The Royal Lacemaker (26 page)

‘Gosh, you'd give a
scarecrow a run for his money,' the other woman laughed. ‘You look like
you've been up all night,' she added, giving Lily a level look as she
caught up with her. Lily blushed. ‘Love a duck, you have, haven't
you?' she gasped. ‘Well, you'd best hurry and freshen up before
Mrs Bodney sees you. Don't worry; I'll cover for you,' she added
when Lily hesitated.

Fearful that someone might see her if
she went round to the yard, Lily kicked off her boots then stood in the brook,
letting the cold water cascade over her. Where was Tom? Had he really sold his
lugger? She found it hard to believe, for it had been handed down from his father
and was his pride and joy. She'd have to call at his mother's house and
find out, she thought. Then hurriedly rearranging her dress, she bent down to pull
her boots back on. But when she saw the state of them, she gasped. The sea water had
stiffened the new leather and they were now streaked white with salt. There was also
a dark stain on the toe that looked suspiciously like tar. She'd have to ask
Albert how to remove it, she thought.

She was pulling down her skirt as far as
she dared, in the hope of covering her feet, when she heard the clatter of wheels.
Looking up, she saw Rupert's carriage coming down the street towards her. Not
wishing for him to see her in such a dishevelled state, she drew back into the
shadow of the cliff. To her dismay, the carriage pulled up
outside Picky Pike's premises.

Thinking quickly, she decided that,
rather than risk bumping into him, she'd make her way to Mrs Westlake's
cottage straight away. Lily knew full well she should be working, but the urge to
find out about Tom was too great to ignore. Promising herself she'd work on
after the others had finished for the day and trusting Mary would be true to her
word and cover if Mrs Bodney came looking for her, she hurried off up the path.

It proved to be a futile journey, for
when she reached the Westlakes' cottage there was no answer to her knock on
the door. She tried again, and was just taking a peek through the tiny window for
any sign of life when a voice called out, making her jump.

‘Can I be helping yer,
lass?' Spinning round, she saw a wizened old man with a shock of white hair
peering over the low wall that separated the gardens.

‘I'm looking for Mrs
Westlake or Tom, sir,' she answered.

‘Gone away, so they have. Left the
key with me, so they have,' he said in his singsong voice.

‘Oh, no, did they say where they
were going?' Lily gasped in dismay.

‘Why bless yer, child, calm
yerself. They've only gone as far as Seaton, so they have. To stay with the
old lady, they said.'

‘Oh,' she said, relief
flooding through her. ‘Do you know when they'll be back?'

The old man shook his head. ‘Ah,
'tis disappointed they're gone, so yer be?' he guessed.

‘Yes, I
am,' she answered, trying not to break down. He must have heard the tremor in
her voice for he got to his feet, opened his little gate and beckoned her towards
the bench that was set on his neat square of grass.

‘Like a barley drink? I made some
earlier, so I did,' he asked gently, looking concerned.

‘Oh, please,' she answered,
suddenly realizing how thirsty she was. He scuttled indoors, reappearing moments
later with two filled tumblers. The barley water was so cool and delicious she drank
it down in one gulp.

‘Well, that was worth making it
for, so it was,' he said, laughing. ‘Now tell me what's ailing
thee, young Lily.' Seeing her surprised look, he continued, ‘Thought I
recognized yer earlier. I knew yer father, so I did. Fine man he was. It was a sorry
thing, that accident.'

The old man looked down at Lily's
feet and frowned.

‘Yer've made a fine mess of
they boots. A good bit of leather that, too, so it is.'

‘I know. I shall be in right
trouble with Mrs Bodney when she sees them,' she said, grimacing.

‘Mrs Bodney, eh? Well, lass,
happen I can help yer.'

She looked at him in surprise.
‘That's very kind of you but I'm pretty sure that's
tar,' she said, sighing and pointing to the thick black stain on the toe. To
her surprise the old man laughed.

‘'Taint nothing a spot of
eucalyptus oil won't fix or my name's not Bobby Fixit, so it
is.'

‘Oh, Bobby Fixit, can you really
get rid of that?' she asked, her eyes widening in surprise and hope.

‘Take them off and let's
see, shall we?' he said, chuckling as he disappeared indoors again and by the
time she'd
done as he'd bid, he was back carrying a
bowl and cloth. Sitting himself back down on the step, he worked in silence,
concentrating so hard she didn't like to interrupt him. Finally, he sat back,
held out the boots at arm's length and smiled.

‘There, young Lily, if these
aren't as good as new then my name's not Bobby Fixit, so it's
not,' he said, handing them to her. She stared down at them in amazement for
indeed they did look as good as new.

‘Bobby Fixit, I'm that
grateful I could hug you,' she squealed, and to her surprise the old man burst
out laughing.

‘Let's just say if
we've beaten the old harridan it's made my day, so it has. Now
it's time for my nap. Good day to yer, young Lily,' he said, nodding to
her. Then, leaning back, he put his hat over his face and promptly began to
snore.

Whilst she hadn't got a clue what
he'd meant about beating the old harridan, she felt relieved that Tom had only
gone as far as Seaton. She'd visit him when he'd had a chance to calm
down, she thought, as she made her way back to Agent Pike's house.

To her dismay, she noticed the sun was
already warm. How could she have been away for so long? Haring back down the hill as
if the devil was after her, she prayed her absence hadn't been noticed and, if
it had, that Mary had been able to cover for her, otherwise she was in deep
trouble.

The church clock chimed ten as Lily
arrived back in the workroom. Mary shot her an enquiring look but Lily shook her
head and then picked up her bobbins. Determined to produce a fair amount of lace,
she worked furiously.

The day sped by so quickly, Lily could
hardly believe it when the ladies began tidying away their things. She stared around
the workroom, gratified to see the pile of sprigs had increased significantly.
Stretching to ease her cramped muscles, she bent back over her pillow and picked up
her bobbins.

Absorbed in the lace for the collar, she
lost track of all time. Only when the shadows had lengthened so that she could
hardly see her hands in front of her did she put down her pillow. She was just
making her way up the stairs, when Mrs Bodney's voice rang out from the
parlour.

‘A word, if you please,
Lily.' Smoothing down her dress, she made her way back down the hallway.

‘Come in, Lily. Rupert is here to
see you,' Mrs Bodney said, her eyes twinkling.

‘It's good to see you again,
Lily,' Rupert said, rising to his feet and looking down at her black work
boots quizzically. Noticing his glance, Lily quickly gave him her best smile.

‘Good evening, Mr Mountsford, I
see you noticed I'm not wearing those beautiful boots you kindly gave me. They
are so delicate they would be quickly ruined if I
tramped round in
them all day, therefore I am saving them for a special occasion.'

‘Well, that's opportune
then, for our dear merchant craves a boon,' said Mrs Bodney.

‘A what?' Lily looked at her
employer in bewilderment.

‘A boon is a favour, Lily,'
Mrs Bodney said, shaking her head. Then, leaning forward in her seat, she said,
‘Lady Clinsden has invited Rupert to her Harvest Supper and he would like you
to accompany him as his guest.'

‘Me? Be a guest at the Harvest
Supper?' Lily spluttered.

‘For heaven's sake, Lily,
stop parroting,' Mrs Bodney snapped. ‘Considering the squire's
outrageous behaviour towards you, I rather think it would be the perfect
reprisal.'

‘Not that that is the reason for
my invitation,' Rupert hastily intervened. ‘What do you say, Lily? Would
you do me the honour of escorting me?' he asked, looking at her so expectantly
she couldn't help smiling up at him. ‘I think that would be an eminently
suitable occasion for showing off the cherry-red stitching,' he added.

‘Well, Lily looks suitably
appreciative, so I think we can safely say she accepts your kind invitation,
Rupert,' Mrs Bodney said, smiling like a cat that had discovered a churn full
of cream.

‘Oh, but I
don't … I mean I can't …' she stammered to a halt
as she saw his crestfallen look.

‘Why can't you, Lily?'
Mrs Bodney exclaimed, looking affronted.

‘Because I'm betrothed to
Tom,' she said. But even as she uttered the words, she wondered if they were
true.

‘We understand that, don't
we, Rupert?' said Mrs Bodney, looking at him for confirmation.

‘Indeed,'
he replied.

‘And, as I said earlier, it would
be the perfect way of getting our own back on the squire,' Mrs Bodney added,
grinning.

‘But, I've not got a
suitable gown and—'

The other woman waved her hand
dismissively. ‘Then I shall loan you one. Let me see, the evenings will be a
little nippy by then, so the sapphire velveteen, perhaps? There, that's
decided then. Now, after your recent traumas, I'm sure you are ready to
retire. You may leave it to us to finalize the arrangements.'

‘Good night, Lily, I trust you
will sleep well,' Rupert said, smiling at her so charmingly, her cheeks began
to burn and she had to look away. As she did, she noticed a package similar to the
one he'd recently asked her to give Mrs Bodney lying on the table. He was
clearly a generous man, she thought. But Mrs Bodney had followed her gaze and was
frowning.

‘Good night, Rupert, Mrs
Bodney,' Lily said quickly and left the room.

In the sanctuary of the attic she sank
onto the bed, her thoughts reeling. How could she, Lily Rose, accompany Rupert
Mountsford to the squire's Harvest Supper? She'd only ever attended
functions at the manor in the capacity of servant. She couldn't possibly go as
a guest. Could she? Imagine the surprised look on the squire's face.
He'd be livid, she thought, smiling.

Why shouldn't she go? She was as
good as any toff. Besides, she hadn't heard from Tom, who could have resolved
never to see her again, for all she knew, and Rupert seemed to like her company. Mrs
Bodney had
offered to lend her a suitable dress, hadn't she?
The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea.

All that week Lily was at her pillow as
soon as dawn broke, determined to make progress on the Bertha collar before Mrs
Bodney could accuse her of shirking. The empty workroom was peaceful and as she
moved her bobbins over the pillow, she couldn't help thinking of the Harvest
Supper. She couldn't believe it was approaching that time of year already.
They'd been so busy the summer had passed in a blur.

Her resolve to attend had wavered in the
cold light of day. She wouldn't have the audacity to go up to the manor house,
would she? A whole week had passed and she was still undecided. Before long, though,
the peace of that early morning was broken by the clattering of the ladies on the
cobbles outside.

‘Good morning,' she called
brightly as they settled themselves down to work, conscious of their
ever-approaching deadline.

By the time the day was darkening, the
piles of sprigs on the dresser had greatly increased. Lily was just wondering who
would have the job of sewing them onto the netting backing, when Tilda appeared in
the doorway.

‘Mrs Bodney wants to see you,
Lily,' she said.

‘I'll be right
through,' she answered, hastily tucking the hairs that were escaping their
braid back under her cap, and smoothing down the folds of her dress.

‘Lily, please sit down. I need to
speak with you on a serious matter.'

She felt her throat tightening as she
glanced anxiously
at Mrs Bodney, who, unusually, was pacing the
room. Lily perched nervously on the edge of the chair and waited. Then, to her
surprise, Mrs Bodney drew up the other chair beside her.

‘Lily, this is a somewhat delicate
matter. You remember the time you took to your bed without undressing?'

Perplexed and embarrassed, she could
only nod.

‘Well, when Tilda took your dress
for laundering, she found this letter in your pocket and handed it to me. In all the
recent upheaval, I quite forgot to return it to you and must apologize for my
tardiness. Now do you recognize this?' she asked.

Lily looked at the creased paper she was
holding out and, seeing Aunt Elizabeth's writing, nodded again.

‘Lily, I have taken the liberty of
reading what your aunt has to say and can only assume she is not aware that you are
unable to read.'

‘The subject never really came
up,' she answered, looking down at the floor. ‘We never saw her much
when we were growing up, as she had a position in Exeter …' Her voice
petered out as she saw her employer frowning. ‘Why, Mrs Bodney, has something
happened?'

To her surprise the other woman reached
out and covered her hand with her own. ‘My dear, what I have to tell you is
going to come as a shock. I've thought about whether to reveal the contents of
your aunt's letter, but reasoned she wouldn't have written it if she
hadn't wanted you to know.'

‘Know what?' Lily asked,
wriggling impatiently in the chair. Would she never get to the point?

‘Did your parents ever speak of
why your aunt went to Exeter?'

‘No,' she
said, shaking her head. ‘I presumed it must have been because of her
job.'

‘Well, yes, in a way it
was,' Mrs Bodney said slowly.

‘What did you used to call your
parents, Lily?'

‘Mother and Father,' she
said, shaking her head at such a ridiculous question. ‘Why? What does that
have to do with anything?'

Mrs Bodney sighed. ‘I think it
would be best if I just read out her letter. But, my dear, you must prepare
yourself.'

And Lily watched in amazement, as the
ladylike Mrs Bodney cleared her throat before she began to read.

My dearest daughter, for indeed,
Lily, that is who you are,

Now that the woman you always
believed to be your mother has departed this earth, I feel it is my duty to
inform you of your true parentage. Sadly the only man I ever loved, your father,
Ernest, was lost at sea before we could be wed.

To save me from disgrace, your
mother, my dear sister, and her husband offered to raise you as their own,
provided I removed from Coombe. You can believe me, Lily, when I tell you that
it was the saddest decision I've ever had to make, but what kind of life
could I offer you? I hope you will find it in your heart to understand and
forgive me, Lily dearest. You may rest assured I have followed your progress
from when you were a baby and wish you to know that I am truly proud of the fine
woman you have grown up to be.

I know I can never hold a candle
to the wonderful woman who raised you as her own, but pray you can find
it in your heart to forgive me, and that we shall meet again
soon.

God Bless You always, my darling
daughter.

Aunt Elizabeth

As Mrs Bodney finished reading, Lily sat
there, shaking her head.

‘Are you all right, my
dear?' the other woman asked gently, patting her hand.

‘I think so,' she answered,
her voice shaking. Vaguely, she was aware of Mrs Bodney getting up and ringing her
bell. Then Tilda appeared with a tray of tea and Lily was being urged to take a sip
of the hot, sweet liquid. But all the time her mind was spinning faster than her
sister's toy top as she tried to take in what her employer had just told
her.

The woman she'd always thought was
her mother wasn't. Aunt Elizabeth was. Her father wasn't her real
father. That meant Rob and Beth weren't really her brother and sister. It was
unbelievable; too much to take in. Suddenly, she felt as if the walls were closing
in on her and could hardly breathe. Desperate for fresh air, she jumped up, sending
her cup and saucer flying as she fled the room.

Instinctively, she headed for the
harbour and Tom's boat. Except, of course, he wasn't there and nor was
his boat. She stood on the pebbles staring at the distant horizon, her thoughts as
turbulent as the tide in full flood, as she tried to make sense of what Mrs Bodney
had told her.

How could Aunt Elizabeth, a
comparatively rare visitor in her life, be her mother? She'd had a mother,
Sarah. A gentle woman, who'd raised her, loved her and passed on her own skill
of lace making. Lily shook her head, trying
unsuccessfully to
clear the thoughts that were whirling around her mind like a spinning top. To think,
the life she'd always known and thought normal, sometimes even humdrum, had
been a sham. Her family was not really her family at all. The woman she'd
thought was her aunt was actually her mother. A mother who'd abandoned her, no
less. Just like Tom had. Nobody wanted her. Everybody left her. She stared at the
huge breakers rolling ever closer and then slowly took a step forward.

Don't even think about it, Lily Rose.

His voice came so sharply, its energy
sent her reeling backwards. Shocked, she could only watch as the waves broke on the
very spot where she'd been standing.

You always did forget there were spring tides on a full moon, daughter
dear.

‘But I'm not your daughter
and you're not my father,' she screamed into the night air.

Don't be silly, Lily, of course I am. Always have been, always will. You
might not be of my flesh but you are my daughter, I can promise you that.

‘But why didn't you tell
me?'

Your mother and aunt thought it best that way. Besides, we always thought of you
as our own. 'Tis a shock you've had, but when you've had time
to think, you'll see nothing's really changed. We always loved you
and always will, Lily, remember that.

As his loving words penetrated her
thoughts, they filled her heart with warmth, melting the ice that had encased it
since Mrs Bodney had read out that letter. It was still a terrible shock, but
knowing she'd been loved and wanted was some comfort.

‘Thank you, Father,' she
murmured, but the only
response was the sighing of the wind.
He'd gone again. But he had restored her faith. Of course he was still her
father and his spirit was guiding her, even though he was no longer here. She wished
she'd known the truth before he'd died, then she could have asked him
all the questions that were still buzzing around in her mind like wasps at a
picnic.