The Royal Lacemaker (24 page)

Then she noticed the hem on her skirt
was hanging down. Cursing silently and not wishing to incur the wrath of her
employer, she sat down, hitched up the material and began sewing. Lost in thought,
she didn't notice Mary coming into the room.

‘That rain's getting
heavier. Have you seen those clouds? They be as black as Old Nick himself. Reckon
we'll be in for a right old blow later, Oh …' she said, her voice
tailing off when she saw Lily's boots.

‘Goodness, Lily, just look at
you,' she exclaimed, her eyes widening. ‘I'm sure even the extra
money you get as overseer wouldn't pay for quality like that.' There was
a pause, then she frowned. ‘Hey, you're not giving favours to that fancy
merchant, I hope. 'Cos if you're getting gifts like that, your mother
would be turning—'

‘No, of course not, Mary,'
Lily retorted, turning away. So that was what Mrs Bodney had meant about her getting
luxuries for being nice, she thought, going hot with embarrassment.

Just then, the others came clattering in
and Lily breathed a sigh of relief. Greeting them quickly, she set them to work.
Then, careful to cover her boots with her long skirt, she settled on her stool. As
her bobbins gathered pace, so did her thoughts. She'd have to tell Mrs Bodney
she wasn't
like that. The only man she wanted was Tom, but
he hadn't called to see her. On Sunday she'd been certain that when she
returned from Coombe, he'd be waiting to reassure her he had bought that ring.
She wiped her burning forehead with the back of her hand. Last night, unable to
sleep yet again, she'd tossed and turned so that now her head ached as much as
her heart. If Tom hadn't called to see her, it could only mean one thing,
couldn't it?

‘Lily, I've gone wrong
somewhere.'

Emma's plaintive wail roused her
from her thoughts and, sighing, she made her way across the room. Relieved to find
the girl had merely missed enclosing a pin on the previous round, she quickly
rectified her mistake and then made her way back to her own pillow.

But she'd only just picked up her
bobbins when she heard a giggle. Looking up, she saw the ladies were grinning and
nudging each other as they stared at her feet under the table. Oh, fish bones, she
thought, they'd spotted her boots. Quickly she picked up the brass bell and
rang it vigorously.

‘Time for your break,
ladies,' she called out. Thankfully, it had stopped raining and a watery sun
was peeking out from behind some ominously lowering clouds. Just be dry for half an
hour, she prayed, returning to her pillow and her thoughts. Grinning, as they picked
up their pieces, the ladies filed outside. Although she could do with some fresh air
herself, there was no way she was joining them, for she could well imagine the
questions they'd ask.

The afternoon passed slowly with the
quiet of the workroom broken periodically by the rising wind soughing like a lost
soul around the building and down the chimney.
Then the heavens
opened and the rain came down like pebbles, lashing against the windowpanes. The
room grew so dark they could hardly see their work and Lily had no option but to
send the ladies home.

‘Be sure to be here early on
Monday,' she called as she watched them hurrying on their way, trying to dodge
the puddles. She returned to her pillow, but before long, she too had to admit
defeat. Slowly she made her way upstairs, dreading being alone again, for thoughts
of Tom plagued her constantly. However, she'd no sooner thrown herself, still
fully dressed, onto her bed than tiredness caught up with her, and she sank into an
exhausted sleep.

She could hear banging. She could hear
shouting. She wished it would stop. Her head felt so heavy.

‘Lily, Lily.'

Disorientated, she opened her eyes and
peered up at the skylight, but it was dark as pitch. There wasn't one single
star to be seen. Her eyes closed and she was just drifting back to sleep when the
banging started up again.

‘For God's sake, Lily, will
you open the door?' Mary's angry voice called again.

Getting groggily to her feet, she ran
downstairs, opened the door and saw the other woman, drenched and dishevelled,
hopping from one leg to the other.

‘Thank God. I thought you'd
never hear me. You'd best come quick. This blow's a big one all right,
and there's a sea fog so thick no one can see a thing,' she wailed,
almost beside herself.

‘Well, we've got through
blows before,' Lily answered, surprised at the other woman's open
distress.

‘But the fishing
fleet's out there. They set sail first thing and haven't
returned.'

‘Why didn't you say?
What's the time?' Lily gabbled, grabbing her shawl from the peg by the
door.

‘Nigh on midnight. They should
have been back hours since.'

Lily's heart flipped so hard she
thought it was going to come right up into her throat. ‘Tom?'

‘It was your Tom's boat
leading them.'

‘Oh, no,' she gasped.

‘That's one heck of a storm
raging out there. The sea's frothing like a cauldron and with the fog
they'll not be able to see the lights from the Preventatives'
station.'

But Lily didn't wait to hear any
more. Pushing past the woman she clattered down the front steps and out into the
street.

Lily gasped as the bank of swirling mist
engulfed her, muffling the sound of her boots on the cobbles as she hurried towards
the cove. With her heart pounding and her breath ragged, she joined the huddle of
women hugging the shoreline. As one, they peered into the gloom, their faces etched
with worry. The wind was whipping the waves into rollers, lashing them against the
rocks and sending sprays of salt water over their already drenched bodies.

‘'Tis no good us standing
here, we can't see a blooming thing in this,' shouted the woman beside
her, grabbing her arm.

‘Let's go up to the
headland. It's higher and we might catch sight of something there,' Lily
murmured in agreement. One by one, the forlorn little group picked their way over
the mounds of stinking seaweed and retraced their steps back up Sea Hill. Her father
would soon make use of that for fertilizing his beloved vegetables, she thought,
then felt a pang when she remembered he was no longer with them.

Heads down against the rain, the little
group trudged up the well-worn cliff path. Lily pulled her already drenched shawl
tighter around her and sent up a silent prayer for Tom to be safe, for she
didn't think she could bear it if someone else she loved was taken from her.
And
love him she did, whatever he might have done. She knew that
now.

Buffeted by the wind, which at times
threatened to propel them right off the cliff, the little group clung together as
they kept their vigil, the older women muttering they'd never seen a blow like
it. Then a cry went up. The woman Lily had met on the beach earlier was jumping up
and down, shouting she'd seen a shape in the swirling mist. Hopes rose as they
all peered into the murk, only to be dashed when it turned out to be debris tossing
on the spume. Unwilling to voice their fears, the women fell silent, but it was all
too much for one waiting wife and she crumpled to the ground. Lily moved to help her
but already the woman was being comforted by those standing closer. Then Lily
spotted Tom's mother, tears glistening like diamonds in the gloom, standing
amongst them. Hurrying over to her, Lily reached out to embrace her, but the woman
stared at her as if she were a stranger.

‘It's me, Lily, Mrs
Westlake,' she said softly.

The woman gave a heartfelt sigh.
‘I know full well who you are, Lily. I'm just surprised you're
wasting your precious time here.'

‘Wasting my time? But I'm
waiting to see Tom safely home like you are,' she said, assuming worry was
affecting the older woman.

‘Oh? And why would you concern
yourself about him this day, when he wasn't good enough for you on the last
weekend?' she demanded.

‘What do you mean, not good
enough?' she asked, shaking her head. But Tom's mother was glaring at
her so fiercely that even if Lily hadn't been able to make out her
features in the swirling mist she'd have felt the hostility
emanating from her.

‘All excited he was when he went
out last Saturday night. Then home he came with a face like a beached bass. Seemed
his nana's ring wasn't good enough for you. And after he'd walked
all the way to Seaton to beg her to let him have it sooner rather than later, if you
get my drift.'

‘You mean that ruby ring belonged
to his grandmother?' Lily gasped, staring at her future mother-in-law in
horror.

‘Of course it did. It was her most
treasured possession. Only wore it high days and holidays, mind. Tom's father,
bless his soul, wanted it for me when we got betrothed, but she wasn't having
any of it.'

‘Oh, Mrs Westlake, I had no
idea,' she whispered, thinking of Tom's set face when she'd hurled
the ring back at him.

‘No, well, you wouldn't. Tom
always was the apple of her eye. Can't think why it wasn't good enough
for you, though. I'd have given my eye-teeth for it. Still, there we are.
There's no accounting for taste.'

‘But I thought …'
Lily's voice tailed off. She could hardly admit to Tom's mother what she
had thought, could she? Oh, Tom, please hurry home so I can make amends, she prayed
silently. Then she realized Mrs Westlake was still speaking.

‘And pray, just what did you
think, young Lily Rose?'

‘But Mrs Westlake, it was all a
terrible misunderstanding,' she said, wringing her hands in despair.

Mrs Westlake shrugged. ‘I
don't think Tom saw it that way. Oh, why isn't he back yet?' she
groaned, and this time
when Lily put her arm around her shoulder
she didn't pull away.

There, Lily, didn't I say
you'd been impetuous?
her father's voice whispered in her
ear.

Yes, Father, she agreed silently for, as
ever, he was right. Please, please make him come home soon, she beseeched him. I
promise I'll never judge anyone like that again.

But there was no answer, only the
screaming of the wind and the sobbing of the waiting women.

‘Mercy me, the fog seems to be
lifting at last,' Tom's mother said, her voice rising in hope.

‘Was Tom terribly upset, Mrs
Westlake?' Lily asked.

‘Aye, Lily, he was. He's
been working himself into the ground, literally, what with harvesting them potatoes
up on the platts as well as going out in the boat fishing and seeing to the pots.
Just dug up his second crop this year, he had. He was that proud of the money he was
putting by, and all so you two could wed as soon as you're out of mourning for
your mother, God rest her soul.'

Lily turned towards the other woman in
surprise. ‘He's been working the platts?'

‘That's what I said. You
really should learn to listen properly, my girl.'

Lily fought back the retort that sprang
to her lips. That explained why Tom had been shifty when she'd ask him what he
was doing up at Coombe. He'd been earning as much as he could to match her
wages, even if it meant him doing three jobs to her one. Her heart swelled in
admiration. Just wait until he returned and she told him how proud she was of him,
she thought, her heart lifting.

Always supposing he did return. Her
heart sank again.
Oh dear God in heaven, please let him be safe,
she prayed. Supposing he perished before she had the opportunity to tell him how
much she loved him? She couldn't bear his being out there, thinking she
didn't care for him. How she regretted accusing him of being mixed up with the
wreckers at Seaton Hole. She should have known he wasn't like that. Why
hadn't she accepted his ring in the spirit in which he'd given it? She
looked around at the huddle of fisherwomen waiting and hoping, in the time-honoured
way, and prayed again that the fishing fleet would return safely.

Grey was lightening the sky when the cry
went up. Anxiously the huddle of women moved closer to the cliff edge, squinting
towards the horizon. Lily stared until she thought her eyes would glaze over. Then
she saw them: tiny specks in the distance. Too far to see for sure that it was the
fishing fleet but, hope in heart and heart in mouth, the women watched and waited
until they were sure it was them. A cheer went up and, tiredness and frozen feet
forgotten, they hurried down to the beach. There they stood watching and waiting
again, as with agonizing slowness, the boats drew closer to the shore.

Suddenly women were hurrying home to
make sure their fires were burning and pots of broth bubbling, ready to welcome
their menfolk. Mrs Westlake bustled off, promising she'd be back before the
first boat touched land, and Lily was left alone with her thoughts. Her father had
been right when he'd told her she should be sure of her facts before casting
judgement, and she vowed she would in future. It had been a terrifying night, but
now she could see Tom's red sails with white spars inching closer, and she
couldn't wait to put things right between them.

It was still another
hour before the first boat hit the pebbles and the weary men clambered out, dragging
it clear of the breaking seas. One by one their womenfolk had returned, silently
reforming in their little group and waiting until, as tradition decreed, the last
man had touched land. Then as one they swarmed down the beach, throwing their arms
around their loved ones, hugging them tightly as if they'd never let them
go.

Lily hopped up and down impatiently as
Tom clambered wearily from his boat and helped his crew drag it clear of the surf.
Then she could wait no longer.

‘Tom, oh, Tom,' she cried,
racing down the beach towards him. Looking up, he glared at her then deliberately
turned away. Shocked, Lily stood rooted to the spot before going over and taking his
arm.

‘Tom, please, I
need to talk to you. There's been a misunderstanding.'

Shaking off her arm, he turned towards
her, his expression grim.

‘Too right there's been a
misunderstanding. I thought you was a sweet young woman, Lily. Instead, I find out
you're a suspicious, mistrustful shrew,' he barked, before striding up
the beach, leaving her gaping after him like a fish out of water.

‘But, Tom, your mother told me
about the ring being your nana's and I want you to know I'll be proud to
wear it,' she shouted after him.

‘Huh, don't think
you'll be wearing any ring of mine 'cos I'll not be offering one.
As for my dear nana's ruby, you're not worthy even to touch it,'
he spat out over his shoulder as, taking his mother's arm, he made his way
home.

‘Tom, please, let's
talk,' panted Lily, running after him and catching hold of his arm again.
‘I've been thinking all through the long night and—'

Snatching his arm away, he turned and
snapped, ‘I've been thinking all through the long night too; thinking
that anyone who could accuse me of the treachery you did, Lily, is not worth getting
out of bed for, let alone spending time with. Go back to your fancy merchant.
He's welcome to you.'

‘He isn't …' she
began, but he'd already turned on his heel and she was talking to the
wind.

The haulers and handlers were calling to
each other as they dragged the storm-torn fishing boats further up the beach to
safety, but Lily hardly noticed. She was watching Tom embrace his mother; and as the
two of them made their way up the hill she didn't know whether to scream or
cry. Perhaps he'd see reason when he'd calmed down and had some rest,
she thought, picking up the largest cobble she could find and hurling it into the
water. Then, squaring her shoulders, she made her way back towards Picky
Pike's. Lost in thought, she barely noticed, even though there was now full
daylight, that her boots were filled with salt water, seaweed and goodness knew what
else.

‘Well, Lily Rose, doesn't
that prove you can't keep your fellow? He's better off without the likes
of you. Go and suck up to your fancy merchant and leave Tom to someone who knows
what a real man needs,' cried Molly.

As Lily looked at the girl hanging out
of the shop door, her round face beaming with malicious glee, something snapped
inside her. Quickly scraping the caked mud and
seaweed off her
boots, she threw it over the taunting woman, and then continued her journey.

‘I'll get you for that. You
see if I don't, Lily Rose,' Molly screeched after her.

‘Well, well, that was hardly
fitting behaviour for an overseer.'

Spinning round, she nearly collided with
Squire Clinsden stumbling out of the alehouse. Of all the rotten luck, she
thought.

‘Perhaps I should escort you back
to your place of employment,' he said, clearly enjoying her discomfort.

‘That isn't necessary, thank
you.' Somehow she managed to force the words out between clenched teeth.

‘Oh, but I think it is. After all,
Mrs Bodney is a stickler for propriety. What would she say if she heard her overseer
had been acting like a common gutter snipe?' he sneered, moving closer to
her.

Although she managed to evade his touch,
the smell of liquor on his breath was so strong it made her recoil. Thinking it
better not to rile him when he was under the influence, she turned to continue her
journey.

‘Not so quickly, young
Lily,' the squire said, grabbing her wrist. ‘Now if you're nice to
me and make it worth my while, I might just ignore what I saw earlier. What do you
think?' He stood leering at her, his bloodshot eyes roving over her body in
such an intimate way, she wanted to jump straight into the brook and scrub herself
clean.

‘I think you spend too much time
in the alehouse and that it's mighty funny you're always coming out of
it just as I pass by,' she answered.

‘I'll have you know I have
been busy conducting my
business, which is more than can be said
for you, judging by the state of you,' he sneered.