The Ribbon Weaver

Chapter Twelve



The journey through the labyrinth of streets was nowhere near as interesting as the one of the day before, for the smog restricted their vision to a few yards. Every now and again, pedestrians appeared out of the mist like ghosts, but slowly the air began to clear. Eventually they stopped outside a smart shopfront, and after helping Amy down from the carriage, Mr Forrester paid the cabbie and she watched the carriage immediately rattle away.

Her employer pointed to the shop window with pride. ‘This is Josephine’s Millinery,’ he told her. ‘And if you look in the window you will find a number of your designs displayed there.’

A shiver of pleasure rippled through her as Amy saw some of her hats proudly perched on fine hat-stands that showed them off to their best advantage. The window display was by far the finest she had ever seen, and she studied it carefully, determined to take some of the ideas home with her. A length of blue silk was attractively draped down the back of the display, making it impossible to see beyond the hats into the actual shop. Amy liked the idea instantly, for she realised that it lent privacy to the customers as they tried on the different styles. The silk continued all along the bottom of the window, and here and there were colourful silk flowers, all reflecting the shades of the hats, laid in loose bunches and tied with brightly coloured ribbons. All in all, it was an extremely eye-catching display, and Amy was deeply impressed. Taking her elbow, Mr Forrester led her inside and as they entered a bell tinkled merrily above the door. Immediately, a pretty young woman came to greet them, introducing herself as Miss Drake, the manageress. While she bustled away to fetch them tea, a portly little gentleman with a pair of gold pince-nez spectacles perched on the end of his nose appeared from behind a rich brocade curtain that disguised a doorway to the rear of the shop. Hand outstretched, he quickly made his way to Mr Forrester and shook his hand, and then as his eyes came to rest on Amy, he greeted her warmly.

‘You must be Miss Ernshaw,’ he said. ‘The young lady I have heard so much about who is responsible for our recent rise in sales.’

Amy flushed with pleasure.

‘Yes, George, this is indeed the young lady I told you about,’ Mr Forrester nodded. ‘Amy, I am pleased to introduce you to Mr George Harvey. This gentleman keeps my London businesses running like clockwork for me and I’m sure that you two will get along famously. During our stay you will be spending a lot of time here and I’m sure that you will learn from the experience. I am happy to say that many very fashionable ladies favour this particular establishment. In fact, Mr Harvey and the lady manageresses we have employed have built up a very elite clientèle over the years. I feel that if you actually see first-hand the styles that are favoured, and listen to the requests of the ladies, it will stand you in very good stead.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Amy bobbed her knee and then whilst Mr Forrester and Mr Harvey disappeared into the back room to look at the account books, she was left to study the shop. It was a luxurious room decorated mainly in rich shades of burgundy and gold. The walls were covered in velvet flocked paper, and hung upon them almost everywhere she looked were heavy gilt-framed mirrors so that the clients could see the designs they were trying on from all angles.

Standing against one wall was a beautiful French-style sofa with delicate gilt legs. It was covered in cream velvet draped with gold tassels, and on the floor was a heavily patterned Turkey carpet that reflected the colours of the room. The long narrow counter was a far cry from the counter in the shop back at home. This one was made from a dark mahogany, inlaid with rosewood – and the top of it was so highly polished that it appeared almost mirrorlike. All along it stood hatstands of varying heights displaying yet more hats of all shapes and sizes. Once again, some of them were Amy’s very own designs, and she thought how much Molly would have loved to see them so cleverly displayed.

Eventually Mr Forrester departed, promising Amy that he would send a carriage for her at four o’clock. And so began Amy’s first day in Josephine’s Millinery. Mr Harvey was a very well-spoken gentleman, but pleasant and smart as a new pin, and Amy had a feeling that she was going to enjoy herself. Miss Drake too was utterly efficient and charming, eager to explain the way things were run and the customers’ likes and dislikes. Beneath the counter were piles of magazines, the like of which Amy had never seen before, and the ladies who frequented the shop were always greatly taken with them. Amy could well understand why. They were full of hand-coloured engravings and lithographs which had been copied from plates in French magazines, and the pages were crammed with advice on refined manners and literature as well as the very most up-to-date fashions in gowns and hats. Godey’s Lady’s Book was the title of the American magazine considered to be the leading authority on fashion and art, and Amy was sure that she could have flicked through the pages all day. While there were no customers in the shop, Mr Harvey was more than happy for Amy to browse through them. It was the Paris designs that most impressed her, and when she commented on this, he nodded in agreement.

‘Paris is the hat capital of the world,’ he told her knowledgeably. ‘I have the magazines ordered and delivered each month, and they are always popular with my clientèle. You will discover that the London ladies are extremely fashion conscious, and one is always looking to outdo another as hats here are considered to be marks of rank.’

Amy listened to him intently, eager to learn as always, and by lunchtime she was well into the swing of things. The ladies who entered the shop were all dressed in the height of fashion but Amy considered some of them to be extremely rude. They would try on the hats, one after another, preening this way and that, whilst their maids stood meekly behind them, and then eventually they would usually select the one that they had tried on in the first place. She could only marvel at Miss Drake’s patience, which seemed to be endless, as she ran to and fro fetching first one design and then another.

‘Don’t you ever get annoyed with them when they order you about?’ she asked innocently after one particularly difficult customer had left the shop. They were sitting together in the little room behind the curtain sharing some sandwiches for lunch.

‘The first thing a high-class milliner must learn is that the customer is always right, no matter how difficult they are,’ the manageress told her patiently. ‘The ladies who frequent this shop are mostly very wealthy women, and if they go away happy with the service they have received then there is every chance that they will come back and recommend us to their friends.’

Amy sighed. She had noticed that all of the hats sold here were at least four times as expensive as the same ones that were sold back in Nuneaton. She supposed that he was right. If the women were paying top prices then it was reasonable that they should expect good service. But even so, she doubted that she would ever be as patient as Augusta Drake or Mr Harvey. Some of the women who had come into the shop during the course of the morning had looked Amy up and down as if they had a bad smell under their noses, and Amy, who had always considered herself to be better dressed than most back home, was now suddenly very aware of her simple clothes.

When the carriage drew up outside at four o’clock, she could hardly believe it was that time already, for the day had passed so quickly.

Back at the house in Sloane Street, Nancy opened the door and winked at her cheekily.

‘The old mistress is waitin’ fer yer in the drawin’ room,’ she informed her, and after removing her bonnet and tidying her hair as best she could in the mirror, Amy quickly made her way there.

‘Ah, so you’re back then,’ the old lady greeted her as she entered the room, then she pointed to a laden tea-trolley. ‘Come and pour the tea. I’ve been waiting for you, and then you can tell me all about your day.’ She was now fully recovered from her journey of the day before and eager to hear Amy’s news.

Amy was only too happy to oblige and whilst she was pouring the tea, Josephine Forrester joined them to listen to her. The girl was so full of the smart ladies that she had met and the wonderful shop that her eyes sparkled and Josephine found herself smiling. She was like a little ray of sunshine in a dark world – young and fresh and enthusiastic – and as Josephine listened to her she began to understand why her mother-in-law-Maude and her husband Samuel thought so highly of her. It was almost more than she could do to stop herself from reaching out and stroking the girl’s shining curls, so very like her own sweet Jessica’s, but she curbed the desire and instead listened intently.

Eventually, Amy excused herself. Her head was bursting with ideas and she wanted to go to her room and get them all down on paper before dinner, which is exactly what she did.

Dinner proved to be a merry affair. Amy had them all in stitches in the kitchen as she sashayed up and down mimicking some of the ladies that Miss Drake had served, and when she finally retired to bed she was tired but happy. Nancy eventually joined her in her room for what was to become their regular bedtime chat and the two girls gossiped well into the early hours of the morning. Already a friendship was springing up between them that was to last for the rest of their lives.

Almost before she knew it, Amy’s first week in London had passed. Most of it had been spent at the exclusive Kensington shop, but Mr Forrester had also taken her to visit his other two establishments.

On her first Saturday in London she awoke late and stretched lazily. Samuel had informed her that there would be no work today. He wanted her to have a rest and so apart from doing some sketching, Amy had no idea of how she was going to fill in her time. However, if she had no plans someone else certainly had, as she was to discover after leaving the kitchen following a late breakfast. Amy had just entered the hallway on her way back to her room when she saw Josephine Forrester descending the stairs, and as she spotted Amy she raised her hand.

‘Ah, you’re just the person I wanted to see. Would you come into the drawing room, dear?’ she asked pleasantly. She was obviously in fine spirits. ‘My mother-in-law and I have a little idea that we would like to put to you.’

Intrigued, Amy followed her into the drawing room where the elderly mistress was reclining on a sofa with a magazine spread out in front of her.

She patted the seat at the side of her, and Amy took her place at the old woman’s side without hesitation.

‘Now then, shall I tell her or will you?’ The old lady cocked a heavily plucked eyebrow at her daughter-in-law and after Josephine inclined her head she went on, ‘Now then, lass, Josephine and I have had our heads together and we’ve decided that all work an’ no play is good for neither man nor beast.’ Unsure of what she meant, Amy frowned as the old woman wagged a ring-bedecked finger in her face. ‘You’re going on a shopping trip, me gel,’ she informed her gleefully. ‘We’ve decided it’s time you had a few new outfits.’

Amy immediately opened her mouth to protest but the old woman held up her hand to silence her. ‘Now don’t go getting on your ’igh horse,’ she warned. ‘It ain’t charity we’re offering. We need you looking smart in the shops. It’s all part and parcel of your new role. Besides, if truth be told, you’ll be doing Josephine a favour. She loves shoppin’ and spending my son’s money. I’d come with you meself but I ain’t as nifty on me feet as I used to be. So what do you say, eh?’

Amy thought about it for a moment. ‘I’d say that would be lovely if you’re quite sure,’ she told her shyly.

Josephine beamed with satisfaction. ‘Very well then. Get yourself upstairs and put your bonnet on and we’ll be off. There’s no time like the present.’

Amy needed no second bidding and after respectfully bobbing her knee she flew from the room and took the stairs two at a time. She was back in the hallway in record time, her hair brushed and her eyes gleaming. When Josephine joined her a few moments later, looking beautiful in an elegant day suit and matching hat, it would have been hard to say who was the more excited of the two. It had been many years since Josephine had been able to spend time with a young woman, and she was looking forward to the shopping trip immensely. She had hoped to find a daughter in Eugenie when Adam had first married, but had soon discovered that this would never happen. Eugenie showed no interest whatsoever in spending time with her mother-in-law, and this had been a huge disappointment for Josephine.

In no time at all a carriage arrived to take them to Piccadilly Circus, the heart of London, and as the horse clipclopped along the cobbled streets, Josephine pointed out places of interest. Amy stared at in awe, leaning out of the carriage window as far as she dare.

The magnificent store of Swan & Edgar was situated on the corner of Piccadilly Circus – mere minutes away from Buckingham Palace, Josephine informed the awestruck girl. The store was very exclusive, and an immaculately dressed assistant hurried over to them. There was a bubble of excitement in Amy’s stomach but as she began to look through the rails of beautifully presented clothes she bit her lip in constemation. Everything looked so expensive! Noting her reaction, Josephine began to draw out different garments.

‘What about this?’ she asked, holding up a smart grey skirt, then before Amy could protest she selected a pretty white blouse with lace ruffles all around the neckline and cuffs, and tiny gold buttons all down the front.

‘Do try them on,’ she urged, and obediently, Amy followed the hovering assistant to a private dressing room. She was dreading revealing her plain cotton underthings, but they were sewn by herself and had pretty flounces, so in the end she was not too ashamed.

When she reappeared, Josephine clapped her hands in delight

‘Oh, my dear, you look absolutely charming,’ she said.

Amy blushed. She had never worn clothes of this quality in the whole of her life and felt a little out of her depth. But Josephine’s mind was made up.

‘We’ll take them,’ she told the smiling assistant. She gave the woman her address and asked for the items to be delivered along with the bill, before dragging Amy off to the next shop, enjoying herself immensely. By lunchtime, Amy’s head was spinning; Mrs Forrester had bought her outfits that she had only ever dreamed of owning. Apart from the skirt and blouse there was a smart day gown, petticoats, shoes and stockings, not to mention a large amount of new underwear. Mrs Forrester then took her to a very upper-class tea room in Regent Street for lunch, and there they were served with soup, tiny wafer-thin sandwiches and cream pastries, all washed down with tea.

When they had both eaten their fill, Josephine dabbed daintily at her mouth with a linen serviette before saying to Amy, ‘Now, my dear, I’m afraid I have a confession to make. I’ve already spoken to Samuel about this and he is in full agreement with me, although I do have to admit that it was my mother-in-law’s idea in the first place.’ Suddenly realising that she was rambling on a little she giggled self-consciously and Amy was highly amused. This was a side of her mistress she had never seen before. The girl had always thought that Josephine was attractive, but when she laughed she was positively beautiful.

‘You’ll have to excuse me, but I haven’t enjoyed myself so much for a long time,’ she said. ‘Which brings me back to what I was about to tell you.’

Amy was all ears and stared at her expectantly.

‘The thing is, we felt it wouldn’t be right for you to come to London without visiting the theatre, and so Samuel is going to get us all some tickets to see a play at the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane next Wednesday evening. You will accompany us, won’t you?’

Amy stared back at her blankly. Surely she must be hearing things? Her gran would never believe it and she was so thrilled at the prospect that she was momentarily struck dumb.

‘Come along, dear,’ Mrs Forrester ordered, taking her silence as an agreement. ‘I’ve saved the best bit until last. We’re going to go and get you an evening gown now. As I’m sure you are aware, London society dresses for the theatre and we do want you looking the part. I might even have a new one too if something catches my eye. And of course we must also find you a nice new cloak to go over your other new clothes.’

Rising, she waited for Amy, who was suddenly all fingers and thumbs, then she gaily tripped away with the girl following in hot pursuit. They took a carriage through the teeming streets of what Josephine called ‘the West End’ and Amy was soon hopelessly lost. However, Josephine seemed to know exactly where she was going and eventually they came to a halt outside a very ornately decorated shop called Isabelle’s Modes. Amy could only gape open-mouthed at the colourful array of gowns displayed in the window.

‘This is one of my very favourite shops,’ Mrs Forrester confided as she paid the cabbie and alighted from the carriage. ‘I’m sure you won’t be disappointed.’ And without further ado she led Amy inside.

The next hour would remain in Amy’s memory for the rest of her life. She tried on one beautiful gown after another and paraded up and down in them for her mistress’s approval. She herself thought every single one was lovely, but Mrs Forrester kept shaking her head until she finally emerged from the dressing room in a dark green silk evening gown. An off-the-shoulder design with a low neckline, it was tucked in tight to the waist then the skirt billowed out in shimmering folds. It was without doubt one of the simplest gowns that Amy had tried on, but it made her look elegant and sophisticated, and emphasised the colour of her hair and her tiny waist.

Mrs Forrester drew her to a full-length mirror and pointed at the reflection there, and Amy could scarcely believe that the person staring back at her was herself. She looked so totally different that she suddenly wished with all her heart that Molly were there to see her.

Mrs Forrester’s mind was made up. ‘It might have been made for you!’ she cried. ‘We couldn’t have found one more perfect if we had scoured the whole of London. And now … we must find you a pretty evening shawl to go with it, and some evening slippers, of course.’

Within minutes she had the shop assistants scurrying to and fro with various articles until she had selected the ones that she felt were just right. The shawl she chose was pure silk and almost exactly the same shade as the dress, with a deep shimmering fringe that complemented the gown to perfection. Josephine placed it about Amy’s shoulders personally and stood back to study the effect. She then chose silk evening shoes and a small matching bag and beamed with satisfaction.

‘That’s excellent,’ she said. ‘And now I’m going to choose a new gown for myself.’

So for the next hour, roles were reversed as Josephine tried on various gowns and sashayed up and down in them, asking Amy for her opinion. They eventually both agreed on one in a rich, sapphire-blue velvet, and as their purchases were being carefully wrapped they then chose a new day coat for Amy and smiled at each other like two schoolgirls.

It was late afternoon by the time they left the shop, and once out on the pavement, Josephine sighed with contentment.

‘Do you know,’ she said regretfully, ‘I would love to go on, but unfortunately I’m still rather weak after my illness, so I’m afraid it’s time that we headed for home or Samuel will be getting concerned.’

She hailed a passing carriage and when the driver drew the horse to a halt, Amy helped Mrs Forrester inside, where she sank back gratefully against the seat. They arrived home tired but happy to find Mr Forrester waiting in the hallway for them.

Samuel’s eyebrows rose as he noted the parcels in the hall that had already been delivered. ‘Mm, been spending all my hard-earned money, have you?’ The words were stern but Amy was relieved to see that his blue eyes were shining with affection as he looked at his wife. He couldn’t remember when he had last seen her looking so happy, and decided that whatever her little shopping expedition had cost him it was worth every penny. Old Maude Forrester had been impatiently waiting for the shoppers’ return too and now her voice carried to them along the hallway, ‘Well, get yourselves in here then an’ let’s have a look at your purchases.’

They hastily joined her in the drawing room but Josephine stubbornly refused to let them see either of the gowns.

‘You’ll just have to wait until we wear them to the theatre,’ she told them determinedly and no amount of persuasion would make her change her mind.

It didn’t stop Amy from showing Nancy her dress though, last thing at night in the privacy of her room. ‘Cor, you ain’t ’alf lucky,’ Nancy sighed dreamily as Amy held the gown to her. ‘I know,’ Amy said. ‘I just can’t believe how kind the Forresters have been. I never thought that things like this would happen to me.’ She hung the dress on the wardrobe door and joined Nancy on the bed where they sat admiring it.

‘The Forresters are kind people,’ Nancy said pensively as she tucked her knees beneath her chin and wrapped her arms around them. ‘When I first come ’ere I felt as if I’d died an’ gone to ’eaven – a clean warm bed to sleep in, food on the table an’ not having to worry about me da rollin’ in blind drunk all the time. ’Sides that, me wages have helped me ma out no end. I still missed ’er though, even if she were a bit rough an’ ready.’

Amy’s kind heart went out to her. At least she had always had Molly’s unconditional love and a stable home-life.

The girls lapsed into silence. The rest of the household had long since retired to bed and now all they could hear were the night sounds of London through the slightly open window.

‘I’d never really met Mrs Forrester properly until we set off to come here,’ Amy confided to her new friend eventually. ‘But I do think that she’s a lovely lady. I used to dream that my mother would be just like her …’ Her voice held such a wealth of sorrow that Nancy peeped at her from the corner of her eye.

‘Did yer never know yer ma then?’

‘No,’ Amy admitted sorrowfully. ‘She died just after I was born and my gran brought me up.’ She had never told anyone that before but she found Nancy remarkably easy to confide in.

‘An’ what about yer da?’ Nancy probed gently as she hugged her knees.

‘He died too in an accident before I was born.’

‘Cor, that’s really sad,’ ‘Nancy sympathised. ‘But what about yer gran? Is she kind?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Amy was quick to answer. ‘She’s been my whole world and I don’t know what I would do without her.’ She began to tell Nancy all about the little cottage they lived in and her friend listened, enthralled. She had never stepped outside of London and the sound of the cottage where Amy lived, skirting rolling green fields, sounded idyllic. She had been brought up in the back streets with only cobbled alleyways as her playground, yet still she begrudged Amy nothing. It was not in Nancy’s make-up to be envious. She had an optimistic cheery nature and instead of dwelling on what might have been she tended to count her blessings.

‘Well, I reckon yer’ve done wonders fer the mistress,’ she now told Amy. ‘I’ve ain’t never seen her so happy as she has been this visit an’ I reckon yer’ve got somethin’ to do wiv that.’

When Amy cocked a curious eye at her, Nancy grinned. ‘I reckon it’s because yer remind her of Miss Jessica, her daughter. I ’eard Cook sayin’ yer was the spittin’ image of her.’

‘And do you think I am?’

Nancy shrugged. ‘I couldn’t rightly say. I’ve ain’t been ’ere that long but Cook can remember both Master Adam an’ Miss Jessica when they was nippers, and she says they were as close as two peas in a pod. Apparently, Miss Jessica thought the world of ’er little bruvver an’ there weren’t an ’appier family walkin’. But then, as yer probably know, when Miss Jessica was nearly grown, she ’ad an almighty ruckus wiv the master an’ he ordered ’er from the house. Nobody seems to know what it was about though, an’ Cook reckons he regretted it almost immediately. But as far as I know she ain’t been seen from that day to this, which I suppose accounts fer the mistress usually bein’ so low.’

Amy’s heart ached for her kindly mistress as she listened to the sorry tale.

‘Master Adam ain’t been quite the same since Miss Jessica left home neither, accordin’ to Cook,’ Nancy went on. ‘Apparently he married Miss Eugenie wivin months of ’er bein’ gone. Eugenie is from a very well-to-do family an’ they reckoned ’e worshipped the very ground she walked on. But that didn’t last fer long. She’s given him an ’ell of a life, poor sod. I ’ate it when she comes here, dishin’ orders out left right an’ centre. Cook says she wanted a family an’ when no babies were forthcomin’ she blamed poor Master Adam. Plus, she never lets ’im live down the fact that she’s ’igh above ’im in class, because her father is Sir Something-or-other. She reckons she married below ’erself an’ she treats ’im an’ the rest of us like dirt now. Still, Cook reckons he’s lookin’ to get a house of ’is own soon in London, so wiv a bit o’ luck when he finds one we won’t ’ave to see her again.’

Amy nodded in the darkness. Having sampled a taste of Eugenie’s temper herself, she could well believe what Nancy was saying.

When Nancy finally retired to her own room, Amy lay in bed gazing at the gown that was catching the light of the moon as it shone through the window.

One way or another it had been a long day and soon she slipped into a contented sleep.