The Royal Lacemaker (33 page)

‘Are you telling me Mr Mountsford
has called here, Tilda?' she asked. ‘When was this?'

‘It was when you were in the
workroom, Mrs Bodney. He asked what was going on and I told him about Lily leaving
the workroom door open. When I said I'd go and get you, he said not to bother
as you was obviously busy. Then he left,' Tilda said, looking very pleased
with herself.

‘How dare you divulge personal
information about my household?' Mrs Bodney exploded. ‘I expect
discretion at all times, as you should well know. Pack your things and leave this
instant.'

‘But I was only doing
as—'

‘I said go,' Mrs Bodney
repeated. Then, ignoring Tilda's wails, she swept into her parlour, closing
the door firmly behind her.

Lily turned to the sobbing maid.
‘Whatever possessed you, Tilda? We both know the workroom door was bolted so
why did you tell Mrs Bodney it wasn't?'

‘It was 'cos of Mr
Mountsford. He said he'd buy me … I thought if you was gone
he … Oh, what am I to do now?' she cried, before turning and rushing
out of the front door, leaving Lily staring after her.

‘Tilda's run off, Mrs
Bodney,' Lily said, hurrying into the parlour. ‘Do you think I should go
after her?'

‘After the trouble she tried to
cause you, Lily?' her employer answered, looking surprised.

‘Me? I don't understand, Mrs
Bodney. I'm sure I haven't upset her in any way.'

‘Not directly, perhaps, but the
poor girl was sweet on our dear merchant.' As if a candle had been lit, Lily
suddenly understood the reason for the girl's blushes on his previous visits.
Clearly, he'd been playing with her affections as well. The cad!

‘I'd have been dispensing of
her services shortly anyway, so she's saved me a job,' her employer
said, waving her hands dismissively.

‘That seems rather harsh, Mrs
Bodney. She's only a young girl, after all.'

There was a pause, as if her employer
was choosing her
words carefully. Finally she turned to Lily,
looking even more serious than she had before.

‘Life is harsh, Lily. And as for
Tilda being young, don't be fooled. In many ways she's more worldly-wise
than you, only too eager to grasp anything that was offered, willing to
offer … Oh, never mind. Go and smarten up. You look more like a gutter
snipe than my overseer.'

Out in the hallway, Lily looked down at
her dress, shocked to see grains of sand and fronds of weed clinging to its hem. Why
hadn't she noticed before? Hurrying out to the pump, she sponged down the
material, then looking around and seeing the yard was deserted, she dunked her head
under the running water. Gasping at its coolness, she let it run through her long
tresses for a few moments before squeezing out as much as she could. Hopping up on
the wall, she began braiding it. What a day it had been, she mused as she sat gazing
down towards the harbour. The rising moon was spreading silvery fingers of light,
like the rungs of a ladder, across the inky waters, and she had a sudden longing to
hear her father's wise words. A voice sounded behind her.

‘Playing at mermaids today, are
we? Well, you certainly are a woman of many guises, Lily Rose.'

Her heart sank. The silky tones of the
squire did little to hide his intent. Perhaps if she didn't rise to the bait
he'd lose interest and go away. Forcing a smile, she turned to face him.

‘Good evening, Squire
Clinsden,' she answered, trying not to shudder at the lecherous way he was
looking her up and down with his bloodshot eyes.

‘Prettying yourself up for your
merchant, are you?' he
asked, placing his hand on her arm.
‘How about being nice to me instead?'

‘I think you should go home to
your wife,' Lily answered, wondering where her daring had come from.

‘She spends all her time on
charitable works these days,' he said sullenly.

‘Well, I think it's
wonderful all the things she does for the elderly fisher folk and—'

‘Yes, yes, but a man needs his
home comforts,' he said, moving his hand up to her hair and attempting to undo
her braid. ‘You do realize that fancy merchant was merely using you as an
alibi? Now, I don't need one, so if you were to be nice to me, I would teach
you all you need to know about society,' he leered, his hand digging into her
shoulder.

She tried to move along the wall, away
from his grasp.

‘Still acting the innocent, eh?
Well, don't be too hasty, young lady. Beggars can't be choosers, and
from what I hear, you'll soon be requiring a new position and somewhere to
live. Now, with Molly gone from the manor—'

‘Take your hands off her this
instant.' Surprised, the squire did as he'd been bid and, seizing the
opportunity, Lily jumped to the ground.

‘I was only trying to—' the
squire simpered.

‘On your way, you pathetic excuse
for a man. And in future leave Lily alone,' the figure commanded. Then, as
Squire Clinsden sloped off and his adversary moved out of the shadows, Lily gasped
in amazement.

‘Tom, oh, Tom, Where've you
been? You came just in time. He was—'

‘I know, Lily, don't fret,
he's gone now. He'll not bother
you again. Bullies
never fight those who challenge them. I've learned that if nothing else.
Luckily, I was just on my way to see Mother,' he said, giving her the wry grin
she remembered so well.

‘Good job too,' she said,
her smile growing wider as she moved closer to him.

‘Aye, and it seems you've
come full circle, what with you needing a job again and the squire kindly offering
to help,' he said, stressing the word ‘kindly'.

‘I've still got a few weeks
left with Mrs Bodney, but then I'll be seeking work along with all the others.
Still, something will turn up,' she said, grinning at him. He was standing so
close she could feel the heat emanating from his body. Her senses tingled in
response, making her realize how much she'd missed him.

‘How've you been,
Tom?' she asked softly.

‘I've been managing
fine,' he answered, his arms reaching out towards her. But then the light went
out of his eyes and his arms fell back to his sides.

‘Oh, Tom, I've missed you.
Haven't you missed me?' she asked, looking at him hopefully. For a long
moment time seemed suspended as he stood staring at her.

‘Lord knows, Lily, you made me
that furious I couldn't bear to see you again. Doesn't mean I've
stopped thinking of you, though,' he mumbled.

‘Is that why you've come
back now?' she asked, brightening.

He shook his head. ‘I was passing
through on my way from Coombe when I heard the commotion. Couldn't just leave
you with that brute, could I?'

‘Seems like I'm in your debt
then,' she said, smiling. He
shrugged and made to turn away.
Her heart flopped. Remembering her dreams and determined not to let the opportunity
pass, she swallowed her pride and tried again. ‘I owe you an apology, Tom.
Look, it's a beautiful night, have you time for a walk round the bay, so we
can talk?'

‘Well,' he hesitated.
‘Oh, why not, but you'd best put that bonny hair back up under yer
cap,' he said, grinning.

She smiled. This was more like the Tom
she knew. He'd always loved her long hair, she thought, twisting it back into
its braid then pulling her cap over it.

‘Is that better?' she
teased.

‘Didn't want you to catch
cold, that's all,' he grunted, and her heart plummeted. Still she
wasn't about to give up.

‘Come on then,' she invited,
holding out her hand. Ignoring it, he began striding out towards the water. Hurrying
to keep up with him, she cast around for something to say.

‘I heard you sold your
boat.'

‘I heard you got yourself a
merchant,' he responded.

‘Oh, Tom, you always get the wrong
end of things. It was all a plan to get back at the squire. It's you I love.
Always have and always will, I guess, and anyway, that merchant's actually
betrothed to another,' she said.

‘Oh, poor you, that's
scuppered your chances then,' he snorted.

‘But, Tom, I've just tried
to explain that it wasn't like that,' she protested.

‘Of course it wasn't. Would
have solved your problems, though, wouldn't it?'

‘What do you mean?'

‘It would have
given you somewhere to live and a chap of his standing wouldn't expect his
wife to work either.'

‘Tom Westlake, I can't
believe you're saying such things. I thought you loved me,' she burst
out.

He sighed. ‘Oh, I do; I mean
did,' he said quickly, looking out at the sea. ‘Think I'll forgo
that walk, if you don't mind,' he muttered, stomping off into the
gathering darkness.

‘Tom, wait,' she called
after him, but the only response was the crunch of pebbles. ‘Be like that,
then. See if I care,' she muttered.

But you do care and so does he. Go after him, Lily. He's hurting
badly.

‘Oh, Father, you always turn up at
the weirdest times,' she cried, her tears mingling with the spray on the
breeze. ‘If he doesn't want me, so be it. I'll not beg.'

Best not to be pig-headed,
Lily
, she thought she heard him say but it could have been the soughing of the
wind.

‘Oh, mangles to all men,'
she screamed in frustration, stamping up the beach. By the time she reached Picky
Pike's, she was beside herself with rage. How dare Tom mess with her
feelings?

‘Lily, whatever is going on? Just
look at the state of you,' cried Mrs Bodney, hurrying into the hallway.

‘Men, that's what's
the matter.'

‘Oh, is that all,' the other
woman replied, waving her hand in the air as if swatting at an annoying fly.
‘For goodness' sake control yourself. The hem of your dress is hanging
down, your apron is frayed and as for your hair, well, I've seen neater
rats' tails. I suggest you go to the workroom, repair your dress and then
retire for the
night. Things will look better in the morning. They
always do.'

Not trusting herself to answer, Lily
stomped off to the workroom. Looks, looks, looks. The woman was obsessed with them.
Snatching up needle, thread and scissors, she plonked herself down on her stool
before realizing it was too dark to see. Muttering under her breath, she gathered up
her things and stamped up to her room.

Silvery light from the moon was
filtering through the attic window as she squatted on the end of the bed and began
to snip. At first she worked with a vengeance; then, as her hot anger abated and
cool calmness washed over her, she worked more methodically. It took her a while but
finally, she was finished. Stifling a yawn, she hung her dress on the nail, checking
the hem was straight. Next she held up the apron to the window, giving a satisfied
nod when she could find no loose threads. Finally, she ran her fingers through her
hair. Definitely no rats' tails there!

Thoroughly spent, she climbed into bed
and fell asleep, only to dream of being snatched from the clutches of the evil
squire by a fair-haired fisherman with a cheeky grin.

When Lily woke, her cheeks were sticky
with dried tears and she felt like a wrung-out rag. She was tempted to close her
eyes again, but forced herself to get up. Then, after checking her handiwork, she
dressed quickly. Running her fingers through her hair, she smiled. Definitely no
rats' tails, she thought, securing her cap.

All was quiet in the workroom as she set
about inspecting the previous day's work. The sprigs were sorted according to
their various designs, and she was surprised to see just how many they had made over
the past months. Then she noticed a pile of something on the floor and gasped in
horror. The patterns had been cut into shreds.

Rushing through to the parlour where Mrs
Bodney was sitting at the table breaking her fast, she was almost incoherent with
shock.

‘Mrs Bodney, something terrible
has happened,' she gathered herself to gasp.

The other woman frowned over the top of
her cup. ‘Lily, kindly compose yourself, then tell me exactly what has
occurred.'

Seeing her employer's look of
disapproval, she took a deep breath to steady herself.

‘It's the patterns.
They've been cut up.'

‘Indeed they have,' Mrs
Bodney responded mildly.

‘But they were
the ones we used for the Queen's lace,' Lily said, trying to make her
employer realize the seriousness of the situation.

‘Precisely, Lily, and that is why
they've been shredded.'

Lily stared at her in amazement.
‘You mean you know?'

‘Of course I know. I cut them up
myself. The Queen ordered them to be destroyed so that no one can copy them. She
wants her wedding outfit to be unique,' Mrs Bodney explained. Then, when she
saw Lily's puzzled look, she sighed. ‘Unique means the only one of its
kind. Our work here is nearly finished so we won't have any further use for
them, will we?'

‘No, I suppose not,' Lily
answered, wondering if she dare ask how much longer she'd have work. But Mrs
Bodney was peering at her head.

‘Is there something wrong with
your cap, Lily?'

‘No,' she answered, quickly
sliding it back into place. The other woman stared at her for a long moment.

‘With Tilda gone, I need someone
to answer the door and serve refreshment. It's not worth engaging someone new
at this stage, so choose which lady you think will be most suited to the job and
send her to me.'

‘Someone from the workroom, you
mean?' Lily asked, frowning.

‘Of course I mean someone from the
workroom. You are hardly going to be rushed off your feet, are you? In fact, I shall
now be asking some of the ladies to leave. Please advise them
accordingly.'

Slowly, Lily made her way back to the
workroom. How would the ladies take the news? Who should she choose to replace
Tilda? She shook her head, cursing as her cap
slipped over her
eyes. Just as she was pushing it back in place, Mary walked into the room,
yawning.

‘Morning, Lily, I hope this day
finds you in better humour.'

Remembering her bad mood of the previous
day, Lily felt herself colouring up.

‘Sorry, Mary. I had no right to be
so rotten,' she apologized.

‘That's all right, ducks. We
all have our off days. My little un was up all night so I thought I might as well
come in … oh, love a dead donkey,' she exclaimed, looking down at
the shredded patterns.

‘It's all right, Mrs Bodney
cut them up. She said that as the lace is almost completed we won't be
requiring them. The Queen herself ordered them to be destroyed so they can't
be copied.'

‘Do we know how long we've
got left here?' Mary asked, looking worried. ‘Only we've got a bit
behind with the rent, what with that chump of mine and his aversion to
work.'

‘Mrs Bodney says she'll be
starting to dispense with our services from now on.'

‘Oh, love two dead donkeys,'
the other woman moaned.

‘Listen, Mary, quickly, before the
others come in. Mrs Bodney needs someone to serve refreshment and answer the door
now Tilda's gone—'

‘Tilda's gone?' the
woman interrupted. ‘Where?'

‘I don't know,' Lily
shrugged. ‘The point is that from today Mrs Bodney is going to start getting
rid of people, but the person who takes the maid's job will be the last to go,
so—'

‘Morning,
ladies,' Emma said, breezing into the room and looking warily at Lily. Then,
she too spotted the pile on the floor. ‘Whatever's that mess?'

‘I was just about to tidy it
up,' said Lily, bending to scoop up the pieces, then cursing as her cap
slipped over her forehead.

‘What's up with yer
head?' Mary hissed in her ear.

‘Nothing,' she said, pushing
the offending cap back in place, then whispering, ‘Look, if you want that job
then go and see Mrs Bodney now before the others get here.'

Mary nodded and hurried from the
room.

‘What was all that about?'
Emma asked, but the arrival of the others saved Lily from having to answer. Quickly,
she disposed of the shredded patterns. Then, standing at the front of the room, she
held up her hand for silence.

‘Ladies, as you know, our job here
is nearing completion. Mrs Bodney appreciates the fine work we've done but
regrets that from today, she'll no longer need to employ us all.'

There was an indignant protest, followed
by sighs of resignation. They all knew their days here were numbered.

‘Bet you know who will be last to
go,' Cora said to Nell, jerking her head in Lily's direction.

‘Regrettably, Cora, I know no more
than you. I'm merely repeating what Mrs Bodney told me so that you can make
alternative arrangements as soon as possible.'

There was a snort of derision, for they
all knew they'd be lucky to find anything at all, let alone quickly. Even if
they did, they'd probably have to return to the trucking method of payment. A
gloomy silence descended.

‘Well, if we are going to go, I
don't have to wear this,'
Nell said, snatching of her
cap and shaking her fiery mane free.

‘That will only encourage Mrs
Bodney to get rid of you first,' Cora said.

‘Oh, see if I care,' Nell
retorted.

‘Hey, where's Mary?'
Cora suddenly asked. ‘Don't tell me Mrs Bodney's asked her to go
already?'

‘I understand she has another job
for Mary to do,' Lily said. ‘Now there are still some sprigs to be made,
so I suggest we make a start.'

The tension in the room was palpable as
they wondered who would be the first to go and when. Lily bent over her own pillow,
cursing silently as her cap slipped yet again. Suddenly her bright idea of the night
before didn't seem clever at all. What was it her father had called her? A
hothead – that was it. Well, she certainly wouldn't be now, she thought,
tugging at her cap and praying it would stay in place. The mood was sombre as the
ladies pondered their future, and the workroom fell eerily silent.

Lily tried to concentrate on her lace
making, but her thoughts kept returning to her encounter with Tom the previous
evening. Why had he gone off like that? Where had he gone? More to the point, when
would she see him again or, heaven forbid, would she see him again at all? As the
morning dragged on, the questions whirled around her head.

Finally it was noon, and everyone sighed
with relief when she rang the bell for nuncheon. Lily, having had enough of being
alone with her thoughts, joined them outside. But the mood was sober as they stood
there discussing rents that had to be paid, hungry mouths that
needed feeding. And the most important thing of all, where were they going to find
work?

‘Do you think any of us will have
to go today?' Emma asked.

‘I truly don't know,'
Lily answered, shaking her head and righting her cap. ‘We knew this job was
for six months so …' She shrugged, leaving the sentence unfinished. Six
months had seemed a long time back in May.

‘Mrs Bodney says you're to
go through to the parlour, Lily,' Mary announced, appearing at the door,
dressed in the maid's attire. There was a gasp of surprise from the
others.

‘Acting as her ladyship's
maid now, are we?' Cora scoffed.

‘Indeed I am, thank you for
asking,' Mary answered, holding her head high and strutting back inside.

‘Well, I'll be, Mary working
as a maid,' muttered Emma. ‘Heaven knows what things are coming to, and
that's a fact.'

‘Yes, but she's got a safe
job, hasn't she? And I wonder how that came about?' Cora remarked,
looking pointedly at Lily.

Sensing trouble brewing, Lily quickly
rang the bell to signal the end of their break.

Then, as the ladies filed back inside,
Lily straightened her cap yet again, and made her way to the parlour. Her stomach
plummeted when she saw Mr Mountsford sitting talking to Mrs Bodney, but when he saw
her, he sprang to his feet.

Mrs Bodney also rose and murmuring she
had an appointment to go to, quickly left.

‘Lily,
I've come to see you because I owe you an apology.'

‘You owe me nothing, Mr
Mountsford,' she said.

‘On the contrary, I've been
talking to Mrs Bodney. She explained about your misunderstanding of my intentions
and—'

‘Misunderstanding? Offering me
fine things whilst you were betrothed to another? I don't call that a
misunderstanding,' Lily retorted, unable to contain her pent-up anger any
longer. ‘I bet you had a right good laugh at my expense. Well, let me tell
you, Mr Mountsford, you may have fine possessions but it is me who has the morals.
Oh, and that reminds me …' she said hurrying from the room.

A few moments later, she returned,
clutching the boots with cherry-red stitching. Angrily, she threw them at his
feet.

‘Here, have your boots back. You
can give them to the next poor girl you set out to charm. Now, if there is nothing
else I'll bid you good day,' she said, turning to go.

‘Your friend Tom—' he began,
but she cut him off.

‘Tom might not have the riches to
buy me expensive presents, but he has principles and has always treated me with
respect,' she said quietly, realizing that everything she'd said was
true.

‘He's a lucky man to command
your respect,' Rupert replied. Then when she didn't reply, he bent and
picked up the boots. He turned to leave and then hesitated in the doorway.

‘Lily, I just want you to know
that under different circumstances …'

‘You still wouldn't have any
principles,' she spat.

‘Here we are,
ducks, a nice cup of tea with cake, no less,' Mary announced, bursting into
the room with their refreshment. ‘Oops, sorry, have I interrupted something,
only Mrs Bodney said I was to bring in a tray?' she asked.

Stifling an exclamation, Rupert turned
and left.

‘Mary, your timing was
perfect,' Lily said, surprised at the feeling of relief she was experiencing.
‘You've just saved me from a most embarrassing situation,' she
added, sinking into a chair.

‘Has that fancy merchant upset
you, Lily? 'Cos if he has, I'll go after him and give him what
for.'

‘Oh, Mary, you're like a
tonic,' she laughed, imagining the older woman chasing him down the
street.

‘I don't think Mr Mountsford
will be back to see me again, thank heavens,' she added, grinning.

‘Well, if that's the case,
you'd best drink this fine tea whilst there's some left as we
won't be getting any more from that source,' Mary said, winking.

Lily looked down at the rich dark tea in
her cup, the penny dropping. How could she have been blind to all that had been
going on around here?

‘Is there anything else,
Lily,' Mary asked, breaking into her thoughts.

Lily looked up and saw her gazing
longingly at the cake.

‘Go on, take it and enjoy it. I
won't tell,' she said laughing, as Mary, hardly able to believe her good
fortune, scuttled away with her prize. Settling back in the chair, she looked at the
tea then shook her head. She'd never touch any again, if that's where it
came from, she decided. But as she leaned forward to put the cup on the table, her
cap slipped to the side of her head.

‘Good grief,
Lily. Whatever, do you look like?' Mrs Bodney asked, bustling into the room.
‘You look more like a street urchin than ever.'

‘Oh, Mrs Bodney, it's never
that bad,' she said, but the other woman was looking around the room.

‘Has Mr Mountsford
gone?'

‘Yes, thank heavens,' Lily
answered, with feeling.