The Ribbon Weaver

Chapter Sixteen



As Christmas 1851 approached, the snow finally came and Molly, who now never ventured very far anyway, found herself totally housebound. Before setting off for work each morning, Amy would fill the coal-scuttle to its brim and make sure that her gran had everything she needed. If she was going to London, Toby would come round and get in the coal for her before he went to work and then do the same again in the evening.

It was on one such evening, when Molly was sitting at the table with him and Bessie that she brought up a subject that was much on her mind.

‘I don’t know what to get our Amy for her twenty-first birthday,’ she confessed.

Bessie pointed to a jar that was almost full of coins on the shelf. ‘I can’t really see what you’re frettin’ about,’ she said reasonably. ‘All you have to do is tell me what you’d like for her and I’ll go into town and fetch it for you. There’s enough money in there to buy her a lovely present.’

‘No!’ Molly said adamantly. ‘I don’t want to buy her anything with that money. It’s money that she earned. I want to get her something from me personally.’

They sat pondering on the dilemma for some time until Toby drained the tea in his mug and stood up. ‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave you ladies to come up with a solution by yourselves,’ he told them, suppressing a yawn. ‘I’m off to my bed.’

Bessie nodded; he did look tired. ‘Go on, lad,’ she urged. ‘You get yourself away an’ tell yer dad I’ll be round shortly.’

He nodded and for some minutes, the two women sat staring into the dancing flames. It was then that Bessie had her idea, and turning to Molly, her face became animated. ‘I know what yer could give her. Why … the answer’s starin’ us right in the face if yer did but know it.’

When Molly frowned, Bessie gabbled on, ‘What about the locket? The one that yer found in the bag with her on the night yer brought her home? It’s been hidden away all these years and you always intended to give it to her one day, so why not for her comin’ of age? I meself can’t think of a better present, an’ I don’t mind bettin’, Amy would treasure it.’

Molly sat silent, thinking deeply on Bessie’s words, and then slowly a smile spread across her wrinkled old face. ‘Do yer know, Bessie, I think you could just be right,’ she agreed.

When Bessie left a short while later, Molly hoisted herself up the stairs and going to the far side of the attic, she reached into the dark corner of the sloping roof and withdrew the tapestry bag that held so many memories for her. Her hand sought about inside until it came to rest on a small velvet box.

With unsteady fingers she snapped open the lid and instantly the emerald set in the centre of the locket flashed like fire in the glow from the candle. Molly turned it this way and that for a while as she admired it, then fumbling with the tiny clasp, she sprang the locket open to reveal the two small portraits, one either side. Molly’s breath caught in her throat. The young woman was so like Amy that it might have been the girl herself smiling up at her. The other side of the locket revealed a gentle-faced young man. She squeezed her eyes tight shut as memories of that fateful night when she had found Amy in the church doorway came flooding back. Since then, the girl had been her whole life, and now Molly could not envisage living without her, although she still worried about the poor girl who had obviously been Amy’s mother, and who had disappeared from the doorway without trace – never to be heard of again.

As a sob caught in her throat she closed the locket and put it back into the tiny box then, after dropping it deep into her pinnie pocket, she returned the faded bag to the shadows. Bessie was right. There could surely be no other present that Amy would cherish more than this. With a sad smile, the old woman lifted the candle and creaked her way back down the stairs to wait for Amy to come home.

With only three weeks to go until Christmas, Amy’s heart was light and she was humming cheerfully as she hurried through the woods on her way to Forrester’s Folly. The snow lay deep on the ground and everywhere looked clean and bright. As Mary’s cottage came into view she smiled at the sight of the twins who were in the garden, warmly wrapped in bright little scarves and hats, busily building, or attempting to build, a snowman. They were so enthralled with what they were doing that they didn’t even see Amy as she emerged from the woods, but Mary and Beatrice did and they raised their hands in greeting.

‘This is damn hard work, this is,’ Mary called merrily. ‘I think it was easier when I was workin’ up at the house.’

‘I’ve no doubt it was,’ Amy grinned. ‘But I know you wouldn’t swap the job you’re doing now.’

Beatrice came to the gate in the little picket fence that Joe had erected around the garden to try and keep the children in.

Amy returned her smile before asking pleasantly, ‘What are you doing here?’ The girls rarely got to see each other any more but they were still close.

‘It’s my day off,’ Beatrice informed her. ‘So I was up an’ out o’ the house at the crack o’ dawn an’ thought I’d spend a little time wi’ Mary and the nippers before goin’ home to see me mam.’

‘You’re looking very well,’ Amy commented. There seemed to be a glow about her friend and there was a twinkle in her soft grey eyes.

‘Well …’ Beatrice wondered if she should confide in her but then rushed on, ‘I’m walkin’ out wi’ Jake now, the young gardener that works under Tom, but I ain’t told me mam yet, so you’ll not say anythin’ fer a while, will yer?’

‘Of course I won’t, and I’m really pleased for you.’ Amy assured her. ‘I’m sure your mam will be too when you tell her.’

‘Hm. The trouble is, she’ll be plannin’ the weddin’ afore I know it,’ Beatrice chuckled. ‘Which is why I decided to wait a while before I told her.’

Amy was just about to answer when a snowball caught Beatrice full in the face and she gasped before turning towards the children.

‘I think I’d better try an’ help our Mary get these imps under control,’ she said, and so Amy shouted her goodbyes and went on her way, leaving Mary and Beatrice to play snowballs with the excited children. She was pleased to see her friend looking so happy and hoped that Jake would be good to her.

She was halfway across the rolling lawns when the house came into view. There was a pony and trap at the bottom of the marble steps that led up to the front door and Amy instantly recognised it as the doctor’s. Someone must be ill. Gathering up her skirts, she flew across the frozen grass, her heart pounding in her chest. When she drew level with the pony she saw that he was pawing restlessly at the ground but she barely noticed his distress as she raced up the steps to the front door and banged on it impatiently.

Lily opened it, and Amy saw that the girl’s eyes were red-rimmed from crying.

‘Who is ill?’ she demanded as she struggled to remove her coat.

Lily sniffed noisily. ‘It’s the old mistress.’ There was a catch in her voice. ‘She took poorly in the night. The doctor an’ the mistress are upstairs with her now, but the master is in the library.’

Amy nodded, then almost threw her hat and coat in Lily’s direction before hurrying along the hallway. Without stopping to knock, she opened the library door. Mr Forrester was standing in front of the fireplace, staring down into the flames, and when he turned she could see the raw pain in his eyes.

Completely forgetting her place, Amy hurried to his side and asked bluntly, ‘What’s happened?’

He sighed. ‘It’s Mother. She had a bad turn in the night and she’s in a very serious way. I blame myself, Amy. She hasn’t been quite herself for some time, as you are probably aware, and I begged her to let me get the doctor in to have a look at her, but she wouldn’t have a bar of it. She snapped my head off every time I suggested it, but I should have gone ahead and asked him to call anyway. Anyway, he’s here now. He’s been upstairs with her for over an hour and I hope that when he comes down, he will be able to tell us what’s wrong.’

Mr Forrester’s face was ashen. Taking control of the situation, Amy crossed to the bell-pull and tugged on it. When Lily appeared moments later, Amy might have been mistaken as the mistress of the house as she told her, ‘Lily, fetch Mr Forrester some tea please.’

Lily scurried away like a frightened rabbit to do as she was told, and she returned in a remarkably short time with a tray. Amy quickly poured out a cup of hot sweet tea and placed it into Mr Forrester’s trembling hand.

‘Drink this, my gran says it’s good for shock,’ she ordered, and they then sat together in silence, each lost in their own thoughts until at last, Josephine and the doctor appeared in the doorway.

Amy was quick to note that Josephine was even paler than the master. She had been up with her mother-in-law for most of the night and now she looked worn out and drawn.

‘Well?’ Samuel demanded abruptly as the doctor strode into the room and placed his black bag on the table.

The man chose his words carefully. ‘I think your mother may have suffered a seizure,’ he said eventually. ‘It appears to have affected her all down her left side.’ He wished that there was some gentler way to impart his news and watched with sympathy as Samuel’s chin drooped to his chest and he screwed his eyes tight shut.

After a time he raised his head and looking the doctor straight in the eye he asked, ‘Will she survive?’

‘It is possible,’ the doctor said cautiously. ‘I have known people make a full recovery from this condition, but I’m afraid we must take into account your mother’s age. She is going to need constant care and I have a feeling that she isn’t going to be the easiest of patients. I cannot say in truth if she will ever completely recover as yet. That is something that only time will tell. For now we will have to take each day as it comes.’

Grateful at least for the doctor’s honesty, Samuel nodded. Amy had crossed to Josephine’s side and now the woman clung to her hand as if it was a lifeline as Amy patted it comfortingly. The doctor then went on to give them instructions on how the patient should be cared for before departing, promising that he would return later that evening.

Josephine turned to Amy almost as soon as the door had closed behind him. ‘Would you mind going up to her, my dear?’ she asked wearily. ‘I think she would appreciate seeing a friendly face, and I would like to speak to my husband.’

‘Of course, ma’am.’ And on feet that felt as if they were weighted with lead, Amy left the room and climbed the splendid staircase that led to the old mistress’s room. She found her propped high on a mound of lace-trimmed pillows, her face as white as the cotton sheets that covered her. Her left hand lay limply on the satin eiderdown and the left side of her mouth was pulled unnaturally down.

The old woman’s maid retreated to a corner of the room to allow them to talk. Maude’s eyes, when she turned them to Amy, were as bright and alert as ever, although they were filled with pain.

With her right hand she beckoned Amy to her and without hesitation the girl approached the bed and grasped her limp hand gently.

‘D-d … do-don’t y-you … dare cry!’ Speech was obviously difficult for her and not wishing to distress her more, Amy blinked back her tears and summoned a weak smile.

‘Well then,’ she said as cheerfully as she could, ‘if you’re going to be lying there idle for a time I shall have to find something for us to do. I tell you what – I’ll read to you, shall I?’

The faint smile she received in answer was more of a grimace, and crossing to a small table on which a number of books were piled, she hastily sifted through them.

‘I know,’ she said suddenly. ‘It just so happens that I have a new book in my bag that I’m reading at the moment. I bought it the last time I was in London. It’s by an author called Ellis Bell and it’s called Wuthering Heights. I’m sure you will enjoy it so I’ll read you some of that and you can tell me what you think of it. Personally, I love it.’ She lifted the book from her bag and pulled her chair closer to the side of the old woman’s bed. Then, bending her head over the pages, she began to read, her voice quiet but clear. She was still there an hour later when Josephine entered the room and squeezed her arm gently.

‘I think you can stop now, my dear. She is fast asleep,’ she whispered.

As Amy quickly glanced up at the face on the pillow her heart ached. The old woman looked so ancient and fragile that it was hard to imagine her ever recovering. But then again, Maude Forrester was a fighter, and stranger things had happened, so Amy determined to try and stay positive.

Not wishing to disturb her, the two women crept from the room as the maid resumed her position at the side of the bed, and once out on the landing they stared at each other, their mutual love of the sick woman bonding them together.

‘Samuel has gone to arrange for a nurse to come,’ Josephine told Amy in a hushed voice. ‘And he says I’m to tell you to take a few days off work. Mother-in-law so enjoys your company that we felt if you could call in here for a few hours each day instead, it would be beneficial to her. You could perhaps bring some sketches for her to look at, or read to her as you just have done. Do anything that you think may amuse her and take her mind off her illness.’

Amy nodded immediately, glad to be of help, and arm-in-arm, the two women made their way downstairs.

Eugenie, who had been watching from the drawing-room door, sneered at the sight. Adam had forced her to come back from London to The Folly with him for a few days as he had business to attend to at his shop in Nuneaton. It was bad enough, being stuck here in this godforsaken place, but what was even worse was the fact that that damn girl seemed to have the run of the house. Why, even Adam was greatly taken with her, and never seemed to tire of poring over designs of gentlemen’s hats with her. The spoiled young woman’s mind began to work overtime: perhaps that accounted for why he never seemed to want to spend any time with her any more? And now all this fuss over that old harridan! She grimaced; there had never been any love lost between herself and Mrs Forrester senior, and she personally would be glad if the old witch died. Taking another long swig from the glass of brandy in her hand she then swung about in a flurry of satin skirts and strode back into the room where she refilled her glass to the brim.

For the next week, Amy visited Forrester’s Folly daily, never tiring in her efforts to cheer the old mistress up. She read to her, chattered on about her gran and the sketches she was working on, and in general did anything she could to raise the old woman’s spirits. Samuel Forrester had now employed two full-time nurses who administered round-the-clock care, and when Amy was not there, her devoted son and daughter-in-law kept up a constant vigil at her bedside. But all their efforts seemed to be in vain; the old woman was fading away in front of their very eyes.

Much to Eugenie’s disgust, Adam delayed their return to London and stayed to oversee the running of his father’s businesses as well as his own, but when he was at The Folly he walked about the house grim-faced and fearful. Not once had the old lady asked to see Eugenie, and by the time her husband arrived home one evening, she was in a towering rage.

‘Oh, so you’ve decided to come back, have you?’ she spat at him, her eyes flashing fire. ‘Was it to see the old witch or your whore?’

He gazed at her disbelievingly. ‘Just what are you talking about, woman?’

‘Why, your brown-eyed girl, of course!’ she sneered. ‘You must think I’m a fool. All this time she’s been coming here and I’ve only just realised what’s been going on under my very nose.’

He stared aghast at her portly frame, hardly able to believe his ears.

‘I can’t even begin to think what has put this ridiculous notion into your head,’ he ground out. ‘But I’ll tell you now – you are wrong, and behaving like this doesn’t become you. I can’t understand what has got into you lately, Eugenie. If you don’t curb your spending habits soon, I shall be forced to sell the house in London and you will find yourself living here again. And to even suggest such a thing at a time like this …’ he cocked his finger towards the ceiling. ‘My grandmother is dying up there and I don’t need anything else to worry about at present, so for goodness sake get these foolish notions out of your head.’

Eugenie gaped at him as for once he stood up to her.

‘Now, if you will excuse me I am going to see my grandmother. I’ve no doubt you will have objections to that too. But frankly, I am beginning to be past caring.’ And without a backward glance he strode from the room, leaving her to stare after him.

When he entered his grandmother’s room, Amy and his mother were at the side of the bed. ‘How is she?’ he whispered.

Before either of them could answer, the old lady slowly turned her head and recognition shone in her faded eyes. She beckoned to him and as he leaned across her she tried to speak.

‘Where is Jessica?’

The sound of his sister’s name caused him to screw his eyes up tight and his mother’s hand to fly to her mouth in distress. But pulling himself together with an enormous effort he told her softly, ‘You will be seeing her very soon, Grandmother.’ All of them knew that the chances of that were highly unlikely now, but Adam would have said anything if it gave her comfort.

The old mistress visibly relaxed and her hand fell back to the bed. Adam took a seat at the side of her and there he remained until her eyelids eventually drooped and she found relief from her pain in sleep.

Leaving her in the capable hands of the nurse, the trio then crept from the room, and as Amy made her weary way home her heart was aching and she feared the worst.

She slept little that night and despite all of Molly’s pleas, was unable to eat a thing. The next morning she set off back to The Folly bright and early, and the first thing she saw as she approached the house was the familiar sight of the doctor’s pony and trap. When she entered the hallway she found him there talking to the master, whose face was grave.

‘I’m afraid my mother has suffered another seizure,’ he told her gently. ‘Mrs Forrester and Adam are with her now, but do go up. She has been asking for you.’

Amy silently nodded and when she entered the old woman’s room minutes later, Josephine and Adam rose quietly and tiptoed away, closing the door softly behind them. Amy sat down gingerly on the side of the bed as the nurse looked on and as the old woman’s eyes flickered open and came to rest on her, she smiled with her crooked mouth and squeezed her hand with her good right one.

‘I’m so glad you came.’ Her voice was weak and indistinct and Amy had to bend low to hear her. ‘There’s been too much sorrow in this house but you have brought joy back into it and I thank yer for that.’ The woman’s breath was coming in quick short gasps now, and the tears that had been trying to choke Amy suddenly gushed from her eyes and coursed unbidden down her cheeks. Willing the old woman to live, she gripped her hand tightly.

Now, as the pain subsided, Mrs Forrester’s eyes, that had always seemed so bright and alert, were clouded and she seemed to be looking beyond her.

‘Jessica … I knew you would come!’ A look of incredible joy played across her face, and perplexed, Amy looked towards the nurse for help. The woman ran from the room, her starched white apron rustling, and seconds later she returned with the old woman’s family, who crowded around her bed. Amy left the room, not wishing to invade their privacy, and once out on the landing she buried her face in her hands and sank on to the windowseat. And there she waited. Occasionally maids flitted by as they went sombrely about their duties, the only sound they made being the swish of their skirts as they passed. Below in the hallway she could faintly hear the tick-tock-tick-tock of the grand-father clock, and the urge came on her to rush down and stay its hands, for she was aware that it could be measuring the beloved old mistress’s last minutes on earth.

The minutes stretched into an hour and then two, but the bedroom door finally opened and Samuel Forrester appeared, his face deathly pale and his arm tight about his sobbing wife’s shoulders. Seemingly oblivious to Amy’s presence, he led her gently away and seconds later, Adam followed them from the room. As his eyes found Amy’s he slowly shook his head and rising without a word being spoken she made her way downstairs, her steps heavy. Lifting her bonnet and coat she soundlessly slipped from the grieving house. Inside, her heart was crying but she was dry-eyed and pale, for the pain she was experiencing went beyond tears. After leaving the grounds she walked blindly across the fields that would lead her home. The River Anker, its surface frozen to ice, stretched away into the distance like a silver ribbon, but Amy walked numbly on, heedless of her surroundings, and by the time the familiar cottages came into sight, still not a single tear had she shed. For no reason that she could explain, her steps led her not to her own door, but to Bessie’s, and as she approached it, the one person she had need of at that moment came into sight.

Toby had just stepped into the lane and immediately he saw her, the closed look she had come to dread dropped like a curtain across his eyes. But then as he noted her ashen face and obvious distress, he stepped quickly towards her, his indifference forgotten and his face a mask of concern.

‘What is it, Amy?’

‘Oh, Toby,’ she sobbed, and suddenly the tears that had been locked in her heart gushed out of her, threatening to choke her. ‘Sh … she’s gone. The old mistress has gone.’ Her voice held such a wealth of sorrow that he instantly pulled her into his arms and soothingly held her to him, stroking her hair whilst she sobbed as if her heart would break. Just as she had broken his.

The old mistress’s coffin was placed on a table in the magnificent drawing room at Forrester’s Folly, where she lay in state for three days, with the curtains tightly drawn and candles in heavy silver candlesticks shining down on her day and night.

On the day of the funeral, six perfectly matched black stallions with enormous feather plumes rising from their manes attached to the glass hearse that would take Mrs Forrester on her final journey, stood outside impatiently pawing at the ground. Inside, the mourners who wished to pay their final respects filed silently past her casket, their faces wreathed in sorrow, for despite the fact that Maude Forrester had been an abrupt kind of woman, she had also been loved by many. Finally it only remained for the close family to say their goodbyes. Amy was allowed to enter the room with them and as she looked down on the old woman she had come to love, a huge lump formed in her throat. At each corner of the beautiful mahogany coffin stood men in tall black silk hats encircled with purple ribbons, their hands encased in black gloves crossed respectfully in front of them, their heads bowed. This was the first time that Amy had seen the old woman since the night of her death and she knew that it would be the last. Just as she would have wished, Mrs Forrester had been dressed in her most flamboyant gown and she looked so peaceful that Amy could almost believe that she was simply fast asleep. Without their numerous rings, her hands were criss-crossed with veins, and death had kissed her lips with a faint tinge of purple.

They each said their goodbyes in their own way. Josephine bent and kissed the wrinkled cheek. Samuel and Adam stood with bowed heads offering up silent prayers. Eugenie chose to stand in a corner of the room looking totally disinterested in the whole proceedings, whilst Amy reached into the coffin and squeezed the hand that the woman had extended to her in friendship in life. It was as cold as marble but she hardly had time to think of it when a fifth man, who had been standing a respectful distance away, stepped forward. It was time and the family silently filed from the room whilst the coffin lid was nailed into place.

It was a silent procession that wended its way to Caldecote Church. It was some distance from The Folly, but the old woman had loved it there; Samuel’s father – her late husband Charlie – was buried there, and it had been her wish that she should be interred next to him. The snow had begun to fall softly and as each white flake settled on the cheeks of the mourners they mingled with their tears. The white carpet blanketed the sound of the horses’ hooves and the carriage wheels. The tiny church had never seen so many mourners, for the Forresters’ friends and colleagues had travelled from far and wide to attend the funeral. When the pallbearers finally placed the coffin in front of the altar, the church doors had to be left open so that the mourners who were forced to stand outside when the church was full could hear the service.

The vicar’s voice rang from the rafters and out into the snowy churchyard, and once it was over the pallbearers again lifted the heavy coffin on to their shoulders. Each perfectly in step, they bore it to the grave that had taken two gravediggers a whole day to dig in the hard ground of the peaceful little churchyard. There the coffin was lowered into the yawning hole, and by the time the guiding ropes had been removed and the men had respectfully stood aside for the final part of the commitment, the gleaming mahogany lid and the shining brass name-plate were already white over with snow. Loud and clear, the vicar’s voice echoed to every corner of the churchyard as he solemnly intoned the last words of the burial service, his heavily embroidered stole standing out in stark contrast to his crisp white surplice and his black clerical robes.

Amy’s eyes sought Josephine Forrester’s but they were hidden behind a heavy black veil. Samuel Forrester stood beside her, his eyes bottomless pools of pain, but he held himself erect, his shoulders straight and his head high, determined that his mother should enter heaven with the dignity that she deserved. It was unusual for the womenfolk of gentry to attend a funeral, but mindful of his roots Samuel Forrester had decided to ignore propriety so that the whole family could be there to say their goodbyes.

And then at last the mourners slowly turned from the graveside and began to make their way back to Forrester’s Folly, where a meal befitting a queen awaited them. Amy had been invited but had chosen not to attend. However, as she turned away, Adam’s hand gently settled on her arm and momentarily drew her to a halt.

‘Amy, could you come to the house this evening at about seven o’clock, please?’ he asked. ‘The solicitor should have read Grandmother’s Will and left by then and my mother and father wish to speak to you.’

Incensed that her husband should be seen speaking to someone whom she considered to be low class in public, Eugenie’s hand dragged on his arm and she began to haul him away, her once-pretty face set in grim lines. As she watched them go, Amy sighed before turning to make her way home alone.