The Ribbon Weaver

Chapter Twenty-Four



With her old heart pounding, Molly stood for some time with her arm tightly about Amy’s shoulders. Then, after taking a deep breath and composing herself as best she could, she nodded towards the old horse-hair sofa and told Mr and Mrs Forrester, ‘You’d better sit yerselves down.’

For a second, it appeared that Mr Forrester was not going to follow her wishes, but then he flicked aside the tails of his coat and sat down next to his wife, his eyes still firmly fixed on Molly.

She herself gently pressed Amy from her before settling into her rocking chair, and Toby instantly took Amy’s hand protectively.

Molly had always feared that this day would come, and now that it had she did not quite know where to start.

A terrible silence settled on the room for some moments broken by Samuel when he said quietly, ‘There is something amiss here.’

He had come prepared to be angry, but strangely now that he was here his anger had faded at the sight of the old woman who obviously adored Amy more than life itself. The dwelling he was in was humble to say the very least, and yet he could not help but be impressed, for everywhere he looked was as neat and tidy as a new pin. It was also very comfortable, with touches of Amy’s impeccable taste evident in the drape of the curtains and the finishing touches about the room. And try as he might, he could not imagine Molly being a thief. She might be working-class but she had an air of quiet dignity and honesty about her. In fact, he realised with a little shock that in many ways she reminded him of his late mother, who had begun her life in a cottage no better than this one.

‘Perhaps if we are honest with each other we may be able to get to the bottom of this,’ he said quietly. ‘And seeing as it was I that barged into your home, perhaps I should be the one to start?’

Molly nodded numbly and after glancing at his wife’s tear-stained face, Mr Forrester sighed and began, ‘Many years ago, when my children were young, my wife and I sent our son to a private school as soon as he was old enough. Naturally, we wanted the very best education for both of our children so Jessica was tutored at home by a governess. When she reached her teens we employed a private tutor for her. His name was Robert Chamberlain and he came highly recommended. He was a very personable young man in his early twenties when I first employed him, and I was more than satisfied with my daughter’s progress under his tuition. Robert was an orphan, but as time went on, he became almost like one of our family.’

Samuel paused to glance at his wife, and when she nodded he gulped deep in his throat and continued, ‘He stayed in my employ for some years and Jessica grew to be extremely fond of him. Perhaps a little too fond, but my wife and I did not see what was staring us straight in the face; she was falling in love with him.’

He stopped again as the memories came flooding back, then pulling himself together with an effort he went on, ‘One evening, Jessica came to me in my study. At that time she was nearly nineteen years old and had turned into a beautiful young woman, in looks as well as in nature. I confess she was the apple of my eye and I had high hopes of a good marriage for her. But that night she dashed all my hopes to the ground when she told me that she was in love with Robert and asked for my permission for them to be married.’

By now Josephine was sobbing softly and he turned to her and gently squeezed her arm. ‘What I did next was unforgivable, for in my ignorance I told her that I would rather see her dead than married to a humble tutor. She pleaded with me to change my mind, but her request had come as such a shock that I refused to be moved. In my rage I told her that I intended to banish Robert from the house the very next day and I forbade her from ever seeing him again. I also told her that if she disobeyed me, then she must go too.’ He visibly shuddered as pictures of that terrible long-ago night flashed in front of his eyes.

‘By the next morning I had calmed down a little,’ he admitted. ‘And so I sent one of the maids to ask both Jessica and Robert to join me in my study. But when she checked their rooms she found them both empty. They had run away together during the night. I was frantic with worry and regret, for I knew by then that I had behaved very foolishly. I scoured the town and all the outlying villages all that day and the next, looking for them – but they were nowhere to be found. It was as if they had disappeared into thin air, and despite all my best efforts, I have never been able to trace them from that day to this.’

His eyes were so full of torment that Molly’s heart went out to him.

‘So, perhaps you will understand now, Mrs Ernshaw, why the sight of Amy wearing Jessica’s locket affected us as it did, and perhaps you will be kind enought to explain to us how you came by it and put us out of our misery?’

Molly lowered her head. It was time to confess to the lie she had lived ever since that fateful Christmas Eve so many years ago. She had no doubt whatsoever that once the truth was told, her relationship with Amy would never be the same again, but what other option was there? The thought of losing this girl, whom she had loved as her own, was more than she could bear, but now the truth could no longer be avoided and so she looked at Amy with all the love she felt for her shining in her eyes.

‘I’m afraid yer won’t like what I’m about to tell yer, my love,’ she whispered brokenly. ‘And I just pray that when I’ve finished, you’ll forgive me for the lies I’ve told yer, for I swear that anything I have ever done was in what I thought was your best interest.’

Wrenching her eyes away from Amy’s she now raised her chin and looked Mr Forrester directly in the eye as she told him, ‘Twenty-two years ago to this very night I was makin’ me way home from the ribbon factory in Abbey Street where I worked. It were a wicked night, much as it is now, wi’ the snow fallin’ thick an’ fast. I was tired out an’ longin’ for me fireside, so I decided to take the short-cut through the parish churchyard. It was as I sheltered in the doorway that I heard a whimper, like someone in pain. I don’t mind tellin’ yer, me heart were in me throat, but after a time I plucked up me courage and ventured nearer – an’ that was when I found this poor young woman who looked to be in a right bad way. She were burnin’ up wi’ fever an’ I thought she must be delirious, ’cos she kept askin’ me to take her baby, though there were no baby to be seen. Anyway, I decided that I would have to run an’ fetch help for her. There were no way I could have carried her, so I set off, after taking the bag at her side, as she insisted. I were hopin’ that there would be somethin’ inside it that would give me an inklin’ as to who she was, so I could contact her kin for her.’

The room was so quiet now that you could have heard a pin drop, and after wetting her dry lips, Molly forced herself to go on. ‘I got back here as quick as I could, an’ then I ran to fetch Bessie, Toby’s mam.’ She cocked her thumb at him. ‘Then, after I’d explained what had happened, Bessie ran all the way back to the church, bless her heart, to see how the poor girl was before she ran to get a doctor for her. But when she got back there the doorway was empty, though how the poor lamb ever managed to walk away, I shall never know, ’cos I would have swore she were knockin’ at heaven’s door.’

Molly paused to dab at her eyes with the hem of her pinnie. She could remember the poor young woman’s face as clear as day.

‘Anyway, when Bessie got back we opened the girl’s bag … an’ that’s when we found Amy. Cold an’ as still as death she was, an’ at first me an’ Bessie thought she was dead, but Bessie worked on her, rubbin’ her little body an’ warmin’ her, an’ eventually she let out a little cry. Then we were up against the problem o’ what we should do with her. There was nothin’ in the bag to tell us who she was ’cept for that locket, a shawl an’ a few clothes. It seemed the only place for her was the workhouse but I couldn’t stand the thought o’ that. After all, the way I saw it, the poor little mite hadn’t asked to be born. So me an’ Bessie got our heads together an’ decided that I should keep her an’ say that she was me daughter’s child. Since afore she could walk she’s allus called me Gran, an’ we’ve been together ever since. As for the locket, I’d forgotten about it until Bessie reminded me. I was going to give it to Amy last year, for her twenty-first but then your late mother, sir, had left her that beautiful necklace.’

She stopped as Amy gawped at her in amazement, and the silence seemed to stretch on forever until Mr Forrester suddenly said, ‘But that still doesn’t explain who the girl in the doorway was, nor how she came to have Jessica’s locket.’

‘I know who she was,’ Josephine whispered and all eyes turned to her. ‘That girl in the doorway was our Jessica.’

‘But why would she be there? And where was Robert?’ Samuel snapped indignantly.

‘I fear we may never know the answer to that question, Samuel,’ his wife told him softly. ‘Unless, God willing, she is still alive somewhere and decides to forgive us and come home one day. But looking beyond that … don’t you see what this means?’

Samuel stared back at her in bewilderment. ‘No, I don’t.’

‘Look at Amy, Samuel! Who does she remind you of, in both looks and nature? Can’t you see it? If that poor girl in the church doorway was Jessica, then Amy must be our granddaughter. Haven’t we always said how much she reminds us of our daughter?’

Samuel blinked as he stared at Amy’s astounded face and the tears began to roll unashamedly down his cheeks. Of course, Josephine must be right. Amy had the same auburn hair, the same dark eyes, even the same nature as his beloved daughter, which would probably account for why he and his wife had always felt so drawn to her.

Samuel then addressed Amy, saying ‘If you are in fact our granddaughter, my dear, perhaps you would like to come home with us?’

Amy kept her arm wrapped about her gran’s shoulders.

‘This is my home,’ she told him firmly and ever the peacemaker, Josephine caught his arm.

‘She is quite right, Samuel. And now I think we should leave. We all have a lot to think about, and we also have a houseful of guests back at The Folly.’

‘Of course.’ Instantly repentant, Samuel looked at Amy. ‘Perhaps you could call at The Folly tomorrow and we can discuss this further? Mrs Ernshaw, I know it will be Christmas Day, but could you spare her for a couple of hours tomorrow? I can send the carriage at three o’clock. Amy, will you come?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Oh, I think we could dispense with the “sir” now, don’t you? In future you can call me—’

‘Samuel!’

‘Yes, my dear.’ Samuel meekly followed his wife to the door and after flashing one last smile towards his newfound granddaughter, the couple were about to go on their way when Molly spoke up feebly.

‘The bag,’ she said, almost at the end of her strength. ‘Amy, love – your poor mother’s bag – the one we found yer in. It’s still up in the attic where it’s been these many years, with the clothes yer were wrapped in still inside it. Them clothes rightly belong to yer new grandparents, pet, an’ so does the bag. Happen they’ll like to have it – so run up an’ fetch it, eh, like the good girl you are.’ She wiped her eyes again on her pinnie, before going on, ‘It’s a tapestry bag, love – you’ll see it in the corner.’

Without another word, Amy ran lightly up the stairs and the four people waiting below heard her move around above as she climbed into the attic; there was a silence, and then, more slowly this time, her footsteps came back down the stairs.

Reappearing in the doorway, Amy had a smudge of dust on her pale cheeks, and she had caught a corner of her evening dress on something in her haste, and ripped it. Advancing towards Josephine Forrester, she held out the bag, her heart too full for speech.

For a second, the woman hid her face in her husband’s jacket, before taking a shuddering breath and opening the tapestry bag. One by one, she produced the items within – the pretty blouse and well-worn black skirt, the blue silk shawl … and her sobs were heart-rending as she choked out, ‘These are hers – these are Jessica’s! Dear God, I want my daughter back! Samuel, where is she, where is she?’

Taking hold of his wife’s shoulders, Samuel held her while she cried, then led her gently out of the cottage and into the swirling snow. The sound of her grief could still be heard as the carriage rolled away into the night.

As soon as they had gone, Toby also sidled towards the door. ‘I reckon you two could do wi’ some time on yer own,’ he said, thoughtful as ever, and Amy nodded at him gratefully as he slipped away, closing the cottage door softly behind him.

‘Whyever didn’t you tell me all this before, Gran?’ she whispered.

‘’Cos I wanted you to feel that you belonged,’ Molly answered weakly. The evening’s events had taken their toll on her. ‘But just think who you really are. The Forresters will want you to move in wi’ them now.’

‘The Forresters have been very good to me and I am very fond of them,’ Amy told her truthfully. ‘But you are still my gran in my eyes, and you always will be. Things will go on as before.’

Molly nodded, but deep inside she wondered, would they?

The Forresters arrived home to find the party in full swing. The musicians were playing a romantic waltz and the noise of talk and laughter was loud. The guests were still having a wonderful time. By contrast, the atmosphere in the hall was extremely unpleasant.

Seeing his son there, Samuel burst out with: ‘Adam, you will never believe what has happened! Amy was wearing your sister’s locket this evening, and when we went to question Molly Ernshaw as to where she had got it, she told us the most extraordinary tale. I will explain it all in detail later, but the outcome of it is that young Amy is actually your niece – can you believe that? She is your sister’s child. Which means that Jessica might still be alive somewhere, so—’

He fell silent as he saw the plump figure of his daughter-in-law Eugenie standing on the staircase wrapped in a warm cloak with a suitcase at her feet. She had heard every word he had said.

‘So, the brown-eyed girl will remain,’ she snarled, her lips curled back from her teeth. ‘Well, I hope she rots in hell. But then I should have expected no more of this family. You all came from the gutter and you shall return to it, if I have my way. My father always told me that I could do better for myself than marry into the Forresters and their vulgar life in trade, and now I wish that I had listened to him.’

‘What’s going—’

Adam held up his hand to stay his father’s words. ‘Eugenie is leaving, now that the coach is back,’ he said, and Samuel saw that his face was drawn and anxious.

‘He’s turning me out – like a common parlourmaid,’ Eugenie spat to her astounded in-laws.

‘And not a second before time,’ her husband told her coldly. ‘Now kindly leave, and may I never have to look on your face again.’

‘You are going to regret this night for as long as you live.’ She gathered her cloak about her and sailed out into the night as Adam sagged against the wall. This was certainly turning out to be a Christmas Eve that they would all remember for the rest of time.

Over the next weeks, as 1852 was left behind, the scandalous news of Amy’s true identity swept through the town like wildfire, and sometimes she wondered if life would ever be the same again. She was now acknowledged as Amy Elizabeth Hannah Forrester. Her newfound grandparents had already seen their lawyer and included her in their Will, and she was suddenly related to one of the wealthiest men in the country.

Her mother’s old room at The Folly had been prepared for her and was kept ready for her at all times, but up until now Amy had not used it once. Molly’s hacking cough had returned with a vengeance and, true to her word, Amy had remained at the cottage with her.

In many ways it had been a bittersweet time for all of them, each and every one had all had a lot to come to terms with, not least of all Adam, whose disastrous marriage was now well and truly over, all but for the marriage certificate that stated otherwise. Eugenie had returned to her father’s stately home on the borders of Leicestershire, and rumour had it that she was turning into a hopeless drunk. Adam himself was not surprised, he had seen it coming for a long, long time, but even so his parents were concerned about him because he seemed to have slipped into a deep depression. He had said little about the connection with Amy, and still treated her respectfully when they met, but Samuel and Josephine had noticed that he seemed to be taking to his room more and more, as if he was avoiding her. They briefly wondered if he was concerned at having to share his inheritance with her, but quickly dismissed the idea. It was not in Adam’s nature to be avaricious. They eventually decided that it could only be the break-up of his marriage that was affecting him. After all, they still remembered only too well how obsessed he had once been with Eugenie, and so they left him to his own devices.

Samuel was pleased to see that Josephine loved having a granddaughter, and there seemed to be a spring in her step once more, once she had recovered from the revelations of Christmas Eve. But he knew it wasn’t just due to the girl. Josephine was now firmly convinced that Jessica was still alive somewhere, and had once again begun to hope that one day, they would all be reunited. She had contacted Mr Burrows, the private detective they had employed many years ago when Jessica first went missing, and informed him about Amy, urging him to resume his search for Jessica and assuring him that money was no object.

Because of the circumstances which had brought Amy into her life, neither Samuel nor Josephine had ever once blamed Molly for keeping the secret of Amy’s birth, not for a single second. They accepted that she had only acted in what she had thought were the best interests of the child and had a huge admiration for her. They had offered her, as well as Amy, a home within Forrester’s Folly, and when she refused that, they again offered her a cottage in the grounds. But Molly refused to leave her home and they bowed to her wishes with good grace.

Of them all it was Amy’s life that had changed the most, and sometimes she found herself in a total state of confusion. The Forresters had begged her to refer to them as Grandmama and Grandfather, and this she tried to do whenever she could remember to. But mostly out of habit she would find herself addressing them as sir and ma’am, at which they would smile and gently correct her. From choice, she still accompanied her grandfather on his business trips to London, but he would no longer allow her to work as many hours as before. It never ceased to amuse her when the seamstresses and the staff in the townhouse in Sloane Street addressed her as Miss Amy, respectful of her newfound status. All that is except Nancy, who would never be able to think of her as anyone but the girl she had befriended. This more than suited Amy, who was finding it all rather overwhelming.

Her grandfather had written to Monsieur Laroque, who was delighted to hear of Amy’s true heritage. François’s letters had slowed somewhat lately, but now they began to come again with regularity, and his father had high hopes of the two families becoming united through the two young people. After all, Amy was now an heiress in her own right and a supremely suitable bride for his son.