“I am not so very good at picturing things,”
Miss Helen admitted doubtfully. She looked at her grandmother rather apprehensively, as that woman commented disparagingly on each of the bonnets Mr. Dean produced for her inspection.
“Yes, it is especially difficult when there are so many items about,”
Felicia agreed, to recapture the girl’s attention. “Let me show you what I have in mind.”
She walked purposefully to a counter strewn with ribbons of all colors and widths and selected a rose-red of two-inch width. She gathered up a scissors as well and returned to the little group, aware that the old woman’s piercing eyes were now on her. Felicia grasped the bonnet firmly and wound the ribbon round the base of the crown and arranged a large double bow on the left. She snipped the ends so that they trailed well below the bonnet and stood back, her head to one side considering her creation. “Yes, that is more what I had in mind,”
she mused.
Miss Helen was contemplating the bonnet rapturously and her hands twitched in their desire to reach for it. Felicia asked, “Shall we try it on you?”
Without waiting for the girl’s response and ignoring the old woman’s deprecating snort, she placed the bonnet on the dark brown curls. She tied the ends carefully under Miss Helen’s chin, nodded her approval, and took the girl to a large mirror to see the charming picture she made. “The bonnet matches your dress admirably. Have you others it would be well with?”
“Oh, yes, for this rose-red is my favorite color. I do love the bonnet!”
She turned beseechingly to her grandmother and asked prettily, “May I have it, Grandmother? It is excessively pretty.”
Lady Stronbert grudgingly admitted that the bonnet was becoming, but she seemed to hesitate over buying it. Miss Helen did not cozen or cajole her, but waited patiently for her decision.
Felicia remarked, “It will only take me a moment to tack down the ribbon. Shall I do that while you make your decision?”
She untied the ribbon under the girl’s chin and lifted the bonnet carefully from her curls. Miss Helen watched the bonnet being removed in the mirror and schooled her countenance to accept what she feared must be inevitable. Her grandmother had the most awkward habit of refusing to purchase even those items she wanted, just out of perversity.
“Young lady, there is no need to tack down the ribbon. We will not be purchasing the bonnet,”
Lady Stronbert called after Felicia.
Felicia turned calmly to the speaker and said kindly, “Oh, I had intended to decorate it with a ribbon in any case, Lady Stronbert. As well now as another time. Surely the next young woman to come looking for a bonnet will find it more interesting for the bit of color.”
She noticed the suspicion of a tear in Miss Helen’s eye and minutely shook her head, at which the girl blinked her eyes and raised her chin firmly. Felicia rewarded her with a smile.
Lady Stronbert was disconcerted by Felicia’s reply. She had really wanted to make the purchase, but her uncertain temper had been aroused by the ease with which Felicia had changed the plain bonnet into a delightful confection. She was herself totally unable to understand the niceties of fashion; she could see an item worn and feel that it was elegant, but she was unable to duplicate the exercise in her own clothes. She knew that people thought she dressed ridiculously, and she did. Lady Stronbert was accordingly jealous of those with the facility to accomplish what she could not.
She turned now to find her grandson, who had chosen some handkerchiefs under Mr. Allerton’s direction. Although her temper was even higher because she realized she had disappointed her granddaughter, she made no demur at the selection and had the parcel wrapped and given to the maid. Felicia had not returned with the bonnet, and Lady Stronbert quickly shepherded her party out the door as she promised to buy them a special tea. Miss Helen gave a last, lingering look toward the rear of the shop where Felicia had disappeared and followed in her grandmother’s wake.
Mr. Dean sighed and Mr. Allerton wiped his brow. Alicia could not help but note these signs and asked, “Does Lady Stronbert always cause such a commotion when she shops?”
“Yes, it is ever the same,”
Mr. Dean remarked. “I would not have you think that it is only this shop she seems to hold in aversion. It is the same everywhere she goes. Poor Miss Helen. Your daughter is adept at decorating the bonnets, Lady Coombs. I myself have long passed the point where I can understand what is in fashion.”
“Yes, Felicia has a certain knack and had already agreed to work on some of them for me. I had not intended...well, never mind. Shall we continue with the books?”
Felicia arrived then with the finished bonnet and set it carefully on the shelf. An inspection of the other bonnets there showed a half dozen she felt could stand improvement, and she lifted them down. Each one was then taken to the ribbons and laces and she selected those items she would need for her work. Before she left the shop she poked her head into the doorway of the office to inform her mother that she would be at the inn. Her mother smiled her appreciation and returned to her work.
An hour later Mr. Dean was obviously too fatigued to continue and she urged him to return to the cottage. As she could not continue the work without his assistance, she wandered into the shop and explored the smaller room while Mr. Allerton waited on some customers in the front. She was surprised to see Miss Helen enter again, this time accompanied by a man who looked vaguely familiar, perhaps because the girl resembled him somewhat. As Alicia approached them, the girl burst into speech, “We have come back to purchase the bonnet! Papa said over tea that it would be a shame if someone else were to have it, when it was fixed especially for me.”
Her countenance glowed with her delight.
“Lady Coombs?”
The man spoke lazily and Alicia immediately recognized his voice. And that was why he had looked familiar; she had caught a hurried glimpse of him as she had slapped Mr. Parker. She felt a flush rise to her cheeks.
“Yes. Lord Stronbert? I am pleased to meet you. Come, Miss Helen, you shall put on the bonnet for your father and see if he approves of it.”
She led the girl to the shelf and lifted down the bonnet with steady hands, but inwardly she was quaking. The shame she had felt at her behavior at the fair had not left her. She arranged the bonnet on the brown curls and tied the ribbon in a bow under the girl’s chin.
Miss Helen did a little dance step and smiled beguilingly up at her father, who had positioned himself a short distance away. “Well, Papa, shall I have it?”
she asked mischievously.
“Certainly, imp. It is enchanting.”
His eyes sought Alicia. “I understand you added the ribbon.”
“No, no, Papa. It was Lady Coombs’s daughter. Am I right, ma’am? She is your daughter, is she not?”
Miss Helen asked anxiously.
“Indeed she is.”
Lord Stronbert regarded her with a puzzled frown. “You are perhaps purchasing the shop from Mr. Dean?”
Alicia occupied herself untying the bonnet as she replied, “Yes. The purchase is almost completed, and Mr. Dean is teaching me the workings. He intends to leave shortly for Cornwall.”
“Shall you live in his cottage?”
Miss Helen asked curiously.
“Yes, we have bought the cottage as well,”
Alicia replied. She took the bonnet over to the counter and began to wrap it, then paused to ask, “Would you rather wear this one and have me wrap yours?”
“Yes, please. You would not mind, would you, Papa?”
“Certainly not.”
His clear brown eyes watched Alicia as she made the exchange and continued the wrapping. Whatever could have induced this young woman to purchase a shop, he wondered. Surely Sir Frederick could not have left her that badly off. “You did not choose to stay at the Grange?”
he asked abruptly.
Alicia raised snapping eyes to his. “I had no choice, though it can certainly be of no interest to you.”
She noticed that she had discomfited the girl by her sharp response and turned to her to say with a smile, “Felicia did not tell me who won the race.”
“I did,”
Miss Helen replied proudly, “though Matthew’s horse stumbled.”
“Well, that is fair enough. I think he must be older than you are.”
“He is twelve and I am but turned ten.”
“So old,”
Alicia laughed. “Do you have your own horse?”
“Oh, yes, Papa gave her to me on my eighth birthday. I hope you can see her one day. She has the most perfect manners,”
Miss Helen confided.
“I hope I shall. And I hope you will be happy with your bonnet,”
Alicia said by way of farewell.
Lord Stronbert turned to his daughter and said, “Run along and catch up Miss Carson, imp. I shall be along in a moment.”
He watched her as she obediently danced out of the shop, a tender expression on his face. His own countenance had adopted a certain gravity when he spoke to Alicia. “I wish to apologize, Lady Coombs. It was rude of me to question you on your private life.”
A slow smile spread over his features. “And I should not like to suffer Parker’s fate at your hands.”
“Your friend was insulting, Lord Stronbert. But I am ashamed that I should have acted so violently.”
Alicia could not share his obvious amusement. “I had hoped that in leaving the Scarborough area we might start fresh, but I suppose there will always be those Parkers around to see that it is not possible.”
She did not meet his eyes during this comment but played instead with the wedding ring on her finger.
“I pray you will acquit me of friendship with Mr. Parker. I am no more than the merest acquaintance,”
he replied lightly. “May I wish you success in your venture, Lady Coombs?”
Alicia raised her face then, a firm smile imprinted on it. “Thank you, sir. I hope we may continue to serve you.”
“I am sure of it,”
he drawled. “Though my mother is difficult to please, even she has found no substitute for Mr. Dean’s. Good day, Lady Coombs.”
“Good day, Lord Stronbert.”
He bowed to her gravely and walked off with a careless grace. Alicia sighed and moved over to Mr. Allerton. “I think we should discuss your wages, Mr. Allerton. Much more will be required of you under my management, I fear, and I should like to compensate you proportionately.”
“Mr. Dean makes me a very handsome wage, Lady Coombs,”
he replied, embarrassed.
“It may have been adequate for what you have been doing, but my inexperience will lay a burden on you which I intend to recompense. And, Mr. Allerton, I had thought to keep Felicia out of the shop as much as possible. She is not used to this kind of life and will have matters enough to handle, I cannot doubt.”
Alicia was beginning to feel the strain of her first day in the shop. “I think I should like to leave now, Mr. Allerton. You will not mind finishing alone and locking up, will you?”
“Not at all, Lady Coombs. I do it often,”
he reassured her.
As she wandered down the street to the inn, Alicia was so engrossed in her own thoughts that she did not notice the gentleman approaching her. A firm hand on her elbow stayed her and she looked up, startled. There was no one she less wanted to see than Francis Tackar with his arrogant, cold brown eyes, his carefully tended curly brown hair, and his determined jaw. Although not much above her own height, he was powerfully built and the sight of him made her shiver. She struck his hand from her elbow and eyed him frigidly.
“The elusive Lady Coombs comes to light and in the guise of a shopkeeper, I hear at the inn,”
he remarked insolently.
“I have nothing to say to you, sir,”
Alicia stated flatly and made to pass on.
“But I have something to say to you, dear lady.”
His eyes wandered insinuatingly over her body. “Coming out of mourning, I see. Tsk. Tsk. That hardly shows the proper respect for Sir Frederick.”
Alicia had a maddening desire to slap his smugly handsome face but remembered yesterday’s occurrence too vividly. Instead she walked away from him toward the inn. He followed her and spoke confidently. “It had not occurred to me, I must admit, that you might not desire the arrangement I suggested in the neighborhood where you had friends. No matter. I can as well provide an arrangement for you here under the same terms.”
Alicia stopped and glared at him. “Mr. Tackar, it has obviously not occurred to you that I do not intend to accept your ‘arrangement’
at any time or place or on any terms. I detest you. You insult me by your very presence. Just stay away from me.”
“Alicia, Alicia, you are overwrought! You cannot have thought of the advantages I can provide for you. Sir Frederick did not leave you very well off, I know. I was one of the few who knew how he had left matters in his will because he foolishly bragged of it in his cups one night.”
“And so you killed him!”
Alicia’s voice was rigid with contempt.
“It was a duel,”
he snapped, “and a fair fight.”
“You killed him,”
she repeated.
“He was not so very handy with a pistol,”
he rejoined smugly. “Why should you care? He did nothing but disgrace and impoverish you.”
“I was not impoverished until his death.”
“But I assure you that you need be no longer.”
Alicia fled from him then, into the inn and straight up to her room. She found her daughter at the window. Felicia turned with a troubled frown and said, “Did Mr. Tackar upset you again, Mama? What does he want? Why has he followed us here?”
Alicia dropped into a chair and tossed her hat on the bed. “Lord, child, if I could explain that. Mr. Tackar is a detestable man and I hope you will avoid him always.”
“But he bought Katterly Grange for more than it was worth,”
her daughter protested.
“Nevertheless he did it only to make us beholden to him. I refuse to be so.”
Alicia did not wish to pursue the subject and said more calmly, “You will be pleased to hear that Miss Helen returned to the shop, this time with her father, and purchased the bonnet.”
“I am glad. Her grandmother is a harridan, is she not?”
“Yes, rather,”
Alicia said with a grin. “Show me what you have been doing.”
Felicia brought over the two hats she had finished, and illustrated for her mother how she intended to liven up the others. “It will take no time at all, and I think they will be much more likely to sell when they are finished.”