Chapter Six

So, Sally Matthews was secretly visiting Lawrence.

Flora couldn’t help but wonder why. Sally had very obviously already bought what she wanted from the doctor that same morning. Unless, of course, he had somehow slipped a bottle of his catastrophic hair tonic to her, as well.

Flora’s shoulders relaxed a little as she started on the long walk from East Town to Fortuneswell. It was very wrong of her, she knew, but the idea that Sally might also have hair of a furnace-red hue improved her mood considerably.

“I’ll visit her tomorrow,” she promised herself, “and see if I’m right.”

The cottage was in sight when a female voice broke in upon her musings. “A bit late for visiting, is it not?”

Flora rolled her eyes, then turned around slowly, pasting a false smile on her face.

Mrs. Daniell.

Again.

Would she never be free of this busybody? The woman was thoroughly annoying. She had kept Flora on high alert throughout the entire winter and spring, and it looked like she planned to shadow her the whole summer, as well.

“Yes,” Flora agreed politely. “It is. I wasn’t visiting. I was walking. I’m going in now.”

“Your bonnet is tied terribly tight. It’s a wonder you can breathe.”

Damn the woman! Could nothing get past her gimlet gaze?

“I was thinking of re-trimming it,” she said, thinking fast. “This ribbon’s too thick. I’m going upstairs right now to think how I can improve it.”

“I’d be happy to advise you,” offered Mrs. Daniell, drumming her fingers on the top of the gatepost. If Flora weren’t quick, she’d be down the path and coming into the house with her.

Refusing to be intimidated, she declined the offer of help. Trimming bonnets imaginatively was her only skill, and she’d rather be fed slops than let Mrs. Daniell interfere.

“But thank you, anyway,” she said. “I’ll draft up some ideas and then share them with you. Perhaps tomorrow afternoon. Over a cup of tea.”

Over her dead body!

She hurtled down the path and into the cottage, hoping she’d managed to be firm without being rude. As she clattered upstairs to seek the privacy of her room, she recalled the amount of dissembling she’d done today and hoped she wasn’t turning into the kind of dishonest woman she despised.

Unfortunately, more deceit would be needed if she was to go back to Lawrence undetected.

Once safely alone, she removed her bonnet and thrust a linen cap over the offending red hair. Could the burning color be seen through its thin fibers? She held up her mirror, turning this way and that, but the last rays of sunset gilded everything with their orange light, so it was impossible to tell.

The brightness made her blue eyes look almost translucent and gave a healthy glow to her cheeks. Lawrence had said she looked ravishing, beautiful. No one but Frank had ever said that to her. If those words had been true then, a mere four years ago, why could they not be true still? Had she aged so much as a result of her terrible loss? Should she be trying to make more of herself, before old age stole her looks completely?

With a rapid thumping of her heart, she stole across to lock her chamber door. Then she removed her cap and hairpins, allowing the vibrant red tresses to fall about her shoulders, and looked in the mirror.

“Hah! Flora Hartington, you look a complete wanton!” she whispered to herself. “Such brilliantly colored locks might grace a scantily clad beauty like Caroline Lamb or Emma Hamilton, but not a spinster wearing a perfectly respectable muslin gown!”

What would Frank have said if he’d seen her hair like this? Laughed, probably, then kissed her and told her not to worry.

Oh, Frank!

Despite the distance in time, her heart still bled when she thought of how his life had been wasted. His great spirit had been snuffed out like a candle at the whim of the sea gods who presided over the waters around the English coast. On that fateful day, they’d chosen to sink the Maria Parva and its cargo of wine, along with all hands.

No, she mustn’t cry again. Twice in one evening was far too much for a mature woman. Hurriedly, she tucked the offending tresses back into the cap and settled at the table next to the window to make some preliminary sketches of bonnet designs.

A smile soon returned to her face. Designing bonnets was her favorite activity—letting her mind and imagination run loose as she crafted stylish fashions to make the best of a woman’s looks. Surely, Sally Matthews would see the advantage of accepting her as a partner? With Flora at Sally’s side, the shop wouldn’t just follow fashion—they could set the fashion. Portland Poke bonnets—that had a nice ring to it. The Dorset Drape, the Corfe Chip, the Fortuneswell Feathered… Soon Matthew’s Milliners hats and bonnets, original and flattering, would be all the rage.

Flora’s carefully hoarded savings would help, as well. She already knew Sally had a spare room over the shop. She could happily move into it. She supposed sharing a living space with Sally could hardly be any worse than having Mrs. Daniell continually dropping in on her.

Sally had no reason to question Flora, or to interfere in her life. Eventually, when they’d made enough money, she’d sell Sally her share of the business, and move to a new town to set up a millinery shop of her own.

She closed her sketchbook with a snap. There, that was settled. She would go to East Town and call at Matthew’s Milliners first thing tomorrow morning and put her proposal to Sally.