The Royal Lacemaker (28 page)

‘Tom!' she called. But apart
from the bleating of a sheep there was silence.

‘Tom, please come and talk to
me,' she called, hearing the desperation rising in her voice. But, still there
was no answer.

Ignoring the pang that jolted her
insides, she straightened her cap and hurried on her way. How could they sort things
out if he wouldn't even speak to her? If this was love, then she didn't
think much of the misery and hurt it inflicted. Such were her thoughts that by the
time she found herself back at Picky Pike's, she'd convinced herself she
was better off without him.

‘Good afternoon, Lily.'
Glancing up, she saw Rupert Mountsford alighting from his carriage. Immaculately
dressed in a crisp dark suit with blue silk cravat, he was smiling at her in such an
admiring way that she clean forgot her wounded pride.

‘Mr Mountsford, er, I mean
Rupert,' she acknowledged, giving him her brightest smile, and hoping she
didn't look as dishevelled as she felt.

‘I was about to partake of some
afternoon refreshment. Would it be very forward of me to ask if you would care to
join me?' he enquired.

‘Oh, yes. I mean that would be
nice but I'm not sure if I should. Mrs Bodney might have something she wishes
me to do …' She stuttered to a halt.

‘Indeed, she does, Lily,'
and as if someone had conjured her up, her employer appeared on the doorstep before
her. ‘I have something to attend to back at my cottage, and now, it seems a
visitor who requires looking after here.
Regrettably, I cannot
manage both at the same time, so I'd be obliged if you would take Rupert
through to the parlour and ask Tilda to bring you some afternoon tea. Her presence
should be sufficient to quieten any no-good gossipers on this Sabbath day,'
she added, her lips twitching.

‘If you are sure, Mrs Bodney, then
I would be delighted to accept your kind invitation,' Rupert said, bowing
respectfully.

‘Rupert, please accept my sincere
apologies for not being able to join you. Although, something tells me my presence
will not be missed too much,' she said, giving him an outrageous wink and
hurrying on her way.

‘Well, Lily, is that agreeable
with you?' asked Rupert, solicitous as ever. ‘I wouldn't wish to
inconvenience you if you have other plans.' He was gazing at her so intently
her heart began beating like the clappers on the church bells. As she stood there
feeling attractive and appreciated, the hurt of the morning vanished like the
mist.

Smiling coyly up at him, she opened the
door. Then, completely forgetting the propriety of ringing for the maid, she called
to Tilda to bring a tray of tea for two through to the parlour. Rupert folded his
lean frame into the comfortable chair beside the fireplace, and then sat looking
intently at her. The atmosphere felt charged, as though something exciting was about
to happen, and although Lily didn't fully understand, she was enjoying the
tingly feeling she was experiencing when he smiled at her.

‘Lily, it has been an age since we
were last together, though I must confess to thinking of you often whilst
we've been apart.'

‘Mr Mountsford,
you do say such funny things. You must have a very busy life in London.'

‘Rupert, please, Lily. And yes, I
am kept busy. However, my dealings in Bransbeer ensure I return on a regular basis
and I can't think of anything nicer than spending time with you.' Not
knowing what to say, she looked down at her boots.

‘The weather is still quite
clement so perhaps, when we've had our tea, we could take a stroll through the
village?' he asked, smiling at her. Lily looked at him in surprise but the
moment was broken as Tilda came bustling into the room carrying a laden tray.

‘Here we are, Miss Rose, your tea
– and I've taken the liberty of adding slices of Mrs Bodney's best pound
cake,' she proudly announced, flushing as she looked at Rupert.

Once the little maid had left, Lily
turned her attention to her duties as hostess. But Rupert was watching her closely
and her hands trembled as she poured their tea. Whatever was the matter with her? If
he noticed, he was too polite to show it, reaching out and helping himself to a
slice of cake. Why was she flustered, she wondered.

‘Relax, Lily dear,' he said,
grinning at her so roguishly she felt her cheeks growing hot. Should he be saying
such things, she wondered. Seeking refuge in her drink, she endeavoured to sip it in
the ladylike manner of Mrs Bodney and tried to think of something to say.

‘This tea of Mrs Bodney's is
deliciously strong, isn't it? Ours at home was always as weak as
water.'

Her comment was met with silence.
Looking up, she was surprised to find Rupert had gone quite red in the face.
Suddenly, the rhythmic ticking of the mantel clock
seemed
inordinately loud. Then, seeming to have regained his composure, he smiled across at
her.

‘Indeed,' was his only
comment, and she wondered what on earth she'd said. Picking up her cup again,
she sipped her drink.

He then asked, ‘Are you not having
any cake?'

She shook her head, knowing that she
being so nervous, the fruit would stick in her throat. He, however, had no qualms
and ate heartily. When he'd finished, he returned the plate to the tray and
extracted a snowy handkerchief from his pocket. She watched in fascination as he
delicately wiped first his lips and then his long, neatly manicured fingers. Again,
she couldn't help comparing them to Tom's work-roughened skin, but now
Rupert was rising to his feet.

‘Thank you for your kind
hospitality, but regrettably I must take my leave for I have urgent business to
attend to before my journey back to London. However, I will ensure I return in time
for the Harvest Supper. Until then, Lily,' he said, bowing, and before she had
even had time to draw breath he'd gone.

Well, I never, she thought. He treated
me just like a lady. But then she remembered he'd left so quickly, they
hadn't gone for the walk he'd suggested.

Mrs Bodney bustled into the room,
cradling a parcel in her arms. Placing it on the chair, she looked around.

‘Rupert gone already?' she
asked in surprise.

‘He said he had business to attend
to before he returns to London, but will be back in time for the Harvest
Supper.'

‘Did he indeed?' her
employer asked, raising an eyebrow. ‘Well, it gives us time to see about your
outfit for that evening. It is imperative you look the part and I've the very
thing.' She untied the parcel and held a swathe of
sapphire material in front of Lily. Cocking her head to one side, she studied the
effect and then nodded. ‘A few nips here and tucks there and this will be
perfect. I do envy you your sylphlike form, but then you are a few years younger.
Now slip this on while I get my pins.' Lily took the gown, running her hands
over the velvet nap, marvelling at its softness.

‘It's only velveteen, as I
said earlier, but it should suffice,' Mrs Bodney said, sweeping back into the
room.

‘It's very kind of you, but
I can't possibly wear this.'

Mistaking her concern, the other woman
brushed her worries aside with a shake of her hand. ‘Of course you can. I
don't mind you borrowing it in the slightest. I even have a reticule that
complements it perfectly. As I said earlier, it's imperative you look the
part, Lily.'

‘But it's blue, and
I'm still in mourning for my mother.'

‘Oh, Lily, I'm sorry,
I'd quite forgotten,' Mrs Bodney said, looking concerned. She was quiet
for a moment. ‘I know it's not yet six months since she died, and then
you'll be free to cast off those dark garments, but I'm sure the Good
Lord will forgive us being slightly premature for one night. It is in a good cause,
after all. Yes, I'm sure that will be all right,' she added as if to
convince herself as well as Lily. ‘After all, you can go back to wearing black
after the Harvest Supper. Come along, let's get you fitted.'

Seeing further protest would be futile,
Lily clambered out of her sober black then gently stepped into the brilliant blue.
Immediately, she felt brighter, and as she moved around the soft folds clung to her
like a second skin.

‘Why, it doesn't need
altering at all, Mrs Bodney,' she exclaimed.

‘Believe you me,
a little adjustment here and there will make it look as if the dress was made for
you. Perception is all, Lily, remember that.' She kneeled down and began
pinning the dress.

‘Yes, Mrs Bodney,' Lily
answered, not having a clue what the other woman meant, but not wishing to appear
rude. It seemed to be an age before the other woman finally got to her feet, telling
Lily to turn around slowly. Then, after a few more pins were added here and there,
she finally seemed satisfied.

‘Right, you may now step out of
the dress. But gently, Lily, you don't want to go undoing my hard
work.'

Carefully, slipping out of the dress,
Lily held it out to her employer.

‘Goodness, child, do you expect me
to do everything for you?' Mrs Bodney asked, shaking her head. ‘Your
stitches are as neat as any I've seen, so away and make the adjustments
yourself. Take a candle through to the workroom. You can lay the dress out over the
big table so that it doesn't touch the floor. Here's my sewing basket;
you'll find thread to match the material inside,' she said, waving her
hand at Lily. ‘I'll be in to see how you're getting on
later.'

In the workroom, Lily settled to her
task. Nervous in case she made a mess of the fine material, she carefully followed
the line of the pins. Then, as she saw the new outline taking shape, her confidence
grew so that by the time Mrs Bodney returned, she was just finishing off the final
stitches.

‘Well, Lily, this is superb
work,' Mrs Bodney said, holding the material up to the light of the candle to
inspect her stitching. ‘Well done. You will do Rupert proud.' She stood
back, eyeing Lily critically. ‘We must do something with
that hair, though. A chignon will suit, I think.'

‘A what?' Lily asked,
shaking her head.

‘It's an elegant knot, Lily.
It will show off your shoulders to perfection. I'll get Tilda to press the
dress ready for Saturday. Now it's getting late, so I'll bid you good
night and see you back here first thing in the morning. We have but a few short
weeks left to finish making the Queen's lace. I trust everything is in
order?'

‘Yes, Mrs Bodney. It's
coming along …' But she was talking to an empty room, her employer having
left as soon as she'd heard the word ‘yes'.

That night her dreams were of dresses,
dancing and desire. When she woke she felt hot, as if she were on fire. Easing open
the skylight, she breathed in the cool morning air, smelling the tang of the sea.
Her senses seemed heightened and yet she felt strangely unsettled. It must be that
time, she thought, removing clean rags from her chest in readiness, then taking
herself down the stairs.

‘You look feverish,' Mary
remarked, walking into the workroom sometime later. ‘Your eyes are bright as
beacons. Are you feeling quite well?'

Lily looked up from her pillow. Although
she'd been sitting here since first light, she'd had great difficulty
concentrating, and consequently the lace for the collar was not progressing as
quickly as it should have been.

‘I'm fine, Mary, thank you.
Well, actually, I'm worried we'll not get all the lace finished in
time.'

‘It will be a close thing,
I'll admit, but we can only do our best,' Mary said, shrugging.

‘That's not good enough,
though, is it?' Lily sighed.

‘Well, wasting
time fretting is not getting the work done,' Mary pointed out.

Realizing the truth in the older
woman's words, Lily bent her head back over her pillow. Forcing herself to
concentrate, she hardly noticed the others arriving. It took all her willpower to
stop her thoughts from wandering, but she was determined that by the end of the day
she'd have made enough lace to finish the collar. She bet Her Majesty had no
idea how much sweat and toil was going in to the making of all this lace. Though, no
doubt the seamstresses at Spitalfields were under the same pressure too.

‘Have you seen your Tom recently,
Lily?' She looked up to see Cora hovering beside her, clearly dying to impart
some tittle-tattle. ‘What about you, Nell, have you seen him?' she
asked, turning to her friend. But for once the other girl didn't answer.

Trying to appear casual, Lily said,
‘No. Why, have you?'

‘I heard he'd sold his boat
and gone off on his travels.'

‘Yes, I heard something like that
too. Now please return to your pillow, it's time I inspected the lace and
I'll begin with yours.' Trying not to smile at Cora's obvious
disappointment, she snapped into overseer mode.