The Ribbon Weaver (52 page)

‘The mistress ’as been runnin’ around like a mad thing all day,’ Nancy tittered. ‘I think she’ll drop in ’er tracks if she don’t slow down soon.’

‘Mm … Do you happen to know where François is?’

‘What?’ Nancy was surprised at how subdued Amy seemed, but put it down to pre-wedding nerves. ‘Last I saw of ’im he was in the drawing room wiv his pa.’

‘Right, well, don’t get working too hard. I’ll see you later.’

Nancy nodded as Amy lifted her skirts and headed for the back of the house where the French doors in the drawing room opened on to the lush lawns. Many of the maids that were rushing in and out of the front door had been hired for the occasion, and she decided to take this route to avoid bumping into one of them. Once she had turned the corner she sighed with relief and paused to compose herself before slowly moving past the flowerbeds. She had almost reached the open French doors when the sound of raised voices wafted out to her and she stopped abruptly. It sounded like François and his father.

‘
Mais Aimée sera une femme assez bonne. Elle n’est plus parfaite, mais son talent va vous rendre riche de toute façon
.’

Her French wasn’t good but she could understand some of his words. A good enough wife? No longer perfect? Make him rich anyway? Why was he saying such things? Was François having second thoughts? She blinked back her tears and then, drawing herself up to her full height, she hurried on as fast as her wooden leg would allow her. When she appeared in the doorway, Monsieur Laroque looked momentarily startled, but then coming towards her he held both his hands out and said, ‘Ah, here you are, my dear. Our little bride-to-be. How are your nerves? My son seems a little tense.’

Amy looked towards her fiancé and he told her, ‘Do not listen to Papa. Come and have a drink with us. Mama and Adeline have gone to lie down for a rest before dinner, but they will no doubt be joining us soon.’

Amy sat down and sedately smoothed her skirts as François poured her out a small glass of sherry. If truth be told she had never acquired a taste for it, much preferring Molly’s home-made wine, but she graciously took it from him and sipped at it all the same. The atmosphere seemed somewhat strained and Amy was relieved when Madame Laroque and Adeline appeared some minutes later.

Thankfully, dinner was a more relaxed affair, as Josephine was full of the arrangements and almost beside herself with excitement.

‘I just hope that the weather will hold out,’ she murmured fretfully as she looked towards the windows.

Samuel threw back his head and laughed aloud. ‘That is something that even
you
cannot control, my dear.’

She nodded regretfully in agreement before grinning at Amy. ‘But I
have
made sure that everything else is under control,’ she assured her.

Amy smiled politely, suddenly wishing that everyone wasn’t making quite so much fuss and then instantly felt guilty. Her grandparents had gone to so much trouble and expense, that she should at least try to feel excited.

After the meal the men retired to the study for a glass of port and a cigar whilst the ladies retired to the drawing room, leaving François and Amy to do as they pleased.

‘Shall we walk for a while?’ she suggested.

He nodded and fell into step with her as she headed towards the copse. He walked with his hands joined behind his back and his chin down, and they had gone some way when Amy said uncertainly, ‘There is something wrong, isn’t there, François?’

‘Of course not,
ma petite
,’ he denied instantly. ‘What could be wrong?’

She stopped walking and he stopped too to stare at her enquiringly.

‘I don’t think that you really wish to go through with this marriage,’ Amy said with a forthrightness that astounded him.

‘B … but of
course
I do. How could you think such a thing?’

‘Quite easily.’ Amy supposed that she should be in tears, but instead she felt strangely calm. ‘I am not a fool, François, and I have felt you cooling towards me for some time.’ She recalled his visit to see ‘friends’ on his last night in London the year before, and realised with a flash of clarity that those ‘friends’ would have been a woman even though she had tried to deny it to herself. When she unconsciously raised her hand to touch the ugly scar on her cheek he shook his head in denial.

‘If you are thinking it is because you are scarred now, then don’t. You are still the same person I fell in love with in Paris.’

‘Truthfully, I think your feelings towards me began to cool even before this happened,’ she told him. ‘Your letters began to come less frequently, and then I had my accident … I am a cripple now and no longer the girl you first met.’

His head was moving from side to side in denial but she smiled at him sadly. ‘I think we both know deep down that it would be wrong of us to go ahead with this marriage, François. What we once had in Paris was wonderful, but I see now that it was merely an infatuation. I think we started to grow apart when I returned home. I just wish I had realised it before.’

She could hardly believe what she was saying and yet suddenly she felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and knew that she was doing the right thing.

Slowly withdrawing the glittering diamond ring from her finger she handed it back to him, saying, ‘Forgive me, but I cannot go through with this wedding. It would be a mistake for both of us.’

The look on his face was incredulous and yet she thought she also detected a measure of relief in his eyes. ‘You … you are ending our engagement?’

‘Yes, François. That is exactly what I am doing. But I hope that we will still be able to remain friends and that we will continue to work together. However, our engagement is at an end.’

‘B … but what will our families say?’

She noticed that he had not tried to persuade her to go ahead with their wedding – and that, more than any words, told her that she was doing the right thing.

‘Please don’t concern yourself with that. I shall do the explaining. And François … be happy.’ She reached up and brushed his cheek with her fingertips before slowly turning and walking away.

Once back in the house, she beckoned to Beatrice and told her, ‘Could you tell the master and the mistress that I need to speak to them on a matter of some urgency, please? Tell them I shall be waiting for them in the dining room.’

‘Course I will,’ Beatrice told her with a curious frown as she noticed Amy’s flushed cheeks. And then she turned and hurried away to do as she was asked, wondering what could have happened, to make Amy look so solemn. She certainly didn’t look like a woman who was about to marry the man of her dreams and that was a fact.

When Samuel and Josephine joined her only a matter of minutes later, Amy was staring from the dining-room window. She could see François talking to his father out in the garden and sighed as she saw Monsieur Laroque gesticulating agitatedly. She hoped François would not be in too much trouble.

‘What is it, my dear? Is there something wrong?’ Josephine asked as Amy turned to face her.

Suddenly she felt ashamed. These dear people had gone to so much trouble and expense, and now she was about to let them down, just as her mother had before her.

‘I … yes … I’m afraid there is.’ Lowering her gaze she then forced herself to go on as she whispered, ‘Forgive me, but I have just told François that I cannot go ahead with the wedding.’

Josephine’s hand flew to her throat as she sank heavily on to the nearest chair and it was Samuel who asked her, ‘But why, my dear? I thought you and he were besotted with each other.’ And then his colour rose as he asked her angrily, ‘Is it because of what happened to you? Your leg …’

‘No, no, it wasn’t François that ended it, it was me,’ Amy told him hastily. ‘I take full responsibility for ending the engagement. François is a gentleman and he would have honoured the agreement. But it wouldn’t have been right. You see … I think we’ve both realised that we don’t love each other. I see now that what we had was an infatuation, and a marriage without love would be doomed to failure. I know this must come as a huge disappointment to you both, and I also know how much work and money you have both put into all the preparations. But I will pay you back
every
penny, I promise. And if you wish to disown me, I shall quite understand.’

‘
Disown
you?’ Samuel was red-faced with indignation. ‘We would
never
disown you no matter what you did. I once disowned my daughter and have been made to pay for such foolishness every day of my life ever since. I do not intend to make the same mistake twice, Amy. So if you are saying that you do not wish to marry François then I shall honour your decision. But tell me … does he have someone else?’

‘I don’t know,’ Amy answered truthfully. ‘But
I
do!’

‘
You
do?’ It was Josephine speaking now and Amy looked towards her regretfully.

‘Yes, I do – although I have no idea if the person I love feels the same way about me. I did not even realise that I loved
him
until this evening. And I must warn you, this person is not gentry. He is just a hardworking, kind, wonderful man.’

Samuel and Josephine exchanged a glance then rising, Josephine crossed to Amy and kissed her gently on the cheek. ‘Then go to him, my love. And tell him how you feel and we shall pray that your feelings are returned. I will order the carriage to be brought round to the front for you immediately.’

Amy sighed. At one time she would have run all the way home without losing breath. But those days were gone. She was a cripple now and her face was horribly scarred. Who would want her now?

In no time at all she was rattling through Weddington in the carriage and suddenly she felt exhausted. So much had happened in such a short time that she realised now that she had been swept along with the romance of it all. It seemed only yesterday that she had been a cleaner in the factory and then she had worked her way up to becoming a designer before discovering that she was in fact the granddaughter of the factory owner. There had been the trips to London, the voyage to Paris and then the terrible day when Eugenie had tried to kill her.

Even that until now had not been enough to make her see what was staring her right in the face. She loved Toby with all her heart – had
always
loved him – which was why, she now understood, she had been so hurt when he began to avoid her.

Well, now it was time to try and make amends, and if she had missed her chance she would only have herself to blame.

Molly was just going to bed when the carriage drew up outside and she hobbled to the door in her nightgown holding a candle aloft.

‘Why, whatever has happened?’ she asked as Amy climbed wearily down and nodded her thanks at Seth.

Amy waited until the carriage drew away before telling her, ‘I’m not going to marry François, Gran. I realised that I would be making a mistake, so I ended our engagement.’

‘Well, I’ll be damned.’ Molly was deeply shocked, although also more than a little relieved. ‘Yer’d better get yerself inside then, an’ tell me all about it, lass.’ As she held the door wide and stood aside, Amy stepped past her. But instead of sitting down as Molly had expected her to, Amy lifted her skirts and, removing the wooden leg, she threw it across the floor and snatched up her crutch.

She then limped towards the door as Molly shouted after her, ‘What the ’ell are yer doin’ now? Where are yer goin’?’

‘I’m going to do something that I should have done a long time ago,’ Amy flung across her shoulder and then she was gone, leaving Molly to scratch her head in bewilderment.

When Amy hammered on Bessie’s door she heard movement from within the cottage and seconds later, Bessie appeared.

‘Why, love, whatever are
you
doin’ here?’ she gasped. ‘I thought yer’d gone to The Folly fer the night.’

Completely forgetting her manners, Amy pushed past her and once inside, her eyes came to rest on Toby, who was sitting at the side of the fireplace smoking his pipe. He looked as shocked as Bessie did to see her but remained silent as he eyed her warily.

‘Toby, I need to speak to you urgently.’

Sensing that she wasn’t wanted, Bessie bustled towards the staircase. ‘I’ll leave yer both to it then. Good night, loves.’

Neither of them answered her, so mumbling to herself she climbed the stairs to her room, where her husband was already fast asleep, judging from the snores, and the younger children were all abed, too.

Toby tapped the contents of his pipe into the fire and then laying his pipe aside he turned his attention back to Amy and said, ‘I didn’t reckon on seein’ you here tonight. I thought yer were gettin’ ready fer yer weddin’. What brought yer back?’

‘You did, Toby.’ There. It was said and she was glad.

‘
I
did?’ Toby frowned in confusion.

‘The thing is …’ Now that they were face-to-face, Amy’s courage suddenly deserted her and she ran her tongue across her dry lips. ‘The thing is … I realised this evening that I don’t love François. I never have. He was the first man to woo me and I suppose what with being in Paris and everything, I got swept along with the romance of it all.’

Toby’s eyes had narrowed to slits as he leaned towards her and asked ominously, ‘Has he left yer?’

Amy giggled at the outraged look on his face. ‘No. Actually it was
me
that left him.’

‘
You did what!
’

Amy flushed. ‘I ended it,’ she said tremulously.

‘But why?’

‘B … because I suddenly realised that I loved someone else.’

‘Oh, I see.’ His face darkened as he straightened to his full height. ‘So what’ll happen now then?’

‘Well, I’m rather hoping that the man I
really
love feels the same about me. Although I would quite understand if he didn’t. I mean, I’m not the girl I was any more, am I? I’ll never walk on my own two feet again, and as for my face …’ Her hand reached up to cover her damaged cheek.

‘Don’t talk so daft, woman.’ Toby looked enraged. ‘You could still have your pick of any man yer wanted. Yer still the bonniest lass I ever clapped eyes on, an’ you’re an heiress now into the bargain.’