The Royal Lacemaker (32 page)

‘Will you read it for me, please,
Mrs Bodney?'

Her employer nodded, holding out her
hand for the letter. Then, just as she had done before, she cleared her throat and
read,

Dearest Lily,

I was so pleased to hear from
you and to know that you do not bear me any ill will.

Of course you may continue to
call me Aunt Elizabeth and I trust that when next we meet we shall have the
discussion I'd hoped to have with you before our untimely departure. Thank
you for letting me know Beth is faring well.

Rob sends his affection, as do
I,

Your loving Aunt Elizabeth

PS. I have also received a very
interesting communication from Lady Clinsden and will keep you informed should
her exciting proposal develop.

‘There now, doesn't that put
your mind at rest?' her employer asked.

‘Yes, thank you, Mrs Bodney. But
what does she mean about a proposal from Lady Clinsden?'

‘Lily, despite what you might
think, I am not clairvoyant, so we will have to wait and see. Now, off you go and
get your beauty sleep,' her employer said, handing her back the letter.
‘I'll bid you good night.'

Taking a picnic supper up with her, Lily
escaped to her
room, then lay in bed mulling over the
communication from her aunt and the events of the day. Realizing Mrs Bodney still
hadn't said when her work here would be at an end, she vowed to ask her first
thing in the morning. She needed to make plans for the future, not least to find
somewhere to live. Should she return to Coombe, she wondered.

Finally she fell into a troubled sleep,
dreaming a dream she was to have for many nights. She was back in Coombe, a
fair-haired man with a cheeky grin beside her. He was vowing eternal love and
placing a ruby ring on her finger.

Lily woke with a start, then lay there
feeling restless. Some elusive thought was niggling at the back of her mind. But no
matter how hard she tried, she couldn't put her finger on what it was. Jumping
out of bed, she tugged on her clothes, ran her fingers through her hair and let
herself out into the grey of the early morning. The autumnal air was decidedly
chilly and, pulling her shawl tighter round her, she decided to delay her morning
wash at the pump until the sun had come up. Hurrying down Sea Hill, her heart leaped
when she saw the red sails of Tom's lugger. Then she remembered the boat was
no longer his.
Where are you, Tom?
Tears pricked the back of her eyes, but
she blinked hard, refusing to give in to self-pity.

Thrusting her hands into the pockets of
her apron, she tramped along the shoreline, spray stinging her cheeks, pebbles
crunching beneath her boots. Before long, the keen air had worked its magic and her
thinking was as clear as the water. She thought back to her strange dream, and was
just on the verge of remembering what it was that had been bothering her, when she
heard a shout.

‘Ouch.'

She spun round but couldn't see
anyone.

‘Oh, blow it, blow it.' This
time the cry repeated, as it bounced off the cliffs and echoed around the bay.

She stood still, then caught a glimpse
of movement by
the netting hut. Hurrying towards it, she saw Joe
the Quarry perched on a rock wringing his hands.

‘Joe, whatever's the
matter?' she asked.

‘I'm a useless old fool,
that's what,' the old man muttered, turning his rheumy eyes towards her
before glaring down at the pebbles. Following his gaze, she saw the discarded turnip
lying where he'd thrown it. ‘Can't even make a lantern for me
grandson now with these useless mitts,' he spat, holding up his hands, which
were squashed almost flat, their misshapen fingers sticking out at awkward angles.
She also saw the right one had a gouge where the thumb had been.

Ignoring the nausea that was churning
her stomach, she bent to retrieve the turnip and knife, then handed them back to
him. She could recall her parents talking about the accident at the quarry, which
had claimed the lives of five men, leaving others maimed, Joe amongst them.

‘Can't earn me living no
more, but thought I could at least make young Jack a lantern for his guising at
Samhain.'

Her heart went out to the old man, but
instinct warned her to tread carefully. ‘I've always wanted to make one
of those, Joe, but wouldn't know where to begin,' she said, crossing her
fingers behind her back. ‘Could you show me?'

Slowly he turned towards her, hope then
suspicion flickering in his eyes.

‘And why would a pretty young
thing like yer be wanting to know how to make a turnip lantern?'

Knowing she had to spare his pride she
thought hard. Then an image of Beth sprang into her mind.

‘Because, Joe,
it would make the perfect present for my little sister.'

The old man studied her carefully then
gave her a wizened smile. ‘Yer on, lass. I'll get us two more turnips.
Yer works for Mrs Bodney now, don't yer? Given yer the day off, has
she?'

‘Oh my,' she gasped,
glancing up at the sky and seeing the first rays of red peeping above the cliffs.
‘She'll have my guts for garters if I don't rush. Will you be here
later?'

He grinned ruefully. ‘Spends most
of me time here these days. I'll see yer by the old boathouse when
yer've finished yer work. If yer can spare the time, of course,' he
added, looking at her hopefully.

‘Don't worry, I'll be
there,' she promised, before hurrying back to Picky Pike's.

‘Ah, Lily, just the person I
wanted to see,' said Mrs Bodney, waylaying her as she hurried down the
hallway. ‘I shall be out for the rest of the day. There are things we need to
discuss, so I'll see you in my parlour when you finish work.' She
frowned as she took in Lily's windswept appearance.

‘I'm afraid that won't
be convenient, Mrs Bodney,' Lily stammered. ‘I've promised to help
a friend.'

‘Well, you'd better
unpromise then,' Mrs Bodney commanded, turning on her heel and disappearing
into her parlour.

‘But, I can't,' Lily
called after her.

‘I beg your pardon, Lily?'
asked Mrs Bodney.

‘I said I'm afraid that
won't be possible, Mrs Bodney.'

‘Are you disobeying me,
Lily?' asked Mrs Bodney, her voice as icy as a hoar frost.

Staring at her
employer, Lily's courage almost deserted her. Then she remembered the hopeful
look on Joe's face and stood her ground.

‘I'm sorry, Mrs Bodney,
I've made a promise and when I make a promise I keep it. Perhaps we could
discuss things later this evening or even tomorrow first thing?' But her
employer stalked off without answering.

Lily made her way to the workroom,
praying her shaking legs wouldn't give way. She was sure to be dismissed now,
but her job appeared to be coming to an end anyway.

‘Blimey, Lily, you look like
someone's taken your last farthing,' Mary greeted her.

‘Wish I could stroll in just when
I feel like it,' Cora muttered under her breath, causing Lily to lash out.

‘Well, you can't. And
I'll have you know, there's been many a night I've worked on after
you have all left. Now, you'd do well to remember the work here's nearly
completed so your agreement can be ended right now.'

Cora and Nell exchanged glances and an
uneasy silence descended on the room. Ignoring them, Lily sat at her pillow and
picked up her bobbins. Wary of her mood, the ladies all worked quietly and when noon
came, filed outside for their break before she had a chance to ring the bell. Even
Mary stayed away from her. A moody maid, her father would have called her, she
thought, suddenly feeling unbearably lonely.

The afternoon dragged by and still no
one spoke to her, although she did see Mary shooting her puzzled glances once or
twice. She knew it was up to her to make amends, but in a peculiar kind of way, she
relished being left alone. Finally, she heard the ladies tidying away their
things, then their voices fading as they clattered and chattered
their way down the lane. No guesses as to what their topic of conversation would be,
she thought. Breathing a sigh of relief that she could leave the workroom at last,
she covered her pillow and pulled on her shawl.

Hurrying down to the beach, Lily saw it
was a hive of noise and activity. The fishing fleet had returned and their luggers
and crabbers were beached broadside, whilst their catch and fishing gear was carried
up onto the Hard. Gulls circled and screeched, impatient to scavenge the scraps and
fish guts they knew would be left on the pebbles.

Then the squire appeared in the doorway
of the alehouse and Lily ducked into the shadows, but he was busy talking to the
haulers and didn't see her. Then, as he staggered up the hill the others made
their way down the beach, ready to haul the boats further out of the water. The
fishermen, glad to be back safely on dry land, were laughing as they stowed their
nets. Lily couldn't help peering around hopefully, but, of course, there was
no sign of Tom.

Joe was waiting by the old boathouse as
he'd said he would, two turnips and a knife by his side. He looked so pleased
to see her she couldn't help but smile back. ‘That's better.
Looked like a black tornado, ye did, roaring down the hill. That old dragon given
yer a hard time, has she?'

‘I haven't seen her all day.
Well, not since I refused to do what she wanted.'

To her amazement he grinned
wickedly.

‘I'd love to have seen her
face,' he chortled. ‘She's used to getting her own way, that one.
What wouldn't yer do, then?'

‘Break a
promise,' she said. Then, seeing his knowing look, she quickly changed the
subject.

‘I just saw the squire staggering
up the hill. He spends a lot of his time in the alehouse, doesn't he?'
she said, wrinkling her nose. ‘I guess he's really unhappy
inside.'

‘Hmm, we all have our crosses to
bear,' Joe grunted, staring down at his misshapen hands. ‘He'll
have been up in the tallet over the kitchen plotting and planning his
dealings.'

‘Dealings?'

‘Yer knows, with them free
traders,' he said, tapping the side of his nose with a mangled finger.
‘He does all the planning and ordering. Then away he goes, leaving the others
to do the risky work of transporting the spoils up to the manor house, with the best
going up to London by yon fancy carriage.'

She looked up into the gloom where Joe
indicated and thought the vehicle looked similar to Rupert's.

‘What kind of spoils?' she
asked, remembering the Christmas smell in his carriage.

‘Brandy, baccy, tea, spices, silks
and whatever else they've brought in,' Joe said, shrugging. Before she
could ask any further questions, another group of haulers passed by and he quickly
looked down at the turnips.

‘Right, show me how to make these
lanterns then,' Lily said, taking the hint and changing the subject.

‘You whittle, I'll
guide,' Joe said.

At first, Lily found it difficult
cutting into the hard vegetable, especially in the gathering gloom, but Joe was
patient, and under his guidance she soon relaxed. By the time she'd scored out
twisted curves for the mouths, she was enjoying herself.

‘Well, lass,
those will look real scary when they're lit up. My Jack will be right pleased
when I show him what yer've made.'

‘No, Joe, what
we've
made. We've done these together.' She saw him
look down at his hands. ‘Your brains; my labour,' she added. He was
silent for a few moments, then nodded.

‘Yer real kind, lass. Most people
look at my hands and think I'm only fit for the scrap heap, but yer've
proved that ain't the case and I'm right thankful.'

‘And I'm grateful to you,
because now I've got a turnip lamp to take to Beth.'

He put out his hand and, without
hesitating, Lily took it and shook it.

‘Mrs Bodney says it's the
way things look that matters, but you know, Joe, I don't think she's
necessarily correct.'

‘Aye, that's always been her
way, lass, but that don't mean it's the right one for yer. Yer has a
heart of gold so yer just go with what yer feel.'

‘Thank you, Joe,' she said,
feeling as if a weight had been lifted from her. Grinning, she picked up her
lantern. ‘I know Beth is going to love this.'

Tramping back up the now deserted beach,
she wondered if she'd have time to visit Coombe before Samhain. She could
remember the fun they'd had last year, Father and Rob had carved out the
turnips while she'd helped her mother bake the special apple pie. They'd
set extra places at the table so their departed loved ones could join them for
supper, for it was that special night of the year when the veil between this world
and the next was at its thinnest.

She stopped in her
tracks, tingling with excitement. Suppose her mother and father were to pay her a
visit this Samhain? Or her nana and granddad? Her nana! That was what had been
niggling her when she woke, for hadn't the wise old woman told her that
problems had a way of sorting themselves while you slept? You simply had to look for
the answers in your dreams.

Feeling happier than she had for ages,
she let herself into Picky Pike's. She was just placing the lantern on the
ledge by the front door when Mrs Bodney came storming out of the workroom.

‘How dare you go out and leave the
door unbolted?' she spluttered.

Lily stared at her in dismay. ‘But
I didn't, Mrs Bodney.'

‘You did. The door to the workroom
was wide open. What if the Queen's lace had been stolen?'

‘What?' Lily gasped.

‘Luckily Tilda saw you leave and
came at once to inform me. I've just this minute finished checking
everything's in order and now you come breezing in, beaming like a blooming
beacon.'

‘But I'm certain I bolted
it,' Lily repeated.

‘And I'll have none of these
heathen things in my house, thank you,' Mrs Bodney snapped, sweeping the
lantern onto the floor. ‘I shudder to think what would have happened had all
that work been stolen. If it'd got into the wrong hands, the Queen would have
had my neck in a noose. Your behaviour today has been irresponsible and
disappointing, to say the least.'

‘But, Mrs Bodney, I did bolt the
door.'

‘You couldn't have done,
'cos it was wide open,' Tilda
said from behind them.
Both women spun round. ‘Mr Mountsford couldn't believe it when he heard
and—' At the mention of her merchant's name Mrs Bodney's eyes
widened.