CHAPTER 14

As Lily hurried back to work, the sun blazed overhead and it wasn’t long before her black dress was clinging to her legs, hampering her movement. Beads of perspiration trickled down her back, making her corset stick to her body. She stopped to tuck a lock of hair back under her cap, and saw a mob of youths huddled alongside the brook, goading a small boy. She smiled, remembering Tom telling her jumping the brook was regarded as a rite of passage and that no male could be regarded a man of Bransbeer until he’d fallen in at least once.

As she watched them frolicking, she couldn’t help wishing she was that young again. Not that she’d ever enjoyed the luxury of such freedom; as far back as she could remember her days had been spent making lace. However, the sun sparkling on the water looked inviting, and she had a sudden urge to take off her clothes and jump in.

A burst of raucous laughter brought her sharply back to the present. Spinning round she realized she was standing outside High House. The door was open and she ran up the steps and followed the sound of merriment through to the workroom. She stood there for a few moments, but the ladies were so engrossed in their fun they didn’t notice her. Rapping sharply on the table, she waited until silence descended.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ she asked, trying to keep her voice steady as their questioning looks turned belligerent.

‘We was doing no harm,’ muttered a woman she recognized as Cora’s sister.

‘And no work either. I’m surprised at you. Return to your pillows and I will check your work.’ She watched as they slunk back to their stools and then went around the room inspecting each pillow in turn. To her relief all the lace was beautifully worked, although under the circumstances, she knew better than to remark on the fact. Walking to the front of the room, she addressed the now silent lace makers.

‘You are all aware this job is confidential, are you not?’

‘Course we are,’ they chorused, looking affronted.

‘Then why was the front door open? Anyone could have entered the building and with the noise you were making, you’d have been none the wiser.’ There was silence.

Then a timid voice squeaked, ‘It was me, miss. I went outside to relieve myself and must’ve forgot to shut the door when I came back. Will you tell the missus?’ A young girl, not much higher than her stool, was staring at her wide-eyed. The mood of the room was sombre now as they stood there waiting for Lily’s response. Instead of answering, though, she had a question for them.

‘Are you going to reach your quota of work before Mrs Bodney returns?’

As one, they nodded vigorously. Fixing them with her fiercest glare, and leaving the question hanging in the air, she turned and walked out of the room. The silence behind her was palpable, and she trusted they would make up the time they’d wasted. With employment at a premium and money short, nobody in their right mind would incur the wrath of Mrs Bodney and risk losing a well-paid job like this.

On legs that wobbled like jelly after her confrontation, Lily made her way back through the village. Being an overseer wasn’t easy and she hoped she’d handled the situation correctly. She just trusted her ladies weren’t misbehaving in her absence.

She quickened her step, but when she entered the workroom, everyone was busy at their pillows. Gratefully she sank onto her stool but as she worked, she wondered. How could she obtain a testimonial from the squire? And if she didn’t get one, how could she secure the room?

By the time the shadows had lengthened and she was able to dismiss the ladies, her head was pounding. Grateful for the sudden silence, she walked round the room inspecting their work. It all looked satisfactory and she was just breathing a sigh of relief when she reached Anna’s pillow, and saw the sprig she’d been working on was badly distorted. Further examination revealed that two of the pins had been enclosed in the wrong place, and the lace was wrongly tensioned.

She then remembered that the woman had seemed to be having trouble with her eyes earlier. Why on earth hadn’t she checked her work when she’d returned from High House? Sinking onto the stool by the woman’s pillow, she began the arduous task of weaving back the threads. It would take her an age to rework the sprig, but she had nobody to blame but herself. The light was failing now but she daren’t light a candle for Mrs Bodney would be sure to ask why it had been necessary to use one. Besides, all materials had to be accounted for. She moved her pillow directly under the window and was thankful the moon was full.

As ever, the reworking took much longer than she’d anticipated and by the time she left the workroom she was dropping with exhaustion. Clouds had covered the moon and she had to pick her way carefully over the ruts in the back lane as she made her way to the hostelry. Everywhere was sinister and silent, everything cloaked in darkness, and she could feel the hairs on her neck prickle. She couldn’t help wishing Tom was with her. Suddenly, a piercing screech stopped her in her tracks. Then moments later an answering one sent her scuttling. Owlers? She wasn’t hanging around to find out. Heedless of the potholes and detritus, she lifted her long skirts and ran as fast as she could towards the stables.

Finally, she gained the safety of the tumbledown building. Quickly closing the door behind her, she scrambled into the donkey-cart and pulled her shawl over her head. Her heart was beating faster than the clappers on the church bell while her stomach churned like butter. As she lay shivering in the darkness, she could hear the sound of activity outside: the sound of muffled hooves crossing the yard and the murmur of lowered voices. She jumped as something heavy hit the ground, setting the cart rocking. Then she heard the sound of casks being rolled over the cobbles. Disturbed by the noise, Doris gave a loud bray and Lily stuffed her hand in her mouth to stop herself from crying out in fright as she crouched in the darkness, waiting for the door to creak open. She was certain someone would come and investigate. Then, as suddenly as it had started, the noise ceased. Still she didn’t dare move. Instead she lay there listening to the sound of her heart thumping and Doris munching her hay.

Next morning, bleary-eyed, she entered the cottage to be greeted by Tilda informing her Mrs Bodney was waiting to see her. Her stomach lurched and, worried her late night’s work had been discovered, she hurried through to the parlour. Her employer was sitting in her comfy chair, staring at the tall glass vase of lilies and the familiar fragrance tugged at Lily’s throat. Mrs Bodney looked up and smiled, gesturing for her to be seated.

‘Good morning, Lily. I trust everything went well in my absence?’ she asked.

‘Yes, Mrs Bodney.’

The other woman gave her a searching look. ‘Then why, my dear, do you look deadly pale and have bags like pillows under your eyes?’

‘I had to work late, Mrs Bodney,’ Lily muttered, looking down at the floor.

‘Yes, I understand even the moon had retired by the time you finally left here last night. Surely, the schedule I’ve set does not require you to work to such a late hour?’ Lily shook her head. ‘You were working, I take it, and not here for any other reason?’

Her head jerked up and she stared at the older woman perplexed. ‘Any other reason? Sorry, I don’t understand.’

‘You were entertaining Mr Mountsford, perhaps?’

Lily swallowed, staring at Mrs Bodney as if she’d grown another head. ‘Entertaining Mr Mountsford?’

‘Lily, will you stop parroting me? I’m not accusing you of anything. Quite the reverse, actually. It is I who owe you an apology.’

‘You owe me an apology?’

‘Indeed I do. When I returned and saw those beautiful flowers, I had reason to think they were for me. I’ve been … that is to say, I too have an admirer.’

Lily watched in amazement as a flush swept across the older woman’s cheeks. It made her look softer somehow, and with a shock she realized her employer wasn’t nearly as old as she’d supposed. Then something else struck her.

‘But, Mrs Bodney, you’re married,’ she spluttered.

‘Of course I’m not, Lily. The “Mrs” is a courtesy title. It commands respect from the people I trade with.’

‘Oh, I see,’ she said, although she didn’t really. In her book you were either married or you weren’t.

‘Anyway, as I was saying, I thought the flowers were for me so when I saw the card propped up against them, naturally I read it. Only then did I realize they’d been sent to you. Silly of me really as cleverly they comprise lilies and a rose. And as for that beautiful poem; who’d have thought our merchant so eloquent?’

Eloquent? What did that mean? Lily’s head was spinning.

‘Well, Lily, you’re a lucky young lady, though I’m not sure your young man would think so. Tom, isn’t it? Still, some things are best kept secret,’ she said, tapping the side of her nose with her finger. ‘I’m not sure why Tilda set the flowers in here, but it’s probably best you put this somewhere safe,’ Mrs Bodney added, handing her the card.

So the flowers were from Rupert Mountsford, she thought, placing the card in her apron pocket and cursing herself for not having listened to Mary the other morning. She started to say that she’d asked Tilda to put them in here, but Mrs Bodney was speaking again.

‘Right, now back to business. Perhaps you’d care to tell me why you were working so far into the night?’

Didn’t the woman ever forget anything? Lily explained how she’d seen one of her ladies blinking repetitively and looking upset; how she’d meant to check her work upon her return but after calling in to see the other ladies when she was passing High House, she’d forgotten.

‘Lily, High House is right on the outskirts of Bransbeer on the way to Seaton. How could you be passing?’

‘Somebody told me of a room to let in a lodging house by High Field and I went to visit during the nuncheon break yesterday. Then on my way back I heard, um, noticed … I was outside High House and called in to see how things were going there. I was later getting back than anticipated and needed to catch up on my own work.’ She could feel Mrs Bodney’s eyes boring into her as she related the events of the previous day.

‘And?’

‘I forgot to check An— erm, this lady’s work until she’d gone home and when I did it was, erm, slightly wrong.’

‘So you sat up half the night reworking it?’

Lily nodded, gazing down at her boots and wondering if she was going to be sacked.

‘Lily, my dear, I might be a taskmaster but I’m certainly no slave driver. The problem could surely have waited until today. Whatever did your aunt say when you arrived home halfway through the night?’

Again, Lily stared down at her boots.

‘Lily, you did go home last night, didn’t you?’ Mrs Bodney was watching her closely and her words came out in a whisper.

‘I was really tired and afraid the owlers would be on the road to Coombe, so I slept on my donkey-cart in the stable.’

‘Lily, you didn’t!’ Mrs Bodney exclaimed, shuddering. ‘But, my dear, that’s quite ghastly. Anything could have happened. Why ever didn’t you stay here in the cottage?’

Not liking to admit she thought the other woman would have had apoplexy, Lily kept quiet.

‘Have you broken your fast this morning?’

‘Don’t worry, Mrs Bodney, I’m used to missing meals. I washed in the brook before I came here, so I am clean.’

‘That’s as may be, but your clothes are creased. Nourishment is fuel for the body, Lily. You can’t work on an empty stomach and I don’t suppose you have anything with you for your noon break either?’

She shook her head and Mrs Bodney picked up her little bell and rang it. Tilda appeared so quickly she must have been standing outside the door, and when Lily looked at her she could see the girl was agog. However, Mrs Bodney’s next instructions had her positively gawping.

‘Tilda, take Lily upstairs to my room and set out my spare working dress and cap. Then please bring tea and toast for two in here. Lily, when you’ve changed into clean clothes, Tilda will take those to the wash house. Mrs Maggs can see to them when she comes on Monday. When you return we will break our fast together and then discuss the ledger we need to set up.’

Remembering the steam and backache of the Monday wash she and her mother had struggled with, Lily smiled gratefully.

The clatter of boots on the cobbles and snatches of cheery chatter heralded the arrival of the ladies for their day’s work. Lily looked at Mrs Bodney.

‘Don’t worry, Lily, I’ll see to them whilst you change,’ she said, sweeping from the room.

Lily followed Tilda up the stairs and waited while she laid out the black dress and cap Mrs Bodney had specified. Then as the little maid hovered in the doorway, clearly hoping Lily would confide in her, she smiled her thanks and firmly pushed the door closed.

Gazing around the little bedroom, she noticed it was clean and tidy but as sparsely furnished as the room at Mrs Chicke’s had been. To her surprise, there was no evidence of any personal effects other than a hairbrush lying next to the washstand. It was in stark contrast to the parlour downstairs.

Hurriedly she changed her clothes before returning to the parlour, where she noticed the vase of flowers had been removed and a tray piled high with toast and preserve set in its place. Embarrassingly, her stomach growled but Mrs Bodney merely smiled and gestured for her to help herself whilst she poured tea for them both.

Hungrily, snatching up the toast, she bit into it. It was only after helping herself to a second piece that she noticed Mrs Bodney had cut hers into triangles and was daintily nibbling at the edge of one. Not wishing her employer to think she had the manners of a street urchin, she made a supreme effort to take smaller bites. Picking up her cup, Lily marvelled at how dark Mrs Bodney’s tea always was. At home, their tea got weaker by the day as the leaves were mashed and then remashed until they were virtually drinking hot water, although she thought it would be rude to mention this. Finally, when their plates were empty and they’d drunk their tea, Mrs Bodney summoned Tilda to clear away. Then she turned to Lily.

‘Right, now to work. First of all, you are right in your assumption that Anna has something wrong with her eyes. Oh, I know you didn’t name names,’ she said as Lily looked worried. ‘However, I have been working in the lace business long enough to recognize the signs of someone losing their sight.’

‘Oh, that’s terrible,’ Lily gasped. ‘I didn’t realize it was that bad.’

‘As you know it is a hazard of our trade,’ her employer said, shrugging. ‘Naturally, I will help her all I can. Even though it’s summer, I’d let her light a candle if I could justify the expense. However, every penny I spend is vetted by the Palace.’

Lily sighed, thinking how tragic it was. It was so unfair that some had so much whilst others had to struggle.

‘I will arrange for her to see Dr Trimble, but in the meantime I will let her wind thread onto the bobbins and do any other jobs we can find for her. We simply cannot afford to get behind schedule.’

‘No, Mrs Bodney,’ Lily agreed, knowing her employer was right, yet feeling nothing but sympathy for poor Anna. It was harsh that a woman who’d worked long hours at her lace making to provide for her family should be losing her sharp sight and yet it was indeed a hazard of their trade.

‘Now are there any other problems I should know about?’ Lily thought of the ladies at High House and, as if she’d read her thoughts, Mrs Bodney asked, ‘What about the other ladies you’ve been looking after in my absence? Are they working well?’

‘I think they should be on schedule. I was only able to pay a couple of visits as it takes so much time out of the working day.’

‘Yes, that’s true,’ said Mrs Bodney, studying her thoughtfully for a few moments. Then, as was her way, she became brisk again. ‘Now, we need to start making our account ready for the Queen’s Mistress of the Robes. The cost of the lace for the wedding dress is estimated to be around £1,000.’

‘One thousand pounds for just one dress?’ Lily gasped.

‘Yes, it’s a royal sum. We will spend this morning setting up the ledger detailing the materials used, and then this afternoon we will work out the wages paid to date. From then on it will be your responsibility to update the necessary information on a monthly basis.’ So saying, she took out a huge book, along with numerous slips of paper, which she proceeded to separate into different piles. She passed the first set to Lily.

‘Now these are the purchasing invoices. You read them out and I’ll enter the figures into the ledger. Then this afternoon I’ll read out and you can write up the ledger.’

Lily stared at Mrs Bodney in dismay.

‘Well, come along, Lily. Don’t stand there gaping like a fish out of water.’

‘I’m really sorry, Mrs Bodney, but I can’t do this.’

‘Don’t be stupid, of course you can.’ Mrs Bodney snapped. Time was of the essence and she was fast losing patience.

‘But, Mrs Bodney, I am stupid. I can’t read,’ she wailed.