Farringdon's Fate, page 9
‘Poor Wilfred. I’ve brought a few provisions to help tide your mother over. There’s one of Mrs Cookson’s meat and potato pies.’ She smiled, knowing they were his weakness.
‘That’s kind of you. Ma will be most obliged, and so will I come supper. Do you want me to take that?’ he asked, nodding to her basket.
‘Actually, I was hoping she might have the kettle on the boil. It’s cosy chatting over one of her mugs of tea and you like lying beside the fire without being hassled, don’t you, Ellery?’ As if he understood every word, the dog barked, making them laugh.
‘Who’d have thought Lady Louisa would prefer to sit in our humble home rather than take afternoon tea at the grand manor,’ he teased.
‘That’s it though, Sam, yours is a home. Somewhere to relax. Besides, your ma is easy to talk to.’ Knowing things had been difficult since Lady Farringdon with her grand ideas had moved into the manor, Sam nodded sympathetically.
‘Ma thinks of you as another daughter and she’ll be pleased of the company, especially now Mary’s married and got her own place. How is the handsome Henry Beauchamp? Did you enjoy your weekend at Woolbrooke?’
‘Henry’s well, thank you,’ Louisa said, refusing to rise to his ribbing. ‘And I had such a lovely time I extended my visit. In fact, I only returned yesterday evening because Step Mama had arranged for us to be fitted for some new clothes.’
‘And all went well?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ she replied, giving him a strange look. ‘Although why you would be interested in such things, I really don’t know. Goodness, this wind is keen,’ she shivered. ‘I’d better get moving.’
Feeling somewhat brighter at the prospect of a slice of Mrs Cookson’s pie, Sam continued making his way towards the barn where the cart was waiting. It wasn’t really his job to take tools for sharpening but it gave him an excuse to visit his friend Tom in the village. Of course, it had nothing to do with the pretty girl whose big blue eyes had beguiled him, he told himself. Then, almost as if he’d conjured her up, he spotted her, or rather he saw her bonnet and pink cape bobbing above the hedge as she made her way round the path from the servants’ entrance.
Breaking into a run, he harnessed the pony and caught up with her just as she turned into the lane leading to the village.
‘Can I offer you a lift?’ he asked, heart thumping as she smiled up at him. Her cheeks were flushed but whether from the wind or something else, he wasn’t sure. To his surprise she didn’t even demur when he took her bag as she climbed up beside him.
‘Your visit must have gone well if you’re only just leaving,’ he said.
‘Mrs Cookson insisted that I eat luncheon with her in the staff dining room. I never realised the manor had so many servants,’ she cried, shaking her head in astonishment.
‘That woman’s a treasure,’ he agreed. ‘So, how did you find the indomitable Lady Farringdon?’
‘Precisely that, indomitable,’ she said, sighing. ‘She made me feel as if I didn’t know my job.’
‘Which you do,’ he told her.
‘Of course I do. Madame Pittier would never have let me come here otherwise. I just hope I haven’t let her down.’ Slowing the cart to take the bend, he glanced at her from under his cap. She looked so despondent, he wanted to reach out and take her hand but knew, even if he found the courage, it would be inappropriate. Then, like a dam bursting, Jane’s anger came flooding out. ‘Nothing I did pleased Lady Farringdon. She even questioned my methods, saying she was reserving judgement until I proved my competence.’
‘Ouch, that’s a bit much even for her,’ he replied. ‘Still, I dare say you are going to show her.’
‘I most certainly am,’ she retorted, and Sam had to stifle a smile as he saw her chin jut out determinedly. ‘Her stepdaughters were lovely though.’
‘Yes, they’ve had quite a lot to put up with recently. Oh, bad timing,’ he muttered as, once again, the sound of angry voices carried from the quarry below. ‘It sounds as if you’re not the only one who’s had a bad day.’
‘Is it always like this?’ She frowned.
‘I’ve heard the Touchstone is getting even stricter.’
‘The what?’
‘He’s the man who measures then assesses the value of the stone once it’s been passed as sound by the Tapstone.’
‘I was woken by the workers marching by the window at some unearthly hour.’
‘They have to start early to get in their fourteen-hour shift.’
‘Are you saying they work beneath ground all that time then have to queue to have their work passed and valued before they get paid?’ she asked, her eyes widening in horror.
‘That’s about it. It’s a hard life and if they don’t suffer an accident, they’ll die of the drink.’
‘They have money for liquor?’
‘No, they don’t, but it’s the only way they know how to relax. Of course, it means there’s no money for their wives to feed the children or pay the rent.’
‘But that’s terrible,’ Jane cried. ‘It certainly puts my troubles into perspective. Beatrice was saying earlier that she didn’t intend to marry and I’m beginning to think she’s right.’
As Sam turned to look at her, he was seized by a sudden urge to make her change her mind.
Chapter 10
Much as she felt for the quarrymen, Jane had little time to ponder on their plight, or wonder why Sam Gill always appeared with his cart when she needed a lift, for in order to secure the commission she had to present herself to Lady Farringdon with the finished toile at ten thirty sharp the next morning.
‘Blimey, maid, yer’ll be sewing all night,’ Ida declared looking out of the window, as Jane explained. ‘It’s getting dimpsy already. Yer’d better sit here and I’ll light me flash.’
‘Your what?’ Jane asked. ‘And if I start now, you’ll soon be wanting to clear the table for supper.’
‘This is me flash,’ she said, taking a glass globe from the shelf. It was filled with water and as the candle was lit, Jane saw that it intensified the light from the flame. ‘All us lacemakers and dressmakers use these else we’d never be able to finish our work this time of year. As for supper, well, it won’t hurt to eat on our laps for once.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Somers,’ Jane replied, staring at the woman in surprise.
‘Not at all, now I knows what yer makes, I’da no reason to worry. It’s poor Jeanie the staymaker who needs to watch out,’ the woman sighed.
‘Surely you’re not in competition?’
‘Course we is, it’s our livelihoods. Like I says last night, no work, no money, no food. Poor Jeanie’s already suffering now the clothier’s started bringing them ready-mades when he visits. Has to do a spot of cleaning up at the vicarage to get by, and with her bad back as well.’ She shook her head. ‘Now let’s make a start, eh?’ She sank into the chair on the other side of the table and stared at Jane expectantly.
‘It’s very kind of you, but I’ve so much to do,’ Jane said, opening her bag.
‘All the more reason for me to help then.’ Seeing the gleam in the woman’s eye as she began setting out her things on the table, Jane’s heart sank. Clearly she couldn’t tell Mrs Somers what to do in her own home, she thought, surreptitiously checking the tablecloth for any crumbs.
‘As I’m sure you know this is very exacting work, so if you could thread a needle that would be really helpful,’ she said passing Madame’s little silver case and bobbin across the table. Then while she was occupied, Jane took out the bundle of calico, spread it out then consulted her notebook.
‘I’da done it,’ the woman cried, holding the needle up some minutes later. ‘What can I do now?’
‘Would you mind counting me out fifteen pins?’ Jane asked, indicating the little wooden box. ‘I know it doesn’t seem much to a skilled seamstress like yourself, but it would save me time.’
‘Don’t mind what I do, girl. Unlike a dog, Ida’s never too old to learn new tricks,’ she chortled. ‘Can’t wait to see people’s faces when I tell them I’ve helped make her ladyship’s underpinnings.’
‘I think we should be discreet,’ Jane said, quickly.
‘Ooh, a secret job, even better,’ the woman crowed delightedly. ‘I remember when…’ Jane let Mrs Somers’ reminiscences go over her head and focused on the toile. Luckily, after a while, her interest waned. ‘Me stomach thinks me throat’s been cut,’ she said, getting up and stirring the pot hanging above the paltry fire. ‘Good, almost warm enough. Seeing as how I ain’t got no fresh bread, I’ll toast the old crusts.’
‘That will be very nice,’ Jane said, feeling guilty she hadn’t been given any money to pay for her board. ‘I’m sure you’ll soon be reimbursed for my stay.’
‘Yeah, and Athame might fly,’ the woman snorted. ‘Though with that cat, you never know. Now bring them chairs over and we’ll eat. Then you can tell me how you found her ladyship.’
Although she would have preferred to press on with her cutting out, Jane moved over towards the fire, surprised to find she was hungry despite having enjoyed Mrs Cookson’s pie earlier. She couldn’t help comparing this damp little cottage, its few twigs smouldering in the tiny grate, to the more salubrious manor and flames burning brightly in the huge marble fireplace.
‘Course, like I said, Lord Farringdon’s first wife were a real lady. Always did what she could to help the villagers in the combe. So how did you find this one?’
‘Gracious,’ Jane replied, trying to be tactful.
‘Very polite, I’m sure,’ she chuckled. ‘I’da bet she put yer through yer paces.’
‘She certainly will if I don’t finish that toile,’ Jane smiled ruefully. ‘Thank you for supper but if you’ll excuse me, I really must get on.’
‘Here, give us yer dish,’ the woman said, stifling a yawn. ‘I’ll clean up in the morning. Now, if I can’t be of any further help, I’ll make me way up the wooden hill. Don’t forget to blow the candle out afore yer go to bed, if there’s any left, that is,’ she added, frowning at the dwindling stump.
It was gone two in the morning by the time Jane had measured, cut and sewn up the toile to her satisfaction. Freezing cold, for the fire had long gone out, she rose and stretched her aching limbs. With a final glance at her work, she left it on the table to check in the daylight, blew out the candle and guided by the moonlight, made her way to bed. It was just as cold upstairs with frost already patterning the windows but Jane was so exhausted, she hardly noticed.
Vaguely Jane heard the ring of boots on the cobbles outside, but it was only when the clock chimed seven o’clock that she forced herself to get up and dressed. Making her way down to the living room she was met by a howling gale.
‘Ah, yer up then,’ Ida Somers said, coming through the open doors. ‘I’ve spent yer board money in advance,’ she said, gleefully brandishing a fresh loaf of bread. ‘Thought we’d have a decent bite of breakfast, what with you working half the night. Oh, Athame, what yer doing up there?’ she cried. Following her glance, Jane’s hand flew to her mouth when she saw the cat perched on the table, its enormous paws kneading her toile. Rushing across the room, she lifted the protesting animal down, then heedless of its hissing and spitting, held up the material to the light.
‘Oh no,’ she cried in dismay. ‘It’s covered in black hair and muddy marks.’
‘What’s wrong with yer, Athame, it’s not like yer to behave like this.’ But the animal gave a baleful glare, padded across the floor and disappeared through the open door.
‘It’s ruined. I can’t possibly take it to Lady Farringdon like this,’ Jane wailed.
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ the woman said briskly. ‘We can’t have all our hard work going to waste,’ she added, seizing the toile. ‘Don’t take on so, it’s nothing a little gin won’t solve.’
‘Gin?’ she shrieked. ‘I can’t be drinking gin at this time of the morning. I’m meant to be seeing Lady Farringdon in less than three hours.’
‘Not to drink, yer nink – though by the looks of yer it would probably do yer good. Look, put that iron to heat in front of the fire,’ she told her. Then snatching a bottle from the shelf, she disappeared into the tiny scullery.
Jane did as she’d been asked, then paced round the tiny room. How could she face Lady Farringdon? She could hardly tell her the toile for her corset had been ruined by a cat. Perhaps she should go home straight away. But whatever would Madame say? She’d trusted her and, despite her best efforts, Jane had let her down.
‘Here yer go,’ Mrs Somers said, hurrying back into the room. ‘Just needs a run over with the flat iron and it’ll be good as new.’
‘Really?’ Jane asked, hardly daring to believe it.
‘I’da said so, didn’t I? Now come and have some bread then the iron should be hot enough to use,’ the woman said, taking a sharp knife from the drawer and hacking into the loaf. ‘Young Sam picking you up again?’
‘Yes, he has some tools to collect.’
‘Does he now?’ she said, giving Jane a knowing look.
Jane held her breath as Lady Farringdon inspected the toile. By the time Mrs Somers had pressed the material, even Jane struggled to see where it had been marked. Although there was a slight mordant smell to it.
‘It looks all right but of course we shall have to see if it fits,’ she said, tugging on the bell. ‘Although I must say I don’t really approve of this rough material.’
‘I used the best quality calico, Lady Farringdon. But of course, the choice and colour of fabric will be yours.’
‘If I choose to place my order. Ah, Shears,’ she said, turning to the thin woman dressed in a fitted dark blue dress with lace collar, who was waiting in the doorway. ‘We will take this to the anteroom of the Quartz Rose Chamber to see how it fits. Well, come along,’ she urged, as Jane hesitated, not sure whether she was meant to follow. ‘And bring those fabric samples, Miss Haydon.’
To her surprise Lady Farringdon’s dressing room was almost as pink as Madame’s rooms, although this was more lavishly furnished.
‘Has this been washed?’ the maid asked, frowning at the toile as Lady Farringdon disappeared behind a screen. She held it to her nose and frowned. ‘Never known calico to smell like this.’
‘I thought it only right to ensure it was scrupulously clean,’ Jane replied, her heart beating faster under the woman’s scrutiny. Then, to her relief, Shears was summoned to assist her ladyship.
It was some moments before Jane was called, and after a brief inspection and adjustment, she let out the breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. The fit was perfect.
‘It’s a different shape to the ones I usually wear,’ the woman frowned.
‘You wanted one that sits well under a ball gown and as you are aware, Lady Farringdon, skirts are now becoming fuller. This cut is absolutely perfect for your slender form, if you don’t mind me saying.’
‘I suppose it does do my youthful figure justice,’ the lady grudgingly admitted, turning this way and that in front of the long mirror. ‘Now let me see those samples.’ There was a pause while she studied them. ‘Tell Madame Pittier I’ll have my corset made up in cream silk. It is always my colour of choice.’
‘Of course, Lady Farringdon.’ Jane began writing in her notebook then stopped, wondering if she dared to put forward an opinion, yet hadn’t Madame taught her to always offer the client the best advice?
‘Well, what is it?’ the woman snapped. ‘I don’t have all day, girl.’
‘I was wondering if you had considered pink. The rose blush would sit so well against your skin tone and enhance your youthful bloom. It is quite the choice this season, which, as I can see from this wonderful room, you already know.’
‘I don’t listen to sales script, Miss Haydon,’ Lady Farringdon replied, grey eyes narrowed. ‘My choice has always been accepted without question, has it not, Shears?’
‘Yes, m’lady. You have impeccable taste and I cannot believe anyone would dare to suggest otherwise,’ the maid said, giving Jane a patronising look.
‘But I didn’t mean—’ she began, but Lady Farringdon held up her hand to silence her.
‘The girls have been summoned to the Amber Room and Vanstone will assist with their measuring. Then you can go away and make up a toile for each of them for me to inspect.’
‘Yes, Lady Farringdon,’ Jane replied, hurrying from the room. How could she have been so stupid as to try and advise a woman who clearly knew what she wanted? And supposing she now changed her mind about placing her order?
The girls’ maid, whom they called Vanny, proved to be friendly and helpful, providing their measurements and assisting with the extra ones Jane required. Bea laughed when Jane meticulously recorded them in Madame’s notebook.
‘Goodness, you’re as bad as Step Mama and her books.’
‘What was that you said, Beatrice?’ Lady Farringdon asked, sailing into the room.
‘Erm, just that what Miss Haydon has learned about corsets from her books was fascinating,’ the girl stuttered, staring pleadingly at Jane.
‘Then perhaps you could enlighten me on these fascinating facts, Miss Haydon.’
‘Of course, Lady Farringdon,’ Jane replied, thanking her lucky stars Madame had insisted she learn the history of underpinning. ‘The corset had its origin in Italy. It was later introduced into France by Catherine de Medici where the women of court embraced it.’
‘There, girls, did I not tell you to embrace your corsets?’ Lady Farringdon purred.
‘Must have missed that,’ Bea muttered.
‘In fact, it is time to have Sarah and Maria fitted. One is never too young to learn about posture,’ the woman declared, ignoring their incredulous looks. ‘Now, Miss Haydon, time is getting on so I will see you tomorrow to examine the toiles.’
‘Very well, Lady Farringdon. I can have them ready by early afternoon,’ Jane replied, knowing there would be no time to lose as she had to catch the four o’clock stagecoach back to Exeter.
