The Button Box, page 25
‘When were you going to tell me about all this?’ she demanded angrily. ‘I heard about it from Miss Jones, of all people. You didn’t even have the decency to let me know what you were about, Clara.’
Betsy and Jane stopped what they were doing to stare at their sister. Jane’s bottom lip trembled. ‘Don’t be cross, Lizzie. This is important.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Clara said quickly. ‘I should have come to see you, but I’ve had so much to do that it slipped my mind.’
‘It was humiliating to be told that you were going into business with Joss when I knew nothing about it.’
‘I know I should have made a point of telling you, but everything has happened so fast, and there were things to be done. I’m afraid I didn’t give you a thought, Lizzie.’ Clara laid her hand on her sister’s shoulder. ‘And for that I am genuinely sorry.’
Lizzie smiled reluctantly. ‘At least you have the decency to say so, but you should have told me what you were planning, just as you ought to have informed me that you were going to Paris with Joss.’
‘It was purely business, and he walked out on me, leaving me to pay his hotel bill. Anyway, let’s forget him – he’s unimportant.’ Clara held up a bolt of cloth interwoven with gold thread. ‘Look how beautiful this is. I can’t think why the Comerfords had difficulty finding buyers.’
‘Joss is a spoiled only son,’ Lizzie said bitterly. ‘He thinks of no one but himself.’
‘I thought you fancied him.’ Betsy winked at Jane and they turned away, their shoulders shaking.
‘You can laugh,’ Lizzie snapped. ‘But you wouldn’t think it so funny if a philanderer had broken your heart.’
‘Think yourself lucky that you didn’t get too involved with him,’ Clara said calmly. ‘He’s a stupid, selfish fellow who’s not fit to lick your boots, Lizzie.’
Lizzie’s eyes reddened and she sniffed. ‘I thought he fancied me. He was always making eyes at me and trying to corner me when I was working. The servants are all laughing at me behind my back, I know it.’
‘Leave the Comerfords,’ Clara said impulsively. ‘Come and work with us to make this the finest store in Oxford Street.’
‘What? Work in a shop?’
‘Not any old shop, Lizzie. This is our department store, or it will be when we get going properly. It’s a family-run business and we should be in it together.’
Lizzie sank down onto an unopened tea chest. ‘What do I know about working in a shop?’
‘As much as any of us,’ Betsy said, pulling a face. ‘We’re learning as we go along, and we certainly need all the help we can get.’
‘Yes, do come and live here,’ Jane pleaded. ‘It will be lovely to have all my sisters together again.’
Lizzie glanced round suspiciously. ‘Where’s Gertrude? I thought she’d taken my place.’
‘Of course she hasn’t.’ Clara stared at her in dismay. ‘I don’t know what gave you that idea, Lizzie. We helped her when she was down and out, but in reality she owns the building.’
‘And she’s gone missing,’ Jane added. ‘She disappeared in Paris and Clara has been searching for her.’
‘But Gertie isn’t family,’ Clara said firmly. ‘She’s a friend and I hope to find her, but you are my sister, Lizzie, and I would take it as a great favour if you decided to come and help us build The Button Box into a thriving business. After all, you know more about ladies’ fashions and what’s in vogue than any of us.’
‘Hold on,’ Betsy protested. ‘I know more about millinery than Lizzie does. I’ll be in charge of that department, when it opens.’
‘And it will, in due course, and you will be in charge, but we have to start somewhere.’
Lizzie fingered the flimsy material. ‘What will you do with this?’
‘I want to make the shop look like an oriental bazaar. It must be something unique to bring in the customers, if only out of curiosity. It will be like stepping into Aladdin’s cave, and we’ve got just ten days to transform a dingy workplace into something exotic and beautiful.’
Lizzie stood up, brushing dust from her black skirt. ‘It will take a miracle to make all this match your dream, Clara. I think you must be mad, and perhaps I am a little crazy, too, but I will leave the Comerfords and throw my lot in with you three.’
Clara uttered a cry of delight. ‘The Carter sisters will conquer the West End. There’s nothing we cannot do if we put our minds to it.’
‘I hope so,’ Lizzie said glumly. ‘I doubt if I’ll ever get to be a proper lady’s maid now.’
‘Never mind that. I’ll make you head of the fashion department, which is much more important. I remember how Mademoiselle Boucher ruled the roost in Automne. She was a person to be reckoned with, just as you will be, Lizzie. But for now, let’s unpack everything, and then we can sort out what is saleable and discard anything that is not up to scratch.’
They worked on throughout the day, with Lizzie staying until late afternoon before setting off for Bedford Square to collect her belongings. She returned an hour later, having been sacked on the spot for telling Mrs Comerford a few home truths, which relieved her of the necessity of working out her notice. Needless to say, Mrs Comerford had refused to give her a character, but Lizzie was unrepentant.
‘I told her exactly what I thought of her son,’ she said as they sat round the table at suppertime. ‘I repeated what you’d told me about him abandoning you in Paris and leaving you to pay the bill. I left her in no doubts as to his conduct with the maids, myself included, and I walked out of the house with my head held high. I’ll never go into service again as long as I live.’
Clara clapped enthusiastically, with Jane and Betsy joining in. ‘Good for you, Lizzie. I’m afraid we haven’t got your room ready but you can have Gertie’s for tonight, and tomorrow we’ll sort something out.’
‘I don’t mind,’ Lizzie said, smothering a yawn. ‘I’m up every morning at six thirty and I rarely get to bed before midnight, sometimes later if I have to wait up for the mistress.’
‘I suggest we all turn in early.’ Clara rose to her feet and began stacking the dishes. ‘We’ll be fresh in the morning and able to work better after a good night’s sleep. I’ll see to the washing up.’
‘I’m very tired,’ Jane admitted. ‘Good night, Clara.’
Betsy picked up a chamber candlestick and headed for the stairs. ‘I’ll light the way. Come on Jane. We’ll show Lizzie where to go.’
Clara could hear them laughing and talking as they ascended the stairs and she smiled. It was good to have all her sisters under one roof. She washed the dishes and settled down at the table to make a few quick sketches, putting her ideas for the various displays on paper, and when she had finished she took the button box from a shelf.
Sifting through the colourful contents, she found the button from Gertie’s frock that had fallen under the bed in the atelier. She held it in the palm of her hand, closing her eyes as she tried to imagine the scene in the artist’s studio. Had Gertie gone there willingly? Or was she being held captive and attempting to escape when the button was torn from the bodice? Clara set it apart as she scooped up a handful of her treasures and let them fall, one by one. The last of them was the ornate silver button from Luke’s waistcoat. She gazed at it for a long moment. How typical of Luke to insist on silver instead of brass. The precious metal absorbed the warmth from her hand and she sighed as she laid the button carefully back in the box. Luke was lost to her, just as the button was lost to him. If he returned to London he would be arrested and sent for trial, the outcome of which was a foregone conclusion. However much it hurt her to admit it, there was no hope for Luke, but Gertie was another matter and something must be done to help her. Clara closed the box and replaced it on the shelf.
The days passed in a frenzy of activity, during which the shop and storeroom were transformed into something that Clara hoped would entice prospective customers into the store. She used everything she had learned in Paris, adding her own ideas to the theatrical backdrop she created out of shimmering silks, satins and filmy muslins. The brass lamps and trays were polished until they shone, and Clara arranged the smaller items on low tables purchased from a second-hand dealer in Seven Dials. Lizzie and Betsy entered into the spirit of things and they trawled the pawnbrokers and dolly shops in the East End, returning home with baskets of glass beads, dyed ostrich feathers and plumage from peacocks’ tails, all of which added to the romantic ambience. The aromatic scent from the carved cedar-wood boxes filled the air, and paper lanterns, created by Jane’s nimble fingers, dangled from the ceiling. Clara risked life and limb, climbing on chairs and tables to hang them where they could best be seen.
Plumley arrived the day before they planned to open the doors to the public. He stepped inside, looking round with an appreciative smile. ‘Well, well. What an amazing display.’
‘I’m glad you approve,’ Clara said, wiping her hands on her grimy apron. ‘We’ve all worked hard.’
‘I can see that, my dear Miss Carter. I feel as though I’ve stepped into a room filled with treasures from the Orient.’
Clara smiled proudly. ‘That was what I intended, sir. I wanted to make shopping an exciting experience.’
‘I think you’ve succeeded, and I’m very impressed.’ Plumley handed her a folded document. ‘This is the contract between yourself and Mr Comerford. Study it and add your signature, if you agree to the terms as set down. I’ll arrange a meeting with the gentleman in question.’
‘Thank you, Mr Plumley. I’m very grateful, and I hope you’ll be here for the opening.’
‘Have you asked anyone to perform the ceremony?’
Clara stared at him in surprise. ‘I was just going to open the door at nine o’clock and invite people in.’
‘Not good enough.’ He shook his head. ‘Too dull, if you want my opinion. You must make something more of it than that. Someone who is well known should be asked to officiate, and you ought to provide a glass of sherry wine or something similar for your first customers. Make it an occasion, Miss Carter.’
‘But I don’t know anyone like that. I’m afraid the people I’ve come across have been less than respectable.’ Clara had a vision of Patches in her lurid crimson gown welcoming the customers, and she stifled a giggle.
‘I’m serious, Miss Carter. As it happens I’m on my way to see Lady Quinn. She’s well known, if not notorious.’ Plumley smiled and patted Clara’s hand. ‘Scandal was the Batt sisters’ constant companion years ago. Lady Quinn used to enjoy reading about her own exploits in the newspapers. She pretends to be shocked by her sister’s escapades, but really there was nothing to choose between them.’
‘I still find that hard to believe.’ The vision of Patches was replaced by her memory of Lady Quinn, but it was hard to imagine that an arrogant, stiff-necked woman like Garland Quinn had ever been young and flighty.
‘I can see what you’re thinking, Clara – I may call you that, mayn’t I?’
She nodded, eager to hear the rest of the story. ‘Of course.’
‘And you may call me Ambrose. Now where was I? Oh, yes. Dear Garland had a succession of lovers, some of them very well known indeed, and mentioning no names, at least two of them were politicians.’ He tapped the side of his nose. ‘But the public has a long memory and I believe women will flock here, if only to see the femme fatale of Berkeley Square in person.’
‘Then you must ask her, Ambrose,’ Clara said hastily. ‘I’ll provide some sort of refreshment, according to how much money we have left, although I doubt if I could run to wine or sherry.’
‘Champagne would be better.’ Plumley put his hand in his pocket and produced a handful of coins, which he pressed into Clara’s hand. ‘A couple of bottles of good champagne for her ladyship, and those in the know, will suffice. I suggest some cheap white wine for the ladies who will flock in to see her. Send one of your sisters to the wine merchants and they will hire glasses out to you as well. Make a splash, my dear Clara, and you will encourage the ladies to part with their husbands’ hard-earned money.’
‘I can’t repay this much,’ Clara said, aghast at such extravagance.
‘Don’t worry, my dear, it will go on your bill, but for now, do as I suggest.’ He picked up a brass coffee pot. ‘I might buy this for myself. Anyway, I must go now.’ He put his hat on, pausing in the doorway. ‘And music helps. If you know any itinerant musicians you should hire them for the morning. A couple of sandwich men advertising the opening would spread the word, and it should start as soon as possible in order to advertise the grand opening.’
Clara nodded, dazed by his enthusiasm. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
‘That’s a good girl. I must leave you now, but I’ll be here early on the great day, so make sure that everything is just right.’
‘Yes, thank you, Ambrose.’
As the door closed on him Betsy hurried over to lock it before anyone else tried to come in. She turned to Clara with an excited giggle. ‘Champagne and wine. I heard what he said. Whatever next?’
Clara sank down on the nearest chair. ‘He’s like a whirlwind. I suppose I should have argued against his wild ideas, but in a way they make sense.’
‘You must do as he says, Clara. Lizzie and I will go and get the champagne, if you like. I’ve always wanted to taste it. They say the bubbles go up your nose and make you giggle.’
‘I think it’s the alcohol that makes you tipsy, but if Ambrose thinks it necessary we must take his advice.’
‘So I’ll go and tell Lizzie, shall I?’
‘Yes, thank you, Betsy. You do that and I’ll tidy up.’ Clara replaced a bolt of beaded and embroidered silk on the shelf. It had been an exhausting couple of weeks, but she was satisfied with the setting she had created for her merchandise. It was striking and it was different, and more importantly, this was merely the beginning.
She had just finished putting things away when Lizzie and Betsy came bustling in from the kitchen, dressed for outdoors. Clara gave them the money that Ambrose had left, with strict instructions to spend it wisely. Two bottles of champagne and perhaps half a dozen bottles of white wine with a case or two of glasses to be delivered the next day. They left together, chattering excitedly, and Clara was about to lock the door when she spotted a familiar figure hurrying along the street. He clutched his hat in his hand and his tawny hair was whipped into tangles by the wind. She let him in and was enveloped in a bear hug that took her breath away.
‘Nathaniel,’ she gasped when he released her, ‘what are you doing here?’
‘That’s not much of a welcome.’ He placed his hat on the counter and took a step backwards, gazing round at the transformation open-mouthed. ‘By all that’s wonderful, this is amazing. If you weren’t standing beside me I’d think I was in the wrong shop.’
‘Do you like it, Nat? Or do you think I’ve gone too far?’
‘Too far? No, indeed not. It’s like being transported to another land. I’ve never been to the Orient, but this is like travelling on a magic carpet, and it seems that I’m just in time for the grand opening.’
‘Yes, I can’t believe it’s almost here. We’ve worked so hard to bring it to fruition, and now I’m scared. I wouldn’t admit it to my sisters, but what will I do if the customers hate it?’
He slipped his arm around her shoulders. ‘They’ll be bowled over backwards. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen.’
‘Come through to the kitchen and see Jane – she’s busy finishing off the paper lanterns. You’ve just missed Lizzie and Betsy. They’ve gone to order champagne and wine for the grand opening.’
‘You really are doing it in style.’ Nathaniel followed her as she threaded her way through the maze of displays.
‘It was Ambrose’s idea.’
‘Who is he?’
‘He’s Lady Quinn’s man of business and now he’s mine as well. I’ve come such a long way, Nat. I’ve so much to tell you … But I thought you were settled in Paris, and that you’d stay there for ever.’ Clara hesitated with her hand on the doorknob. ‘Why have you come back?’
‘If I’m honest I suppose I was homesick. I had a wonderful time at the Conservatoire and I learned a lot from the maestro, but I never intended to make playing in an orchestra my life’s work. Composing is my true love, and I’m certain of that now.’
‘You seemed so wrapped up in your own affairs when I last saw you,’ Clara said warily.
‘You caught me off guard. I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that I didn’t care, but I really did miss you.’
Clara allowed this to pass. She believed him, but the memory of their last meeting refused to go away. ‘Are you going to stay in London?’
‘I have to face up to my responsibilities. I can’t allow my uncle to take over the estate. It’s not what my father wanted.’
‘I realise that.’ Clara opened the kitchen door. ‘Jane, look who’s come to see us.’
Jane looked up and her expression of surprise melted into a smile. ‘Nathaniel. You’ve come home.’ She raised herself to her feet. ‘How lovely.’
He gave her a hug. ‘I’m afraid I don’t deserve such a welcome, Jane. I’ve been so wrapped up in my work that I’ve neglected my friends.’
‘No, never say that. You’ve been doing what you had to do, but now you’re here with us again. I’m so pleased to see you.’
Nathaniel dropped a kiss on Jane’s blonde curls. ‘I have a lot to catch up on, Jane. You must tell me everything that’s been happening in my absence.’
‘That might take some time,’ Clara said, smiling. ‘And I have a lot to do.’
‘Am I being asked to leave?’
‘No, of course not, Nat. But Ambrose gave me some ideas for promoting the reopening and I ought to look into them.’
‘Is there anything I can do to help?’
Clara eyed him thoughtfully. ‘He did suggest that music would help things along.’
‘Then I’m your man. You have only to ask and I’d be delighted to play all day, if you wish.’
