The Ribbon Weaver

Chapter Thirty-Five



Gazing from her late mother’s bedroom window, Amy looked at an enormous tent that was in the process of being erected in the grounds of Forrester’s Folly. It would house the deluge of guests that had been invited to the wedding in just two weeks’ time. Two weeks’ time! Amy could hardly believe it; the weeks had slipped by so quickly since the last time she had seen François in London – late last year. But soon she would see him every single day. Raising her eyes, she looked towards the woods and above the treetops spied the chimneypots of the beautiful new house her grandfather had had built for them.

It was small in comparison to Forrester’s Folly, but elegant, and Amy loved every room in it; she was still marvelling at how quickly the builders had managed to complete it. It had been finished less than two months ago and since then she had been busily furnishing it to her taste, which was simple by most standards.

After their two-week bridal tour of the Lake District following the wedding, she and François would reside there with Molly for the most part of each year. It had taken a great deal of persuasion to get Molly to agree to leave her beloved little cottage, and the fact that she had, only made Amy love her all the more, although she knew deep down that Molly was not happy about it. But her health was failing fast now and she had finally had to acknowledge the fact that she could not live alone without being a burden to Bessie, and Molly couldn’t bear the thought of that. Whilst Amy and François were away following the wedding, Molly had reluctantly agreed to have her few meagre possessions transported to her new home and she would be waiting for them when they arrived home. Nancy and Billy were due to arrive in a few days’ time, and they too would be taking up residence in the new house as Nancy had managed to persuade Billy that it would be a brand new start for them.

Stepping away from the window, Amy stood with her hands on her hips critically inspecting the wedding gown that was hanging on the wardrobe door. It was very plain and simple, but she loved it. The heavy satin was so fine that it seemed to shimmer with a life of its own. The top had a low sweetheart neckline and was slightly off the shoulder, with tiny sleeves and a tight-fitting waist, and then the skirt was full with a long train at the back. The only adornment was a row of sequins that were stitched around the neckline, and Amy reminded herself to thank the seamstresses yet again for the wonderful job they had made of it, the very next time she saw them.

Her grandparents had been insistent that this should be a wedding the like of which had not been seen in the town for many a long day, and not wishing to offend them, Amy had been happy to leave most of the preparations to them.

Her biggest regret was that Toby had declined her wedding invitation. He had made the excuse that he would feel like a fish out of water at such a grand affair, but Amy had her own thoughts on the matter. She was aware that he and Annie had been seeing a lot more of each other again over the last few months, and thought that was perhaps the reason he did not wish to attend. His mind was obviously channelled elsewhere nowadays, and the fact irked her more than she cared to admit. Every night for the last month when she had returned home to Molly she had expected to hear that Toby and Annie were going to be wed. The way she saw it, Toby was ready to settle down now, but as yet Molly had said nothing on the subject.

The room she was standing in now had been made ready for her to get changed in on her wedding day, and as she slowly looked around it, she tried to picture her mother Jessica there. After all, it had been her room many years ago. The fact that she had never known her mother still cut deep, although she knew that she could have had no better substitute than Molly. She often visited her mother’s grave and told her of all her worries and concerns and her hopes and dreams, and when she came away she always felt better for the visit.

Now, she glanced for one last time through the window at the men who were scurrying about the enormous tent like industrious little ants before making her way downstairs to the kitchen to see how the cook was getting on with the unenviable task of icing the wedding cake. There were four layers in all, each one slightly smaller than the last, and the cook looked flustered as she refilled the icing bag.

‘It’ll take me a month o’ Sundays to do this,’ she complained, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. ‘Why the mistress wanted one this size I shall never know. There’s enough to feed the whole bloody town here.’

Amy smiled as she passed her and stepped out into the sunshine. Her grandfather had forbidden her from visiting any of the Forrester’s Fashions shops until the wedding was over, and Amy was feeling at a loss. She was so used to being busy that she was slightly concerned about how she would take to being a lady of leisure. François had already informed her that he did not think it was appropriate for her to be visiting any of the businesses after they were married, although he was still keen for her to continue with her designing, which she supposed she should be grateful for.

She was now walking everywhere on her new leg and sometimes even forgot that it was there, until later in the day that was, when it would start to pain her. She still fretted about what François would think when she removed it for the first time on their bridal tour. The stump, although well healed, was not a pretty sight, and that, added to the ugly scar on her face, had taken away all of her newfound confidence. Still, she would think whenever she began to feel sorry for herself, at least I am still here. I could have been lying in the churchyard with my mother and Adam. And this thought always put things into perspective.

Now it seemed there was nothing more to do but wait for the big day to arrive. Josephine had all the arrangements in hand and was flying around like someone demented. Whenever Amy asked if there was anything she could help her with, her grandmother would flap her hand and wave her away, insisting, ‘All I want you to do is rest so that you look beautiful on your wedding day.’

And so Amy drifted about like a lost soul counting the days and the hours until Nancy and Billy were due to arrive.

Nancy was awestruck by her first train journey, and even more so when Amy took her and Billy for a walk around the grounds and she had her first glimpse of The Folly.

‘Why it’s near as big as Buckingham Palace,’ she gasped as she clung on to Billy’s arm. Amy laughed at the exaggeration as she led them round to the stables where Billy was to work as a groom.

Seth welcomed him with a firm handshake and a smile, and Amy knew instantly that they were going to get on. Billy knew absolutely nothing about horses but he was eager to learn, and Amy knew that he had found a good teacher in Seth.

The couple were absolutely thrilled with their living quarters on the second floor of Amy’s new house, and Nancy clapped her hands in delight when she saw all the trouble that Amy had gone to, to furnish the three rooms for them. There were also two further rooms for extra staff should Amy require them, although she very much doubted that would be the case. The further two rooms would serve as a nursery and a schoolroom.

Everything in their living quarters was brand new, and as Nancy had never owned a new stick of furniture in her whole life, it seemed like a palace to her.

Within two days of being there, she felt as if she had lived there forever, and never tired of looking out at the wide-open spaces. It was like living in another world after knowing nothing other than the busy streets of London and she was often heard to remark to anyone who would listen, ‘I reckon I’ve died and gone to ’eaven. But we ’ave to come up wiv a good name fer the place, so what about The Woodlands or Treetops?’

And so she would prattle on as Amy looked on indulgently.

Now that Nancy and Billy were settled, Amy began to look forward to the Laroques arriving. They would be staying at The Folly, and Josephine already had all their rooms ready and waiting for them.

They came on a blistering hot day at the beginning of May and it was instantly obvious that Edwige Laroque was almost as excited as Josephine. She swooned with delight when Josephine showed her the tent, which had now had a beautiful wooden floor laid down for the dancing that would take place after the wedding feast.

‘C’est magnifique!’ she declared, clasping her hands together, and Josephine smiled at the praise as she pointed out the table-plan.

‘But now, am I allowed to have a peep at the bridal gown?’ she asked.

‘Of course,’ Josephine told her. ‘I’m sure Amy would have no objections to me showing it to you.’

The two women wandered back across the lawns and Josephine led her upstairs.

‘Ah, simple yet elegant,’ Madame Laroque said approvingly as she studied the dress. ‘And will Amy be wearing un voile – you know, a veil?’

‘Yes, it’s over there.’

The woman looked towards it and she nodded again. ‘Good, good. It will hide her scar, will it not?’

Josephine bristled as the smile slid from her face. ‘I suppose it will,’ she conceded. ‘Although I think Amy is still beautiful even with the scar.’

‘Oh, but of course she is,’ Madame Laroque said hurriedly, seeing that she had offended her host. ‘But it is such a shame that her face was marked. She was such a beauty before that terrible attack. Still, we should be grateful for small mercies, should we not? At least her hands are undamaged. It would have been a sin, had she not been able to continue designing. My husband assures me that Mademoiselle Aimée is the most talented designer he has ever come across, and he has great plans for her future.’

Josephine smiled. ‘I will agree that Amy is talented. But what will happen if children come along? She may wish to devote her time to them then.’

The woman waved her hand dismissively. ‘Non, non, if this should happen, François would employ a nurse to care for them. In Paris, women of standing do not take on the menial tasks of caring for their enfants.’

‘I see.’ Josephine was concerned. ‘And what about whilst they are tiny and need their mother’s milk?’

‘We employ une nourrice … how do you say? The wet-nurse, who will come in to feed the enfant whenever necessary.’

‘Oh.’ Josephine was horrified as she thought back to when her own two infants had been born. She had treasured every moment she spent with them, and although she had had a nanny for them to see to the more menial tasks like washing and ironing their clothes, she had fed them herself and spent as much time as she could with them. Still, she decided that Amy would decide what she wanted, if and when that day came, and could see no point in upsetting Madame Laroque by airing her own personal views on the subject.

Outside on the lawn, Amy and François were heading for the new house. She was excited at the prospect of showing him their home and could hardly wait to see if he approved of her choice of furnishings.

They skirted the woods, and there it was before them. Amy held her breath as she waited for his first reaction. When it finally came it was not quite what she had hoped for.

‘It is somewhat small, is it not?’ he commented musingly.

Seeing as it was much larger than the whole row of cottages that she had been brought up in, Amy could not agree with him. ‘It’s very spacious inside,’ she assured him. ‘There are five bedrooms as well as the servants’ quarters upstairs, and the kitchen is huge. There is also a study where we can both work and a drawing room and a dining room. I’m sure you will be surprised when we get inside. Nancy and I thought we might christen it Treetops – what do you think?’

François shrugged indifferently and once in the hallway, stood with his hands folded behind his back as he looked around critically. ‘It is, as I thought on first glance, quite small compared to the residences I am used to living in,’ he said. ‘But then we shall be spending the majority of our time living in Paris, so I am sure we will manage very well for the time we are here.’

‘But … I thought we had agreed to spend the majority of the time here.’ Colour had flamed into Amy’s cheeks and he saw that she was not pleased. Not wishing to cause a row before their wedding, he smiled at her charmingly.

‘Let us not quarrel, ma petite. First we shall be married and then we shall worry about trivialities.’

‘But where I live isn’t a triviality, François.’ There was a determined glint in her eye that he had never seen before, and he realised that she had more spirit than he had given her credit for. He had assumed that Amy would be easy to manipulate but now he wasn’t so sure.

‘I have to think of my gran,’ she went on. ‘She is an old lady now, and once she is living here the only person she will have for company when I am absent is Nancy.’

François kept his smile fixed firmly in place although he was beginning to get annoyed. It was bad enough that he had been forced to agree to Molly living with them. Now it seemed she would dictate their comings and goings. Still, he consoled himself. There was an easy way around that problem. Once they were married, Amy could stay here with her gran if she so wished and he would come and go to Paris as he pleased.

Taking her into his arms he slowly kissed her lips for the first time in months and suddenly all her misgivings melted away. No problem was insurmountable and she was sure that they were going to be happy. Relaxed again now, she gave him a guided tour of the rest of the house and now he was nothing but complimentary about it.

It was now less than three days to the wedding and Amy was beginning to feel very nervous.

‘Stop pacin’ up an’ down, will yer,’ Molly told her. ‘My God, at this rate yer’ll be a nervous wreck before the weddin’ day dawns. What’s up wi’ yer anyway?’

‘I don’t know,’ Amy admitted. ‘It’s just nerves, I suppose.’

Molly suddenly stood in front of her and peering closely at her asked, ‘Are yer quite sure as yer want to go through wi’ this, lass? It ain’t too late to change yer mind, yer know.’

Amy snorted. ‘Can you imagine what a scandal it would cause? And what would the Forresters say, after all the money and effort they’ve put into it?’

‘The way I see it, it’d be a nine-day wonder,’ Molly said stoically. ‘While folks are talkin’ about you they’d be leavin’ some other poor bugger alone … An’ as for the Forresters – well, if they loved yer, which I believe they do, they’d want what’s best for yer.’

Amy laughed nervously. ‘Oh, just ignore me, Gran. Every bride has doubts before her wedding, so I believe.’ She began to limp towards the stairs and as Molly watched her go she frowned. Amy was doing really well on her new leg but she could not walk as far now as she had used to, and by the end of each day her limp was visible.

Even now, so close to the big day, Molly could not rid herself of the feeling that François was not the right one for her girl. But then as Molly’s mother had been fond of saying, We all have to learn by us own mistakes. Amy was a grown woman now and old enough to make her own choices, be they right or wrong.