Читать книгу The Sweethearts Collection - Pam Jenoff - Страница 21

Chapter 11

Colenso and her mamm had just finished their late luncheon when a fierce pounding on the door startled them.

‘Who’s that?’ Caja squeaked, still jumpy after her earlier ordeal.

‘Soon find out,’ Colenso said, snatching up the poker and opening the door a crack. To her surprise, she saw Fenton’s driver standing on the step, and behind him a large carriage almost blocking the lane.

‘Afternoon,’ he greeted, tipping his hand to his cap. ‘Delivery for Miss Carne.’

‘But I wasn’t expecting it until midweek, and then I thought you’d be delivering it in the trap,’ she replied.

‘Well, I ain’t taking it back. Got sent to Falmouth last night so as to collect all this fabric first thing. It needed keeping dry, else there’s no way on this earth I’d risk bringing the carriage down these rutted tracks. Now, I’ll start fetching everything in, if that’s all right with you?’

‘Yes, of course,’ she replied, opening the door wider. Incredulously, she watched as he carried bolts of rich burgundy velvet into the cottage. ‘I had no idea there would be so much,’ she gasped.

‘Ain’t finished yet, Miss,’ he puffed, throwing down another bundle and going back outside. As he began unloading yet more material and boxes, Colenso noticed neighbours had gathered outside and were speculating as to the meaning of the delivery.

‘Started up in competition to Miss Tucker, have yer?’ Mrs Buller called.

‘Won’t be happy if yer poaching her business,’ her companion added.

‘It’s nothing like that,’ she assured them, standing aside to let the driver pass with another box.

‘Think that’s it,’ he puffed, throwing it down on top of the rest.

‘Just as well,’ Colenso muttered, frowning at the bales and boxes that now took up their entire living room.

‘Oh yes, and there’s a note from Mr Fenton,’ he added, pulling a crumpled sheaf of papers from his pocket. ‘You’re to sign this copy for me to give back to him, confirming receipt of …’ he paused and squinted, ‘three bales of burgundy velvet, two of emerald green and one gold, plus two large boxes of fringing. The other copy is for you to keep, along with the measurements.’

‘But that’s six bolts of material,’ Colenso cried.

‘Well, if it’s for drapes, the ’ouse do have lots of windows,’ Dobson shrugged.

‘And you’ve to do the seat covers in the dining hall,’ Caja reminded her. And the bed coverings, she thought, shuddering at the idea.

‘Now, if you could just sign them papers, it’s been a long day.’ Quickly she did as he asked then closed the door behind him and stared helplessly at her mamm.

‘It’ll take weeks if not months to sew all this. How am I going to manage?’ she wailed.

‘More to the point, where are we going to store it before your father gets back?’ Caja replied. ‘He’ll go berserk if he sees all that cluttering his home.’

‘Well, it was you who offered Fenton my services,’ Colenso retorted. Then, seeing her mamm’s face crumple, she sighed. ‘I’ll put it on Tomas’s bed for now. Though goodness knows what’ll happen if he comes back.’

‘He won’t,’ Caja replied sadly. ‘He’s lodging over Ruan side, but don’t tell your father.’

✳

The next morning, Colenso waited until her father had left the cottage, then took one of the bolts downstairs, unfolded a length of red velvet and spread it across the table.

‘Oh Mamm, this velvet’s so thick, there’s no way my scissors will cut through it neatly,’ she frowned, running her hand over the plush pile. ‘I’ll call on Emily and see if she can help.’ Caja looked up from the pot she was cleaning.

‘I’ll probably be out when you return. Mrs Pascoe’s rheumatics are playing up again and I promised to drop by with some nettle unguent.’

‘That reminds me, I promised Emily some,’ Colenso said, throwing her shawl around her shoulders.

‘That’s all we’ve got. I’ll need to look out the receipt to make some more,’ Caja told her, taking the last two pots from the drawer and handing one over.

‘I’ll gather more nettles later,’ Colenso promised, eager to have an excuse to spend some time in the fresh air.

Outside, the wind almost blew Colenso off her feet. March was certainly roaring through like a lion, she thought, hurrying down the lane. She could hear the waves crashing onto the beach where the boats were drawn up. There’d be no fishing today, she thought making her way through the village to Emily’s cottage.

‘Oh, ’tis yer, is it?’ the woman snapped, giving her a gimlet stare through the half-opened door. ‘Surprised yer had the cheek to show yer face.’

‘I brought that unguent I promised you,’ Colenso told her.

‘Think that’ll salve yer conscience?’ the old woman glared. ‘Years it took Clara and me to build up our little business and now I hear yer doin’ yer best to steal it, right from under me own eyes.’

‘Oh no, Emily, you’ve got it all wrong,’ Colenso began, her hand going to her bonnet as another easterly gust threatened to send it flying.

‘Yer mean there weren’t no fine carriage unloading half a warehouse of plush velvet at yer door?’ Colenso shook her head as understanding dawned. The gossipers had been at it. ‘Well, were ther or weren’t ther?’ Emily persisted.

‘Yes, there was, but the material is for those drapes and covers Fenton wants making. I showed him your samples but he insisted on purchasing his own fabric from a merchant in Falmouth.’

‘Well, why didn’t yer say,’ the woman cried. ‘And why are yer standing ther letting all my warmth out?’ she asked, stepping back so Colenso could enter.

‘Hi, Colenso,’ a cheery voice greeted her from the front room, where a fire was glowing in the grate.

‘Alys, what are you doing here?’ she cried delightedly. ‘Don’t suppose you’ve heard from Kitto?’

‘No, but we don’t expect to, this is his big chance so he’ll be busy, won’t he? Anyhow, London’s like another country, isn’t it? I’m helping Auntie Em ’til I start at the manor,’ Kitto’s sister replied, holding up a length of material. ‘Isn’t it exciting?’

‘Yer won’t think so if yer don’t get that seam finished,’ Emily chided before turning back to Colenso. ‘Guessed yer be too busy to help and I got to keep my customers happy.’

‘I’m sorry but I really don’t think I’ll have any time for anything other than sewing all those drapes and covers for the Ferret.’

‘Who’s the Ferret?’ Alys asked, looking at Colenso curiously.

‘None of yer business, young lady,’ Emily told her. ‘And remember, yer on trial.’ The sober words jolted Colenso back to the present. She really needed to get on with her work or she might still find herself on trial yet. Setting the little pot of ointment down on the table along with the samples, she turned to Emily.

‘The material Fenton’s bought is so thick my small scissors won’t cut through it.’

‘So even though yer don’t have an order to place with me, yer expecting me to help?’ Emily asked, shaking her head so that silver tendrils bobbed under her cotton cap. Colenso stared at the floor. ‘Don’t fret yerself, maid, cors I’ll help. Did he buy tape for the hooks to hang by?’

‘I hadn’t even thought of that, but no, he didn’t.’

‘So, we can still make som’at from him, then,’ Emily grinned. ‘What about thread?’ Colenso shook her head. She’d been so overwhelmed by the amount of cloth delivered, she hadn’t thought beyond cutting it to size.

‘I’ll be needing burgundy red, emerald green and gold.’

Emily stared at her thoughtfully then bustled over to the cupboard in the corner of the room. ‘Here, you might as well have this,’ she said, handing Colenso a large wicker basket.

‘But that was Clara’s workbox,’ she protested.

‘And she’d be pleased for yer to have it,’ Emily said, her eyes suspiciously bright. ‘Go on, take it afore I change my mind. Yer’ll find everything you need in there. Prided herself on keeping a goodly supply of everything, Clara did.’

‘Oh Emily, thank you,’ Colenso cried, leaning forward and kissing the old woman’s paper-thin cheek.

‘Get away with yer,’ Emily protested. ‘Just remember to cost yer time and charge Fenton well for that tape and thread. Yer can pay me back when he settles up.’

✳

As March continued roaring its way through the rest of the month, Colenso sewed like a woman possessed, completing curtain after curtain according to the measurements Mrs Grim had provided, before making a start on the chair covers. To her delight but her father’s chagrin, there had been no further communication from the Ferret. Thank heavens for small mercies, she thought, stabbing her needle viciously through the material. Although she tried not to dwell on their last meeting, images of him advancing, paw-like hands outstretched, continued to plagued her. Although she didn’t know how, she was certain it was Mammwynn’s pentacle that had saved her.

‘It’s been over three weeks since you last saw Fenton,’ Peder moaned, over supper that evening. ‘He don’t even stop and speak at work no more.’ Hardly surprising, Colenso thought, remembering how Kitto had told her Peder had tried to get Tomas fired. That he could do such a thing to his own son was despicable, yet not wishing to enrage her father, she held her tongue.

‘You did say he was sorting out that dispute at the works cos the owner’s coming to look over them next month,’ Caja ventured.

‘True, and I’m sure he’ll introduce me to him. Me being one of his key workers an’ all that,’ Peder crowed, puffing out his chest. Colenso stared at her father in astonishment. Only he would have the gall to consider himself important enough to be introduced to the owner.

‘What you staring at, maid?’ he asked, turning on Colenso. ‘If you’ve done som’at to put Fenton off, I’ll …’ his voice trailed off, his fingers going to his belt. Then, seeming to change his mind, he smiled. ‘You’ll have to do som’at to entice him, maid. Make him think he can’t live without you. How else will we ever make a better life?’ Colenso stared down at her plate and wondered when the nightmare her life had become would ever end.

✳

As the days lengthened and lightened into April, Colenso’s mood darkened until all she wanted to do was escape. She missed Kitto so much and, even using Clara’s thimble, her fingers were sore from continually pushing the needle through the thick fabric. The bolts of material that had taken over her bedroom were gradually being replaced by the finished curtains and covers, but having to measure, cut and sew at the table downstairs then take everything back upstairs again before her father came home was both tiring and time-consuming. Even though he took himself off to the alehouse each evening after supper, he still refused to have his space cluttered with cloth, as he put it.

Then one Saturday an envelope was delivered to their cottage. It was addressed in copperplate writing to Mr and Mrs P. Carne. Hardly able to contain his excitement, Peder drew out the thick card and scanned the contents, his usual scowl turning to delight.

‘Here, Mother, listen to this.’

Mr Henry Fenton requests the company of Peder and Caja Carne, along with their delightful daughter Colenso, for luncheon next Sunday 19th. The carriage will collect you at noon.

You are hereby notified that the signatory has a matter of great import to discuss.

There is no need to r.s.v.p. Your acceptance is presumed.

Henry J. Fenton

P.S. It would be greatly appreciated if the finished drapes and covers were conveyed at the same time.

‘Well, what do you think of that?’ he grinned.

‘But all the covers aren’t finished yet,’ Colenso protested. Immediately her father’s expression changed.

‘See that they are, then, or you’ll be sorry,’ he snapped, his hands going to the buckle on his belt.

‘I’ll help,’ Caja said quickly. ‘It wouldn’t do to let that nice Mr Fenton down.’ Colenso nodded gratefully, for she’d been dreading making the covers for the chamber. The very thought made her shudder.

‘Wear your low-cut top,’ Peder instructed. ‘But without that netting stuff. Makes your bos—, er, front look like a couple of caged …’

‘Father!’ Caja chided. ‘Besides, look at the state of you. You can’t go to Mr Fenton’s looking like that,’ she added, gesturing to the hole on his knee. ‘You’d best go and see Mr Tailor. Get measured up for a new pair of barrigans.’

‘I ain’t wearing no stiff moleskin,’ he protested. ‘It’s taken me years to wear these in and if you thinks I’m standing there while the old fool goes on about “fis, faps or awls”, you can think again.’

‘It’s not his fault he has a stammer, Peder. And you could help by telling him if you want a fly, flap or hole at the front so he doesn’t have to ask.’

‘Pah, I’ve a meeting to go to. Important things to discuss,’ Peder added, snatching his cap from its nail and all but running out of the door.

‘He’ll be spreading the news of our invite,’ Caja said, looking delighted at the prospect. ‘Now, what material are you using for those covers and where are they for?’ she asked, turning her attention back to Colenso.

‘Gold and it’s for the principal bed chamber,’ she muttered. ‘I’ll go and get it,’ she added, grateful for the excuse to get away from her mamm’s scrutiny. However, when she returned with the material, her mamm was still bubbling with excitement.

‘Oh my, imagine having covers of velvet on your bed,’ she gushed, running her fingers over the soft nap. She’d rather not, Colenso thought, snatching up the paper detailing the measurements.

‘He wants six identical covers made, would you believe?’

‘Six!’ Caja exclaimed, her eyes widening. ‘Blimey, maid, we’d better get stitching, there’s only a week till we go to his house.’

‘And he wants this edging added as well,’ Colenso told her, holding up a box of heavy fringing. ‘Oh, I’ll do that,’ she added quickly as her mamm began unrolling the gold material, but she was too late.

‘What’s this?’ Caja frowned, holding up lengths of thread knotted at the top.

‘They’re mine,’ Colenso replied, snatching them up.

‘But what are they for?’

‘To mark the days until Kitto returns.’ She didn’t add that it was only the removal of one each night that kept her going through the long weeks.

‘Seeing that nice Mr Fenton is more important than worrying about when your friend’s coming back.’ As eyes similar to her own stared accusingly at her, Colenso shook her head.

‘No, Mamm, you’ve got it the wrong way round. Kitto is more important than Fenton. He’ll be back for the Cuckoo Fest at the beginning of May and I intend going to it with him.’ There was a heavy silence then Caja let out a heavy sigh.

‘You’ll not get another chance to make a better life for yourself. Your father’s already pointed out the benefits of marrying nice Mr Fenton.’

‘But he’s not nice,’ Colenso protested. ‘He’s old, smells and has hands like a ferret.’

‘That’s not much to contend with when you can have a fine house, servants and no money worries. Besides, we’re relying on you to get us away from this place,’ Caja said, looking around the room with disdain. ‘What can Kitto offer you in comparison?’

‘Love and kindness for a start, but married to Father, you wouldn’t understand attributes like that,’ she cried.

‘Believe it or not your father had his moments. Shame that’s all they were,’ Caja sighed. She reached out and grasped Colenso’s hands. ‘But they don’t pay the bills, do they? You won’t get another chance like this.’

‘Aren’t you presuming an awful lot? Fenton hasn’t even mentioned marriage yet.’

‘No, but he will. And when he does, maid, best you accept. You’ve all the romantic notions a young girl has of marriage, but believe me, real life’s not like that. None of my patients can afford to settle their bills so we’ve not got the money to pay the quarter’s rent. We’re relying on you.’

Colenso stared helplessly at her mamm. She was well and truly trapped, the silk thread slowly but surely being wound ever tighter.