The Girl with the Red Ribbon (22 page)

‘I should have insisted she came here with me,' Rowan burst out.

There was silence apart from the steady ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner of the room and the crackle of logs in the grate.

‘That wouldn't have been possible, Rowan,' Mr Acland finally said. ‘An unmarried woman with child would never have been permitted release. And, if by some miracle she had, she would have carried such a stigma she'd never have been able to return home or to her job.'

Rowan nodded, knowing what he said was true.

‘At least she still believed that her Charles would be coming to collect her,' she said. ‘Oh, I know he would never have had any such intention,' she cried, as he raised his bushy brows, ‘but Susan believed it.'

‘And that is a comfort upon which you can draw whenever you remember your friend,' Mrs Acland said softly. ‘Now, I have kept Cook waiting long enough for dinner,
so shall we go in? Oh, and talking of dinner, Alexander, we met Verity whilst driving in the park and I have invited her to dine with us on Saturday.'

As he gave a low groan, Rowan turned to Mrs Acland.

‘I really have no appetite, Mrs Acland. Would you mind if I miss dinner?'

‘I understand, my dear. You have had a shock. However, you must eat, so I shall send Daisy up with some broth. That at least will warm and sustain you until the morning.' Mrs Acland leaned over and patted Rowan's shoulder.

‘I'm truly sorry about your friend, Rowan. Please feel free to pick any floral tribute from the garden. I'm sure you will wish to say a few words for her,' Mr Acland said.

‘Thank you, Mr Acland, I would like to do that. Thank you also for travelling back here to tell me about Susan. I appreciate it.'

‘Even if you already knew,' he said, his eyes heavy with sympathy.

‘Yes,' she whispered.

The air was cool as Rowan hurried out to the garden. The clouds had given way to a clear night, with stars twinkling like the richest diamonds on their velvet blanket and a crescent of silver moon rising in the east. Kicking off her slippers, she selected the brightest flowers to reflect her friend's sunny personality. Then, kneeling on the damp grass, she lifted her face to the moon and gave thanks for Susan and her baby's short lives and blessings for the safe passing of their souls. ‘
So mote it be
,' she intoned, carefully shaping the flowers into the circle of life.

Rowan spent a restless night, turbulent dreams of the asylum and Susan dying tormenting her. Despite what Mr Acland had said, she still felt she should have tried to get her friend released as well. Perhaps she would still be alive if she'd had treatment outside of the institution.

To her shame, the sun was high in the sky by the time she finally woke. Groggily, she forced herself to get out of bed. Daisy had laid out clean stockings, chemise and petticoats on the back of the chair, and left a jug of water for Rowan to wash with, although it was now quite cold. By the time she'd finished her ablutions and made her way downstairs, Mrs Acland had gone out. However, she had left instructions for the maid to bring Rowan a tray of tea and toast as soon as she appeared.

‘Madam says yous to take it easy today, miss,' Daisy said, carefully setting out a dish of preserve on the table. ‘She says if yous wishes, yous can turn that material yous brought yesterday into a dress to wear for the dinner on Saturday.'

‘I don't think that invitation is extended to me, Daisy,' Rowan answered.

‘Yes, it is. Mrs Acland said it was, so yous to look the part when Miss Verity calls,' the maid said, wrinkling her nose as she tried to remember her employer's exact words.
‘Look, me's still wearing me circle of life,' she said, holding up her wrist.

Rowan stared at the dead flowers. ‘I think your chain will need renewing every day or so, Daisy,' she said with a laugh.

‘Oh, me wondered about that. Dead flowers don't seem right for a circle of life, do they?'

‘I think fresh would be better. I suppose Mr Acland has already left?' Rowan asked.

‘Yes, he went first thing this morning. He told madam he had a lot to sort out at the asylum 'cos the guards had been negi – negli – or something. Anyway, madam told him he was to be sure to be back in time for dinner on Saturday and he said madam was a right interfering …'

‘Daisy? Where are you, girl? If I catch you gossiping, there'll be all hell to pay,' a strident voice called.

‘Blimey, that's Cook. Better go or she'll have me guts,' Daisy whispered. ‘Coming, Cook, and me don't gossip,' she called, scuttling away.

Rowan grinned. It seemed the little maid was gaining in confidence.

Rowan took herself back up to the Lilac Room and stared out over the garden. She could see the flowers still lying in the circle she'd created for Susan and her baby. Thoughts of her friend brought a lump to her throat and she shook her head for the sad loss of life. Then she remembered what Mrs Acland had said about drawing comfort from the fact that Susan had died thinking that Charles was coming for her. She supposed the old saying of living in hope was better than the dying in despair bit.

Shaking
her head to rid herself of such depressing thoughts, she picked up the emerald silk and held it up in front of the window. Really it was exquisite, and quite the most expensive material Rowan had ever owned. As the silk shimmered like waves on the sea, she was reminded of the green ribbon she'd bought in the market in Sudbury. That seemed in another lifetime now, she thought with a pang. Forcing her thoughts back to her dressmaking, she knew she'd have to cut and sew carefully and vowed that this time she would concentrate. Mrs Acland had been kindness itself and it wouldn't do to abuse her generosity. Closing her eyes, she visualized the look she wanted to create. Then, spreading out the material on the table, she tentatively made the first cut …

By the time Saturday dawned, the dress was finished. She'd even had enough material to make a matching stole to wear around her shoulders and a couple of tiny bows to attach to the front of the golden slippers. Delighted with the results, she skipped down the stairs for breakfast.

‘Good morning, my dear,' Mrs Acland greeted her. ‘Did you sleep well?'

‘Yes, I did, thank you. I trust you did, too?' Rowan answered, helping herself to a slice of toast from the silver rack.

‘I did, thank you. Now, as you know, I have invited Verity to dinner tonight. How is the emerald dress coming along?'

‘It is quite finished,' Rowan replied with a grin.

‘Oh, good, I'm so looking forward to seeing it. You have been busy sewing for days but you are looking much
better, so I'm guessing it was good for you to be occupied,' Mrs Acland said.

‘I feel very guilty, though, for you haven't let me do a thing around the house,' Rowan said, frowning.

‘Rowan, dear, you must remember you are our guest. However, if you wish to help, this morning you may gather and arrange flowers for the house. We must have everywhere looking cheerful for our guest. Of course, Verity's house is much grander than our modest abode, but we strive to keep up standards,' Mrs Acland said with a smile.

Rowan stared around the elegant room with its ornate furnishings and beautifully carved grandfather clock. This was modest?

‘But before you do that, I insist on seeing your dress,' Mrs Acland continued.

‘I do hope I've done the material justice,' Rowan said, looking anxiously at the kind woman sitting opposite.

‘Well, when you've quite finished your breakfast, go and put it on and we'll see, won't we?' Mrs Acland's blue eyes twinkled.

Back in her room, Rowan carefully climbed into the emerald dress, slipped the bows onto the slippers and draped the stole around her shoulders. Then, after a quick look in the mirror, she descended the stairs.

‘Oh my,' Mrs Acland said, her eyes widening with shock.

‘Don't you like it?' Rowan asked anxiously. ‘Have I made a mess of the material?'

The woman shook her head. ‘You look quite exquisite, my dear. Like a bird of paradise. That emerald silk brings
out the colour of your eyes to perfection and sets off your copper curls magnificently. Why, I'm quite envious of how gorgeous you look,' she said with a laugh. ‘Now come closer and let me see how you've worked this magic,' she ordered. ‘Hmm. Now twirl around.'

Rowan did as she'd been asked. There was a long silence.

‘Is everything all right?' she asked timidly. Again, Mrs Acland shook her head and Rowan felt her stomach sink.

‘Don't look so worried, my dear. That dress becomes you; in fact, it's a work of art. The cut is tailored to perfection and as for those stitches … Wherever did you learn to sew like that?'

‘My mother taught me,' Rowan whispered. ‘She made me practise until my stitching met with her approval.'

Mrs Acland smiled. ‘In that case, she was an admirable teacher. As for the evening stole and bows to the slippers … ! You have created an absolutely stunning outfit. I just hope dear Verity can compete,' she said with a chuckle. ‘She's quite possessive of Alexander and can't abide competition. Anyway, that's enough idle chatter. Go and change back into your day dress and create some wonderful floral arrangements for me, will you?'

Relieved her outfit had met with the woman's approval, Rowan did as she'd been asked and then took herself out to the garden. It was a beautiful spring morning and she hummed happily as she gathered armfuls of flowers, breathing in their sweet fragrance. The sun was blazing from a clear blue sky and she noticed the tribute she'd made for Susan wilting under its heat. Picking some
golden jonquils with their heady scent, she carefully shaped them into another circle, then laid them in the shade of the cherry tree. ‘Sleep sweetly, Susan and baby,' she whispered. Then gathering up her collection of spring flowers, she turned back towards the house.

‘Hello. I don't know who you are, but you've certainly enjoyed gathering those, haven't you?' Spinning round, Rowan saw a dark-haired woman smiling at her. She had the same twinkling eyes as Mrs Acland, only these were tinged violet rather than blue and she was stylishly dressed in a lilac dress edged with purple. Her outfit was topped by the most elaborate bonnet Rowan had ever seen.

‘Hello, I'm Rowan and I'm staying with Mrs Acland,' she said.

‘Then you must be a guest of my mother's. I'm Louisa, her daughter.'

‘Louisa, whatever are you doing here?' Mrs Acland cried in delight, appearing through the French doors.

‘I've just been fitting Lady Lawton for her new summer outfits, and thought I'd call and see my favourite mother,' Louisa answered. ‘And to show off my latest creation,' she added, pointing to her bonnet and giving an elegant pirouette. ‘What do you think?'

‘It's quite stunning, isn't it, Rowan?' Mrs Acland asked, clapping her hands.

Rowan studied the creation carefully.

‘Well, Rowan, don't you approve?' Louisa asked, frowning when Rowan hesitated.

‘Erm, well, that is …'

‘Spit it out, girl,' Louisa persisted, giving Rowan a penetrating stare.

Never
one to lie, Rowan took a deep breath. ‘I agree it is stunning, but can't help thinking the strong hues of the material overpower your delicate features. You have such beautiful violet eyes and …' she stammered to a halt as Louisa's eyes narrowed.

‘And?'

‘I think that if you were to front the purple with a soft lilac, rather than that strong fuchsia it would enhance rather than drain your natural fair colouring, and would do more justice to the shape of your bonnet. A bluer shade of periwinkle would also work well,' she stammered.

Mrs Acland's tinkling laugh resounded round the garden. ‘Rowan's right, you know, daughter. I can see exactly what she means. The bonnet and decoration are a masterpiece but gentler, paler colours would definitely be more flattering on you.'

‘But these stronger colours are in the latest mode, and as a milliner I need to make a statement by showing I'm aware of that. People look to me to set an example,' Louisa insisted.

‘Of course, and I'm sorry if I've offended you, but …' Rowan mumbled to a halt again.

‘But … ? Come along, you've got this far so you may as well finish what you wish to say,' Louisa said, her violet eyes darkening as they bored into Rowan's.

Rowan took a deep breath. ‘If you don't mind me saying, I would be more apt to follow someone who adapted the latest mode to flatter their own colouring.'

There was silence as Louisa stood there taking in what Rowan had said.

‘Rowan
pointed out how softer coloured silks would work better for the sweet peas on my embroidery,' Mrs Acland said, breaking the silence. I have to admit I was sceptical, thinking it would make the flowers fade into the background. Amazingly, she was right and now all the blooms harmonize and have a vibrancy about them. The whole piece has sprung to life. Come inside and see,' she said, taking Louisa by the hand.

Giving Rowan an unfathomable stare, Louisa let herself be led away. Rowan let out a rush of air. Perhaps she should have held her counsel; she didn't know Louisa, after all. Oh, well, it was too late now, she thought, taking the flowers into the cool of the stillroom where vases had been laid out ready.

As she busied herself arranging the various blooms, she couldn't help noticing the shelves were neatly lined with jars of perfumes, cordials and cure-alls. It was a fascinating array and she could have spent ages perusing the neatly written labels. However, aware that she might have offended Mrs Acland's daughter with her outspoken opinion, she focused her attentions on creating the best floral arrangements she could.

Back indoors, there was no sign of Mrs Acland or Louisa, but she could see the little maid bustling around preparing the dining room. Already the table was laid with silver candelabra, crystal glasses and starched white napkins. Clearly, modest house or not, it was going to be an elaborate dinner. Pleased that she had an elegant outfit to wear, Rowan determined to do something with her unruly curls.

‘I've left the vases of flowers in the stillroom, Daisy. I'll
be in my room if Mrs Acland should want me,' she called as she made her way upstairs.

‘Thank yous, miss,' the maid called back, continuing with her chores.

Rowan spent ages twisting her hair into ringlets, which she curled around her head like a coronet. She'd just finished when Daisy bustled in to attend to the fire, draw the drapes and light the candles.

‘Yous looks like a princess,' she cried. ‘Cook's having kittens 'cos the jelly that should have set hasn't, and the sauce that should be smooth is curdled. She's in a right two and eight and said me wasn't to be long, so if yous don't need me for anything else me better scootle back to the kitchen.'

‘I can manage perfectly, thank you, Daisy,' Rowan said, smiling as the little maid paused for breath. ‘You scootle back to Cook.'

As the little maid scurried away, Rowan shook her head. Fancy having someone there to pull your drapes and add fuel to the fire as it burned low. It was so unlike life on the farm, where all these jobs had been hers.

By this time the shadows were gathering in the corners of the room. Carefully Rowan dressed in her silk ensemble, pinched colour into her pale cheeks and, after a final check in the mirror, crept down the stairs.