The Flower Seller - Linda Finlay

Скачать книгу

      ‘Least I can add up, and the word is properly anyway,’ William retorted, but Isabella could tell by the way his face flushed that he was embarrassed.

      ‘That’s enough,’ his father said, banging his fist down on the table. ‘We’ve got enough to do without bickering. Alice and Thomas, you will get up an hour earlier every day to help Mother with the chores then pick the extra flowers we’ll be growing.’ This was met with groans but their father ignored them.

      ‘Mother, Dotty, and you girl – for the time you are here,’ he added as Isabella opened her mouth to protest, ‘will have extra flowers to pack. And as Dotty will be out more, you can watch how Mother prepares our meals then take over in the kitchen. I’m sure even you can manage to make brewis,’ he added.

      ‘What?’ Isabella gasped.

      ‘Of course she can, Father,’ her aunt said quickly, smiling encouragingly at Isabella.

      ‘As long as you remember to use the crusts and not just the bread,’ William smirked. Knowing it would be foolish to retaliate, Isabella bit her tongue. When he realized she wasn’t rising to the bait, William turned to his father. ‘So, what will you be doing then?’

      ‘Managing the extra orders and invoices. Then after supper I’ll spend the evenings propagating and bringing on fresh plants. Give Furneaux something to really compete with. Now, to work,’ he said, getting to his feet and pulling on his hat.

      Isabella watched him go then glanced at the clock. It wasn’t yet 5.30 a.m. and yet she felt as if she’d been up for ever. She’d go upstairs and write to Maxwell and Papa. There was no way she could stay here with this strident man and his strict routine. As for the food, she thought, glaring down at her bowl . . . why, she’d seen Cook put better offerings in the pig swill.

      As the family carried out their father’s wishes, knowing her presence on the small holding was temporary, Isabella tried her best to fit in. While she applauded her uncle’s determination and tenacity, she was still smarting from the way he’d spoken to her on their journey back from Starcross. If he noticed her coolness he ignored it, treating her the same as the others during the day, then disappearing through the door at the end of the barn after supper each evening.

      ‘What’s through there?’ Isabella asked her aunt as they stood side by side bunching up the violets a few days later. Dotty, wearing her best bonnet, had departed earlier for the big house, a large willow basket filled with flowers over her arm, and the letters she’d promised Isabella she’d post in her pocket.

      ‘That’s Father’s domain,’ she replied. ‘He’s bringing on a new strain of plant. Between you and me, it’s a bit risky financially but very exciting. He’s keeping it under his hat so nobody’s allowed inside.’

      ‘You don’t mind him taking a chance with your money?’ Isabella asked, thinking of all the shabby things in the house that needed replacing. The woman chuckled.

      ‘Once Father gets something in his mind, there’s no stopping him. He’s no fool, though. Put everything into this market garden, he has, and if he wants to expand the range of flowers he can offer, who am I to stand in his way?’ Isabella nodded and concentrated on tying up the posies, but as she worked her mind was busy processing what her aunt had told her. Finally, she had to ask the question that was uppermost in her mind.

      ‘Auntie, when I arrived here, I handed Uncle an envelope from Papa that I’m guessing contained money for my keep?’ Her aunt stared at her in surprise.

      ‘He never mentioned it, but then he’s had a lot on his mind,’ she frowned. ‘Not that we expected anything for having you here. You’re family, after all.’

      ‘Thank you, Auntie,’ she replied, touched by the woman’s kindness. The more she thought it about it, though, the more she was convinced that the envelope would have contained money. Quite a lot too, judging by the thickness of it. Could her uncle have kept it for himself? Perhaps to purchase these new flowers?

      ‘Oh, well done, dear. You’re really getting the hang of this now, aren’t you?’

      Isabella stared down at the posy she’d been fashioning and, with a jolt, realized it was true. All the flower heads were facing the same way and she’d even managed to tie their stems neatly with raffia. Feeling ridiculously pleased by her aunt’s praise, she beamed and started on another one. It was peaceful in the barn and, as the boxes filled up, she was proud to see the progress she was making. All thought of money forgotten, she let out a sigh of contentment.

      ‘Enjoying yourself?’ her aunt asked.

      ‘I am actually,’ Isabella replied, surprised to find it was true. ‘It’s so calm in here, although I still find it funny that you can’t smell any of the flowers after a while.’

      ‘Father might have a scientific reason for that, but I like to think it’s nature playing one of her jokes on us. I must admit, it’s a good time for thinking. Flowers don’t criticize or judge, do they?’ her aunt said, giving Isabella a wink. ‘And it’s rewarding to see the results of your labours, isn’t it?’

      ‘It is, but you must get tired with everything else you have to do. What with looking after your house and Grandmother’s, taking care of the family and teaching me to cook, you never have a moment to yourself, Aunt Mary.’

      ‘And why would I want one? My family and home mean everything to me, Isabella,’ she said.

      ‘But you don’t have any hired help,’ Isabella protested. Her aunt smiled.

      ‘It might surprise you to know that I take a pride in running both homes and bringing up the children. I was raised in an orphanage, you see.’ Isabella stared at her aunt in surprise. ‘Oh, we were well looked after, but with thirty of us sharing a dormitory and all our clothes cast-offs and hand-me-downs, I soon learned what mattered in life. Having my own home and family is like a dream come true.’

      ‘Goodness, I never realized,’ Isabella murmured, her eyes widening in shock. ‘Didn’t you know your parents at all?’ Her aunt shook her head.

      ‘I was left in a chapel porch on Dartmoor. Still, I thank my lucky stars whoever abandoned me knew I’d soon be found by folk that cared. They made enquiries but . . . ,’ she shrugged. ‘Anyhow, at least I was placed in a home . . . of sorts, anyhow,’ she added.

      ‘That’s terrible,’ Isabella frowned.

      ‘Your uncle’s the best thing that ever happened to me.’

      ‘How did you meet?’ Isabella asked.

      ‘I was in service at a big house on the edge of Moretonhampstead and met him at the town market on my half day. We got talking and just sparked. Couldn’t believe it when he called the next day and asked my employer if he would agree to my having a follower. Always been a man who knows his own mind, has Frederick,’ she smiled. ‘After we wed, he brought me back here with him.’

      ‘How romantic,’ Isabella gushed, feeling a sharp pang that her own plans for the future had been deferred.

      ‘Don’t mind me and my ruminations, dear,’ her aunt said quickly. The rosy flush staining her cheeks made her look softer somehow, and Isabella realized she wasn’t as old as she’d thought.

      ‘But I’d like to know more,’ she protested, seeing this as an ideal time to discover something about her own family. ‘Did you know you’d have to look after Grandmother as well?’ Isabella asked, pausing mid-posy.

      ‘Of course. Father told me about the shock . . . ,’ her voice trailed off and she quickly resumed her counting. Isabella wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass, though.

      ‘Am I right in guessing it had something to do with my mother?’

      ‘Well . . . ,’ her

Скачать книгу