Farringdons fate, p.11
Farringdon's Fate, page 11
‘Bet you’re glad Henry can’t see you looking like that,’ Bea called.
‘Beatrice,’ Lady Farringdon reproved, her lips tightening into a line, ‘I will not tolerate such unseemly talk.’ A muttered retort was followed by more giggling until, with Vanny’s calm intervention, order was restored.
‘They all fit like gloves, m’lady,’ the maid pronounced, appearing some minutes later.
‘I think that is for me to decide,’ Lady Farringdon replied. ‘Come, Miss Haydon.’
With a little adjusting and final appraisal, Jane was happy the toiles fitted and turned to tell Lady Farringdon.
‘Clearly, I can see that,’ the woman tutted. ‘Change back into your gowns and we will see about colour,’ she told the girls. ‘Miss Haydon, you must have the samples and your notebook to hand.’
‘I’ve already decided I shall have red,’ Bea announced, emerging from behind the screen.
‘You most will certainly not,’ Lady Farringdon retorted. ‘You will choose something suitable for a girl of seventeen, otherwise it will be the usual.’
‘How about this one?’ Jane suggested, surreptitiously indicating the brightest pink.
‘What colour is that? I can’t see from here.’
‘It’s called blush, Lady Farringdon, and I think, being the next step up from the usual creamy colour, that would be most appropriate for a young lady of seventeen.’
‘Very well. One corset and chemise in blush for Beatrice.’ As the girl gave her a triumphant look, Jane began writing in her notebook in order to hide her smile.
‘It’s the charcoal with matching chemise for me,’ Victoria said.
‘Very well. Louisa?’
‘The gold, I think,’ she replied, holding the swatch against her skin and looking at Jane who nodded.
‘Right, Miss Haydon, you may tell Madame Pittier I will grant her the commission.’ Jane’s heart leapt but Lady Farringdon hadn’t finished speaking. ‘However, that is on the understanding that she makes the garments herself then delivers them in person, shall we say in one month’s time. If the garments meet with my satisfaction, I will then discuss my requirements for Sarah and Maria.’
‘Oh,’ Jane murmured.
‘Now, if there is nothing else, I need to prepare myself for this afternoon.’
‘Well actually, Lady Farringdon, I have been staying with Mrs Somers in the village and I understand she has yet to be paid—’ The woman held up her hand to stop Jane from speaking, then with a look of disdain she swept from the room.
‘Well,’ Jane cried.
‘Step Mama will never discuss anything so vulgar as money,’ Louisa explained, but her sympathetic look told Jane she understood. ‘It is always better to address matters involving finance to Papa… I mean, Lord Farringdon, of course.’
‘Don’t worry about Step Mama, Jane. I think you’re a real friend getting her to approve my blush colour like that. At least I’ll look grown up even if the perishing corset hurts like hell when I ride Firecracker.’
‘Actually, there is a pattern designed to allow for extra movement of the body when riding a horse,’ Jane told her.
‘Really? That would make life much more comfortable,’ she cried, eyes shining.
‘I’ll have to ask Madame Pittier to bring her book of patterns when she delivers your finished garments,’ Jane said, making a note in her book.
‘I wish it was you coming back,’ Victoria sighed. ‘You understand what we want.’
‘I agree. You even took the time to explain that the corset we need depends on the style of gown we intend wearing.’
‘And I took that into account. Now that waistlines are rising again you won’t even have to be so tightly laced,’ Jane confirmed. ‘Did you not notice the difference between your toiles?’
‘No,’ they chorused, looking at one another in astonishment.
‘And Step Mama didn’t spot any either.’ Bea smiled, clapping her hands in glee. ‘Oh Jane, I do hope we will see you again.’
‘I hope so too,’ she replied, quickly packing everything back into her bag. ‘Now I’d better leave you to get dressed.’
Bubbling with excitement that she’d won the commission, yet sad she wouldn’t be the one delivering the finished garments, Jane descended the sweeping staircase then made her way along the wide hallway and down the back steps leading to the basement.
‘How did it go, dear?’ Mrs Cookson asked, peering through the open door. As usual, there was a delicious aroma wafting from the kitchen.
‘I did it,’ she cried excitedly. ‘I can’t thank you enough for letting me use that room. I never would have finished everything otherwise.’ The woman grinned.
‘Like I said, we all help each other down here. Now, this cottage pie’s ready to be served, so I hope you’ll have a bite to eat before you go. It’ll have to be in here though, cos old Spick’s on the prowl.’
‘I’ll keep me eyes open,’ Dottie offered, looking up from the pan she was stirring. ‘I is getting better, I haven’t dropped anything today, have I, Mrs Cookson?’
‘Apart from that gravy you’re dripping all over the stove,’ the cook sighed, shaking her head.
‘Oh ’eck,’ she groaned.
Half an hour later, feeling warm and replete, Jane retrieved her cape and was making her way down the path when she heard a shout. Looking up, she saw two young children hurtling towards her.
‘Stop right this moment,’ the woman chasing after them called. Giggling with glee the girls ignored her.
‘Whoa,’ Jane said, holding out her bag.
‘We’re not horses,’ the older one said, indignantly.
‘More like minxes,’ their chaperone puffed, catching up with them. ‘Sarah, Maria, apologise to the lady for nearly knocking her over.’ Bravado gone, the girls looked down at the ground.
‘Sorry,’ the taller one murmured.
‘You could at least sound as though you mean it. I’m Nanny by the way,’ she told Jane. ‘We were going to see the deer, but these two are running me a merry dance whilst their father is away so perhaps we’ll go and do some sums instead,’ she said, winking at Jane when the girls groaned.
‘Jane Haydon. I’m just making my way towards the lane,’ she told the woman.
‘Well in that case, I’d use the main driveway, it’s much quicker. If anyone questions, just say Nanny gave you permission. Nobody will argue with me – apart from these scallywags. A pleasure meeting you.’ She smiled and, catching hold of her charges’ hands, she began frogmarching them back towards the manor.
Poor little things, fancy constraining them in corsets at their ages. Perhaps Madame Pittier could suggest a light one for them to wear at night, Jane thought, as she headed towards the wide drive. She had a long walk ahead of her so she might as well take the shortest route, she mused, putting her head down as a sudden gust of wind tugged at her bonnet.
Lost in thought, it took her a moment to realise the noise she heard was a carriage approaching. Obviously, Lady Farringdon’s guests were already arriving, so she stepped onto the grass out of the way. But instead of passing by it stopped and, to her surprise, Lady Connaught’s head appeared through the open window.
‘Good afternoon, Miss Haydon. I trust you found Lady Farringdon agreeable to do business with,’ she asked, her green eyes twinkling.
‘I have had a most successful visit, thank you, Lady Connaught.’
‘Well, that’s the main thing. I’m sure Madame Pittier will be delighted. In fact, I must make an appointment to call and see her. These changing fashions play havoc with one’s wardrobe. It’s such a shame you don’t have such an establishment in Salthaven – it would be so much more convenient than having to trail into the city. Goodness, this wind is biting so I mustn’t keep you. Such a pity you are going in the other direction or we could have shared the journey. Good day to you, Miss Haydon.’
‘Good day to you too, Lady Connaught,’ Jane replied. What a shame Lady Farringdon couldn’t have been as polite, she thought as the carriage moved away. She’d just reached the end of the driveway when she saw another two coaches turning in. Clearly the lady of the manor entertained in style.
Trudging along the rutted lane, her feet keeping time to the ringing of hammers rising from the quarry below, Jane thought back over the past few days. In the main, the people she’d met had been very kind and she’d certainly learned a lot about how people lived. Thinking of Mrs Somers, Jane couldn’t believe how callous Lady Farringdon had been when she’d tried to explain how the woman hadn’t been paid. She would speak to Madame Pittier as soon as she arrived home. Still, overall, she’d refused to let herself be intimidated, and had succeeded in winning the commission. In fact, her visit could be deemed a success, so why did the image of a sandy-haired, hazel-eyed young man keep popping into her mind? And why, when he hadn’t mentioned seeing her again, did it matter that she hadn’t?
Finally, just when she thought her legs would give way, she reached the junction and saw the Horseshoes Inn looming ahead. The coach was drawn up outside and people were already boarding. Not wishing to miss it, Jane hefted her heavy bags and hurried across the road. Fearful of her last experience, she peered around, relief flooding through her when she spotted a space between two women. She’d just squeezed onto the hard bench when the larger one nudged her in the side.
‘I think that chap’s trying to get yer attention. He looks a bit of all right an’ all,’ she chortled. Looking down, Jane’s heart jumped when she saw Sam standing on the seat of his cart, waving frantically. Although he was calling up to her, she couldn’t hear what he was saying. She shook her head in frustration, but then the horn sounded and, with a jolt, the coach was pulling away.
‘Ah, shame,’ the woman next to her sighed. ‘Yer follower, is he?’
‘No, nothing like that,’ Jane replied, wishing her pulse would stop racing. After all, Sam had only come to wave her off, hadn’t he?
The rolling of the coach combined with her sleepless night and ordeal of wondering if she would win the commission soon caught up with her, and the next thing she knew, the woman was nudging her in her side again.
‘Wake up, sleepy ’ead. Yer dozed all the way, didn’t even open yer eyes when we stopped at the inns. Could ’ave nabbed anything from yer smart carrier, I could.’ Jane sat bolt upright and stared at her bag in horror. The woman laughed. ‘Lucky for you I’m honest, but there’s plenty who ain’t. Come on, time we got off.’
Bleary eyed, Jane followed the woman down the stairs and out into the street. She was frozen stiff and could hardly feel her feet although the biting wind ensured she was soon wide awake. Hurrying along the shadowy streets, where lamps cast ghostly pools of light over the pavement, she thought how eerily quiet it was, then realised she never usually ventured out at this time.
Turning into the street just off Cathedral Yard, Jane’s pulses started racing as she thought of the good news she had to tell Madame. To her consternation, when she reached the magasin it was in darkness. There was just a glimmer of candlelight shining through the gaps in the shutters. A prickle of apprehension ran down her spine as she turned the handle, only to find it didn’t turn. Suddenly the door was thrown open and Millie stood there, tears coursing down her cheeks.
‘Thank heavens you’ve come back.’
‘What’s the matter, Millie? Whatever’s happened?’ Jane asked, setting her bags on the floor and pulling the sobbing girl into her arms.
‘It’s Madame, she was taken real bad, coughing and gasping for breath like anything. Then it all went quiet. Oh God, Jane, I think she’s croaked it.’
Horrified, Jane stared at the maid for a long moment before gathering her senses and hurrying through to Madame’s chamber. Stumbling in the darkness, Jane almost retched at the foul smell that permeated the room. Throwing herself down beside the bed, she reached for her hand, alarmed to find it cold to the touch.
‘Oh Madame,’ she cried.
‘Jane,’ a weak voice wavered. It was so faint, Jane had to bend closer. The woman’s eyes fluttered open. ‘I… couldn’t… go… till…’ Her voice petered out and she closed her eyes in defeat.
‘Don’t try and speak,’ Jane murmured, pushing back a wisp of white hair that had strayed from Madame’s nightcap then reaching for the beaker of water on the bedside table.
‘No… time.’ There was a sigh and wheeze and the woman shook her head helplessly before turning her penetrating gaze on Jane. ‘Lady Far…’
‘Hush, Madame. Lady Farringdon was very pleased with your designs and has placed her order along with one for her younger daughters.’ Madame’s lips twitched slightly.
‘Wouldn’t… have… expected…’ she fought to gain breath, ‘any… less. You have—’ She broke off, fighting desperately for more breath. Then she continued and Jane had to lean even closer to hear. ‘…been…’ she gasped, determined to continue, ‘like… a… daughter… made… provis…’ Then before she could finish, she gave one last shudder and was still.
‘No, Madame,’ Jane sobbed. ‘You can’t leave us.’ But the room was quiet and Jane knew she had gone. ‘Rest in peace,’ she whispered, tears coursing down her cheeks as she reached up and touched the woman’s cheek for one last time then got up and opened the window to let her soul fly free.
Jane and Millie huddled closer to the meagre fire, blankets round their shoulders, in an effort to get warm. But it was no good, shock had set in and neither of them could stop shivering. Knowing she had to do something, Jane got up and poured two measures of Madame’s special nectar.
‘Drink this then tell me exactly what happened,’ Jane coaxed, handing Millie a glass.
‘That nasty chill did for her, it did. One minute she were calling for me to bring her rose water, the next she had another fit of the coughing. Then all went quiet and I thought she were a goner, just like that,’ the little maid said, snapping her fingers to emphasise the point. ‘But she got to say goodbye to you?’
‘Yes, Millie, she rallied briefly and for that I’ll be eternally grateful,’ Jane replied. ‘Although I can’t help wishing I could have returned earlier.’ She sighed, her elation of the day turning to dismay as she thought of the wonderful woman who’d taken them both under her wing. And now she was dead, what did the future hold for them?
Chapter 13
The funeral was held at St Martin’s just five days later. To Jane’s surprise, the church was packed with people wishing to pay their respects, many of whom Jane recognised as being Madame’s clients, along with the sisters of St Catherine’s and mourners from other organisations she had helped over the years.
Blinking back her tears, Jane focused on the pink pall covering the coffin which Madame had commissioned. It had a single embroidered damask rose in the centre and, as the woman had stipulated that no money should be wasted on flowers, it was the only splash of colour amongst the sea of black. The air was scented with eau de rose and Jane shook her head. Even in death, Madame had perfectly orchestrated her swan song.
‘Blimey, I didn’t know Madame knew so many people. Perhaps she should have booked the cathedral itself,’ Millie whispered as they made their way down the aisle after the short but poignant service. At her request there was to be no burial or wake. ‘What will they do with her body?’
‘Mr Farquharson said she insisted it be put to good use rather than buried beneath the earth, so I can only think she’s donated it to the hospital.’
‘Creepy.’ Millie shivered. ‘She were like one of her corsets, weren’t she, all stiff and upright yet with a soft lining.’ Jane couldn’t help smiling at the girl’s analogy for it really did sum up their former employer.
‘I was so sorry to hear about Madame Pittier.’ Jane turned to find the assistant manager from the bank staring solemnly at her. ‘If I can be of any assistance, do let me know,’ he added quietly.
‘Thank you, Mr Jones, that is very kind of you.’ Jane nodded before turning away to speak to others who were waiting to pay their condolences. Although tears weren’t far away she knew how much Madame had loathed shows of emotion and was determined not to break down in public. Finally, everyone drifted away and there was nothing else for them to do but head back to the magasin.
Although the day was cold, the sun was shining from a clear, cobalt sky as they walked briskly along the street.
‘I reckon she’s having a laugh up there. Probably got all the angels measured for their underpinnings already.’ Although Millie was trying to keep their spirits up, her trembling voice and watery eyes belied her words and Jane had to bite her lip to stop herself from howling.
‘Do you think we’ll be out on our ear?’ the girl asked for the umpteenth time as they let themselves into the shop and locked the door behind them. They’d pulled down the blinds out of respect and the colourful interior was shrouded in black.
‘I don’t know, Millie,’ Jane sighed, although in truth she feared that was exactly what was going to happen. ‘Mr Farquharson said he would let us know how things stand after the funeral so we’ll just have to wait. In the meantime, let’s go through to the Receiving Room and pay our respects to Madame with a glass of her special nectar.’
‘Good thinking, me insides is all froze up,’ the maid muttered, shrugging off her coat.
Having toasted their former employer, an air of gloom and uncertainty had descended and neither Jane nor Millie had the energy or inclination to get on with their work. Instead, they sat in front of the fire reminiscing how they’d both come to be living with Madame and fretting about their future.
‘I nearly jumped off the pew when the vicar referred to her as Rose,’ Millie said, breaking the silence. ‘I mean it’s a nice name but a bit plain when we’ve thought of her as Rosetta all these years.’
‘It was the French image she liked to portray to her clients,’ Jane replied.
‘And a right tartar she were when she were doing that posh French act. Still, her heart were in the right place. Like a mother to us really, weren’t she, which means you could say we’re sisters,’ Millie said, staring at Jane over her glass.
