The Royal Lacemaker (8 page)

It was a sombre procession, dressed in
their best, dark clothes that trudged behind the cart as it wended its way to St
Winifred's church that Wednesday morning. Lily had been up before dawn,
collecting the wild violets her mother had loved. Now they sat atop the wooden
casket, a tiny splash of colour in the gloom, as it bore her body on its final
journey. Lily's hair felt damp as she pushed stray strands back under her
black cap. Somehow, though, it seemed appropriate the day was dank and mizzly.
Friends and neighbours, their heads bowed, lined the narrow winding street as they
passed slowly by. Those fortunate to have curtains at their windows had pulled them
shut out of respect.

Lily took a deep breath, determined not
to cry even though Robert was still studiously ignoring her. Aunt Elizabeth assured
Lily he would come round in time.

To her consternation, as they entered
the church, she saw Squire Clinsden seated in his family pew. He rose to his feet,
head bowed as the funeral cortège slowly made its way down the aisle. However, as
Lily passed, he glanced up briefly, his eyes taunting. Biting back her anger, Lily
followed her aunt into the front pew.

The service was pitifully short, and
despite Lily having told the parson what her mother's favourite hymns had been
he saw fit to substitute his own choice of prayers as
he deemed
singing inappropriate at funerals. Personally, Lily thought it would lift their
spirits. Still it didn't do to question the parson, did it?

Now they were standing in the churchyard
that looked down over the rolling valley. As his voice intoned the final blessing,
the simple casket was lowered into the freshly dug hole. Lily could smell the damp
earth and had to bite her lip to stop herself crying out. It seemed so final. The
parson signalled to her to scatter the first handful of soil but, as she moved
forward, her legs buckled and it was only Tom's quick reaction that saved her
from falling in as well.

‘Steady, Lily,' he
whispered, squeezing her hand. ‘You're doing fine; your mother would be
proud of you.'

Grateful for his reassurance, she gave
him a wobbly smile. Robert, leaning heavily on his stick, was standing beside them
and she saw him wipe a tear from his cheek. Her heart went out to him and, reaching
over, she put her free arm through his. He turned, and, for the first time since
their mother's death, gave her a lopsided grin. Relief flooded through her and
she smiled back. At that moment, a single golden sunbeam burst through the clouds
and, although she knew it was fanciful, she liked to think it was their mother
showing her approval that brother and sister were on good terms once more.

Then she saw the squire making his way
towards them. Quickly turning away, Lily heard him offering his condolences to Aunt
Elizabeth and Robert.

‘Thank you, sir,' her aunt
replied. Then to Lily's horror she added, ‘We are holding the funeral
wake back at the cottage. It will be a small affair but you'd be welcome to
join us.' Lily held her breath, her heart racing.

‘That is most
kind of you, but I merely came to pay my respects. Mrs Rose was the widow of one of
my most valued workers and will be sorely missed,' Squire Clinsden said,
bestowing his benign grin. Charlatan, Lily wanted to shout at his retreating back.
Really the man was an out-and-out hypocrite. No doubt he'd only attended to
look gracious in front of everyone.

‘Are you all right, Lily?'
Tom asked, concerned.

‘Yes, I'm fine, thank
you,' she replied, feeling anything but.

‘My dear, how lovely to see you,
although, of course, I wish it was under happier circumstances.'

Lily turned towards the booming voice.
‘Uncle Vincent,' she exclaimed, as the jovial man approached. ‘I
hadn't realized you were here.'

‘No reason why you should, Lily.
Please accept my sincere condolences on your sad loss. Your mother was a fine
woman.'

‘Thank you, Uncle,' she
whispered, biting her lip as the tears threatened to spill once more. Then,
remembering her manners, she added, ‘You remember my betrothed, Tom Westlake,
don't you, Uncle?'

‘Of course I do,' he
responded, shaking Tom by the hand. ‘And a man who makes such a fine choice
has got to be a sensible one in my books.' As Tom flushed with pleasure, Lily
shook her head.

‘I think it's time we headed
back home,' she said.

Torn between duty and respect, Lily had
made the decision not to return to work that day. Instead she accompanied her aunt
back to the cottage, handing out steaming mugs of broth and freshly baked bread to
fortify and warm the mourners. A large pound cake, one of Aunt
Elizabeth's specialities, had already been cut into generous wedges and was
displayed on the freshly polished dresser next to a dish of strong cheese.

Accepting condolences, her face frozen
into a smile, Lily was determined not to break down. At first, the conversation was
about her mother, but then it turned to their coming eviction and she felt a rush of
panic tightening her chest and tying her stomach in knots. News of Squire
Clinsden's offer had spread and Lily's neighbours all assumed
she'd be taking up the position at the manor.

She knew they'd be shocked when
they found out she intended to continue working in Bransbeer, but today was not the
time to break the news. Luckily, Mrs Bodney had consented to her taking these few
hours off, though not before Lily had agreed to make up the time, for now they were
working to an even more demanding timetable. She just hoped her ladies were working
diligently in her absence.

The babble of voices jolted her back to
the present and she saw her brother in earnest conversation with Uncle Vincent. Then
she noticed her aunt was still scuttling around ensuring everyone's plate was
filled.

‘Come along, Aunt
Elizabeth,' she said, taking the other woman's arm and leading her
towards an empty chair. ‘You've been on your feet since before daybreak.
Sit here and chat to Uncle while I get you some refreshment.'

‘Are you bearing up, Lily?'
Tom whispered, following her to the dresser.

‘Just about, Tom. I really
appreciate you being with me today.'

‘I'll
always be here to support you, Lily my love,' he murmured. She stood there for
a few moments, drawing comfort from his presence. Then she heard their visitors
preparing to take their leave, and, giving him a rueful smile, she went to say
goodbye and thank them for coming.

Uncle Vincent was the last to leave,
having issued an invitation for Lily and Tom to visit him in Ilminster whenever they
could. When he'd gone Lily leaned back against the door and closed her eyes.
She was just gathering her thoughts when Robert hobbled over to her.

‘Lily, I'm sorry. I should
never have blamed you for Mother's death. It wasn't your fault, I can
see that now.' As he stood there looking shamefaced, her heart went out to
him.

‘It's all right, Rob,'
she whispered, going over and kissing his cheek. ‘Everything will work out,
you'll see.' He smiled, relief spreading across his face. Then as he
opened his mouth to say more, she quickly asked, ‘Can you go and help Tom
finish clearing away in the scullery?' and without giving him time to answer,
she hurried through to the front room where her aunt was banking up the fire.

‘I want to talk to you about young
Beth,' Aunt Elizabeth said, as Lily flopped into a chair. ‘How would you
feel about her staying with Grace and Harriet for a bit longer?' Lily stared
at her aunt in surprise and the woman continued, ‘It might be best, what with
things being all up and airy here. Grace has shown them how to pack pillows with
straw and they've even started producing some good lace work between them.
Little Beth is helping to pay her way, Lily.'

She could see the sense
in her suggestion, but Beth was her little sister, for heaven's sake.

‘You've done your best for
her, I know,' Aunt Elizabeth continued. ‘But now you're away down
to Bransbeer before she wakes and most days she's abed by the time you return.
She's lost without you, Lily. Oh, it's not your fault,' she added,
seeing Lily's frown. ‘But think about it. Grace has a tender heart and
she looks after Beth like one of her own. I can't deny I'm enjoying
seeing more of the child too.'

‘But it's not really fair on
Mrs Goode to have another mouth to feed, what with her being a widow,' Lily
said, feeling uncomfortable.

‘Don't you worry about that,
my dear, for I've been sharing the stews and brawn I make. Besides, as I said,
she wants to help. Remember your mother looked after Harriet when her Walter was so
poorly.' Lily nodded. ‘And if you're really determined not to take
up the squire's offer, it will give you more time to find somewhere to live if
you're not having to mind Beth,' her aunt said.

‘Yes, you're right, Aunt
Elizabeth, but I can't deny that it will be strange without anybody else in
there,' Lily said, sighing as she looked towards the next room. Then she
noticed lying on the shelf the lace work she'd begun before she went to work
for Mrs Bodney. Picking it up, she handed it to her aunt. ‘Perhaps Mrs Goode
would like to finish this. She can give it to the journeyman when he calls and
receive the payment.'

‘That's generous of you,
Lily. Well, that just leaves us with Robert to sort out now.'

‘Rob? I don't think
he'd like to share a room with me,' Lily said, looking up in
surprise.

Her aunt laughed.
‘No, dear, that's not what I meant. That dreadful accident might have
left him a cripple, but he's still got a good head on his shoulders. Wandering
around here feeling useless day after day's not doing him any good and now, of
course, he's fretting about the flitting.'

Guiltily, Lily realized she hadn't
given any thought to how her brother must be feeling.

‘But what can we do to
help?' she asked.

Her aunt smiled. ‘Actually, an
idea did occur to me when I was speaking to my brother earlier,' she said.

‘Oh, what was that?' Lily
asked.

‘I thought it would be good for
Rob to learn a new trade and my brother agreed. But nothing can be decided until he
and Rob have had a discussion. I can't say anything more,' she said,
yawning. Gathering up the lace work and thread Lily had given her, she got to her
feet. ‘It has been a tiring day so I'll be away down to Grace's to
check on young Beth and then I hope to get some sleep.'

‘Thank you, Aunt Elizabeth, for
all you've done for us. I don't know how we'd have managed without
you.' Impulsively Lily threw her arms around the woman and kissed her
cheek.

‘Oh, get away with you,'
Aunt Elizabeth clucked, flushing with pleasure. ‘But just you think hard about
your own future, young Lily,' she said, wagging her finger as she left.

‘All well between you and Rob
again then?' Tom asked, coming into the room a few moments later.

‘Yes, thank heavens,' she
said, smiling with relief.

‘He's still worrying about
the eviction,' Tom said frowning.

‘So Auntie was
saying. Look, Tom, my head's spinning like a top and I can't think
straight at the moment.'

‘Poor thing, it's been quite
a day, hasn't it? I know you'll never forget your mother but I wanted to
make you something particular to remember her by,' he said, flushing as he
handed her a small package.

She opened the brown paper, and
carefully folded back the small piece of linen within, then had to blink back the
tears when she saw the bobbin he'd fashioned out of fish bone. It was
delicately etched with the name of her mother, Sarah Rose, and the dates July
1802–May 1839, her pitifully short life span.

‘Thank you, Tom, I'll
treasure it always,' Lily whispered, trying to swallow the lump that was
threatening to choke her. ‘I'll keep it with the one you made for our
betrothal.'

‘Well, we've been stepping
out for over a year now and I'm still working hard to get you that ring, like
I promised. Then everyone will know you're my intended.'

‘Oh, Tom, they know already.
Anyway, it's you that matters to me, not fancy baubles.'

‘It's important to me that
you have a betrothal ring, Lily,' he said firmly.

‘Let's go for a walk,'
she said, anxious to break the tension.

The mizzle of earlier had cleared and
the afternoon air smelled fresh. Swallows swooped low, catching insects, and the
crickets were chirping in the meadow. Everything seemed normal, and yet everything
was different.

‘It's strange to think we
won't be living here after next month,' she said, sighing.