The shoemakers daughter, p.19
The Shoemaker's Daughter, page 19
‘You could be right,’ Craig stopped outside the door of the Burrows public house and the aroma of ale rose tantalizingly from the barrels behind the bar, ‘but I built up my stock and advertised it as French calf and I’m stuck with it.’
‘Well, take it up to England then, sell it in Bristol or Manchester, get off your backside and think, man, it’s not like you to sit around and mope.’
‘Thank you for your plain talking,’ Craig said with a glint of humour in his eyes, ‘and it doesn’t come any plainer than that.’
Suddenly Craig felt charged with energy, Edward was right, he was sitting down under what he saw as his defeat when he should be up and fighting. Was he going to let a little Welsh girl beat him?
‘Come on, Eddie,’ he said, ‘let’s forget that drink, I’ve got work to do.’
Emily sat in the window staring out into the Strand below. She was still very weak but, to her relief, the yellow staining on her skin was diminishing, even the whites of her eyes were returning to their natural clarity.
She thought of Hari, working hard at the business and guilt racked her. If it wasn’t for Hari’s careful nursing she would not be here now and hanging over her like a great weight was the knowledge that she had tricked Hari into working with her by arranging the calling in of her debt.
She wondered for the hundredth time if she should come clean with Hari, tell her everything and yet, they had become so close, would the relationship be shattered for ever if Hari knew the truth?
Emily heard footsteps on the stairs and she pulled herself up and made her way shakily into the kitchen. Throughout the afternoon, she had been slowly preparing a meal of stewed lamb and vegetables, sitting frequently in a chair to regain her strength, every small effort a mountainous achievement. But now the aroma of the stew rose tantalizingly, emanating from the black iron pot, making Emily’s mouth water.
‘Duw, there’s a lovely smell, what have you been up to, Emily?’
Hari looked tired, her dark hair was escaping from the satin ribbon and there were shadows beneath her eyes.
‘I thought I’d surprise you.’ Emily smiled wanly. ‘I won’t serve the stew though if you don’t mind, I don’t think I could stand for long enough to fill the bowls.’
‘Sit down you, doing too much you are, we really must get somebody in to cook for us, you are not fit and I’m too busy to waste my time in the kitchen.’
‘You’re right,’ Emily sank gratefully into a chair, ‘why don’t you put a notice in the window? Someone is sure to see it.’
‘Good idea.’ Hari busied herself with the meal, cutting inelegant slices of bread and putting out three bowls.
‘Will!’ she called, ‘come on up here and have your supper.’
She returned to the fire; her face flushed with the heat she looked so pretty and so very dear that Emily felt weak tears rise to her eyes. Hari was like the sister Emily had always longed for and never had. What a far cry from the days when she had looked upon the shoemaker’s daughter as a mere underling, what a snob she had been.
‘Thank you, Hari,’ she said softly and Hari glanced at her with surprise.
‘For what?’ she asked, her eyebrows raised.
‘Just for – everything.’ Emily stopped speaking as the sound of Will’s footsteps echoed on the stairs.
‘You are daft sometimes!’ Hari said but her tone was warm. ‘Who would have thought that you and me would become such good friends? You were such a toff in the old days, Emily, looking down your nose at the cobbler’s daughter.’
‘I know,’ Emily said humbly, ‘I was just thinking that myself and I’m sorry for all the things I did, so very sorry.’ If only Hari knew how sorry, Emily thought guiltily.
‘Here, Will,’ Hari said briskly as the boy entered the kitchen, ‘Emily has made us some lovely nourishing stew and we could both do with it, worked ourselves to death today we have but not complaining, mind.’ Hari smiled.
‘It seems our Welsh leather is putting Craig’s nose out of joint, more and more people are asking for the shoes with the little daffodil on them, a mark of excellence one customer called it.’
‘Your work is excellent,’ Emily said, ‘I only wish I was well enough to pull my weight.’
‘You will be,’ Hari said sitting at the table, ‘be patient, you were at death’s door, mind.’
Emily fell quiet, she realized how close she had come to dying, especially when she heard the news about Letty, poor Letty had been the unfortunate one.
Sixteen people in the town had died and many more fallen sick with the fever. ‘If it wasn’t for you . . .’ Emily’s words trailed away and Hari smiled.
‘Come on now, it’s not like you to be sentimental. Eat up your supper, I want to discuss some patterns with you later on.’
‘Right, miss,’ Emily said smiling. But she was happy that Hari was including her in the business even in such a small way.
Emily was impatient now to be well, to be back in harness, organizing and running the business although it seemed that Hari had done very well without her.
She glanced at William, he was growing up, there was an air of solemnity about the boy that belied his years. He was still beardless, his smooth young chin innocent even of a baby growth of hair, but his eyes were sad and the frown of concentration would have sat better on the face of a mature man rather than a young boy.
As though sensing her scrutiny, Will looked up and his eyes met Emily’s. She was suddenly aware of the hostility in William’s face. She drew back a little as though she had been slapped and then he turned away and she wondered if she had imagined it.
‘This stew is lovely,’ Hari said warmly, ‘don’t you think so, Will?’
‘Lovely,’ he repeated but there was no warmth in his voice. She hadn’t imagined it, Emily thought, for some reason Will was wary of her, she would go so far as to say he disliked her. Why?
Later when Hari went to the workshop to fetch her pattern book, Emily faced the boy squarely.
‘What’s wrong, William?’ she asked evenly. He glanced at her sullenly.
‘Nothin’,’ he said defensively. He moved toward the door.
‘Wait, are you afraid to face me with whatever is on your mind?’
Goaded, he turned on her. ‘I know what you did to Hari,’ he said. ‘When she sent me to the bank the other day, the manager was talking about the business, I heard him telling another man about how you asked him to call in Hari’s loan putting her in a corner.
‘A shrewd move, the bank man called it, I call it sneaky and underhand and cheating on Hari.’
Emily felt her face flush as she faced Will’s accusing eyes. She sank down into a chair.
‘I agree with you, William,’ she said softly, ‘I didn’t know Hari then, I didn’t realize how fond I would become of her.’
William’s mouth fell open in surprise at her lack of denial.
‘I’ve wondered many times if I should tell her the truth,’ Emily continued. ‘But I don’t know if it would only hurt her more than it’s worth to ease my own conscience. What would you do, Will?’
He shook his head. ‘I don’ know. You shouldn’t have done it in the first place then you wouldn’t be in a pickle, would you?’
Life was so clear cut to a child, Emily mused, no grey areas, only black and white.
‘You are right, of course.’ She glanced towards the door, and, hearing Hari’s footsteps on the stairs, she took a deep breath. ‘I’ll leave it up to you, Will,’ Emily said, ‘if you feel you must speak then so be it.’
‘Oh, no!’ Will said emphatically. ‘You don’t get me to do your dirty work, you must be the one to make up your own mind, right?’
Hari returned to the room and placed the pattern book on the table. ‘Look, how about a pair of riding boots with buckles for decoration, do you think that would be a good idea?’
‘I don’t know.’ Emily found it difficult to concentrate, ‘Perhaps the buckles would hurt the animal, what do you think?’
‘Well, no, I’d put them on the outside of the boot, they wouldn’t touch the horse.’
Emily shook her head. ‘No, it’s not a good idea, if the rider were to fall the buckles might cause some damage.’
Hari sighed. ‘Yes, good point. What if I just tool some patterns across the instep then, make our boots a bit different to everyone else’s?’
‘That sounds just right,’ Emily said, ‘why don’t you inscribe the words “Welsh leather” on the boots.’
‘Hmm.’ Hari considered the matter. ‘A bit too abrupt, what about the initials of our three names, E, W, H?’
William smiled, ‘My name on a pair of boots, duw, that would be real good, I’d be famous, mind.’
‘Well, it would only be your initial, Will, but I’ll do it.’
She looked down at her pattern. ‘And what if I emboss the initials of the owner of the boots on the other side in larger script, do you think they’d like that?’
‘Well,’ Emily said, ‘if Will’s reaction is anything to go by, I’d say they’d be delighted.’
Hari worked on the drawings for a moment in silence. Emily glanced at William but he avoided her gaze.
‘I’m making a pair of boots for Charlie from the theatre at the moment,’ Hari said abstractedly, ‘should I put his title do you think or is that going a bit far?’
‘Hari,’ Emily said suddenly, ‘I must speak to you, privately, it’s very important.’
Hari looked up in surprise and immediately Will rose to his feet.
‘I got something I want to do downstairs anyway,’ he said quickly and vanished from the room.
‘What is it? Are you sick?’ Hari sounded anxious and Emily moistened her lips nervously.
‘No, I’ve got a confession to make, no, don’t stop me, I’ve got to tell you the truth.’
Hari gave Emily her full attention. ‘The truth about what?’ she asked in a small voice.
‘I tricked you into coming into the business with me,’ Emily spoke in a rush, ‘I asked a friend of mine in London to pressure the bank about the debt you owed for leather, I forced you into doing what I wanted.’
Hari rose to her feet and moved to the window, staring out into the darkness, though Emily was sure she couldn’t see anything except perhaps the lights from the other buildings around.
‘But it was for the best, wasn’t it? You have enjoyed being in the business with me, we’ve made a marvellous success of things.’
‘Why are you telling me this now?’ Hari turned to face her, she was white and trembling and her voice was edged with anger. ‘It’s something to do with Will, isn’t it, he knew the truth?’
She shook back her hair. ‘Oh, my God!’ she covered her face with her hands. ‘I’ve been such a blind fool all this time. I’ve actually trusted you, Emily Grenfell, you and Will were all I had left in the world, don’t you know that?
‘I noticed Will’s hostility to you lately, how he looks at you so strangely but I never guessed at anything so underhand, so despicable! Oh, Emily, can you ever understand how used I feel?’ Her voice ended on a high note of anguish.
‘I wanted to tell you,’ Emily said desperately, ‘I’ve become so fond of you, Hari, I owe you so much, my very life.’
Hari turned on her bitterly. ‘How can I believe a word you say now? You’ve cheated and lied to me from the start and you’ve only told me the truth when your scheme was discovered. You Grenfells are all the same, take what you want at whatever cost, I hate you for what you’ve done, Emily.’
Hari moved to the door and flung it open. She didn’t pause to look back but ran swiftly down the stairs. Emily heard the sound of the outer door slamming and she put her head down on her hands and wept.
After a moment, she felt a soft touch on her shoulder. ‘Shall I make you a cup of tea, Emily?’
William was looking down at her, compassion in his young face. ‘You did what was right, Hari will get over it and then you can start afresh, a good honest start.’
‘I hope you are right, Will,’ Emily said softly, ‘I do hope you are right and I haven’t ruined things for ever.’
Hari moved through the darkened streets, her head in a whirl, how could Emily have been so deceitful? But then she had been foolish, expecting a woman of Emily’s kind to change, once a snob always a snob. She had cultivated Hari coldly and calculatedly, using her talent, using her trusting friendship. ‘Oh, Emily!’ There was a wealth of despair in Hari’s voice.
‘Hey! Where are you rushing to in the darkness?’ The voice was familiar, the hand on her arm gentle and Hari looked up gratefully into the smiling face of Edward Morris.
‘Edward, I need a friend, can I talk to you?’ Hari leaned against his shoulder and at once Edward was full of concern.
‘I’ll call a cab, I’ll take you back to Chapel Street, you can stay with me for as long as you like. And Hari, there will be no demands on you and that’s a promise.’
Thankfully, she let Edward take charge, he was kind and good, he would never use her and discard her once he’d had his way. Edward loved her, really loved her and now, at this moment, the thought was like a healing balm to her wounded spirits.
He hailed a cab and settled her on to the leather seat, his arm around her shoulders. The rhythmic clip clopping of the animal’s hooves was soothing and Hari leaned back sighing with weariness.
‘You’ve had a hard time, poor love,’ Edward said softly, ‘you have looked after two sick women as well as keeping the business going and you forget you are only human, you can’t do everything, Hari, however strong you think you are.’
Hari’s head sank on to his shoulder, she was so grateful to him for taking care of her, making decisions for her, cosseting her. She closed her eyes, she was so tired, so very tired.
She was barely conscious of the cab reaching Chapel Street. Edward guided her into the house and up the stairs and called his housekeeper to bring some hot lemon tea.
Blushing, he gave her a cotton night-shirt. ‘Wear this in bed,’ he said, ‘I don’t have any use for the things myself.’
She drank the lemon tea with her eyes refusing to stay open and when Edward would have crept from the room, she held out her hand to him.
‘Stay, Edward, wait with me until I’m asleep,’ she begged.
Her hand curled in his and she felt warm and loved. She turned on her side and fell into a sleep with tears on her cheeks.
She stayed with Edward for two weeks before she decided she would marry him. She was sitting in the room he’d given her, staring out into the fields at the back of the house, when Edward came to her with a bouquet of flowers held towards her, a sign of his devotion.
As she took them, Hari made her decision. ‘Edward,’ she said, ‘the answer is yes.’
‘What do you mean, Hari?’ A light of hope flared in Edward’s eyes and Hari smiled.
‘I mean I’m being a shameless woman, I want to marry you, Edward Morris.’
He knelt at her feet, his face alight as he took her hands. ‘Hari, I know you don’t love me as I love you but I’ll make you a fine husband, I will be faithful and loving and . . .’ He stopped speaking as Hari put her finger over his lips.
‘Eddie, my dear trustworthy Eddie, don’t you think I know all that?’ She paused. ‘And I will be honest with you, I have not been a perfect lady, always, I . . .’ It was Edward’s turn to stop her speaking.
‘I don’t want to know anything about your past, it’s the here and now I’m concerned with.’
Hari lifted her face to his and as Edward tentatively kissed her lips, she knew that there was little passion in her response, but there was loving and caring and there was trust, something that had been singularly missing from all her relationships in the past.
The next day, Edward presented Hari with a fine antique ring of rubies and diamonds. ‘It was my mother’s,’ he said softly, ‘I would be honoured if you would wear it as a token of our betrothal.’
‘A token of our love,’ Hari corrected and Edward took her in his arms.
‘I can’t believe it, Hari,’ he said, ‘I can’t believe that you are really mine.’
‘Believe it, Edward,’ she said simply, ‘when we make our marriage vows they are for ever and ever, amen.’
Three days later, Hari came face to face with Craig Grenfell. He entered Edward’s house as though he owned the place and crossing the room took Hari’s hand in his.
‘I hear congratulations are in order,’ he said, his eyes probing hers. Hari drew her hand away quickly.
‘You are quite right,’ she said, ‘I’m going to marry Edward as soon as he can make the arrangements.’
‘So you are finished with the emporium?’ Craig asked and Hari looked up at him uncomprehendingly, she had not thought that far.
‘That is my business,’ she said briskly, ‘it’s up to me and to my future husband.’
‘Well, I hope you stay out of the leather trade from now on,’ Craig said equitably, ‘you and my dear Emily have practically ruined me between you.’
Hari turned away as Edward entered the room. ‘Craig is so relieved to see me get married to you,’ she said, her voice brittle, ‘he is losing a business rival, something that seems to make him very happy.’
Edward tucked her arm in his. ‘Not half as happy as it makes me,’ he said smiling. ‘Now old friend, would you like a nice slug of brandy?’
The two men moved to the sideboard and the muted sound of their voices seemed to wash over Hari. Bitterness rose within her at Craig’s reaction to her marriage; they had after all been lovers, however briefly.
But then, Craig was a Grenfell, none of them could be trusted, she was better off without either Emily Grenfell or Craig.
She moved quickly to Edward’s side and took his hand. ‘Come along, my lovely,’ she said brightly, ‘we can’t waste time here, we have lots of arrangements to make.’ She smiled up at Craig, ‘I’m sure you’ll forgive us,’ she said, ‘but Edward is needed and though I do not wish to spoil your friendship, I do for the moment want to monopolize the man I love, I’m sure you understand.’
