to her room, knowing she should
really look at the notes Monsieur had left for her. Still, at least she felt she was really
learning more about the actual art of perfume making.