The Royal Lacemaker (30 page)

‘Will there be more dancing after
the meal?' she asked, racking her brains for something to say as she turned
her attention back to Rupert. Before he could answer, there was a ripple of
anticipation as their soup was brought to the table. As a delicious aroma wafted her
way, she looked up eagerly and then froze. The maid serving this table was Molly,
and the look she was shooting Lily was one of pure venom. She slapped the bowl of
soup before her, deliberately placing it right on the edge of the table, where it
wobbled precariously. Before Lily could reach out, it toppled over, tipping its
entire contents into her lap. She heard a collective gasp from the guests seated
around her and, looking up, she saw a malicious grin splitting Molly's
face.

‘Oh dearie me, I seem to have
missed the table,' she cackled as Rupert sprang to his feet and began dabbing
at Lily's dress with his napkin.

‘And you will find yourself
missing from all my tables in future,' said Lady Clinsden, appearing at
Lily's side. ‘Remove your presence from my establishment this
instant,' she continued, her voice so sharp it could have carved through the
joint of ham on the salver on the sideboard. Silence hung heavy in the air as the
sulking Molly slunk out of the room.

Turning to Lily, Lady Clinsden put her
hand on her arm. ‘Come with me and we'll attend to your dress,'
she said softly.

Rupert made to follow,
but Lady Clinsden shook her head. ‘Thank you, Rupert, but there's no
need for you to miss your supper. Don't worry, I'll bring her back
safely,' she added, and Lily followed her from the room, trying to ignore the
stares of the other guests. If she'd had any doubt at all that it had been an
accident, the gloating smirk on the squire's face told her it had been
anything but.

‘Molly did that on purpose,'
Lily burst out as soon as she was alone with Lady Clinsden.

‘I fear you may be right, Lily
dear, and my husband was behind it, as usual,' she said, sighing. ‘He
was furious when you turned up as Rupert's guest and must have thought up the
ruse to get his own back; knowing, of course, that Molly would do anything he
asked.'

‘Why would she do that?'
Lily asked.

Lady Clinsden's sigh was deeper
this time. ‘Some women will do anything for money. Come along, let's get
your dress clean,' she said, summoning her maid.

However, no matter how hard they tried,
nothing would shift the stain. In fact the more they rubbed the more it seemed to
settle into the nap of the material. Finally, when Lily's lap was all but
saturated, they admitted defeat and Lady Clinsden dismissed the maid.

‘Whatever shall I do? Mrs Bodney
will kill me,' Lily wailed.

‘I doubt that very much.
Don't worry, a little specialist attention will put the dress to rights, but
not tonight, I'm afraid. I'll loan you one of my gowns, then you can
enjoy the rest of the evening.'

Glancing at the rose-pink silk gown Lady
Clinsden was wearing, Lily frowned. She couldn't risk wearing something as
obviously expensive as that.

Mistaking her look,
Lady Clinsden added, ‘I know it won't fit properly but at least
you'll be presentable and I'll find a cloak to match. Rupert will still
think you look delightful. You seemed to be enjoying his company before
supper.'

‘Oh, yes, he's wonderful,
isn't he, Lady Clinsden? I couldn't believe it when he asked me to
escort him tonight.'

‘But Jean did tell you about our
little ruse, didn't she?'

Lily frowned, trying to remember exactly
what Mrs Bodney had said.

‘And how is Tom?' Lady
Clinsden enquired. ‘Has he fully recovered from his ordeal at sea?'

‘I don't know, my lady.
He's not been to see me. Not that I care now,' Lily added dreamily,
looking down at her feet where the jewels on her shoes twinkled up at her. Following
her gaze, Lady Clinsden frowned.

‘Did Rupert give you these?'
she asked.

‘Yes, my lady,' Lily
grinned, and the other woman looked worried.

‘Has he told you anything of his
life in London?' Lady Clinsden continued, looking concerned.

Lily shook her head, realizing that
he'd actually said nothing about his life at all. Silence hung heavy in the
room and she began to feel uneasy.

Finally, as if she had reached a
decision, Lady Clinsden leaned over and took Lily's hand. ‘Lily, I can
see from the way you were enjoying yourself this evening that you are becoming fond
of Rupert. I would hate for you to get hurt so I feel you should know he is already
betrothed to someone, how can I put it, of his own class.'

‘What?'
Lily exclaimed, snatching her hand away. ‘Then why has he been …'
her voice tapered off. She'd been going to say, why had he been paying her
attention and compliments; giving her presents? Then she remembered what Mrs Bodney
had told her about men liking to give presents to ladies in return for the delight
of their company, and the farthing dropped. Why, she'd been merely a
dalliance, a distraction for him.

‘My dear, men like Rupert are
utterly charming. However, they do think they can have everything. I'm sure he
didn't mean to mislead you in any way, though.' Now the veil had been
lifted, Lily couldn't believe she'd been so naïve. Rich men didn't
marry ordinary lace makers like her, did they?

Lady Clinsden put her hand on
Lily's arm. ‘Look, slip out of those wet things, whilst I go and find
you something suitable,' she said, disappearing through a door at the back of
the room.

Lily looked around her, taking in the
satin coverlet on the bed and the heavy damask curtains pulled tight against the
night. Crystal perfume bottles adorned the dressing table, along with lotions and
potions. So this was how the gentry lived. How could she have been so stupid as to
think she could ever be part of it? Quickly gathering up the sodden folds of her
dress, she stole out of the boudoir and tiptoed down the stairs. The sounds of
laughter and tinkling glasses emanated from the hall. Storming through the
servants' quarters and out of the back door, she prayed no one would see her.
She'd been taken for a right fool and needed to get her feelings under control
before she could speak to anyone.

Outside, using the
hedge that sheltered the kitchen garden for cover, she ran towards the carriages
that were neatly lined up for their owners' return. Knowing Lady
Clinsden's kind hospitality extended to the staff of her guests, she crossed
her fingers that Rupert's driver would be tucking into his meal, along with
the other coachmen. Locating his carriage, she tiptoed round to avoid the groom,
before opening the door and climbing inside. Quickly, she removed the beautiful
dancing slippers and placed them back in their box. Then, pulling her boots back on,
she clambered out onto the path and sped down the gravelled sweep.

She ran until her breath was coming in
ragged gasps, the eerie noises of the night impelling her on. Until, to her dismay,
she developed a stitch and the spasms racking her side forced her to stop.
Collapsing onto a clome by an old barn, she thought back over her ruined evening,
hardly noticing the rain falling around her. Rupert was betrothed. He'd merely
been toying with her all along. How he must have been laughing at her expense. How
could she have let herself be taken in? She wondered if Mrs Bodney knew. Glancing
down at her sodden clothes, Lily dreaded to think what her employer would say when
she saw the state her lovely dress was in.

‘Why didn't I listen to you
Father?' she wailed into the darkness, but the only answer was the plopping of
the raindrops as they dripped from the branches onto the fallen leaves, and the
barking of a dog fox out on its nightly hunt. Perched like a pixie, her thoughts a
jumble, she lost all sense of time.

The hoot of an owl close by brought her
sharply back
to the present, but it was the answering call that
had her jumping to her feet and haring down the hillside. Whatever had possessed her
to take a short cut across the fields at this time of night? She knew the answer. It
had been to put as much distance between her and Rupert as quickly as possible. The
only sensible thing now was to head towards the lane leading to the village. It
would take her longer but she hoped at least she'd be safe. Holding her skirts
higher, she lengthened her stride.

She was just gaining the hedgerow
bordering the lane when she heard the galloping of horses coming towards her.
Owlers? She shivered, swiftly stepping back into the shadows and holding her breath.
To her relief, a coach and pair went thundering by and she let out a long sigh. With
her nerves now completely shot, she ran as fast as she could until she reached Picky
Pike's.

To her dismay, Rupert's carriage
was drawn up outside. She was just wondering whether she had the courage to confront
him when he emerged and called to the driver to head for home. As soon as the sound
of horses' hooves had faded, Lily stole indoors and was just creeping up the
stairs when Mrs Bodney's strident tones stopped her in her tracks.

‘Running away again, Lily Rose? In
my parlour now, please.'

She could have cried but, seeing the set
look on her employer's face, she retraced her steps. With her heart racing,
she stood in the room staring down at the slate floor.

‘I've just had the most
unfortunate conversation with Rupert. He was out of his mind with worry, for
apparently you left the supper table and simply disappeared.
Lady
Clinsden couldn't enlighten him either. I trust you have an explanation for
such outrageous behaviour?' Mrs Bodney said, turning round and looking at Lily
for the first time. ‘Goodness, whatever has happened?' she asked, taking
in her dishevelled state.

‘I'm really sorry about your
dress. I'll pay for any damage and—'

‘Sit down, Lily,' Mrs Bodney
said, her voice softer now. ‘Rupert has explained about the unfortunate
incident with the soup, but surely that was no reason to abandon him?'

‘Lady Clinsden offered to lend me
one of her dresses. Then when she saw the velvet slippers Rupert had given me she
told me he's betrothed to a lady in London.'

‘Ah, I see,' Mrs Bodney
said.

‘And he was so nice to me tonight,
I really thought he cared for me.' She saw her employer frown and her voice
tailed off.

‘Sometimes, men like to try their
chance with young ladies. It's their pride. They see it as some kind of
challenge. And, of course, there are those women who, once they get a taste of
luxury, are only too happy to oblige,' Mrs Bodney said, so matter-of-factly
Lily couldn't help but burst out, ‘Well, I think it's horrible
that he should pretend to have feelings for me.'

‘For what it is worth, I believe
Rupert is genuinely fond of you and I did explain that his escorting you to the
Harvest Supper was part of our plan to get even with the squire.'

‘Yes. I'd forgotten that
until Lady Clinsden said. Still, it makes sense; men like Mr Mountsford don't
really have relationships with someone like me.'

‘It's the
way of the world, I'm afraid, Lily. I do think he might have had the decency
to explain about his betrothal, though. He probably thought that Devonshire was far
enough away from London for word not to get back about any …' Unusually
for her, Mrs Bodney stuttered to a halt.

‘I was thinking on the way back
here and I reckon it's one rule for men and another for women in this life.
Men are deceitful wastrels and they can all go and hang themselves. I've
finished with them.'

‘You are very idealistic,
Lily,' Mrs Bodney said, shaking her head.

‘If you mean I have principles,
Mrs Bodney, then yes I do.'

‘Perhaps I was wrong to encourage
you to accept his gifts but he so enjoyed treating you, and you work so hard I
thought you deserved a bit of spoiling. Never mind, it will all come out in the
wash, as they say. Which reminds me, tomorrow is the Sabbath, and after you've
attended church, you have my permission to make good my dress before that stain
really sets in. Now I'll bid you good night.'

Cursing Mr Mountsford for trying to make
a fool of her by playing with her emotions, Lily made her way up the stairs. Tearing
off the boots, she flung them across the room, stepped out of the sodden dress and
threw herself into bed. She pulled the bedclothes right up over her head, knowing
she wouldn't sleep, but hoping the warmth would penetrate her body and stop
the shivers that were convulsing her.

Exhausted, she fell asleep, only to
dream of harvest festivities. But it was previous celebrations they'd had back
in Coombe, where they'd spend all afternoon
decorating the
barn with greenery and wild flowers from the fields. Then, they'd sit on hay
bales, laughing and drinking homemade lemonade or cider. The trestle would be piled
high with hunks of bread, a huge ham, cheeses, savoury pies and apple pies. In the
centre would be one of her mother's specially baked loaves, shaped like a
sheaf of corn. The men would play their fiddles, Rob would play his mouth organ and
they'd dance and make merry until dawn. Best of all, though, was Tom holding
her tight, whirling her round and round until she collapsed in his arms. Fun;
they'd had such good fun.

When she woke, sunlight was flooding her
room. She lay there for some moments before realizing it was the brightness that
came with midmorning. Jumping out of bed, she took her chair to the skylight and
peered out, dismayed to see everyone streaming out of church. She'd slept
right past morning service. When she saw the discarded dress on the floor the events
of the previous evening came flooding back. Dressing quickly, she snatched up the
offending garment and made her way outside to try to wash off the grease.

‘Lily, where've you been, I
missed you in church.' Looking round, she saw Mary hurrying towards her.

‘Oh, Mary, I've had the most
awful time.' The other woman glanced down at the dress she was holding and
raised a questioning eyebrow.

‘What, in a frock like that?
I'd give me front teeth to doll myself up in material that soft.'

‘Yes, but I've got soup all
down it and it's dried in.'

‘Calm yerself, girl. Let's
take a gander at it.' Lily watched as the other woman held it up to the light
then whistled.
‘Someone's been rubbing the nap the
wrong way. Soup, you say? Goodness knows what was in it then, 'cos this looks
like a grease stain to me. Still, it's nothing a bit of wood ash won't
get out.'