The Girl with the Red Ribbon (33 page)

‘Could you spare some with their juice?' Rowan enquired.

‘Don't see why not.'

‘And some salt?'

‘Crikey, what do you want that for?' Maria asked, wrinkling her nose. ‘It won't taste nice with berries.'

Rowan laughed. ‘I can use it as the mordant,' she explained.

‘The mordi what?'

‘Mordant. It's what sets the dye into the material so it doesn't run out when the material's washed.'

‘Well, love a duck, if that ain't the daftest thing I ever heard,' Maria said, shaking her head.

‘I'll
go and get the ribbon, then you can see what I mean. While it's steeping I can eat my crumble,' she resolved, hurrying down the passage to the workroom. Having already worked out the length she would need, she carefully cut the ribbon and took it back to the kitchen.

Rowan strained some of the fruit from the bottle and placed it into a square of muslin. She poured juice into a pan, then squeezed the bag to bruise the berries and release their seeds. Placing it in the juice, she added a little salt and gently stirred until the mixture came to the boil.

‘You looks right spooky stirring that pot like that. You ain't going to cast a spell, are you?'

Staring at Maria's incredulous face, Rowan couldn't resist asking, ‘Did you say you gathered these from the woods?' When the maid nodded, Rowan stirred the mixture faster and faster, and then as it swirled, she removed the spoon, closed her eyes and chanted:

Spirit of the woods

Turn this black into blue,

Fast it deep to the ribbon

Til it turns the right hue.

So mote it be.

‘What happens now?' Maria gasped, staring at Rowan in trepidation.

‘I have my crumble while the spell gets to work, of course,' she quipped. With trembling hands, the maid served up the crumble and custard. Rowan moved the pot half off the fire so that the heat in the dark mixture died
to a simmer. ‘As madam is out, I'll stand and eat this here, and then I can watch in case any bad spirits jump out of the pan.' Maria's eyes widened even further. ‘Don't worry, I'll bash them on the head with my spoon if they do,' Rowan joked.

‘I'm off to the privy,' Maria muttered. As she hurried out of the door, the ribbon around Rowan's wrist tightened. ‘Sorry, Mother, I was only teasing,' she murmured. After finishing her crumble, she went over and moved the pan from the range.

By the time the maid returned, the mixture had cooled enough for the ribbon to be added.

‘Do you want to stir?' Rowan asked.

Maria shook her head. ‘Did any spirits jump out?' she whispered, eyeing the pan warily.

‘That was only a joke, Maria.' Seeing how pale the girl had gone, Rowan felt guilty for playing such a mean trick. ‘Why don't I make us a cup of tea? By the time we've drunk it the ribbon should be the right colour,' she said, eager to make amends.

‘No, thanks. I'm away to my bed,' Maria muttered, giving Rowan a suspicious look before hurrying out of the door.

Rowan felt dreadful. She'd have to think of something she could do to make up for her stupid prank. Going over to the cooled pan, she fished out the ribbon on the spoon and saw to her delight it had reached the desired colour. Carefully she carried it all out to the yard, where she tipped away the liquid, discarded the bag in the waste and poured cold water from the pump onto the ribbon. As she rinsed the excess colour away, a tingle of excitement ran up her
spine. The ribbon was now the vibrant colour she'd envisaged. She could just imagine Miss Richmond's face when she saw her outfit transformed. And if she was pleased she would be bound to tell Jack. Thoughts of him made her heart soar and she was overcome with an irresistible urge to dance.

Kicking off her shoes, she skipped over to the little patch of grass and then, heedless of anything or anyone, bent and removed her stockings. The feel of the cool grass beneath her feet was exhilarating. It was ages since she'd felt so happy, so alive, so free, she thought as she leaped into the air.

‘Miss Rowena, whatever do you think you're doing?' shouted Louisa.

Rowan entered the workroom to find Louisa had laid out the patterns ready for her to sit her test in bonnet making. She was under strict instructions to show her employer each piece as she completed it before going on to the next stage. After the dressing-down she'd received last night, and having had her failings pointed out in no uncertain terms, Rowan knew she had to complete the bonnet to Louisa's exacting standards or her apprenticeship would be terminated. What a comedown it had been after her exciting afternoon with Jack. As the image of his handsome features swam before her, she pushed it firmly away. Nothing or nobody must be allowed to interfere with her concentration.

By the time she'd traced out the main shape and crown panel, then cut out the buckram precisely, Louisa was hovering at her side.

‘That's slightly better than before. You may begin pinning and sewing, but see me before you cut any wire,' she said tersely, before disappearing back through the curtain. Obviously her employer's mood hadn't improved since she'd returned the previous evening to find Rowan dancing on the lawn.

As Rowan endeavoured to follow the instruction precisely, the little shop bell tinkled and she heard someone enquiring about the new bonnet Louisa had placed in the window. Rowan had seen the new creation when she'd been
outside sweeping the pathway earlier. It was covered in brown silk; the brim interlined with beige and the ribbon ties the colour of eggshells. She thought it looked dull and quite unlike the brightly coloured May bonnet. She couldn't imagine who would want to wear something so sombre. Moments later, she heard the jangle of the bell and surmised the client couldn't have been impressed either.

She worked hard all morning, only stopping to eat her broth while Maria skirted around her warily. Hurrying back to the workroom, she found Louisa waiting for her, a box packed and ready for delivery beside her.

‘Take this bonnet to this address,' she said, handing Rowan a gilt card. ‘Give it to the maid and come back directly. You still have your work to finish.'

‘Yes, Madame Louisa,' she replied, taking it from her and making for the door. Then, seeing the space in the window, she exclaimed, ‘Don't tell me someone's bought that dull brown bonnet?'

‘Now you are showing just how little you know about this business, Miss Rowena. And surely I don't have to remind you again about being suitably attired when you are about my business,' Louisa snapped. Smothering a sigh, for the day was warm, Rowan snatched up her cape and hurried outside.

Having duly delivered the bonnet, she was making her way back to the shop when a carriage pulled alongside and she saw weasel-faced Mr Acland grinning at her. Her spirits dropped. Could this day get any worse?

‘Miss Rowena, allow me to offer you a lift,' he suggested.

‘Thank you, Mr Acland, but that won't be necessary,' she replied, quickening her step.

‘Oh,
come along,' he insisted, calling to his driver to keep pace with her. ‘Come for a little ride with me. We can stop for some refreshment.' She shook her head and continued walking. ‘Now don't be so hasty, my dear. I am a generous man and could provide all manner of finery for a pretty young girl like yourself. Why, if you were especially nice to me, I could arrange it so you wouldn't have to continue working for that bossy daughter of mine.'

Rowan shook her head. Putting up with Louisa's haughty manner was infinitely better than listening to his sickly suggestions, she thought, deliberately crossing the street and trying to lose herself among the crowd.

But if she thought she'd shaken him off, she was mistaken, for moments later the carriage veered across the road and stopped beside her. The window snapped down and Mr Acland leaned out.

‘Well, Miss High and Mighty, let's see what that young Preventative has to say when he finds out he's walking out with a loon from the asylum,' he hissed, his eyes narrowing menacingly.

Shocked, Rowan stood frozen to the spot but before she could think of an answer, Mr Acland had shouted to the driver to move on smartly and she was left staring at the dust settling in the wake of his carriage.

Fear gripped her heart. Surely he wouldn't tell Jack? It was an empty threat he'd issued, wasn't it? By the time she reached the shop she'd convinced herself he was blustering because she'd refused to ride with him.

Back in the workroom, she forced herself to concentrate on her bonnet. In her efforts to please Louisa, she continued with her handiwork well into the evening.
Finally, as the shadows crept into the corners of the room, bleary-eyed, she left the finished shape, now ready for covering, on the work table. She sincerely hoped it would pass her employer's inspection.

That week crawled interminably by and despite Rowan's best efforts to please Louisa, the woman continually found fault with her work, seeming to take delight in pointing out the minutest of defects. She'd been given strict orders to stay in the workroom and practise her bonnet making until it was deemed passable, and with so much time to herself, her thoughts ran wild. One minute she was convinced Mr Acland would carry out his threat, the next she was certain he wouldn't. She even toyed with the idea of telling Jack about the asylum herself before remembering Mrs Acland's advice. Despite Louisa's coolness, Rowan didn't want to risk losing her job. And, as if things weren't bad enough, she found being cooped up indoors almost unbearable.

One day towards the end of the week, Louisa had grudgingly informed her a client was specifically asking for her. When it turned out the woman wanted her bonnet trimmings dyed to match her dress, her employer hadn't been pleased at all.

‘What led her to believe we provided such a service, Miss Rowena?' she exclaimed when the woman had left. ‘I assumed when you took it upon yourself to offer to personalize Miss Richmond's trimmings, it would be a single occurrence.'

Rowan didn't know what to say and, since she could obviously do nothing right at the moment, kept quiet.

‘And now you've promised to dye Mrs Pickering's ribbons to match the pale lemon of her dress. I just hope
you can, for if you don't meet her exacting standards my reputation will be ruined. Not everyone is as easy-going as I am, Miss Rowena.'

Rowan bit down the retort that sprang to her lips. If her employer was easy-going, heaven help her.

When the church clock rang two o'clock on Sunday, Rowan ran outside, relieved to escape the confines of the workroom. Jack sat waiting in a pony and trap. He smiled his easy smile and her spirits lifted. To hell with it, after the dreadful week she'd had, she was going to relax and enjoy her afternoon. She'd just have to trust Mr Acland had been bluffing.

‘I thought we'd take a ride along the Mall and Auntie has invited us to tea afterwards, if that is agreeable with you. She can't wait to show you her
hortus siccus
,' he said, jumping down to assist her into the little cart. Her heart leaped, but whether it was the thought of spending an afternoon in the outdoors, or the touch of his hand on hers, she wasn't sure. Leaning back in the seat, she enjoyed the feel of fresh air on her face.

‘Have you had a good week?' Jack asked solicitously, as the pony trotted along the seafront.

‘No, I have not,' Rowan answered so vociferously, he turned and stared at her in surprise.

‘I thought you seemed preoccupied. All not well in Milliners' Row again?' he asked, patting her hand.

‘Oh, Jack, I thought I was making good progress with my bonnet making, but Madame Louisa still seems displeased with me. I can't do anything right at all.'

‘Surely it's not that bad? Auntie has been singing your praises to all and sundry this week. The girl with the red
ribbon, she calls you. Look, I can see you are jittery so why not settle back and enjoy the ride? We can talk later, when you have had a chance to relax.'

As they trotted along the seafront, she watched a group of barefoot urchins splashing stones into the blue water while Jack regaled her with stories of yet more antics he and the other Preventatives had got up to. Rowan was sure they were highly exaggerated, but found his light-hearted banter especially entertaining after the strained atmosphere in the workroom.

‘Of course, the job has its serious side, too. Those owlers, for example. We've had a tip-off they're trading close to here and have been tasked to catch them red-handed with their fleeces.'

Rowan thought of her father, and Fanny's insistence he did a deal with them, and her hand flew to her mouth.

Mistaking her concern, Jack reached over and patted her hand. ‘What a worrier you are. Fear not, Rowan, I shall take the greatest of care,' he assured her and, as was his way, began telling her about yet another prank they'd pulled. It was impossible not to join in his laughter and by the time they reached Poppy Cottage, her spirits had fully revived.

‘Miss Rowena, how lovely to see you,' cried Camilla, tearing off her gardening gloves as she came round the side path to greet them. ‘Please forgive my not having changed, but the time always seems to run away with me when I'm outside. Do come indoors.'

‘Tut-tut, Auntie, taking afternoon tea in your gardening dress, whatever will Rowan think?' Jack scolded.

‘I think you look wonderful, Camilla,' Rowan said
sincerely, for the woman appeared younger and softer in her brightly sprigged cotton.

‘Thank you, my dear. What a sweet girl like you sees in that naughty nephew of mine, I fail to see.' But her fond grin in his direction belied her words, Rowan thought, watching as she tugged on the bell pull.

The atmosphere was convivial as they sat enjoying their refreshment in the bright, airy drawing room, which looked out over the magnificent gardens.

‘How are the trimmings for my dress and bonnet coming along?' Camilla asked. ‘For the first time in a long while, I'm actually excited at the prospect of having a new outfit to wear.'

Rowan put her cup down on the table. ‘I'm afraid I haven't been able to do much to them. Oh, I've dyed the ribbons and they've turned out beautifully,' she reassured, as Camilla frowned. ‘It's just that I've been having trouble with my bonnet making and have had to spend all week in the workroom practising until I got it right.'

‘You had to spend all week indoors? Sounds ghastly to me,' Jack said. ‘No wonder you looked like a dormouse coming out of hibernation when I called for you. I did mention you seemed preoccupied, are you sure there isn't something else worrying you besides your bonnet making?'

She looked at him in alarm.

‘Jack, that's very rude,' Camilla chided. ‘Have you mastered the art now, my dear?'

‘I think so, but getting Madame Louisa to admit it is another matter,' Rowan answered, glad the conversation was back on safe ground again. ‘Then yesterday, a client came in requesting I dye her trimmings to match her dress.'

‘Well,
Madame Louisa must be pleased you are drawing in business for her, surely?' Camilla asked, studying Rowan closely. Rowan shrugged and Camilla, raising her eyebrows, turned to her nephew. ‘Rowan has finished her tea so why don't you both take a stroll around the gardens whilst the sun is still shining? We can save the album for another day.'

Suddenly anxious to be outside again, Rowan nodded gratefully.

Fortified by her refreshment, Rowan wandered around the grounds with Jack, marvelling at the beautiful shrubs and flowers.

‘You're not worrying about your job, are you, Rowan? Only you still seem rather subdued,' he asked, stopping and focusing his sharp gaze upon her.

‘I'm sorry, Jack. I hope you are not finding me a miserable companion.'

‘Of course not,' he assured her. ‘I was merely thinking that you seem quite unlike yourself this afternoon. I can take you back if you've had enough.'

‘Oh, no,' she said, quickly. ‘I've been looking forward to seeing you all week.' Then, fearing she'd been too forward, she stared down at the ground.

‘I'm pleased to hear you say that, Rowan, for you have been in my thoughts since we parted last Sunday evening. I hope you won't think it presumptuous of me to tell you I have never before met anyone as sweet and charming as you. You are not like other women, who think it clever to play cat and mouse. I find your honesty quite refreshing.'

Rowan felt a tug on her wrist. Glancing down at the red ribbon, she sighed. She knew she should tell him about
the asylum. Although Mrs Acland had been adamant she should keep quiet, relationships were meant to be built on trust, weren't they? And there was always the risk Mr Acland might carry out his threat.

Mistaking her silence, Jack gave a self-conscious grin.

‘I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable. Auntie warned me against saying too much too soon. Let's resume our walk, or we'll take root and Auntie will think she's grown a new species of plant. Talk of the devil,' he grinned, as Camilla appeared.