The Buttonmaker’s Daughter. Merryn Allingham
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We have been lucky with the weather.’
‘It would be good to see it,’ she said impulsively.
But then checked herself. Would she go? She found herself looking into a pair of misty green eyes and thought that she might. Her mother would be shocked by such forwardness, and her father disapprove heartily of her mingling with men he considered servants. But the chance of a small adventure was enticing.
She became conscious that Aiden was looking at her in the same intent way that earlier she’d run from, and found herself trying to fill the silence that had grown between them. ‘At least today you can forget about the temple. Sunday must be a day of leisure, even for you.’
He smiled down at her and she grew warm beneath his gaze. ‘Will it be meat and pickles for lunch?’ she gabbled. She’d remembered the supper he’d spoken of and there was something that appealed to her in that simple meal.
‘No, indeed.’ His eyes lit with laughter. ‘On Sunday, Mrs Boxall treats her lodgers to a feast – a leg of lamb at the very least. A trifle singed around the edges, but nevertheless roasted meat. And, if we’re lucky, a slice of Sussex Pond pudding to follow.’
She was about to ask him how such a pudding tasted, when her mother called to her. Whatever had distracted Alice, it was not weighty enough for her to ignore her daughter’s protracted conversation. ‘Elizabeth,’ she called sharply, ‘I need you here.’
She was apologetic. ‘Enjoy your meal, Mr Kellaway.’
‘And yours too, Miss Summer.’
‘Who was that?’ her mother asked, as she reached her side.
‘One of the men working on the temple, Mama. He is apprenticed to Mr Simmonds.’
The information seemed unwelcome. ‘You should not be talking to him for so long,’ Alice scolded. ‘Your place is beside me.’
She felt the familiar wash of suffocation, the familiar burn of annoyance. But any urge to challenge her mother died when Henry Fitzroy and his wife emerged from the church, their son and his tutor a step behind. Dr Daniels was at the rear of the small party. She hadn’t noticed Gilbert in the church, but of course he would have been there. Her young cousin was too small and too quiet, altogether too quiet. She saw her aunt bend her head towards her son, the large plumes on her headdress almost smothering him. Louisa was looking extraordinarily smart, she thought.
‘Greet your uncle and aunt, Elizabeth,’ her mother almost hissed into her ear.
‘Good morning, Uncle Henry, Aunt Louisa,’ she said obediently.
Henry stopped mid-path. ‘Good morning.’ He doffed his hat abruptly and then went to move on.
‘Henry, we need to speak to you.’ Her mother sounded bold. ‘Louisa, you too. On a private matter.’
The doctor by then had drawn level with them and looked surprised, but he bowed a polite farewell and walked on. Louisa, looking equally surprised, hustled away her young son and his instructor, then took up position in the lea of her husband, casting an uneasy eye at him. Elizabeth, too, was uneasy. It looked very much as though another confrontation might be looming – Joshua’s anger over the destruction of his lake still burnt brightly – but surely not on a Sunday and not on consecrated ground.
While she was trying to make sense of the situation, her mother turned back to her. ‘Go and find William,’ she said abruptly.
She blinked. She had never heard Alice sound so commanding. And hadn’t she just been instructed to stay by her mother’s side? ‘Go!’ Alice urged, when her daughter remained where she was.
She gave the slightest shrug of her shoulders and went.
‘What is all this?’ Henry said roughly.
‘We are hoping the unfortunate events of the last few days can be forgotten. Are we not, Joshua?’ Her husband’s marked reluctance to join them had sent her spirits sinking. ‘Are we not?’ she asked again, a little despairingly. At that, he gave the required nod, but without conviction.
Henry drew himself to his full height, his chest resembling a pouter pigeon in full strut. ‘The events, as you term them, Alice, are not in my view the slightest bit unfortunate. They follow from your husband’s determination to purloin water from my estate.’
Joshua took a step forward. ‘The water is as much Summerhayes’ as it is yours,’ he began dangerously.
Alice stepped between them. ‘Please, there has been too much argument already. Henry, you have made your point, I think. We are kin and we should not be quarrelling in this way.’
‘Kinship appears to mean nothing to your husband –’ again her brother refused to use Joshua’s name, ‘– but he would do well to remember the importance of family connections.’
‘Such connections mean a lot to both of us,’ Alice protested, ‘and particularly now.’ She looked across at Joshua. Why wasn’t he helping her? He had promised to play his part, but instead was standing blank faced, a pillar of granite.
Louisa, who until this moment had remained a silent onlooker, suddenly expressed an interest. ‘Why now?’ she asked, glancing up at her husband as though seeking his approval.
She is hoping for scandal, Alice thought. Her sister-in-law might come from a high-born family, but she had always an ear for gossip, with conversation that would fit her for the servants’ hall.
‘We wish to talk to you about Elizabeth,’ Joshua put in unexpectedly. ‘She is your niece, after all.’
‘I’m well aware she is my niece.’ Henry’s chest expanded further. ‘Are you hoping that she will beg me for water, now you are prevented from stealing it?’
The blank face had gone. In its place, Joshua’s lips tightened and Alice could see his knuckles grow white from the effort of keeping his hands at his sides.
‘It is something entirely other. She needs to be married,’ he said tautly. ‘At least, Alice seems to think so.’
‘And we would like her to marry with honour,’ Alice interjected.
‘Ah.’ Henry was beginning to understand.
‘You have the contacts, or so Alice tells me,’ Joshua said loftily. Then, unable to maintain his indifference, the bitterness spilt out. ‘You may have contrived to exclude me from society in a most underhand fashion, but I trust you will not treat your niece as shabbily.’
‘My niece is a lady,’ Henry said deliberately. ‘As is your wife.’ Joshua’s knuckles whitened further. ‘I would naturally treat them as such, and if you are looking for a suitable match for Elizabeth, it may be that I can help.’
Alice could see the calculating look in her brother’s eyes, a look she knew from old. Most often it was accompanied by a charming smile, and Henry could be charming if it gave him advantage. He had charmed Papa into permanent indulgence from the day he was born; even their astringent mother had buckled beneath the onslaught: his concerned brow, his gentle voice, the smile which said it understood. But if you watched him carefully, and his sister always did, his eyes gave him away. Today, he appeared willing to swallow his rancour and agree to find a suitor for Elizabeth because it meant influence, and even greater influence if that suitor were from a distant branch of the family. It was a disturbing prospect but she must swallow her fear and do this for her daughter. The Fitzroys dotted any number of family trees, from the highest aristocracy to the lowest squire, and Henry was the only person likely to produce the right man.
‘That is very good news, is it not?’ She turned to Joshua, but her husband merely grunted.
‘For myself, I think it an admirable idea,’ her sister-in-law offered. ‘Elizabeth lives a secluded