The Fairbairn Girls (4 page)

So why was someone standing under its branches with a lantern in the middle of the night?

Eleanor managed to open her window a little wider so she could see better. Nanny had also said the Rowan tree was the protector and guardian of the family, and if anyone harmed it the tree would become malignant, harnessing powers of evil it would use to harm the family for eternity.

Shivering in her thin nightgown, as if the wind coming from the west was ice-laden, she peered down, trying to see what was happening. A sudden movement below startled her as she saw a man in a long black cloak raise the lantern up among the jewel-laden branches before putting it on the ground. Then she saw his hands, pale in the dim light, resting on the trunk of the tree.

She heard the man’s voice, low and rumbling and full of vengeance. It filled her with fear, for she knew instinctively that something terrible was about to happen, something fatal that she wished with all her heart she could prevent but knew she couldn’t.

The voice rose threateningly. ‘May God desert you. May each and every one of you suffer as I suffer. May ruin beset you and destruction fall upon your heads for the injustice you have shown me.’

The voice had risen higher, full of anger and anguish, spite and venom. ‘Damn you all in the name of the Almighty. May you rot in hell.’

The lantern went out. The empty silence that followed was even more frightening than the cursing. Eleanor blinked into the darkness but she could see nothing now. Trembling, she closed the window tightly and crept back to bed and pulled up the blankets. Her head ached and she’d never felt so cold. Most of all, she was filled with terror.

‘Mrs Armitage, can I have long, tight sleeves with smart cuffs, please?’

‘I’m
dying
for a pin-tucked blouse, like this one in the magazine.’

‘I’ve drawn a picture, Mrs Armitage, of the jacket I need so badly. Please can you make it for me?’

Lizzie and Laura with Beattie, Georgie and Diana were quietly driving the dressmaker mad. They were all talking at once and they all wanted their new garments to be made first. They reminded her of a flock of hungry birds, all trying to peck at one morsel of food.

Mrs Armitage’s tired face broke into an indulgent smile as she looked at the Fairbairn girls, who were renowned for their beauty, their slender figures and long legs. She enjoyed their creative input and stylish ideas, but there were moments when she felt overwhelmed by their demands.

‘I think it would be a good idea if you each gave me a list of what you require, then I can show it to Her Ladyship. I’m sure that once I’ve completed her winter wardrobe I’ll be able to start on yours,’ she said diplomatically.

‘When will that be?’ Georgie asked impatiently.

A glint of annoyance flickered in the dressmaker’s eyes. Georgie was her least favourite. ‘I believe we should do what we always do,’ she replied smoothly. ‘I will start with the eldest of you and work my way down to the youngest.’

Georgie’s scowl deepened. ‘I need new things more than the others,’ she grumbled.

‘No, you don’t,’ Diana argued. ‘You and I don’t need much. Lizzie, Laura and Beattie need things more, especially Laura.’

Mrs Armitage turned to Laura, her favourite in the family. ‘I hear you are to be married, Lady Laura? May I wish you every happiness.’

‘Thank you.’ Laura flushed with pleasure and her eyes shone with excitement. ‘You will make my wedding dress, won’t you?’

‘It would be a great honour and nothing will give me more pleasure. Have you thought about what fabric you’d like?’

Laura nodded, running her fingers through her long dark hair, which she still wore hanging down loose on her shoulders. ‘I’d like it to be made of ivory duchess satin. Mama says I can wear her Brussels lace veil and she’ll lend me a diamond tiara.’

‘How splendid. I imagine the rest of you will be bridesmaids?’

The girls all nodded, with the exception of Lizzie. ‘Laura isn’t getting married until next year so I may well be getting married first,’ she announced importantly.

‘You’re not even engaged yet,’ Georgie protested. ‘Talk about counting your chickens.’

Lizzie raised her chin. ‘I shall most likely become engaged any minute now.’

‘Oh, rubbish, Lizzie! You’ve been talking about marrying James Fraser since you were fifteen!’ Beattie mocked good-humouredly. ‘Has anyone told James what’s expected of him?’

‘They are practically childhood sweethearts,’ Diana pointed out loyally.

Mrs Armitage rose to her feet. Any moment now hostilities were about to break out, and from experience it was better to be out of the way when that happened.

‘I must go to Her Ladyship now. There’s a lot of work to be done and I must attend to your mother’s needs first.’

Beattie looked over at Eleanor, who’d been sitting silently in the corner, her presence unnoticed by the others. ‘You’ve been very quiet, sweetheart? What’s the matter? You want some pretty new clothes too, don’t you?’

Eleanor had dark shadows under her eyes and she looked troubled. ‘I suppose so,’ she replied listlessly, ‘but what’s the point?’

‘What do you mean?’ Lizzie demanded. ‘You’ll soon be eleven and able to wear almost grown-up dresses.’

Eleanor shook her head. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’

‘I could try.’ Beattie spoke gently. It was unlike her younger sister to be so withdrawn.

‘Forget about her – let’s get on with making lists of the clothes
we
want,’ Georgie intervened. ‘If only there weren’t so many of us. When I get married I’m only going to have one daughter and I’ll make sure she gets
everything
.’

Freddie pushed his chair away from the dinner table. ‘I’m not staying with a bunch of empty-headed girls who talk about nothing but clothes,’ he said rudely. ‘Come on, Henry. I’ll give you a game of Whist,’ he added, as if he was bestowing an honour on his younger brother.

‘You need four people for whist,’ Henry pointed out as he slid from his chair.

Freddie’s tone was lofty. ‘I’ll rope in Hamish and Joe.’

Lizzie looked shocked. ‘You can’t play with the stable lads,’ she protested. ‘Mama, tell them they can’t do that.’

Lady Rothbury smiled indulgently at her beloved son and heir. ‘You don’t gamble for money, do you, dearest?’

‘With marbles,’ he replied rather too swiftly. ‘We gamble with marbles. What’s the harm in that?’ Then he swaggered out of the dining room and Henry followed sheepishly.

‘You shouldn’t allow it, Mama,’ Georgie said.

‘It’s just boys being boys.’

‘It’s more than that,’ Lizzie pointed out. ‘For one thing it’s not fair on Joe and Hamish. They’re not in a position to refuse Freddie anything, and I don’t believe they only have marbles for betting any more than I believe it when he says they’re drinking a pint of water! Freddie is only thirteen, for goodness’ sake! And Henry is just nine. He ought to be in bed by now.’

Her mother looked pained. ‘You must allow your father and I to decide how to bring up the boys,’ she replied stiffly, although everyone knew William couldn’t control his dogs, far less his sons.

Laura remained silent, lost in her own rainbow thoughts. It wouldn’t be long before she finally left Lochlee as Rory’s wife, and the rest of her life would be with him, in their own home, doing only what they wanted to do as they created their own family in the happiest of atmospheres.

How she longed for it all. It was cold and gloomy in the castle and the only fun they had was of their own making, such as playing croquet or following the guns or reading. Once she was married to Rory she vowed never to return.

‘Rory says he’ll often take me up to town,’ she confided to Diana during one of their evening chats when they crouched by a log fire, rubbing their hands to keep warm. ‘We’ll go to concerts at the Royal Albert Hall which Queen Victoria has named after her late husband. Then we’ll dine at the famous Café Royal in Regent Street where the cuisine is French. Apparently Oscar Wilde goes there a lot. Oh, we’re going to have such a marvellous life, Di! I’m counting the days until we get married.’

She spread her left hand to look for the thousandth time at her ring, a symbol of Rory’s love and her key to the future.

As the days dragged on Laura’s longing to get away increased and out of boredom more than anything she started to sit in Mrs Armitage’s suite of rooms to watch her making clothes for all the women in the family. At first she enjoyed their conversations, but gradually she became fascinated by the way the dressmaker cut the cloths and tacked the seams for the first fitting. Then she watched, spellbound, as Mrs Armitage worked at a machine that did the stitching for you, saving hours of work – and the result was neater, too.

‘Can I have a go?’ she asked excitedly one day. She’d watched how Mrs Armitage used a foot pedal to turn the wheels that made a special needle do the stitching, and it didn’t look difficult to work.

‘Certainly, Lady Laura. I’ll give you a piece of flannel to practise on,’ she replied, amused.

After a few false starts Laura suddenly shrieked, ‘The machine’s running away! How do I stop . . .! Oh, goodness, this is fun.’

It wasn’t long before she’d mastered the machine and learned to control how much pressure to apply to the pedal. Then Mrs Armitage showed her how to refill the spool with cotton thread. Laura was enchanted.

‘One could do pin-tucking by machine,’ she exclaimed, ‘and hemming, couldn’t one?’

Mrs Armitage nodded. ‘It cuts the hand stitching I used to do by eighty per cent, too. To be a really good dressmaker there are three things it’s vital to do.’

Laura looked at her curiously. ‘And they are?’

‘Press. Press and press again. As soon as you’ve done a seam it must be thoroughly pressed, or the seam will show when the garment is worn. If the sewing machine is a dressmaker’s best friend, then a hot iron is her
very
best friend.’

Laura looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘Do you suppose . . .’ she hesitated, then the words came out in a rush. ‘Will you help me make my own wedding dress? I mean, really make it? I’d design the style. Cut the cloth. Tack and stitch it, although you’d have to help with the fittings?’

The dressmaker smiled. ‘I don’t see why not,’ she said slowly. ‘I’ve always thought you had a talent for design and you’ve just proved you’re willing to learn. It would be a real novelty for a bride to design and make her own dress.’

Laura’s face glowed with delight. ‘Thank you. I’ll work on some designs right away and you must tell me how many yards of satin I’ll need.’

Mrs Armitage laughed. ‘Lady Laura, you’ll be doing me out of a job if you’re as talented as I think you are.’

‘Can I be your apprentice, then? Can you give me simple things to do on all the others’ clothes? Please say yes. It would help me pass the time until I get married.’

‘It would be a pleasure to have such a willing student.’

‘You’re going to do
what
?’ Lizzie asked when she heard the news. ‘It’s a bit
infra-dig
, isn’t it? Wearing home-made clothes?’

‘We’re already wearing home-made clothes,’ Laura retorted.

‘Yes, but made by a professional seamstress! Running up your own wedding dress is an appalling idea. I’m sure Mama won’t let you.’

‘How can she stop me? It’s my wedding and my dress, and I’m sure Rory will approve when he knows.’

‘Don’t think you’re going to be allowed to even put a pin in
my
wedding dress when I get married,’ Lizzie said loftily.

‘I’ll be living it up in England by the time you get married so I’ll be far too busy.’

Lady Rothbury came into to room at that moment. ‘What’s going on? What are you quarrelling about?’

‘Laura’s got the ridiculous idea that she can make her own wedding dress and I’m just telling her she’s going nowhere near mine.’

‘Since when are you getting married, Lizzie?’ her mother demanded sarcastically. ‘To my knowledge no one has so far asked your father for your hand.’

‘I’m sure James Fraser is going to marry me, Mama. I love him and I really want to marry him.’

‘The man you fall in love with isn’t necessarily the man you should marry,’ Lady Rothbury said firmly.

Laura flushed with anger. ‘Mama! That’s a terrible thing to say. Of course you must marry the man you love. I wouldn’t be marrying Rory if I didn’t love him madly.’

Lady Rothbury remained serene. ‘You’ve been very lucky in finding the right man, Laura, especially as you’re so young. His father is a baronet. He has wealth and a good career. Your sisters may not have the same good fortune.’

‘I’m sure I will,’ Lizzie retorted. ‘I’ve known James since I was fifteen. It’s not a question of if we’ll get married, but when. You’ve cultivated all the right people for our benefit and we’re very grateful, Mama,’ she added slyly.

Her mother beamed, taking it as a compliment for her parenting skills. ‘I want you all to be happy, my dear, and a young woman is doomed if she marries a man who does not belong to the same religion, the same political party and the same class as herself. He must be a man of means, too, of course. Marriage is about suitability, compatibility and eligibility. It’s got nothing to do with love.’

The silence that followed spoke volumes of the dashed dreams held so dear by Lizzie and her sisters, who imagined they would all be swept up by their very own Prince Charming and carried off to a magical place where love and passion would last for ever.

‘When poverty comes in at the door love flies out of the window,’ their mother intoned with a final flourish as she turned to leave the room.

Laura burst into silent laughter. ‘So now you know,’ she murmured. She had no doubts Rory would always be there for her, looking after her and loving her until the end of time, and she thanked God for her good fortune.

For the next two months Laura worked under the supervision of Mrs Armitage, being taught everything from how to take measurements to cutting, pinning, tacking, pressing, machining and finally finishing off by hand. She learned to cut the lining for coats and jackets a size larger than the actual garment and how to make buttonholes. She was taught how to hemstitch, frill and pleat and edge a garment with piping. Soon she was able to emboss a silk bodice with lace and embroider it with crystal beads. Mrs Armitage was amazed at how quickly Laura learned and how dedicated she was to the craft of dressmaking.