The Ribbon Weaver (50 page)
‘Will you be takin’ the carriage to pick ’em up from the station?’ Winifred enquired, pulling her thoughts sharply back to the present.
He nodded as he looked across at her, considering himself to be a very fortunate man indeed. Winifred was a good woman and they had barely had a cross word in all their long married life. An’ she were still a bit of a looker, an’ all. A bit on the plump side now, admittedly, but he weren’t complainin’.
When they had finished their breakfast, Seth stood up and yawned lazily as he stretched. ‘I could just fall back into bed,’ he told her meaningfully, but she wagged a finger at him.
‘Yer wouldn’t be able to, ’cos I’m just about to strip the sheets off it. So get yerself off an’ get some work done. I’ve got a pile o’ dirty laundry to tackle an’ I don’t want to see yer ugly face again till dinnertime.’
‘Yer a tartar, so you are, woman,’ he teased, and snatching his coat from the hook on the back of the door he slid his arms into it and with a final wink at Winifred left the room.
At the top of the stairs he paused, enjoying the smell of the fresh hay in the stables below. Seth kept the horses’ stalls as clean as a whistle and took a pride in his job, which he loved almost as much as the horses he tended to.
Halfway down the stairs, as he was buttoning his coat, he heard Pepperpot snorting softly. He frowned. The thoroughbred was usually a placid beast but this morning he sounded agitated. Hurrying now, Seth reached the bottom of the rickety staircase and moved in the direction of Pepperpot’s stall.
‘What’s up then, eh, me old lad?’ he asked, as he reached over to stroke the horse’s mane.
The stallion pawed at the ground and tossed his enormous head as Seth tried to soothe him. ‘Let’s get yer some oats fer yer breakfast, eh? Happen that’ll take yer mind off whatever it is that’s botherin’ yer.’
Seth lifted a large wooden pail and began to walk towards the other end of the stable-block where he kept the horses’ food, and it was then that he saw them and his eyes started from his head as he dropped the pail. It rattled noisily across the floor as he stood there, rooted to the ground with shock. A pair of men’s feet were dangling in midair. Forcing himself forward, he began to run – and as he drew closer, tears began to roll unchecked down his wrinkled face. It was Master Adam. He was hanging by a thick rope that was wrapped about one of the rafters. Seth could only suppose that he had climbed into the hayloft and crawled along the beam before securing the rope around his neck and jumping.
‘Aw, no! Me poor lad.’ Seth felt as if someone was ripping the very heart out of him as he stared at the young man who had meant so much to him. It was more than obvious that there was nothing to be done to help him. Adam’s face was blue and his tongue was lolling out of his mouth as he stared ahead from sightless eyes.
Turning about, Seth ran up the stairs and bade his wife to remain within; he said he would explain as soon as he could. She knew that something was badly wrong, but wisely held her peace and carried on with her work. Seth then headed for the main house. He would have to break the news to the mistress, though God knew, he had no idea how he was going to do it.
It was Seth who inched himself along the broad oak beam and cut the poor chap down a short while later. The mistress was so distressed that Beatrice had been ordered to run into the village to fetch the doctor to her. And God only knew what the master would say when he got home. Some homecoming this was going to be.
When the doctor arrived and saw Adam’s broken body lying there he looked at Seth gravely.
‘A fall, was it?’ he asked innocently, but with a strange emphasis.
Seth looked bemused for a moment but then latching on to what the doctor was thinking, he nodded quickly.
‘Aye, it was that, sir. He must have fallen from the hayloft.’
And so word spread that Adam had died of a tragic accident, and the doctor, who had a high regard for the Forresters, was happy to go along with this, for he knew that if word got out that Adam had taken his own life, he would not be allowed to rest in consecrated ground. The way he saw it, these good people had already had their fair share of heartache.
Adam was laid to rest five days later beside his sister in the little churchyard in Caldecote and for a while, Samuel Forrester feared that his wife would shortly follow him. Her eyes were empty and she seemed to be locked away in a world of her own. The only time she spoke was when Amy was present. The girl had endless patience with her and gave of her time freely, encouraging the woman to eat tasty titbits and reading to her.
Sometimes she would lead her out into the gardens and walk her about, holding her by the hand as if she was an infant, insistent that her grandmother should get some fresh air. A dark shadow was hanging over The Folly once more, and every one of them, from the indoor staff to the gardeners, missed Master Adam daily. No one more so than Seth, who mourned the young master almost as much as his parents did.
There had been no note from Adam, so they could only assume that he had taken his own life because he could no longer live with the guilt of the way he had betrayed his sister. All they could do now was pray that he was reunited with her and that he and Jessica were both finally together again and at peace.
This sad state of affairs continued for some weeks until one afternoon when Amy was in the drawing room with her grandparents. Josephine was staring off into space as usual, and Amy and her grandfather were studying some designs that she had brought for him to look at.
‘Grandfather, I’ve been thinking …’ Amy was finding it hard to concentrate on what they were doing and began cautiously, ‘I wonder if we should not postpone the wedding? What I mean is, none of us are really in the mood for a celebration and I’m sure François would understand. It doesn’t seem right to have a happy occasion when we are all still in mourning and—’
‘
What
was that you said?’
Amy and Samuel looked towards Josephine in surprise. They had not been aware that she was listening to them.
‘I … I was just saying that perhaps it would be wise to postpone the wedding for a time,’ Amy faltered.
‘You will do
no
such thing!’ Josephine looked more her old self as she stared towards Amy indignantly. ‘This house has seen enough sadness, and I know that if your mother and Adam could speak, they would both say they wished this wedding to go ahead. So let us hear no more talk of postponing it. In fact, I think it’s high time we began to prepare for it. There is a lot to be done.’
‘Very well, but only if you are quite sure.’ Amy wrung her hands as she glanced towards her grandfather for support but he merely shrugged, delighted that his wife was speaking to them again.
‘I think your grandmother is right, Amy.’ He winked at her with relief evident in his eyes. ‘You are all we have left now, so let’s work together towards making this a wedding that the town will never forget. Because you know, I have a strange feeling that there will be two guests that attend the church who we will not be able to see, and like your grandmother and me, I am sure that they will be very proud of you.’
Amy lowered her head as tears stung at the back of her eyes. She too missed Adam, although they had never become close. And now she finally understood why. Each time he looked at her he must have been reminded of her mother and the wrong he had once done her. She hoped it was not what Eugenie had done to her that had finally tipped him over the edge, and prayed that he would now find the peace in death that had so long been denied him in life.
Gazing from her late mother’s bedroom window, Amy looked at an enormous tent that was in the process of being erected in the grounds of Forrester’s Folly. It would house the deluge of guests that had been invited to the wedding in just two weeks’ time.
Two weeks’ time!
Amy could hardly believe it; the weeks had slipped by so quickly since the last time she had seen François in London – late last year. But soon she would see him every single day. Raising her eyes, she looked towards the woods and above the treetops spied the chimneypots of the beautiful new house her grandfather had had built for them.
It was small in comparison to Forrester’s Folly, but elegant, and Amy loved every room in it; she was still marvelling at how quickly the builders had managed to complete it. It had been finished less than two months ago and since then she had been busily furnishing it to her taste, which was simple by most standards.
After their two-week bridal tour of the Lake District following the wedding, she and François would reside there with Molly for the most part of each year. It had taken a great deal of persuasion to get Molly to agree to leave her beloved little cottage, and the fact that she had, only made Amy love her all the more, although she knew deep down that Molly was not happy about it. But her health was failing fast now and she had finally had to acknowledge the fact that she could not live alone without being a burden to Bessie, and Molly couldn’t bear the thought of that. Whilst Amy and François were away following the wedding, Molly had reluctantly agreed to have her few meagre possessions transported to her new home and she would be waiting for them when they arrived home. Nancy and Billy were due to arrive in a few days’ time, and they too would be taking up residence in the new house as Nancy had managed to persuade Billy that it would be a brand new start for them.
Stepping away from the window, Amy stood with her hands on her hips critically inspecting the wedding gown that was hanging on the wardrobe door. It was very plain and simple, but she loved it. The heavy satin was so fine that it seemed to shimmer with a life of its own. The top had a low sweetheart neckline and was slightly off the shoulder, with tiny sleeves and a tight-fitting waist, and then the skirt was full with a long train at the back. The only adornment was a row of sequins that were stitched around the neckline, and Amy reminded herself to thank the seamstresses yet again for the wonderful job they had made of it, the very next time she saw them.
Her grandparents had been insistent that this should be a wedding the like of which had not been seen in the town for many a long day, and not wishing to offend them, Amy had been happy to leave most of the preparations to them.
Her biggest regret was that Toby had declined her wedding invitation. He had made the excuse that he would feel like a fish out of water at such a grand affair, but Amy had her own thoughts on the matter. She was aware that he and Annie had been seeing a lot more of each other again over the last few months, and thought that was perhaps the reason he did not wish to attend. His mind was obviously channelled elsewhere nowadays, and the fact irked her more than she cared to admit. Every night for the last month when she had returned home to Molly she had expected to hear that Toby and Annie were going to be wed. The way she saw it, Toby was ready to settle down now, but as yet Molly had said nothing on the subject.
The room she was standing in now had been made ready for her to get changed in on her wedding day, and as she slowly looked around it, she tried to picture her mother Jessica there. After all, it had been her room many years ago. The fact that she had never known her mother still cut deep, although she knew that she could have had no better substitute than Molly. She often visited her mother’s grave and told her of all her worries and concerns and her hopes and dreams, and when she came away she always felt better for the visit.
Now, she glanced for one last time through the window at the men who were scurrying about the enormous tent like industrious little ants before making her way downstairs to the kitchen to see how the cook was getting on with the unenviable task of icing the wedding cake. There were four layers in all, each one slightly smaller than the last, and the cook looked flustered as she refilled the icing bag.
‘It’ll take me a month o’ Sundays to do this,’ she complained, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. ‘Why the mistress wanted one this size I shall never know. There’s enough to feed the whole bloody town here.’
Amy smiled as she passed her and stepped out into the sunshine. Her grandfather had forbidden her from visiting any of the
Forrester’s Fashions
shops until the wedding was over, and Amy was feeling at a loss. She was so used to being busy that she was slightly concerned about how she would take to being a lady of leisure. François had already informed her that he did not think it was appropriate for her to be visiting any of the businesses after they were married, although he was still keen for her to continue with her designing, which she supposed she should be grateful for.
She was now walking everywhere on her new leg and sometimes even forgot that it was there, until later in the day that was, when it would start to pain her. She still fretted about what François would think when she removed it for the first time on their bridal tour. The stump, although well healed, was not a pretty sight, and that, added to the ugly scar on her face, had taken away all of her newfound confidence. Still, she would think whenever she began to feel sorry for herself, at least I am still here. I could have been lying in the churchyard with my mother and Adam. And this thought always put things into perspective.
Now it seemed there was nothing more to do but wait for the big day to arrive. Josephine had all the arrangements in hand and was flying around like someone demented. Whenever Amy asked if there was anything she could help her with, her grandmother would flap her hand and wave her away, insisting, ‘All I want you to do is rest so that you look beautiful on your wedding day.’
And so Amy drifted about like a lost soul counting the days and the hours until Nancy and Billy were due to arrive.
Nancy was awestruck by her first train journey, and even more so when Amy took her and Billy for a walk around the grounds and she had her first glimpse of The Folly.
‘Why it’s near as big as Buckingham Palace,’ she gasped as she clung on to Billy’s arm. Amy laughed at the exaggeration as she led them round to the stables where Billy was to work as a groom.