The Ribbon Weaver (23 page)

Once inside the privacy of his own home he crossed to the scrubbed oak table in the middle of the room and throwing the book on to its well-worn surface he gripped the edge of it until his knuckles turned white. A solitary candle burning bright and the low embers of the banked-down fire were the only light in the room and he thought himself to be alone, but suddenly his mother’s voice came to him from the depths of a chair to the side of the hearth.

‘What’s wrong, lad?’ Like many others she had seen Amy arrive home that evening and she had known, as only a mother could, that tonight her lad might have need of her.

For a moment he remained silent then, as she quietly approached him in her cotton nightgown with a shawl pulled tight about her shoulders, he looked at her from tortured eyes.

‘I … I’ve lost her, Mam.’ His voice was broken and she quickly did what she had never done since he was a child, she gathered him into her arms and held him close to her heart.

‘There, there, lad,’ she soothed as sobs wracked his body. He was crying as if his heart would break and she, who had known of his deep love for Amy, cried inside for him.

‘Let it all out now. That’s it … then leave it in the lap o’ the angels, for what will be will be, an’ there ain’t nowt neither you nor I can do about it.’

Chapter Fifteen

The client twirled in front of the full-length mirror as she surveyed her bridal gown from every angle. Amy stood respectfully with her hands clasped tightly at her waist until eventually the young woman turned to her and smiled.

‘It’s perfect,’ she breathed, unable to conceal her delight.

It was all Amy could do to stop herself from sighing with relief. This was the final fitting, and most definitely one of the most elaborate gowns that she had ever designed, but as she looked at the end result she felt that all her efforts had been well worth it. The bride-tobe was from a very upper-class family – in fact, Mr Harvey had hinted that she was distantly related to royalty – so the cost of the gown had been irrelevant. She looked absolutely stunning in Amy’s creation and on her wedding day she would have the satisfaction of knowing that nowhere else was there another gown like it.

Amy reminded herself that she must congratulate the seamstresses. They had followed her instructions to the letter and she knew that the embroidery detail on the bodice and the train must have taken them hours and hours of painstaking work. The bonnet that would match the dress had been finished weeks ago and lay ready in an elaborate hatbox designed exclusively for the bridal shop. And now all that remained was to make a few very minor alterations to the length of the gown, and then it would be carefully wrapped and delivered to the family home in readiness for the wedding.

Amy’s reputation was spreading and she was becoming very much in demand. Molly complained that she seemed to be constantly rushing between the shop in Nuneaton, Forrester’s Bridal Wear in London and The Folly.

The success of the new bridal range had far exceeded any of their wildest dreams and showed no signs of waning. On the contrary, it was going from strength to strength, and although it was only just over a year since the shop had opened, Samuel Forrester had already had to employ two more seamstresses to meet the growing demand for the gowns. Now, once the manageress, Miss Jane Mellor, had seen the latest satisfied customer from the shop, Amy looked around her little empire with satisfaction.

Although much larger than the hat shop that Miss Drake managed in Kensington, it had been very similarly decorated; the walls and carpets were in shades of ivory and cream that complemented the colour of the gowns. All around were mannequins displaying wedding dresses of all styles, from very simple satins to heavily embroidered taffetas, each and every one of them Amy’s own designs. The majority of the brides-to-be who frequented the shop with their mamas would choose one of the gowns on display and a copy of it would then be made to fit their own measurements. But if, like the bride who had just left the premises, someone came in requesting an individual design, Amy would be sent for and she would make one of her now frequent visits to London, to meet the client and discuss her needs. The brides were usually happy to follow Amy’s advice, for she seemed to have a knack for knowing what sort of style would suit them and what sort of bonnet or veil would best go with their final choice.

Now she made her way upstairs to the room above the shop where the seamstresses were hard at work, and after speaking to them for some minutes about various gowns that were in the process of being made, she then donned her bonnet and warm woollen coat. Bidding Jane Mellor goodbye, she went out on to the fashionable Knightsbridge street and hailed a passing carriage. She would be staying at the Forresters’ abode as she always did, and as the carriage rolled across the cobbles she sank back in the seat looking forward to seeing Nancy. The girls were firm friends by now and enjoyed nothing more than their nightly get-together which still took place whenever Amy stayed at the smart townhouse.

When the carriage pulled up, Amy saw Nancy peeping out of the hall window, and within seconds she was on the steps with a broad smile on her face.

‘The kettle’s on,’ she chirped brightly as she ushered Amy into the hall and helped her off with her coat. ‘An’ Cook says to go straight through to the kitchen. She’s made yer one o’ yer favourite fruitcakes, an’ seein’ as Mrs Wilcox is out fer the day the ’ouse is empty except fer us so we can ’ave a chat an’ a nice cup of rosie lee together.’

Amy almost felt as if she was coming home, and the two girls continued to chatter as they hurried through to the kitchen where Cook gave Amy a hug and a welcoming kiss. In no time at all they were all sitting at the table with a good hot cup of tea and a wedge of Cook’s famous fruitcake in front of them.

Cook had a big soft spot for Amy – always had, in fact – although she was also just a little in awe of her. It was common knowledge that Amy was becoming extremely well-known in London society, for women would go to her with vague ideas of how they would like a gown to be made and Amy, with her gift for design and a few strokes of a pencil, would make their ideas become a reality. She had long since learned the gift of patience from Mr Harvey, and how to deal with customer needs, and all this, plus her stunning good looks and the fact that she was not yet even twenty-one years old, made her a remarkable young woman in Cook’s eyes.

The lovely girl they had known when she first came to them had now matured into an even lovelier young woman, but her gentle, bubbly personality remained unchanged and she was still quite content to chatter away to the others for hours about her beloved gran and her home town.

Nancy had also changed over the last year. She was now walking out with a young man. His name was Billy and he worked on one of the numerous wharfs that were studded along the banks of the River Thames. Whenever she spoke of him, which was increasingly often, her face would soften and she would become all starry-eyed. Cook teased her unmercifully about him but Nancy took it all good-naturedly and Amy had high hopes of a romantic wedding for her friend in the not-too-distant future.

‘So how’s your gran doin’ then, luv?’ Cook now asked conversationally as she slurped at her tea.

A small frown creased Amy’s brow. ‘She’s not too bad,’ she confided, ‘although this cold weather plays havoc with her poor hands.’

Cook tutted sympathetically. She knew that Amy had been concerned about her gran’s arthritis for some time, which was why, when she came to London, she rarely stayed longer than one or two nights at a time unless it was absolutely essential.

‘You’ll be off home in the mornin’ then?’ she said.

Amy nodded. ‘Yes, I’ll be up bright and early. I need to go and see Master Adam at his shop and talk to him about the men’s hats I designed. Apparently they’re going like hot cakes and he wants to discuss another material he has in mind for them, to vary the look. He and his father have decided to call them Forrester hats, which I’m really pleased about. But then I hope to be catching the ten o’ clock train, so I’ll be home by teatime.’

‘In that case I’ll make sure as your breakfast is on the table fer seven o’clock sharp,’ Cook promised and Amy smiled at her gratefully.

Nancy sipped her tea. ‘It must be nice to see blokes walkin’ about in hats you’ve designed yerself,’ she commented and then, laughing, she went on, ‘An’ it’s
so
much nicer ’ere since Master Adam an’ that snotty-nosed wife o’ his got their own place in Holland Park, even though it’s a bit too close for comfort. She used to have me runnin’ around after ’er like a mad thing, an’ even
then
nothin’ I did fer her was ever right, silly mare.’

Cook nodded in agreement. ‘Yer right there, luv. All I can say is, God help the poor buggers she’s got workin’ fer her now. I doubt she’ll keep staff fer long, the way she carries on.’

‘I feel sorry fer Master Adam,’ Nancy said. ‘They reckon she’s spendin’ money on their house left right an’ centre. It’ll be a smaller version o’ Buck Palace at the rate she’s goin’ on.’

‘Then happen it’s time Adam put his foot down wi’ her,’ Cook said wisely, but none of them really thought that would happen, knowing Eugenie as they did.

That evening, when they had retired to bed, Amy and Nancy had their usual late-night chat.

Amy no longer shared the top landing with Nancy but at the old mistress’s insistence now had a room on the second floor, which was kept ready for her frequent visits at all times. For the past hour she had been listening with amusement to Nancy going on about Billy’s seemingly endless virtues, and now she was feeling comfortably sleepy and warm. The fire in the ornately tiled grate was burning brightly as the two young women chattered on, content in each other’s company.

‘When will yer be comin’ back again?’ Nancy asked eventually when they had caught up on all their gossip and she had run out of things to say about Billy.

‘Next week. The seamstresses have almost completed that new design I was telling you about and I have to come back for the client to have her final fitting. That’s why I’m calling into the shop on my way home tomorrow.’ She chuckled as she went on, ‘To be honest, I think the seamstresses will be glad when this one is finished. They’ve spent hours and hours working on it. Up to now they’ve stitched on five thousand pearls and sequins. I reckon the gown will be worthy of Queen Victoria herself, by the time it’s done.’

Nancy sighed dreamily as a picture of the beautiful dress Amy had described floated in front of her eyes.

‘If I ever ’ad a dress like that I don’t think I’d ever want to take it off,’ she stated, and the two girls then fell together laughing as they pictured Nancy cleaning out the grates and doing her household chores in it.

Amy was up with the lark the next morning and after eating one of Cook’s hearty breakfasts she kissed Cook and Nancy soundly and stepped out into the foggy London streets. As she climbed into the waiting carriage, she shuddered and pulled her coat more closely about her. For weeks, Molly had been saying that snow was on the way, and Amy could well believe it.

After her visits to the two shops she made it to Euston station in good time and settled comfortably into the train carriage, tucking her hands into the pretty fur muff that matched her bonnet. She had promised to visit the Forresters that evening, but first she wanted to go home and see her gran.

When she alighted at Trent Valley, Amy called into the grocer shop in the town to buy some treats for Molly for her tea then set off on her chilly walk home. It was almost four o’clock in the afternoon by now, and already the brightness had gone from the day. Frost was forming on the grass and little tufts of it stood erect like tiny sentinels as her feet crunched across it. Her breath was hanging on the air in front of her and by the time she entered the warmth of the cosy little kitchen her nose was red and her cheeks rosy.

‘My goodness, you look frozen through,’ Molly fussed as she heaved herself out of her old rocking chair. ‘Come over here and warm yourself by the fire while I get you a dish o’ nice hot stew. I’ve been waitin’ for you to get back afore I had mine. There ain’t much fun in eatin’ alone.’

After shrugging her arms out of her coat, Amy did as she was told and held her hands out to the welcoming blaze of the fire. Once she was warmed through, they sat together at the table to eat their meal while Amy told her gran all about her latest trip. Molly listened with interest; she was very proud of Amy but she also worried that the girl was doing too much. She seemed to be constantly flitting from Forrester’s Folly to London, and when she wasn’t doing that her nose was always stuck in a sketchpad. To Molly’s mind it wasn’t healthy at all. Amy was only a young woman and she should be out having fun in her free time like other girls her age, instead of working all the while. Not that Amy seemed to mind hard work – in fact, she seemed to be thriving on it – and when Molly aired her concerns she would just laugh them off and tell her that she was perfectly content with her life just the way it was.

Once the meal was out of the way, Molly carried the dirty dishes to the deep stone sink as Amy watched her with concern.

‘Are your legs hurting you again, Gran?’ she asked.

Studiously avoiding her eyes, Molly shrugged. ‘No more than usual. They’re always worse in cold weather, as well you know. Come the summer they’ll ease off again, so don’t get frettin’.’

Amy sighed as she looked at her gran’s gnarled old hands. Her days of ribbon weaving were long since over, and the loom had not been used for years now, but stood idle gathering dust. Amy had begged Molly to let her and Toby move it into one of the small outbuildings, but it had been her beloved husband’s loom and Molly was adamant that it should stay where it was. This had posed a problem for Amy, although she could understand how her gran felt. Molly had been struggling with the stairs and the small room under the eaves she slept in for some time and so Amy came up with a solution.