The Ribbon Weaver (35 page)

Curious, Amy sat down next to her as she searched her eyes and asked, ‘What is it then, Gran?’

Delving into the pocket of her pinnie, Molly withdrew a small faded velvet box and told her, ‘This was yer mother’s.’ She pressed the box into Amy’s hand. ‘It’s all I have of her ’cept for a few clothes that I have upstairs in a bag.’

Amy opened the lid and blinked as the emerald in the centre of the locket winked at her in the glow from the oil lamp.

‘Why, Gran, it’s really lovely,’ she breathed. ‘And you say this belonged to my mother?’

‘Aye, it did, love. Look inside it.’

Amy carefully withdrew the locket from its bed of silk, then gently pressed the clasp on its side, as it sprang open, two faces stared up at her. For a moment she was lost for words.

‘That were your mam an’ dad,’ Molly told her softly.

Tears began to slide down Amy’s cheeks. As she gazed at the woman’s face she felt as if she was looking in a mirror, for there was the same auburn hair and eyes staring back at her. She then turned her attention to the tiny portrait in the other side of the locket and gazed upon the face of a man with gentle features, her father.

‘Th … they made a lovely couple, didn’t they, Gran?’ she sighed wistfully.

Placing her arm comfortingly about her shoulders, the old woman nodded. ‘They did that, love. So wear your mother’s legacy wi’ pride an’ be proud of who you are. I know it ain’t as grand as the necklace the old mistress left you, but I hope you’ll treasure it all the same.’

Dragging her eyes away from the locket, Amy looked tenderly at her gran. Could the old woman have known it, there was nothing in the world that she could have given her that she could treasure more. A million times over the years, she had lain in bed at night wondering what her mother and father had been like and wishing that she could have known them. Her one consolation had been her gran, who had never shown her anything but love and kindness.

‘I promise you that I shall treasure this until my dying day,’ she told her, and taking the wrinkled old cheeks into her hands she kissed her soundly. ‘But I shall never treasure anything as much as I treasure you, for you have been my guardian angel. Without you, I would have been nothing.’

Suddenly her old brusque self again, Molly pushed her away and flapping her hands at her as she struggled to climb from the bed, she told her, ‘Pah! Now that’s enough o’ that soppy talk fer one night. Unless me mind is playin’ tricks on me you have a party to go to, an’ yer won’t get ready sittin’ there blartin’. So look lively, me girl, else it will all be over before yer even get there.’ Then without another word she hobbled from the room as the lump in her throat threatened to choke her.

When Toby arrived some time later he found Amy standing in the kitchen in all her finery and for a moment he was struck dumb. She looked totally out of place in such a humble dwelling. Her hair was tumbling about her shoulders in thick cascading curls, and she was wearing the beautiful cloak that François had given to her in Paris. Her mother’s locket gleamed at her throat, the emerald in it complementing the colour of her gown.

Unable to help himself, he stared at her totally mesmerised. He had always considered her to be pretty but this evening she looked absolutely stunning.

‘Happy Birthday, Amy,’ he said, when he had finally found his tongue again. ‘Yer look more like the gentry than they do ’emselves.’

She flushed at what she took to be a compliment. ‘Why, thank you, kind sir.’ She bobbed her knee just as they heard the Forresters’ carriage rattling along the snow-covered cobbles outside.

Quickly planting a kiss on her gran’s grey hair, she then moved towards Toby – and then paused. They were standing directly beneath the bunch of mistletoe that was dangling above the door, and without stopping to think, she raised herself on tiptoe and kissed him soundly on the mouth. Then laughing, she lifted her skirts and was gone, her cloak billowing out behind her like a sail.

As the coach trundled down the drive, Amy gazed from the window in awe at Forrester’s Folly. It was ablaze with lights that shone from every single window, and all around the steps leading up to the front door, grand carriages were parked. Liveried coachmen were hastily throwing blankets across the horses to protect them from the snow and guiding them round to the stables. When the coachman assisted her down from the carriage, the whole situation began to take on an air of unreality, for she recalled that, not so very long ago, she had been nothing more than a cleaner in a hat factory – and now here she was attending a party at the home of her employer, dressed like a princess. Smiling, she shook out her skirts and held her head high, just as Molly would have wished her to.

The door was opened by a straight-backed butler who had been hired for the evening. ‘Miss Amy Ernshaw,’ he announced imperiously.

Amy suppressed the urge to giggle as she stepped forward.

Mr and Mrs Forrester, Adam and Eugenie, were standing in the line waiting to greet their guests, and the master and mistress stepped forward and shook her hand warmly.

Mrs Forrester was wearing a gown that was one of Amy’s very latest designs, made of scarlet satin and with a large bustle at the back of it; a ruby necklace sparkled about her throat. She looked absolutely stunning, as did Mr Forrester who stood at her side looking strikingly handsome in a formal black dinner suit.

‘Give Lily your cloak, my dear,’ Mrs Forrester told her, ‘and then go into the drawing room. Mr Harvey has already arrived and I’m sure he will be pleased to see you.’

They then turned to welcome the next guests who were waiting to be announced as Amy moved past them. Adam nodded at her politely, but Eugenie refused to acknowledge her presence, a sullen frown on her face. Amy didn’t care. She was determined that nothing should spoil this evening. Even Eugenie.

She found Mr Harvey standing next to a table on which stood many bottles of the very finest champagne sent as a Christmas present to the Forresters from Monsieur Laroque. She was soon sipping at a glass and laughing as the bubbles tickled her nose. The house was teeming with people and some time later she and Mr Harvey made their way to the dining room. The enormous table that usually stood in the centre of the room had been placed back against the wall and it was weighed down with a buffet that was fit to serve to the Queen herself. A whole roasted pig with an apple in its mouth lay on a bed of greens. There were roast chickens, ducks, pheasants, great hams and joints of meat cooked to perfection as well as every kind of pie and pastry imaginable. Amy was sure that there must be enough good there to feed a whole army.

A platform had been erected at the far end of the room and a four-man orchestra, dressed in smart, white-winged collars, matching cravats and black suits, were busily tuning their instruments on it. Women in multi-coloured gowns, each seeming to outdo the other, flitted about on the arms of smart gentlemen, with little elaborate fans in their gloved hands. Glad of Mr Harvey’s company, Amy watched it all enthralled.

Eventually, when the last of the guests had arrived, Mr and Mrs Forrester entered the room and after declaring the buffet to be open they began to mingle with their guests as the orchestra struck up a merry tune.

Across the room, Amy saw Master Adam speaking to a man whom she recognised as the manager of one of the new London shops. Eugenie was at his side, being very loud with a large glass of wine in her hand. Although it was early, the way she was swaying suggested that she had already had more than enough to drink, and as their eyes met she cast Amy a scathing glance. Amy quickly averted her eyes and turned her attention to the middle of the room that was to serve as the dance floor, as gentlemen took their partners for the first dance. She found her foot tapping gaily in time to the music as the dancers swayed past, their bright skirts swirling and the gentlemen’s tailcoats flicking.

Soon Mr and Mrs Forrester had worked their way around to them and Mr Forrester and Mr Harvey immediately became engrossed in conversation. Mrs Forrester smiled at Amy, but then as her eyes rested on the locket that hung about the girl’s throat she reached out blindly and grasped her husband’s arm; afraid that she was going to fall in a faint, Amy quickly moved towards her – but the woman flinched away as and she pointed a trembling finger towards Amy’s throat.

‘Where did you get that locket?’ she demanded in a voice that Amy had never heard her use before.

Baffled, and acutely aware that people were beginning to stare at them, Amy defensively raised her hand to her precious legacy.

Mr Forrester’s eyes followed his wife’s pointing finger, and to Amy’s horror he paled too. By now, Mrs Forrester was trembling like a leaf, and pulling himself together with what was obviously an enormous effort, Mr Forrester suddenly grasped Amy’s elbow and began to propel her from the room. His wife followed close behind, looking for all the world as if she had seen a ghost. Across the room, Amy saw Eugenie watching what was going on and felt herself flush with embarrassment as she was hustled away.

Eugenie waited until they had left the room then slipping away from Adam’s side unnoticed she followed them stealthily.

Once Mr Forrester had herded Amy into his study he led his trembling wife to a chair and helped her into it before turning back to Amy and asking her sharply, ‘Amy – tell me the truth, now. Where did you get that locket?’

She stared back at him in total confusion, her heart racing. ‘It … it was my mother’s,’ she managed to stutter.

He shook his head in denial, his eyes harsh. ‘That is quite impossible,’ he stated bluntly, and now tears started to Amy’s eyes and her chin jutted defiantly.

‘I am sorry to argue with you, sir, but I assure you it was. She left it with my gran for me just before she died.’

For a second he lowered his head and screwed his eyes up tight, but then taking a deep breath he stared back at her and something in the depth of his eyes tore at her heart, for he looked like a man in torment.

‘Please may I have a closer look at it?’

With fumbling fingers, Amy undid the clasp on the chain and silently passed it into his outstretched hand.

He stared down at it for some time as if it was burning him, then seeming to forget that Amy was there he turned on his heel and carried it across to his wife. She took the locket from him with shaking fingers. The couple looked deep into each other’s eyes for what seemed like an eternity and then Josephine undid the clasp on the side and stared down at the two faces within smiling up at her.

Her face suddenly crumpled. ‘Oh, my dear God,’ she sobbed as if her heart would break. ‘Samuel, look. It
is
Jessica’s locket, I knew it the moment I saw it. It even has the portrait of herself she painted to place in it.’

As he paced the room like a caged animal, Amy noted with mounting horror that Mr Forrester was openly crying too. But what could all this mean? she asked herself. The evening had got off to such a wonderful start and now it was all ruined.

‘How could this be?’ Josephine was totally distraught, but for now her husband had no answer to her question and was as confused as she was.

‘There must be some reasonable explanation,’ he muttered as he continued to pace up and down. Then, stopping abruptly in front of Amy as if he had only just remembered her presence, he stared at her as if he had never seen her before.

Turning, he yanked on the bell-pull and when the maid appeared seconds later he barked at her, ‘Lily, run around to the stable-block and tell them I want the carriage brought to the front of the house immediately.’

Lily bobbed her knee. ‘Yes, sir.’ Realising that something was badly wrong, she scuttled away to do as she was told.

Meanwhile, Mr Forrester returned to his wife and squeezed her hand lovingly as he told her, ‘Try not to upset yourself, my dear. We shall go and see Mrs Ernshaw right now and try to get to the bottom of this.’

Amy was totally at a loss. The evening was fast turning into a nightmare, and she had no idea why.

Lily reappeared shortly afterwards to tell them that the carriage was ready. Grim-faced, Mr Forrester ushered the two women outside without a word, pausing only long enough for the ladies to collect their cloaks.

Some of their guests stared in amazement as they watched their host and hostess disappear into the snowy night without so much as a civil word as they strode past them. Across the hallway, Eugenie raised her glass to her lips and smiled tipsily. Amy, the in-laws’ brown-eyed girl was suddenly very much out of favour. And, she thought spitefully, long may it last! Let this be the last she would see of the common little guttersnipe.

When the sound of the carriage pulling up outside carried to them, Molly and Toby stared at each other in amazement. Glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece, Molly frowned. ‘Why, it’s barely nine o’clock,’ she muttered. ‘This surely can’t be Amy back already, can it?’

Her question was answered when Amy burst into the room seconds later with the Forresters close behind her, their faces drawn and tense.

‘Eeh, whatever’s happened?’ Guessing that something was badly amiss, she pulled herself painfully from the chair as Amy flung herself into her arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

‘It’s my locket, Gran,’ she choked out. ‘Mr and Mrs Forrester say it wasn’t my mother’s.’

Molly bristled. ‘Oh yes it was, as God’s me witness,’ she told them boldly.

Mr Forrester drew himself up to his full height and stared at her disdainfully. ‘I am afraid that is quite impossible, Mrs Ernshaw. You see, that locket belonged to my daughter. We had it commissioned and made for her in London for her eighteenth birthday. The picture of the young woman inside the locket is actually our daughter, Jessica. She was a very talented artist and she painted the portrait inside herself.’

It was Molly’s turn to pale now. She had never been one for fainting, but as she stared into the master’s cold eyes the room began to swim around her and an icy hand closed around her heart.

Back at The Folly, Adam searched the room for his parents and when he couldn’t find them he made his way into the hallway and beckoned the butler to his side.