The Royal Lacemaker (25 page)

The events of the past hours caught up
with her and she snapped back without thinking, ‘What about the state of you?
You're always so full of liquor you couldn't possibly conduct
business.' His eyes narrowed and she stepped quickly backwards.

‘Not so quickly, young
Lily,' he snarled. ‘You're going nowhere until you tell me what
you meant by that remark. Have you been spying on me?'

‘Of course not,' she
retorted, cursing herself for rising to his bait.

‘Then what do you know about my
movements? Tell me, Lily, or it will be all the worse for you. It's about time
someone taught you some good manners,' he snarled, tightening his grip on her
arm.

Desperately, Lily looked around for a
means of escape, but his other arm caught her round the waist. Before she knew it,
he was dragging her into the deserted alley leading to the stables behind the
hostelry. She kicked out, managing to make contact with his ankle, but this only
served to excite him.

‘Playing hard to get, my lovely?
Come on, you know you want it.' His guttural grunting made her skin prickle
with revulsion. She could feel the bile rising in her throat as she fought back.
‘Oh, I love a spirited filly; they always give the best ride I find,' he
chortled, leering down at her. ‘Come on, you little hussy. You've been
teasing me for months, taunting me with that nubile body of yours.'

Desire as well as drink seemed to be
lending him some extra strength, and inch by inch, she was dragged closer to the
stables. She spat at him but he just laughed, tightened his grip and carried on
pulling. Then she tried going limp so that her body was a dead weight. But even that
was no good for he was as excited as a rampant bull. Summoning the last of her
strength, she screamed as loudly as she could but his hand clamped over her mouth.
The stench of horse and tobacco invaded her senses, making her retch.

‘No good screaming, there's
no one to hear you. Your fisher friend's not around to help, is he?'
Squire Clinsden hissed in her ear, tightening his grip once more as he pulled
her ever closer to the stables. Turning her head, Lily managed to
sink her teeth into his hand. He swore, letting her go so abruptly she almost fell
to the ground. As she steadied herself, a figure appeared out of the shadows.

‘There you are, husband,'
Lady Clinsden said, her silky soft voice belying the flinty glint in her eyes.
‘I wondered where you'd got to.'

‘My dear, this is a surprise. I
had no idea you were visiting Bransbeer today,' the squire stammered,
struggling to regain his composure. He gestured towards Lily. ‘I was just
finalizing arrangements for our Harvest Supper. Knowing how much it means to you, my
dearest, I've been trying to persuade Lily here to serve at table,' he
simpered.

‘Now if that were true, I'd
be delighted,' Lady Clinsden cut in, giving Lily a knowing look.
‘However, Jean Bodney confided in me only yesterday that her ladies are all
working every daylight hour to get her commission completed by the November
deadline. I will be most surprised, therefore, if Lily will have any spare time
available.'

At the mention of her employer's
name, Lily's heart skipped a beat. Seizing the opportunity to escape, she
muttered, ‘Forgive me, Lady Clinsden, but I really must be getting
back.'

‘Of course, my dear, but before
you do, might I suggest you clean yourself up a bit?' she said, pointing to
Lily's dress.

Looking down, Lily saw it was
dishevelled and spattered with mud and weed, while her feet were streaked with salt
and slime. Seeing sympathy and understanding in the other woman's eyes, she
couldn't help wondering again why this refined lady was saddled with such a
despicable man.

‘Come with me,
Lily. You can use the room I've hired at the hostelry and tell me what's
been going on.'

‘You've hired a room here?
But why?' the squire asked, visibly paling, but Lady Clinsden just smiled
sweetly. ‘There's no need for you to concern yourself, my dear,'
the squire blustered, looking decidedly uncomfortable. ‘I'm sure young
Lily can take care of herself.'

Ignoring him, his wife took Lily's
arm and led her back through the alley and into the safety of the hostelry. As they
entered, Lady Clinsden called to the landlord for refreshment to be sent upstairs,
and moments later Lily found herself being shown into a large airy room. She stared
around, taking in the comfortable chairs, embroidered antimacassars draped over
their backs, the highly polished table and dresser.

‘I didn't know you had
accommodation here, Lady Clinsden,' she said, surprised.

‘I hire it to use on the days I
visit the almshouses. I rather think it will have come as quite a shock to my
husband, though,' she said, laughing. ‘Especially as he uses this place
for entertaining his … well, I was going to say lady friends, but that
would be a misnomer if ever there was one.'

‘Pardon me, Lady Clinsden, but I
don't know how you put up with him,' Lily burst out, then covered her
mouth with her hand. ‘Sorry, that was dreadfully rude,' she whispered,
sure the other woman would be cross.

Instead Lady Clinsden smiled sadly.
‘He wasn't so bad before consumption took our eldest son. Charles was
his favourite, you see. After that he began visiting the grave each day, which led
him on to the alehouse.' She sighed.
‘He said it was
the shock of losing an heir that turned him to drowning his sorrows in
drink.'

‘Oh, Lady Clinsden, that's
terrible,' Lily said sadly.

‘Yes. Now, you go and get
freshened up,' she said briskly, gesturing to the washstand discreetly placed
in the far corner of the room.

As Lily was rinsing her face, Lady
Clinsden said, ‘I was pleased to hear the fishing fleet returned safely. You
must be relieved to have your Tom back on dry land.'

Remembering the cold look in her
beloved's eyes and the harsh words he'd used, Lily felt her heart sink.
However, she was saved from answering by a sharp rap on the door.

A buxom woman entered the room bearing a
laden tray. Lady Clinsden smiled her thanks and then turned to Lily.

‘You finish tidying up, whilst I
pour our tea.'

‘But I should get back; Mrs Bodney
will be wondering why I haven't appeared this morning.'

‘Remember it's the Sabbath,
Lily, so surely you don't have to hurry. Besides, you are in no state to go
anywhere until you've had some hot tea and toast. You look terribly fatigued,
if you don't mind my saying so.' As she settled herself on the chair and
began pouring tea into dainty china tea cups, Lily did as she'd been told.

She then did her best to clean up her
mud-spattered clothes. Finally, she used the cloth to wipe over her boots, and as
she bent down to put them on, she couldn't help thinking how fortunate it was
she had not put on her new ones by mistake in her haste to get down to the beach.
Having smoothed down her dress and apron, she
straightened her cap
and went over to where Lady Clinsden was waiting.

‘That's better, Lily. Now
sit down and partake of some breakfast,' the other woman said, passing her a
plate of buttered toast.

Remembering to eat in a ladylike manner,
Lily ignored her rumbling stomach and nibbled daintily. They sat in companionable
silence until they'd finished and then Lily jumped to her feet.

‘That was delicious, thank you,
Lady Clinsden, but I really must be getting back to the workroom. I have to prepare
all the materials ready for tomorrow. We are working against the clock, as Mrs
Bodney says, and if we don't get this commission finished for Queen
Vic …' Her voice petered out as she put her hand to her mouth in
horror.

‘Queen Victoria,' Lady
Clinsden finished for her.

Lily stared aghast. ‘You know who
the lace is for?' she asked in amazement.

‘Indeed I do. Jean is a dear
friend. She often confides in me, knowing I'm discreet.' Realizing that
she hadn't given away the secret, Lily breathed a sigh of relief. ‘I
have to confess to sharing things with her too,' Lady Clinsden added, smiling
conspiratorially.

‘She often gives me advice as
well, especially about dressing correctly,' Lily said, looking down wryly at
her crumpled clothes. ‘It's so depressing having to wear black all the
time.'

Lady Clinsden nodded, then peered into
the looking-glass. ‘Now, that I can empathize with,' she said, sighing
at her reflection. Lily remembered Mrs Bodney telling her the squire insisted Lady
Clinsden always had her dresses
made to the same pattern. She had
been so kind, Lily wanted to help her now.

‘I had a thought, Lady Clinsden,
if you won't think me too disrespectful mentioning it.' Emboldened by
the other woman's encouraging look, she went on, ‘Were I to make you
some lace collars and cuffs in various designs you could attach them to the dresses
to change and enhance their appearance.'

Lady Clinsden pondered for a moment and
then smiled. ‘That's a splendid idea, Lily, and when you have finished
working for Mrs Bodney, I shall commission you to do just that. Now, if you're
sure you've had enough to eat, I shall walk you back.'

‘You don't need to come with
me, Lady Clinsden,' Lily said quickly.

‘I think it would be better if I
did. You still look dreadfully pale, and besides, I need to speak with Jean,'
Lady Clinsden replied.

Tiredness was indeed threatening to
overwhelm Lily but she managed to stifle a yawn.

No sooner had they entered Picky
Pike's than Mrs Bodney came bustling out, all concern.

‘Lily, dear, I hear you were out
all night waiting for the boats to come in. You look exhausted. I suggest you go to
your room and rest,' she said firmly.

Gratefully, Lily nodded and went up the
stairs.

Sinking onto the edge of the bed, she
wearily kicked off her boots then lay back on the covers. She closed her eyes and
sank into oblivion.

Then arms were holding her, shaking her.
‘Leave me alone, you brute,' she screamed, trying to struggle free.

‘Hush, Lily dear.' As the
softly spoken words penetrated her fuddled brain, she opened her eyes to find
herself staring into the face of her employer.

‘I'm sorry, Mrs Bodney. I
thought you were someone else,' she muttered, embarrassed.

‘Evidently, my dear, and after my
discussion with Lady Clinsden yesterday I think I know whom.'

‘Oh,' she whispered. Then,
realizing what Mrs Bodney had said, her eyes widened in alarm and she struggled to
sit up. ‘Yesterday?' she repeated.

‘Yes, it's Monday morning,
Lily. I sent Tilda up earlier with some broth, but she couldn't rouse you. The
silly girl thought you were dead and came crying to me. Clearly, thank heavens, you
are not. However, since you didn't wake to eat your broth, your body must be
in need of nourishment. I suggest you change your dress and then come down to the
parlour.'

‘But my work …' Lily
tried to protest, but she was feeling light-headed, almost as if she was
floating.

‘No buts. Tilda has laid out a
clean dress, and your new work boots are ready,' she said, gesturing to the
shiny black hobnailed boots by the chest. ‘And not a moment too soon,'
she added, shaking her head at the salt-encrusted pair beside the bed. Even Lily
could see they could no longer be worn.

When Mrs Bodney had
left, Lily gingerly clambered out of bed. She stared down at her crumpled dress and
groaned. Not only had she not woken in time for work, she'd gone to bed
without undressing. Mrs Bodney would never put up with an overseer who had such
slovenly ways. She sank back onto the mattress, covering her face with her hands. If
she lost her job, she'd have no home. Tom; she'd go to Tom. Then she
remembered his bitter outburst, and the tears fell.

Peasants aren't pessimists, Lily. They don't give up; they get
on.

She heard her father's voice in
her ear and warmth crept through her body like a burst of sunlight. He hadn't
deserted her, after all.

‘You are right, Father, and I
will,' she whispered, getting determinedly to her feet. Stepping into her new
black leather boots, she smiled. They fitted perfectly, and although they were
sturdy and not a bit like the dainty ones with cherry-red stitching she felt a
bubble of excitement inside that they were brand new and she could wear them every
day.

Minutes later she was in the parlour,
dressed and tidied. Mrs Bodney nodded down at her feet. ‘At last you look
worthy of the post of overseer.'

‘You must tell me what I owe, Mrs
Bodney, for I do have some savings put by.'

‘We will talk about that some
other time, Lily. Now we have business to attend to.'

‘I'm very sorry for not
waking at dawn, especially with the deadline …' She stuttered to a halt
as the other lady held up her hand, then pointed to the steaming bowl and chunk of
bread on the table beside her.

‘First you must
eat. I shall go and check that the ladies are all present, and when I return we will
talk.' As her employer bustled from the room, the fragrant aroma of vegetable
broth wafted in Lily's direction. She picked up the spoon and ate ravenously.
By the time Mrs Bodney returned, her bowl was drained.

‘Feeling better?'

‘Yes, thank you, Mrs Bodney.
I'm ready to work like ten men, well, women. That is, if I still have a
job?' she asked, hardly daring to look up.

‘Yes, you do for I understand you
needed to ensure Tom had returned safely. Now, we must discuss our schedule.
I've been informed that the silk for Her Majesty's dress is nearing
completion and that she will require all the lace not only made but to be sewn up
and ready by the 25th of November.'

‘St Catherine's Day,'
Lily said.

Mrs Bodney smiled ruefully. ‘I
can't deny it's appropriate, what with her being the patron saint of
lace makers. However, whilst we've finished making the lace for the flounce,
we still have the veil and other adornments to finish, plus the Bertha collar, of
course. Then it will all require sewing up and attaching to the netting. Being
positive, the designs of tulips, leaves and scrolls left to make will be the same
only smaller and, as Cora has seen fit to return, we have an extra pair of
hands.'

‘You've taken her
back?' Lily asked, her eyes widening in surprise.

‘I had little choice. We
mustn't look a gift pony in the mouth, as they say. Now before you resume your
duties, tell me how Tom is.'

‘He … well, I … that is, I really need to speak to
him.'

‘Hmm,' her employer said,
giving her a penetrating look. ‘What about the squire? Have you ever
complained about his behaviour towards you?' Mrs Bodney asked. Lily stared at
the other woman in surprise.

‘The likes of me are hardly in a
position to complain about the squire, Mrs Bodney. He would make my life a
misery …' Her voice tailed off. Surely her employer knew that peasants
were in no position to complain.

‘Well,' Mrs Bodney said,
pursing her lips, ‘as Lady Clinsden is fond of saying, there's more than
one way to skin a cat.' Blimey, there was that cat again, Lily thought.

‘Right, Lily, it's time you
got back to the workroom. I want you to encourage the ladies to work as fast as they
can without compromising the quality of their work. You also need to make up for the
time you've lost on your own work so I'm sure I can trust you will not
leave here until it is back on schedule.'

Relieved she still had her job, Lily
nodded. But as her employer left the parlour, she couldn't help wondering when
she'd be able to see Tom. For see him she must, and very soon.

As Lily entered the workroom, the ladies
looked up from their pillows, hardly able to contain their curiosity. As ever,
though, it was Mary who spoke.

‘Morning, Lily; here, I'll
move and let you have your rightful place.' But as the woman struggled to get
to her feet, Lily noticed she had a large bandage covering the lower part of her
leg.

‘What's the matter with your
ankle, Mary?' she asked.

‘Oh, 'tis
nothing,' the other woman answered, shrugging.

‘She tripped going after you in
that murk,' Nell burst out, ‘and you didn't even stop to see if
she was all right.'

‘Hush now, Nell,' Mary
admonished.

‘Well, I think it was right
selfish of her leaving you like that,' spluttered the normally mild Nora.

‘But I didn't
know …' Lily began, shaking her head.

‘Course you didn't, Lily,
don't worry yourself. You was in a hurry to make sure your Tom and the fleet
came home safe. And they all did, thank the Lord,' Mary said, making the sign
of the cross in front of her.

Hearing Tom's name, Lily felt a
pang and was torn between duty and desire. However, desperate as she was to see him,
she knew she had to produce some work before she could even think of leaving the
workroom or she'd be out on the street, sure as sprats were sprats. Mrs Bodney
would only tolerate so much.

‘Thanks, Mary. I really am sorry
about your ankle, though, and I hope it's not too painful.'

‘I've suffered worse.'
But as the woman sat there smiling ruefully, Lily remembered that in her desperation
to get to the harbour she had pushed past Mary on the front steps.

‘Oh, Mary, tell me it wasn't
because of me you fell?' she asked, taking the woman's hand.

‘Dearie me, no, Lily,' Mary
answered, looking quickly away.

Not convinced the other woman was
telling the truth, but at a loss to know what to do, Lily shrugged, saying,
‘Well, I'm sorry if it was because of me. I feel dreadful
that I didn't know you'd fallen. Has everything else
been all right?' she asked, looking anxiously at the woman.

‘Yes, I think so. We've been
working that hard since Mrs Bodney poked her head in this morning,' she said,
then pointed to the sprigs heaped on the dresser. ‘At least we are onto the
smaller pieces now.'

‘That's as may be,'
Emma piped up, ‘but do you know how many we need?'

‘Mrs Bodney is very pleased with
your work but we are under even more pressure as the Queen now wants her lace
delivered earlier than originally planned,' Lily told them.

A groan went round the workroom but they
knew they were being paid well and bent their heads over their pillows.

‘I'm sure it will be worth
it when we see the Queen in all her finery,' Lily said, smiling.

‘As if that's likely to
happen,' Cora snorted.

‘It'll only be Mrs Bodney
who'll get to see her on her wedding day,' Nell said, shaking her head.
The others murmured in agreement. Realizing she'd inadvertently distracted
them from their work Lily bowed her head over her pillow and hoped they'd
follow her example. Luckily they did, and silence descended on the room.

As her movements gained pace, so did her
thoughts. When would she see Tom? Would he forgive her for the terrible things
she'd said? Maybe it was exhaustion that made him speak to her so harshly
yesterday. In her heart, though, she knew she'd wronged him terribly, for
hadn't he always told her that trust was at the heart of a relationship?

‘Ooh, me stomach
thinks me throat's cut.'

Jolted from her musing, she looked up to
see Cora running her hand across her throat, clearly intent on letting Lily know it
was time for their break. Despite her worries, she couldn't help but be amused
at the girl's theatrics; obviously she was back to normal, Lily thought,
feeling strangely relieved. Quickly, she got up and rang the little bell.

As the ladies eagerly hurried out into
the sun-filled courtyard, Lily let out a sigh. The urgent need to see Tom was
gnawing away at her like a terrier tormenting a rat. Did she dare risk leaving the
workroom now, whilst the ladies were having their nuncheon? Before she could decide,
Mrs Bodney appeared.

‘Lily, I'd like you, as
overseer, to take responsibility for making the Bertha collar. You will see from
this pattern that it has the design of crowns and needs to be worked to a depth of
5½ inches. I suggest you make a start on pricking out the pattern now whilst
it's quiet.' Then, before she could answer, her employer swept from the
room. Lily groaned under her breath. There was no way she could leave the workroom
now. It was almost as if Mrs Bodney had known what she'd been contemplating,
she thought as she duly began pricking out the new pattern.

All afternoon she worked without
stopping. Aware that time was racing by and Mrs Bodney was keeping an eye on them,
the ladies hardly lifted their heads and the workroom was unusually quiet. However,
as soon as Lily rang the bell at the end of the day, they jumped up, covered their
work and all but ran out of the door. The long hours
were taking
their toll and they were eager to get back to their families.

As soon as the last lady had left, Lily
hurriedly covered her own pillow and made her way outside, bolting the workroom door
behind her. Although her conscience was pricking, she just had to see Tom.

Pulling her shawl tighter round her, for
the air was cooler now the nights were drawing in, she ran down to the beach. Her
heart leaped when she saw him bent over his lugger.

‘Tom,' she shouted, running
towards him. He turned, but the face that stared back at her was not his.
‘Hey, that's Tom's boat,' she cried.

‘'Tain't no
more,' the stranger muttered. ‘Sold it to me last night, he
did.'

‘What? He can't have,'
she gasped.

‘Bought it fair and square with my
hard-earned money, I did. I'm preparing to sail out on the morning tide with
the rest of the fleet,' the man said.

Dumbstruck, Lily stared at him but his
open face and clear eyes told her he was telling the truth.

In frustration, she kicked at the
pebbles then, heedless of her new boots, crunched along the water's edge. When
she reached the spot where, only a short time ago, they'd stood together
making plans for their future, it all became too much. Throwing herself down onto
the beach, she let loose the tears that had been threatening all day. Finally,
overcome by exhaustion, she fell into a troubled sleep.

As if from a long way away, she heard
the crunching of a boat being dragged over the pebbles. Groggily she opened her
eyes, wondering why she wasn't in her
bed. Trying to sit up,
she grimaced. Her body was stiff and her left arm numb where she'd been lying
on it. Then with her heart feeling as heavy as her pillow, she trudged back up the
beach.

‘Hey, Lily, come on or
you'll be late.'

Looking up, she saw Mary beckoning to
her.