The Ribbon Weaver

Chapter Twenty-Three



When Christmas Eve dawned, the cottage became a hive of activity. Amy dragged the old snow-covered tin bath in from the outside yard into the kitchen and Molly then filled it with kettlefuls of hot water from the copper boiler. Amy climbed in and washed her hair and every inch of herself until her skin took on a rosy hue, then she sat by the fire wrapped in a large towel while Molly brushed her hair as it steamed in the heat of the flames.

Her beautiful green gown was pressed and hanging on her wardrobe door all ready to step into, and as she thought of the evening ahead a bubble of excitement formed in her stomach.

‘Are you quite sure that you won’t change your mind and come to the party, Gran?’ she asked hopefully yet again. Earlier, she had helped the old woman to have a thorough wash from the head down, while seated on a stout wooden chair covered with a towel, and Molly looked as clean as a new pin. Amy had bought her a very smart dress and bonnet for Christmas, which would have been perfect for the party, but Molly would still not be swayed.

‘But you look so lovely in your new outfit,’ Amy protested one last time. ‘It’s such a shame for it not to be worn.’

‘It will be worn, but not tonight,’ Molly told her firmly. ‘Me dress an’ bonnet are the grandest I’ve ever owned, love, but me answer is still no. If I were to go out in this weather it would set me cough off again an’ well yer know it. Besides, Toby is comin’ round to read to me, so I’ll be perfectly happy wi’ me own fireside.’

Sighing, Amy finally gave up with her persuasions and they went about their day-to-day business.

Later in the day, as the afternoon light slowly gave way to twilight, Amy went to her room to get ready. She had barely closed her bedroom door behind her when Molly tapped and came in behind her; then sank down on to the side of the bed. She seemed a little subdued and nervy as she beckoned Amy over to her.

‘Just come an’ sit down by me for a second, would yer, love?’ she requested, still out of breath. ‘I have somethin’ that I want yer to have an’ I reckon now is the right time for me to give it to yer.’

Curious, Amy sat down next to her as she searched her eyes and asked, ‘What is it then, Gran?’

Delving into the pocket of her pinnie, Molly withdrew a small faded velvet box and told her, ‘This was yer mother’s.’ She pressed the box into Amy’s hand. ‘It’s all I have of her ’cept for a few clothes that I have upstairs in a bag.’

Amy opened the lid and blinked as the emerald in the centre of the locket winked at her in the glow from the oil lamp.

‘Why, Gran, it’s really lovely,’ she breathed. ‘And you say this belonged to my mother?’

‘Aye, it did, love. Look inside it.’

Amy carefully withdrew the locket from its bed of silk, then gently pressed the clasp on its side, as it sprang open, two faces stared up at her. For a moment she was lost for words.

‘That were your mam an’ dad,’ Molly told her softly.

Tears began to slide down Amy’s cheeks. As she gazed at the woman’s face she felt as if she was looking in a mirror, for there was the same auburn hair and eyes staring back at her. She then turned her attention to the tiny portrait in the other side of the locket and gazed upon the face of a man with gentle features, her father.

‘Th … they made a lovely couple, didn’t they, Gran?’ she sighed wistfully.

Placing her arm comfortingly about her shoulders, the old woman nodded. ‘They did that, love. So wear your mother’s legacy wi’ pride an’ be proud of who you are. I know it ain’t as grand as the necklace the old mistress left you, but I hope you’ll treasure it all the same.’

Dragging her eyes away from the locket, Amy looked tenderly at her gran. Could the old woman have known it, there was nothing in the world that she could have given her that she could treasure more. A million times over the years, she had lain in bed at night wondering what her mother and father had been like and wishing that she could have known them. Her one consolation had been her gran, who had never shown her anything but love and kindness.

‘I promise you that I shall treasure this until my dying day,’ she told her, and taking the wrinkled old cheeks into her hands she kissed her soundly. ‘But I shall never treasure anything as much as I treasure you, for you have been my guardian angel. Without you, I would have been nothing.’

Suddenly her old brusque self again, Molly pushed her away and flapping her hands at her as she struggled to climb from the bed, she told her, ‘Pah! Now that’s enough o’ that soppy talk fer one night. Unless me mind is playin’ tricks on me you have a party to go to, an’ yer won’t get ready sittin’ there blartin’. So look lively, me girl, else it will all be over before yer even get there.’ Then without another word she hobbled from the room as the lump in her throat threatened to choke her.

When Toby arrived some time later he found Amy standing in the kitchen in all her finery and for a moment he was struck dumb. She looked totally out of place in such a humble dwelling. Her hair was tumbling about her shoulders in thick cascading curls, and she was wearing the beautiful cloak that François had given to her in Paris. Her mother’s locket gleamed at her throat, the emerald in it complementing the colour of her gown.

Unable to help himself, he stared at her totally mesmerised. He had always considered her to be pretty but this evening she looked absolutely stunning.

‘Happy Birthday, Amy,’ he said, when he had finally found his tongue again. ‘Yer look more like the gentry than they do ’emselves.’

She flushed at what she took to be a compliment. ‘Why, thank you, kind sir.’ She bobbed her knee just as they heard the Forresters’ carriage rattling along the snow-covered cobbles outside.

Quickly planting a kiss on her gran’s grey hair, she then moved towards Toby – and then paused. They were standing directly beneath the bunch of mistletoe that was dangling above the door, and without stopping to think, she raised herself on tiptoe and kissed him soundly on the mouth. Then laughing, she lifted her skirts and was gone, her cloak billowing out behind her like a sail.

As the coach trundled down the drive, Amy gazed from the window in awe at Forrester’s Folly. It was ablaze with lights that shone from every single window, and all around the steps leading up to the front door, grand carriages were parked. Liveried coachmen were hastily throwing blankets across the horses to protect them from the snow and guiding them round to the stables. When the coachman assisted her down from the carriage, the whole situation began to take on an air of unreality, for she recalled that, not so very long ago, she had been nothing more than a cleaner in a hat factory – and now here she was attending a party at the home of her employer, dressed like a princess. Smiling, she shook out her skirts and held her head high, just as Molly would have wished her to.

The door was opened by a straight-backed butler who had been hired for the evening. ‘Miss Amy Ernshaw,’ he announced imperiously.

Amy suppressed the urge to giggle as she stepped forward.

Mr and Mrs Forrester, Adam and Eugenie, were standing in the line waiting to greet their guests, and the master and mistress stepped forward and shook her hand warmly.

Mrs Forrester was wearing a gown that was one of Amy’s very latest designs, made of scarlet satin and with a large bustle at the back of it; a ruby necklace sparkled about her throat. She looked absolutely stunning, as did Mr Forrester who stood at her side looking strikingly handsome in a formal black dinner suit.

‘Give Lily your cloak, my dear,’ Mrs Forrester told her, ‘and then go into the drawing room. Mr Harvey has already arrived and I’m sure he will be pleased to see you.’

They then turned to welcome the next guests who were waiting to be announced as Amy moved past them. Adam nodded at her politely, but Eugenie refused to acknowledge her presence, a sullen frown on her face. Amy didn’t care. She was determined that nothing should spoil this evening. Even Eugenie.

She found Mr Harvey standing next to a table on which stood many bottles of the very finest champagne sent as a Christmas present to the Forresters from Monsieur Laroque. She was soon sipping at a glass and laughing as the bubbles tickled her nose. The house was teeming with people and some time later she and Mr Harvey made their way to the dining room. The enormous table that usually stood in the centre of the room had been placed back against the wall and it was weighed down with a buffet that was fit to serve to the Queen herself. A whole roasted pig with an apple in its mouth lay on a bed of greens. There were roast chickens, ducks, pheasants, great hams and joints of meat cooked to perfection as well as every kind of pie and pastry imaginable. Amy was sure that there must be enough good there to feed a whole army.

A platform had been erected at the far end of the room and a four-man orchestra, dressed in smart, white-winged collars, matching cravats and black suits, were busily tuning their instruments on it. Women in multi-coloured gowns, each seeming to outdo the other, flitted about on the arms of smart gentlemen, with little elaborate fans in their gloved hands. Glad of Mr Harvey’s company, Amy watched it all enthralled.

Eventually, when the last of the guests had arrived, Mr and Mrs Forrester entered the room and after declaring the buffet to be open they began to mingle with their guests as the orchestra struck up a merry tune.

Across the room, Amy saw Master Adam speaking to a man whom she recognised as the manager of one of the new London shops. Eugenie was at his side, being very loud with a large glass of wine in her hand. Although it was early, the way she was swaying suggested that she had already had more than enough to drink, and as their eyes met she cast Amy a scathing glance. Amy quickly averted her eyes and turned her attention to the middle of the room that was to serve as the dance floor, as gentlemen took their partners for the first dance. She found her foot tapping gaily in time to the music as the dancers swayed past, their bright skirts swirling and the gentlemen’s tailcoats flicking.

Soon Mr and Mrs Forrester had worked their way around to them and Mr Forrester and Mr Harvey immediately became engrossed in conversation. Mrs Forrester smiled at Amy, but then as her eyes rested on the locket that hung about the girl’s throat she reached out blindly and grasped her husband’s arm; afraid that she was going to fall in a faint, Amy quickly moved towards her – but the woman flinched away as and she pointed a trembling finger towards Amy’s throat.

‘Where did you get that locket?’ she demanded in a voice that Amy had never heard her use before.

Baffled, and acutely aware that people were beginning to stare at them, Amy defensively raised her hand to her precious legacy.

Mr Forrester’s eyes followed his wife’s pointing finger, and to Amy’s horror he paled too. By now, Mrs Forrester was trembling like a leaf, and pulling himself together with what was obviously an enormous effort, Mr Forrester suddenly grasped Amy’s elbow and began to propel her from the room. His wife followed close behind, looking for all the world as if she had seen a ghost. Across the room, Amy saw Eugenie watching what was going on and felt herself flush with embarrassment as she was hustled away.

Eugenie waited until they had left the room then slipping away from Adam’s side unnoticed she followed them stealthily.

Once Mr Forrester had herded Amy into his study he led his trembling wife to a chair and helped her into it before turning back to Amy and asking her sharply, ‘Amy – tell me the truth, now. Where did you get that locket?’

She stared back at him in total confusion, her heart racing. ‘It … it was my mother’s,’ she managed to stutter.

He shook his head in denial, his eyes harsh. ‘That is quite impossible,’ he stated bluntly, and now tears started to Amy’s eyes and her chin jutted defiantly.

‘I am sorry to argue with you, sir, but I assure you it was. She left it with my gran for me just before she died.’

For a second he lowered his head and screwed his eyes up tight, but then taking a deep breath he stared back at her and something in the depth of his eyes tore at her heart, for he looked like a man in torment.

‘Please may I have a closer look at it?’

With fumbling fingers, Amy undid the clasp on the chain and silently passed it into his outstretched hand.

He stared down at it for some time as if it was burning him, then seeming to forget that Amy was there he turned on his heel and carried it across to his wife. She took the locket from him with shaking fingers. The couple looked deep into each other’s eyes for what seemed like an eternity and then Josephine undid the clasp on the side and stared down at the two faces within smiling up at her.

Her face suddenly crumpled. ‘Oh, my dear God,’ she sobbed as if her heart would break. ‘Samuel, look. It is Jessica’s locket, I knew it the moment I saw it. It even has the portrait of herself she painted to place in it.’

As he paced the room like a caged animal, Amy noted with mounting horror that Mr Forrester was openly crying too. But what could all this mean? she asked herself. The evening had got off to such a wonderful start and now it was all ruined.

‘How could this be?’ Josephine was totally distraught, but for now her husband had no answer to her question and was as confused as she was.

‘There must be some reasonable explanation,’ he muttered as he continued to pace up and down. Then, stopping abruptly in front of Amy as if he had only just remembered her presence, he stared at her as if he had never seen her before.

Turning, he yanked on the bell-pull and when the maid appeared seconds later he barked at her, ‘Lily, run around to the stable-block and tell them I want the carriage brought to the front of the house immediately.’

Lily bobbed her knee. ‘Yes, sir.’ Realising that something was badly wrong, she scuttled away to do as she was told.

Meanwhile, Mr Forrester returned to his wife and squeezed her hand lovingly as he told her, ‘Try not to upset yourself, my dear. We shall go and see Mrs Ernshaw right now and try to get to the bottom of this.’

Amy was totally at a loss. The evening was fast turning into a nightmare, and she had no idea why.

Lily reappeared shortly afterwards to tell them that the carriage was ready. Grim-faced, Mr Forrester ushered the two women outside without a word, pausing only long enough for the ladies to collect their cloaks.

Some of their guests stared in amazement as they watched their host and hostess disappear into the snowy night without so much as a civil word as they strode past them. Across the hallway, Eugenie raised her glass to her lips and smiled tipsily. Amy, the in-laws’ brown-eyed girl was suddenly very much out of favour. And, she thought spitefully, long may it last! Let this be the last she would see of the common little guttersnipe.

When the sound of the carriage pulling up outside carried to them, Molly and Toby stared at each other in amazement. Glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece, Molly frowned. ‘Why, it’s barely nine o’clock,’ she muttered. ‘This surely can’t be Amy back already, can it?’

Her question was answered when Amy burst into the room seconds later with the Forresters close behind her, their faces drawn and tense.

‘Eeh, whatever’s happened?’ Guessing that something was badly amiss, she pulled herself painfully from the chair as Amy flung herself into her arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

‘It’s my locket, Gran,’ she choked out. ‘Mr and Mrs Forrester say it wasn’t my mother’s.’

Molly bristled. ‘Oh yes it was, as God’s me witness,’ she told them boldly.

Mr Forrester drew himself up to his full height and stared at her disdainfully. ‘I am afraid that is quite impossible, Mrs Ernshaw. You see, that locket belonged to my daughter. We had it commissioned and made for her in London for her eighteenth birthday. The picture of the young woman inside the locket is actually our daughter, Jessica. She was a very talented artist and she painted the portrait inside herself.’

It was Molly’s turn to pale now. She had never been one for fainting, but as she stared into the master’s cold eyes the room began to swim around her and an icy hand closed around her heart.

Back at The Folly, Adam searched the room for his parents and when he couldn’t find them he made his way into the hallway and beckoned the butler to his side.

‘Have you seen the master and mistress?’ he asked.

The man nodded solemnly. ‘Yes, Master Adam, sir. The master ordered the carriage to be brought around to the front some half an hour since, and he and the mistress went off with Miss Ernshaw.’

‘But where did they go?’ Adam was deeply puzzled. His parents’ manners were impeccable, and he could think of nothing that would make them leave a houseful of guests unattended for no good reason.

‘I am afraid I have no idea, sir. The master did not say.’ Bowing stiffly, the butler quietly walked away to resume his duties.

Adam stroked his chin thoughtfully. Something was amiss. His mind sought for some plausible explanation to the puzzle but try as he might, he could find none. Even if Amy had been taken ill, it was highly unlikely that both of his parents would have escorted her home on tonight of all nights. But then he had seen Amy earlier in the evening and she had looked radiant and the very picture of good health.

As he stood there pondering, his eyes lit on his wife, who was standing at the far end of the hallway with a sly little smile dancing about her lips. She was obviously very much the worse for drink and was looking decidedly dishevelled.

‘Do you know where my mother and father have gone?’ he asked her coldly.

She grinned and leaned towards him, causing some of her whisky to splash over the rim of her crystal glass, down the front of her dress and on to the fine Persian carpet beneath them.

‘Oh yesh, I know where they’ve gone all right.’ Her voice was full of spite and her words slurred. Not wishing to make a spectacle of themselves in front of their guests, Adam took her arm and none too gently led her into the library, closing the door firmly behind them.

‘Well?’ he demanded impatiently. ‘You say that you know where my parents and Amy have gone, so perhaps you would care to enlighten me.’

Enjoying his obvious concern she took another long slow swig of her drink before replying, ‘Gladly.’ She leaned towards him, sneering maliciously, ‘It appears that their little country bumpkin isn’t quite the angel they thought. She came to the party this evening wearing your precious sister’s locket. You must remember the one? They had it made for her especially for her eighteenth birthday.’

He stepped away from her and gripped the edge of the desk as her whisky-smelling breath fanned his face. But the look of distress only seemed to enrage her more and now she spat, ‘So come on then. How do you think the likes of her would have acquired that, eh? A common little ribbon-weaver’s trollop? I think the answer is as clear as day, don’t you? She must have stolen it! And now she will be getting her comeuppance – and not before time, that’s what I say.’

As his chin sank to his chest she smiled with satisfaction. But then slowly he raised his head, and the look he gave her seemed to have a sobering effect on her, for never in her life had she seen such hatred, raw and burning.

‘You’d like it if she was a thief, wouldn’t you?’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘For you seem to have developed the same jealousy for Amy that you did for Jessica – though neither of them ever did you an injustice. But I’ll tell you now: if that girl has my sister’s locket I will stake my life that there is a reasonable explantion for it, for I will not believe that she is a thief.’

‘Oh yes, I thought you would defend the little whore,’ she retaliated. ‘Don’t think I don’t know what has been going on. She’s your mistress, isn’t she? That’s why you have moved into the bed in the dressing room and why you won’t allow me to come to the house in London any more with you, isn’t it? Isn’t it?’ she screamed.

‘Don’t be so ridiculous, woman,’ Adam stormed, with his fists clenched tightly at the sides of him. ‘Amy is a mere girl and has never been anything to me other than a very talented designer. You have a mind like a cesspit because I tell you now, she is more of a lady than you will ever be, no matter where her roots are. And as for moving from your bed because of her … I’ll tell you now, I need no other woman as an excuse to move from your bed. If you must know, I moved out of our room because I can no longer stand anything about you. Not your looks, your nature, nor even the smell of you. So how do you like that? There was a time when I worshipped the very ground you walked on, Eugenie. But you soon put paid to that, with your tantrums and your airs and graces. Why, even tonight you have made a complete spectacle of yourself. I almost sank into a pit of despair with your treatment, and you would have ruined me had I not put a stop to your frivolous spending.’

She stepped back from him as if he had slapped her in the face, for she had never seen him so angry.

‘H … how dare you speak to me like this,’ she sputtered indignantly. ‘Why, if I were to tell my father how you were treating me, he would—’

‘Stop right there,’ he growled. ‘For that is exactly what I wish you would do. Please – go and tell your father. Although I doubt he would want to hear. Looking back, I am sure he must have been glad to be rid of you, just as I would be.’

Her mouth gaped, giving her the look of a simpleton as she stared back at him incredulously.

‘What do you mean?’ A note of fear had crept into her voice but his heart had finally hardened against her.

‘I mean just this. I have had a bellyful of your spoiled, unpleasant, jealous nature. I cannot believe that I ever loved you – or indeed ever saw anything in you that was worthy of love. You have done your best over the years to make me bankrupt and miserable. Nothing was ever good enough for you, not even when I bought you the house of your choice in London, which was way beyond my means – as well you knew. Even that was not good enough for you, was it? You then went on a spending spree, filling it with every single stick of furniture that took your fancy until in the end I was forced to sell the whole lot at a loss. But it is done now. I shall instruct the coachman to take you to your father’s house, and on Boxing Day I will have all your belongings packed up and sent on to you. You will, never, ever darken my door again. And if you do, I should tell you that I shall not be responsible for the consequences.’

Realising that she had gone too far, she held her hand out to him pleadingly, but he slapped it away in disgust.

‘Our marriage is over, Eugenie.’ His voice was colder than the snow that lay on the ground outside. ‘My lawyer will be contacting you in due course at your father’s address.’

‘No, Adam … please. You can’t do this to me.’

It was his turn to sneer now as he turned away from her and headed towards the door. ‘I think you will find that I can – and will. My only regret now is that I did not do it long ago.’

As he turned to look back at her florid face just one last time he could see nothing at all of the girl he had once fallen in love with.

‘Goodbye,’ he said quietly. ‘I cannot say that it has been a pleasure to know you. It seems to me now that your only attribute was the fact that you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, the only daughter of a titled family. But unfortunately it did not serve to make you a better person. On the contrary, perhaps that is why you lack one single ounce of love or compassion, because you were spoiled shamelessly. At this moment I can feel nothing but pity for you, for I see a long lonely life stretching before you. Unless, of course, you are fortunate enough to snare another man who is as big a fool as I was – but that I very much doubt.’

She began to weep noisily but her tears could no longer reach him and he stepped into the hallway, closing the door between them, praying as he did so that he would never have to look upon her face again for as long as he lived. He stood for some seconds with his head bowed gripping tight to the ornate brass door handle as her muffled sobs reached him through the heavy oak door.

It was there that the butler found him some minutes later. He had been serving the guests with glasses of sparkling champagne from a silver tray that was balanced expertly on one hand, but noting the young master’s obvious distress he approached him tentatively.

‘Is there anything I can get for you, sir?’ he asked respectfully.

As Adam raised his head the torment in his eyes was terrible to behold.

‘No, Mason, there is nothing you can get for me – unless you can give me a clear conscience,’ he answered, and then before the confused eyes of the other man he pulled himself heavily from the door and marched out into the snow, without a word of explanation.

Once outside, he picked his way round to the rear of the house and slipped into the stable-block. The smell of hay and horseflesh met him, and the horses whinnied a greeting as he passed. But tonight, instead of stopping to stroke them as he normally did, he stumbled by them all, even Pepperpot his beloved mount, and made his way to a hay bale, on to which he collapsed before placing his head in his hands. Everything was such a mess and he could not envisage life ever returning to normal again. The sound of movement from above went unnoticed by him until Seth appeared on a rickety staircase that led up to his living quarters above. His braces were dangling about his knees and he held aloft an oil lamp as he shouted into the gloom, ‘Hello, who’s there?’

‘It … it’s me, Seth.’

Hearing his master’s voice, the man snapped his braces into place and climbed down the rest of the stairs to join him.

‘Master Adam – why, whatever are you doin’ out here? An’ why did the master an’ mistress go harin’ off earlier on? We got a message that they wanted the carriage made ready straight away, an’ Bobby drove ’em off somewhere.’

‘It’s a long story, Seth,’ Adam choked out, and when he offered no further explanation, Seth shuffled from foot to foot uncomfortably. There was a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach but seeing that the master was in no mood to expand on his explantion he said quietly, ‘Well, I’ll get away back up to me missus then, sir. Should I be able to get you anythin’, just give me a shout, eh?’

‘Can you give me a clear conscience, Seth?’

Adam raised his head to look into the man’s perplexed face and then laughed softly. A cold bitter laugh that made the hairs on Seth’s arms stand to attention. ‘No, I thought not – so get away to your family and thank the Lord that you have them.’

Seth hovered for a moment, staring into the man’s strained face before turning slowly and making his way back upstairs. Something was afoot this evening and he had an awful premonition that whatever it was, it was going to have repercussions on all of them.