The Royal Lacemaker
Read The Royal Lacemaker Online
Authors: Linda Finlay
THE ROYAL LACEMAKER
I dedicate this book to Pern for
his faith, encouragement and endless cups of tea
Peasants can't be pickers.
Lily could hear her father's voice
as if he were in the room beside her, and with it the vision of the lavish breakfast
she'd served at the manor house faded. Sighing, she stirred their customary
pot of porridge and wondered what it would be like to start the day with chops,
black pudding, bacon and sausage. All that meat for one meal seemed astonishing.
The back door clattered open, shattering
her reverie and sending a cloud of acrid smoke from the fire billowing around the
room. Wiping her smarting eyes, she opened her mouth ready to take her brother to
task, but the angry words died on her lips when she saw the worried look on his
face.
âAgent Pike's sent word
you're to see him straight away,' said Rob, hobbling into the room and
collapsing onto the chair beside the fire.
Lily's stomach churned. âDid
he say why?'
âIt's about that lace the
journeyman collected from you yesterday. You're a skilled worker, Lily, so
I'm sure there's nothing wrong, but you'd best not keep him
waiting.' Although he spoke gently, she could see by the look in his eyes that
he was anxious. At nineteen, her older brother was still very protective of her and
she appreciated his concern. Instinctively, she glanced
towards the
next room. âGo on, Lily. I'll see to Mother and Beth.'
Nodding gratefully, she jumped up and
headed for the door, passing the table where her pillow and bobbins lay ready for
the day's work. She had quite enough to do without making the four-mile trek
to the next hamlet, Bransbeer, but an order from Agent Pike couldn't be
ignored if she wanted to continue getting work. Throwing her shawl around her
shoulders, she hurried outside.
Despite it being early May, the morning
air was thin, and Lily pulled her cap down further over her ears. Surely there
hadn't been anything wrong with the lace? She'd thought it quite her
best work yet, and had been careful not to waste any yarn so she knew the finished
weight would have been correct. True, she hadn't been paid much but, as her
father had always said, peasants couldn't be pickers, and they needed every
penny she could bring in.
Since the farming accident two months
ago that had killed him instantly and badly injured her brother, her mother had
taken to her bed and hardly knew what day it was. Robert, now virtually a cripple,
wasn't able to earn a living or do much around the cottage. The responsibility
of bread winner had fallen heavily upon Lily's slender shoulders.
She hurried along the rutted track, her
thoughts racing as fast as her feet, so that she hardly felt the sharp stones
digging their way through the holes in her worn hobnailed boots. The arduous journey
up over the cliffs would take her the best part of an hour and that was time she
could
ill afford to be away from the cottage. If she didn't
fulfil the order she'd been given, there were others who would. Already the
demand for pillow lace was waning now some of the larger towns had moved on to
producing lace by machine.
The uphill climb was steep but finally,
as the first rays of the sun were bathing the limestone cliffs a soft pink blush,
she reached the crest and paused to catch her breath. Far below, like miniature
toys, the fishing boats were returning to harbour laden with their night's
catch. Lily spotted her betrothed's red-sailed lugger, with its distinctive
white painted spars, already pulled up on the beach, and her heart leaped. With Tom
fishing the deep waters off Lyme Bay or gathering winkles on the shore when bad
weather prevented him from putting out to sea, and she trying to eke a living from
making lace as well as caring for things at the cottage, their time together was
precious. Still, the tide should be right for him to be ashore after she'd
seen Agent Pike.
Reminded of her mission, she began the
long descent eastwards towards the thatched roofs of Bransbeer, where plumes of wood
smoke spiralled from the chimneys then drifted up the valley on the gentle morning
breeze. Entering the village, she noticed that despite the early hour, people were
already going about their business. Some called out in greeting, others eyed her
curiously as she sped by, lifting her skirts to dodge the worst of the mud.
On reaching the agent's premises,
a large brick and flint building linked by a maze of corridors to a row of cottages
and outbuildings, she hurried through to the
collection room. As
usual, Mr Pike was sitting behind his desk in his long black coat and, as was his
wont, he made her wait before looking up and staring at her over his half-moon
glasses.
âAh, Lily Rose, you're here
at last.'
âI came as soon as I got word,
sir.'
âMrs Bodney's waiting to see
you.'
Her eyes widened in amazement.
âMrs Bodney wants to see me?'
âYes, Lily, she does, so stop
parroting what I say and tidy yourself up. Come along, follow me.'
Hastily smoothing the creases from her
dress and pushing strands of dark hair back under her cap, she hurried along a
narrow passage after him. Eager to keep up, she followed so close on his heels that
when he stopped suddenly, she went careering into him. He turned to glare at her,
then rapped smartly on the door and ushered her inside.
âMiss Lily Rose,
ma'am,' he announced to the seemingly empty room.
Puzzled, Lily peered around, taking in
the huge table covered with bolts of material in sapphire blue, emerald green and
ruby red, spools of matching threads laid out alongside them. She had never seen
anything like it and stood studying them in fascination. Suddenly a smartly dressed
woman bobbed up from behind the piles of material, making Lily jump, and two dark
beady eyes stared directly into hers.
âIs this your work?' the
woman asked brusquely, holding up a sprig of lace.
Lily recognized it immediately.
âYes, Mrs Bodney. Is something wrong with it?' she asked anxiously.
âNo, as it
happens, it's some of the finest work I've seen.'
Lily let out a sigh of relief, then
became aware the other woman was still speaking.
âI've asked you here to
offer you six months' work.'
Lily felt her heart flutter like a
fledgeling bird. Six months' work! How wonderful. No more worrying where the
next job was coming from; she could feed the family, buy things for her betrothal
drawer for when she and Tom were married; why, she could â¦
âAre you listening to me, Lily
Rose?' Mrs Bodney's sharp voice snapped her back to the present and she
flushed. What a time to be caught woolgathering, she thought.
âYes, of course,
ma'am.'
âMy business has won an important
order. A most prestigious order, in fact. However, before you can know more, I must
ask if you are prepared to take an ability test and I warn you, it's a
stringent one.'
Lily nodded and the other woman, as if
anticipating her answer, produced a pillow, pattern and bobbins, explained what she
had to do and then bustled out of the room.
Gently Lily pricked out the pattern,
then wound the bobbins with thread. Fearful of making a mistake, she worked slowly
at first but before long she was absorbed in her task and the bobbins became an
extension of her fingers as they flew back and forth across the pillow. Methodically
she enclosed her pin after each completed row, checking the tension. After a while,
though, even her experienced fingers became stiff and sore, but she didn't
dare stop. By the time Mrs Bodney returned, the sample she'd
requested was finished.
Carefully lifting the sprig from the
pillow, Lily handed it to the older lady, who walked over to the window and held it
up to the light. Silence hung in the air as Lily watched her inspect the lace. She
tried not to fidget but she could hardly contain her impatience. Finally, when Lily
thought she could not stand it a moment longer, the woman looked up and smiled.
âWell, Lily, congratulations. You
may present yourself at my cottage at daybreak tomorrow. Now take yourself back to
Pike and he'll tell you my rates and conditions.'
Delighted, Lily almost floated out of
the room. Then, when she found out what she'd be earning, she was all but
speechless, and it didn't matter a sprat she'd be working from dawn till
dusk. She had been chosen! Picking up her skirts, she raced down the street to the
harbour, willing Tom to be there, for if she didn't share her good news soon,
she would burst.
As if she'd conjured him up, there
he was: broad-shouldered in his blue serge jacket, brown cap perched jauntily on the
back of his fair hair, striding up the pebbled beach towards her.
âTom,' she cried.
âWell, if it isn't the
prettiest girl in Devonshire, her eyes shining brighter than the stars in the
heavens because she's bumped into her beloved,' he grinned.
âOh, Tom, stop teasing and
listen,' she retorted, tugging at his lapels to gain his attention.
âYou'll never believe what's happened. It's the best thing
ever, other than you asking me to be your wife, of course. It's for six months
and I'll be earning regular pay and it's more than
you'd imagine and â¦'
âSlow down, Lily my love.
Let's sit while you tell me about this wonderful news,' he said, helping
her up onto the wall adjoining the brook, then pulling himself up beside her. She
was so excited she hardly noticed the smell of fish that clung to the rough material
of his shirt.
âOh, Tom, she loved my lace work.
Said it was some of the finest she'd seen.'
âWho, my sweet?' he asked,
gently pushing back the strands of hair that had again escaped her braid.
âMrs Bodney.'
âPhew,' he whistled.
âNow that woman takes some pleasing, so I've heard.'
Wriggling along the wall, she added:
âI had to sit this test, but I passed, and she wants me to work on a special
commission but, Tom â¦' her blue eyes clouded as she turned to face him,
ââ¦Â I'm sworn to secrecy as to what it is. I know we shouldn't
have secrets when we're to be married but she wouldn't take me on until
I'd promised not to tell a soul.'
He shook his finger at her. âIf it
involves any dark, handsome strangers then I insist you tell me right
now.'
âOf course it doesn't,
silly,' she said, laughing. âI'll have to work long hours at her
cottage here in Bransbeer, and I'll only have the Sabbath off, but the wage is
more than I'd ever make working from the cottage.'
Tom frowned. âLily love,
that's nigh on an eight-mile round trip each day. You can't possibly
walk that and work six long days at a stretch. Who would look after your family and
the cottage? It's you who's kept everything going this past couple of
months.'
Lily looked down at her
worn boots and groaned. In all the excitement, she'd quite forgotten the
responsibility she had for her family. Making lace at home meant she could keep an
eye on her mother and young Beth, whilst Rob went about the chores he was able to
manage. Everything took him so much longer now that he could only hobble around.
They also shared the cooking and, on the rare days her mother felt like eating, she
insisted it was Lily who fed her. How would they manage if she was away all day?
âOh, Tom, what am I to do?'
Lily wailed.
âDon't worry, we'll
think of something,' he said, patting her hand. Then, he turned towards her
and grinned. âWhy, I have the very answer. You can share my room here in the
village.'
She glared at him. âTom Westlake,
you should be ashamed of yourself. This might be 1839 but folk would still make me
an outcast. Besides, I'm not a strumpet, as well you know.' She jumped
down from the wall and went stomping back up Sea Hill.
âWait, Lily!' Tom shouted,
running after her and catching her by the arm. âI'm sorry. That was a
stupid thing to suggest. It's just I'm that impatient for us to be
together.'
Pulling away from him, she continued up
the hill. How dare he spoil her happy news with such an outrageous proposal?
Cursing himself for upsetting her, Tom
hastily plucked a handful of pink sea thrift from the side of the cliff, and again
hurried after her.
âI'm sorry, Lily,' he
said. âPlease accept these sea roses by way of apology.'
Ready to give him a
piece of her mind, she whirled round to face him but when she saw him meekly holding
out the flowers, looking more like a naughty schoolboy than the grown man
she'd vowed to marry, her anger evaporated like a summer mist.
âTom Westlake, I'd thank you
to take this seriously,' she admonished.
âYes, miss,' he said, giving
her a mock salute, but her thoughts were racing again as they continued their way up
the hill together.