The Ribbon Weaver (43 page)
‘Just remember the sixteenth of May next year,’ he whispered as he kissed her fingers. ‘On that day we shall become man and wife, and with your talent and our two families united, our business will become world-known.’
Amy thought this was quite a strange thing to say but had no time to comment, for at that moment the stationmaster blew his whistle and François sprinted towards the door of the first-class carriage that contained the rest of his family.
‘Goodbye,
mon ange
,’ he called as he hung out of the window and Amy waved until she felt her arm would drop off.
‘Ah, that’s that then,’ Samuel Forrester said, and Amy thought she detected a note of relief in his voice. But then in fairness, Josephine had been somewhat preoccupied in her quest to find her daughter and he had been rushed off his feet trying to keep his guests entertained.
Linking his arms through Amy’s, he led her along the platform, and when they came to the entrance he suddenly drew her to a halt and asked, quite unexpectedly, ‘Are you quite happy about this wedding, my dear? What I mean is, I would hate you to feel that because of my business association with Monsieur Laroque, you were obliged in any way.’
‘Of course I don’t feel obliged to marry François. I love him,’ Amy assured him, but she was touched that he had cared enough to ask.
‘Good, then in that case, your grandmother and I will make sure that you have a wedding to remember – and also, never forget that even after you are married, you will always have a home to come back to, should you wish.’
Amy said nothing now and allowed him to lead her to the carriage.
‘Do you know,’ he suddenly chuckled as they rattled through the town centre, ‘it will be nice to be able to get back to work now. Not that the Laroques were anything but the perfect guests, of course. But my dear old mother had a saying: “I like the comers, and I like the goers, but I don’t like the stayers”.’ And then he and Amy simultaneously erupted into laughter.
It was now mid-July and already it felt to Amy as if François had been gone for years; although it was, in fact, only a matter of months. He wrote to her every week and his letters were full of endearments and excitement at the prospect of their forthcoming marriage. Amy had travelled to London three times since François had gone home and enjoyed each visit immensely. It was always a tonic for her, to see Nancy. The businesses were all thriving, and had it not been for Mr Forrester curtailing her working hours, she could quite easily have worked each day around the clock to meet the demand for her designs.
Now each week, her grandfather insisted that she should have at least two full days off, and while the weather was so nice she had taken to sitting at the edge of the ravine on the other side of the woods to do her sketching.
Today she aimed to do exactly that. It was a wonderful day with fluffy clouds riding in a soft blue sky. She had spent the morning with Mrs Forrester, who had now gone into town to see Mr Burrows yet again, so Amy collected her pad and pens and made for the front door. Lily was polishing the hall table and she smiled at her brightly as she passed.
‘Off to do a bit o’ sketchin’, are yer, Miss Amy?’ she chirped cheekily.
‘Yes, I am, Lily. When the master and mistress come back, would you tell them that I shall see them tomorrow?’
‘O’ course I will,’ Lily assured her obligingly and Amy smiled at her as she slipped out into the sunshine.
As she passed Mary’s cottage, the children, who were playing with hoops in the garden, ran to the fence to greet her, and seconds later, Mary appeared in the doorway. She eyed the sketchpad in Amy’s hand and smiled as she asked, ‘Goin’ to enjoy a bit o’ sunshine, eh?’
‘Yes, I am, Mary.’ She ruffled the twins’ hair. ‘I can’t see any point sitting inside working on a lovely day like this.’
‘I couldn’t agree more. Have yer started the design fer yer weddin’ dress yet?’
Amy hastily shook her head. ‘No, I haven’t. There’s plenty of time for that.’
‘Hm, that’s what yer might think now but next year will be ’ere in the blink of an eye,’ Mary retorted. ‘Anyway, you get yerself off an’ I’ll see yer soon, eh?’
‘You will that,’ Amy agreed, and was just about to set off again when they looked towards the riverbank where a white horse was galloping along with a female rider on its back, riding side-saddle and with her habit flaring out behind her.
Mary squinted and shielded her eyes from the sun as she gazed towards the sight. ‘Somebody’s in a tearin’ hurry,’ she commented. ‘Poor bloody horse, is all I can say.’ And then she turned her attention to the little girls while Amy continued on her way.
Once she reached the other side of the woods, Amy sighed with contentment. It was so peaceful here and she loved to just sit and watch the wildlife and listen to the birds in the trees.
After dropping down on to the soft green grass at the side of the deep ravine she took the ribbon from her hair and shook it loose. For a while she sat letting the peace of the place wash over her and then she took up her sketchpad and in no time at all was lost in her ideas.
It was some time later when a commotion behind her made her turn startled eyes in that direction. It sounded as if a horse was being ridden through the trees, and she was proved right when a lovely white stallion appeared with a portly red-faced woman in an elegant green riding habit on its back. The poor horse was obviously distressed by the many bushes and branches that had clawed at him as he was forced through the trees, and she saw immediately that there were deep scratches leaking blood all along his flanks. The stallion was reined to an abrupt halt only yards away from her and Amy could see that the poor creature’s eyes were wide and rolling with fright, and its nostrils flaring as it pawed at the ground in distress.
Dropping her sketchpad on to the ground she rose angrily, ready to give the uncaring rider a piece of her mind, but as her eyes settled on the woman the words died on her lips.
It was Eugenie and suddenly Amy felt very vulnerable. Even so she would have died rather than show it, and so she drew herself up to her full height and faced her defiantly.
‘That poor animal is terrified,’ she stated boldly, her angry eyes tight on Eugenie’s.
Eugenie sneered. ‘What if it is? It’s no business of yours, guttersnip. And what would you know about horses anyway? Until you wormed your way into The Folly I dare say you had never even been near one.’
Amy bit back the hasty retort that sprang to her lips, not wishing to antagonise the woman further. The horse was still restless and she could see that it was taking Eugenie all her time to hold it steady. She suddenly shook the reins and slashed the whip across its flank; the terrified animal took another two steps towards Amy, forcing her to move closer to the edge of the deep ravine behind her.
Panic suddenly swelled in her chest and she licked her dry lips before muttering, ‘Look, Eugenie, I don’t want any trouble. I came here to do some work, so why don’t you just take that poor creature home and get his wounds attended to?’
‘I shall go when I’m good and ready,’ Eugenie ground out. ‘Just who are
you
to tell me where to go? If truth be told, I have far more right to be here than
you
. And I probably still would be, if it hadn’t been for
you
. Nothing was ever the same at The Folly since you came worming your way into everyone’s affections.’
‘That isn’t true. I have never willingly done anything to upset or disrespect you, Eugenie,’ Amy said – and now the woman’s eyes flashed fire.
‘How
dare
you address me by my Christian name?’ she spat. ‘Why, you should show some respect when you are talking to your betters. It’s
Mrs Forrester
to you! I am
still
married to the master’s son, though in name only now, thanks to
you
!’
At the sound of her raised voice the horse panicked and began to champ on its bit and rear on its hind legs as the woman fought to hold him.
Amy’s heart was pounding with fear now as she inched yet closer to the gaping hole behind her, and then before she could do anything or have any chance of escape, the horse suddenly reared up again and as its front legs flailed wildly in the air, one of its hooves caught her cheek and she felt blood gush down her face.
She held out one hand beseechingly and the other rose to her cheek as pain swept through her. ‘Please, there is no need for this …’ Her words died away as she felt her feet slipping from beneath her. She was on the very edge of the ravine now and Eugenie was forcing the terrified horse forward, her eyes shining with madness, whilst foam bubbled around the creature’s mouth.
‘I told you I would have my revenge.’ She laughed maniacally as Amy plummeted over the edge of the drop. And then Amy’s arms were flapping in thin air and she had the sensation of flying as she dropped like a stone into the deep gorge. She bounced sickeningly from the side of the ravine again and again as pain exploded behind her eyes like fireworks. And then after what seemed like a lifetime her body slammed on to the rocks below and a comforting darkness engulfed her.
It was now very dark as Molly once again hurried to the window to look for a sign of Amy. She should have been home hours ago. Her dinner was burned to a crisp in the oven and it wasn’t like her to be late without warning Molly. Chewing on her lip, she stared out into the balmy night. Where could she be? Molly briefly wondered if she had decided to stay the night at Forrester’s Folly, but then dismissed that idea almost instantly. Although the Forresters had a room that was kept ready for the girl at all times should she wish to use it, Amy had never taken them up on their offer, and usually she was as regular as clockwork at coming home. Had she decided to stay, Molly was sure that Amy would have informed her of her intentions.
Crossing back to the oven, she took Amy’s meal from the range and scraped it into the pig bin as her concerns mounted. She stood chewing on her knuckle for some seconds then, snatching her shawl from the back of the chair, she slung it around her shoulders and painfully hobbled out into the lane. When she came to Bessie’s door, she found it open and inside, Bessie, Jim and Toby were enjoying a last drink before retiring to their beds.
Bessie raised her eyebrow. It was unusual, to say the very least, to see Molly out and about so late at night. ‘Somethin’ wrong is there, Molly?’ she asked.
‘It’s our Amy,’ Molly told her without preamble. ‘She ain’t come home an’ it ain’t like her at all.’
‘Happen she decided to stay at The Folly,’ Bessie suggested, but like Molly, she knew that this was highly unlikely. Amy would have told Molly – and Bessie – had she intended to be away for the night.
‘Ner.’ Molly’s head wagged from side to side. ‘You know as well as I do that she would have told me if that were her intentions. Yer don’t think she’s been dragged off on her way home by one o’ them there Mormons, do yer?’
Toby chuckled. ‘They ain’t monsters, Molly,’ he told her. ‘An’ besides, there’s only a handful of ’em left in the town now.’
‘Then where is she?’ Molly could not keep the concern from her voice as her eyes strayed to the open door.
Toby got up and lifted his boots from the side of the hearth. ‘I’ll go for a wander an’ see if I can catch a sight of her,’ he offered.
Molly smiled at him gratefully. ‘Thanks, lad. I knew I could depend on you.’ She then nodded towards Bessie and Jim and headed back to her own cottage to anxiously wait for his return.
It was well over an hour later when Toby walked into her kitchen.
‘I went as far as the lawns of The Folly,’ he told her. ‘But there weren’t no sign of Amy, though the lights were on in the downstairs windows.’
‘Didn’t yer knock an’ ask if she were there?’ Molly demanded.
Toby hastily shook his head. ‘Did I hell as like. Why, they’d likely have called the peelers, had I knocked on their door in me work clothes, thinkin’ I were a tramp. But I did see Seth and when I told him that I was looking for Amy he said that he hadn’t seen her.’
Molly sighed and as she sank into her chair, Toby crossed to her and squeezed her arm reassuringly. ‘Don’t get worryin’,’ he urged. ‘Happen it got late an’ she decided to stay there after all. She’ll be back in the mornin’, bright as a button, you’ll see. Now get yerself off to bed an’ try an’ get some sleep an’ I’ll see yer tomorrow, eh?’
‘Aye, lad, I will, an’ thanks,’ Molly muttered but no matter how she tried she could not shift the terrible sense of foreboding that had settled over her, and all night long she tossed and turned.
By lunchtime the next day, Molly was almost beside herself with worry. Had she been younger she would have set off for The Folly herself, but she was only too aware that she would never make it. Her old legs were not as reliable as they had used to be.
‘I’ll get our Toby to go back there as soon as he gets in from work this evenin’,’ Bessie promised her and with that, for now, Molly had to be content.
However, she had no need to wait for Toby, for mid-afternoon, the Forresters’ carriage rattled down the lane and Mr Forrester himself appeared at her door with a broad smile on his face.
‘Good afternoon, Mrs Ernshaw, and what a wonderful afternoon it is, is it not?’ He took off his hat respectfully and stepped into the kitchen, his eyes darting about the room. ‘I was just going into the factory for an hour to see how they are getting on with Amy’s latest designs and wondered if she would care to come with me?’
‘What? Yer mean she ain’t wi’ you?’ Molly’s face was the colour of putty and now the smile slid from his face as he frowned in confusion.
‘Why, no … My wife and I have not seen Amy since yesterday morning. She was up at the house but Josephine and I both had appointments, so we left her there, and Amy told the maid Lily when she went that she would see us today. Did she not come home?’
‘No, she didn’t.’ Molly looked beside herself with fear. ‘Where do yer think she could ’ave gone? It ain’t like her to pull a trick like this.’