The Shoemaker's Daughter (33 page)
‘Yes, but tradesmen go to the back door,’ she said snootily.
‘It’s all right.’ Craig stood in the hallway, a drink in his hand, his collar casually open at the broadness of his throat and Will could see why all the women fell in love with this man. Still, toff he might be and handsome with it, but Craig Grenfell would never be good enough to lick Hari’s shoes.
‘It’s about the last batch of orders.’ Will stepped into the hallway. ‘Mrs Morris is not sure what you want to do with them.’
Craig led the way into the huge drawing-room that shone with sunlight and smelled of beeswax.
‘Do?’ Craig’s eyebrows rose. ‘I assume she will honour the contract made with these customers.’
Will felt his hackles rise. ‘Mrs Morris is so honourable that she thinks you might want to take the orders for yourself,’ he said acidly.
Craig inclined his head. ‘I see and I apologize.’ He moved to the table and poured himself a drink. He glanced at Will and smiled.
‘Like one?’ he asked and Will realized the gesture was one of conciliation but he knew his place and shook his head.
Craig sank into a chair. ‘You may tell Mrs Morris that I shall be pleased if she will make the boots and shoes as arranged and in the future I will ensure that any customers who wish to do so will get in touch with her direct.’
Will felt elated, that meant they would still have business coming in from all parts of the country, Hari’s business was safe.
‘Thank you, Mr Grenfell,’ he said feeling more kindly disposed towards the man. ‘I’ll go back and tell Hari, Mrs Morris, at once.’
‘You are a bright young man, Will,’ Craig said thoughtfully, ‘you really should be educated properly, then you would be a real asset to Hari.’
‘I can read and write well enough,’ Will said huffily, ‘and I can count and do sums.’
Craig smiled. ‘I realize that but, if you wish, come up here to see me on the weekends and I will teach you how to do bookkeeping and make proper accounts.’
The thought of this fount of extra knowledge was irresistible to Will, but he would do nothing behind Hari’s back.
‘Do you mind if I let you know?’ he asked, aware that his voice was stiff.
Craig inclined his head and moved once more to the side table and, from the dismissive set of the man’s shoulders, Will knew that the interview was at an end.
He felt almost triumphant as he made his way back to town. The familiar sights of the streets, the open-fronted fish stalls and the crowded windows of the grocery stores were lost on him as he envisaged a future which included reading informative books, adding up columns of figures as he’d often seen Hari do and learning something new excited him.
Hari was alone and just finishing off a pair of slippers when he returned to the workshop in the High Street. She sewed on the last bead and then sat back and stared at him, her eyes shrewd.
‘Well, what have you got to tell me, Will? Are we to make up the orders or does Craig want them for himself and Emily?’
‘It’s all off there, Hari, they’ve had a fight, no marriage, no business. We can fill the orders and Mr Grenfell is telling the customers to get in touch with you instead of him.’
‘Is that right?’ If Hari was surprised by the revelation, she didn’t show it. ‘And?’
Will smiled. ‘I can’t hide anything from you, can I?’ He sat down on the bench beside her.
‘Mr Grenfell is willing to teach me, bookkeeping, all sorts of things.’
‘What do you feel about it?’ Hari asked and Will sighed heavily.
‘I could wish for nothing better but I wouldn’t agree until I’d spoken to you, if you don’t want me to have anything to do with him, then I’ll say no.’
‘That’s my boy!’ Hari squeezed his arm. ‘But I want you to say yes.’ She rose and placed her hands on her back and straightened slowly.
‘Why?’ Will asked, excitement flaring through him.
‘Because I know Craig has a lot to offer you and you would be foolish to turn it down. Knowledge is very precious, Will, and you are young enough to make full use of any you can get.’
‘I’m glad you think that because I didn’t, want to be disloyal to you.’
‘You couldn’t be disloyal if you tried. Now, Will, we’ll pack up for today, I think I’ve worked long enough, the men went off home an hour ago.’
Will was concerned by Hari’s pallor. ‘Sit by there, Hari,’ he said quickly, ‘you’re not walking back to Chapel Street, I’m calling a cab.’
As he sat beside Hari in the cab, staring unseeingly into the now-darkening streets, Will felt exhilarated, full of hope and ambition for the future. With Mr Craig Grenfell’s help, he would turn into a knowledgeable gentleman and then there would be no stopping him.
Hari was glad to get indoors and to make her way to the small sitting-room of the house in Chapel Street and just sink into a chair.
Edward entered the room and smiled down at her. ‘You are looking pale, my girl, working too hard will do you no good, not now that you are going to be a mother.’
‘I know.’ She took his hand and held it against her cheek. ‘But at least I’ve had some good news today, the orders Craig got for us, he’s letting us keep them.’ She drew him down beside her.
‘It seems Craig and Emily won’t be getting married after all,’ she continued, ‘it’s off and so is the business merger.’
Edward regarded her silently for a moment. ‘Does that mean he’ll want to be involved in your business now?’
Hari shook her head emphatically. ‘No! There is not a chance of that, I wouldn’t have it.’
Edward sighed. ‘I’m very glad of that, it always made me vaguely uneasy to have Craig around here too much.’
‘He did make a very kind suggestion,’ Hari said quickly, not wanting to consider the implications of Edward’s remark too closely. ‘He says he will teach Will some lessons and I’ve advised Will to take up the offer.’
‘I could have done that,’ Edward said at once. ‘True I didn’t attend such an illustrious college as Craig but I’m reasonably well educated.’
‘Of course,’ Hari said quickly, ‘but you’ll have enough to do with our own child.’
Edward’s face softened. ‘Of course I will, how stupid of me.’ He leaned over and kissed Hari’s cheek. ‘I still can’t believe it, not even with the visible signs that you are at last putting on weight.’
Hari was grateful for one thing, that Edward had moved into the spare room, he took her condition very seriously and feared his passions would run away with his sense of responsibility, he had no desire to endanger their child.
‘Coming up to bed?’ Edward said gently. ‘I’m feeling a little tired and you must be too.’
‘In a minute,’ Hari said softly, ‘I just want a bit of supper and then a few moments to relax, otherwise I won’t be able to sleep.’
‘Oh, my dear, you haven’t eaten!’ Edward was all concern. ‘I will go to the kitchen myself and bring you something.’
‘No need,’ Hari said firmly, ‘the maid will see to it, you go off to bed, I won’t have you falling sick again.’
A small supper on a tray was all she required and then Hari, unable to resist it, took out her sketch-pad and began to draw. Her fingers were quick, her tiredness vanished and she covered the pages with intricately detailed designs.
It was late when, at last, she put down her pen. She yawned and moved quietly up the stairs, careful not to wake Edward.
She looked into his room that was washed by moonlight and she could hear his soft, regular breathing. She moved forward and stood looking down at her husband, loving him and yet not in the way a woman loved a man. But she knew her duty and she would do her utmost to be a good wife.
In the morning, Hari woke to the feeling of pain in her lower abdomen. Panic stricken, she called out for Edward.
He was there in an instant, the collar hanging from his shirt, a stud in his hand.
‘What is it, Hari?’ he asked anxiously, his face pale. She tried not to tremble as she pushed herself up from the pillows.
‘Send for Doctor Webber, I think there’s something wrong.’
The minutes seemed like hours as Hari waited for the doctor to arrive, she knew instinctively that she was in danger of miscarrying her child and that was something that must not be allowed to happen.
At last, she heard the sound of measured footsteps on the stairs and then the doctor was in the room, his reassuring smile having the effect of calming her at once.
‘Let’s see what we have here then, shall we?’ He examined her carefully and taking his time over the diagnosis, he at last stepped back from the bed and moved over to the wash-stand.
‘I think you are all right,’ he said, ‘this time, but I must insist that you give up your work at least for the time being.’ He returned to the bed and sat down. ‘One good thing, I believe your pregnancy is more advanced than I first thought so the danger is somewhat lessened. I’ll leave it to you to discuss that with your husband.’
‘Why is it better that my pregnancy is more advanced?’ Hari asked anxiously and the doctor smiled.
‘It is in the first three months that most miscarriages occur.’
Hari felt dizzy with relief. ‘I’ll keep the baby?’ she asked, her voice tremulous.
‘Yes, if you do as you are told,’ he said sternly. ‘And that means leaving shoemaking to your men, keep out of the workshop, that’s my advice, benches of the sort cobblers use are not conducive to the comfort of expectant mothers.’
‘I promise I shan’t do any work at all,’ Hari said, ‘except perhaps for a little drawing, that won’t harm surely?’
‘No, so long as you don’t try to put these drawings into practice,’ Doctor Webber said firmly. ‘Just drawing would be beneficial, a nice ladylike occupation, just so long as you sit comfortably in your chair and don’t spend too much time at your board.’
He rose. ‘Rest now for a few days at least, don’t move from your bed unless you have to and then, perhaps a little walking in the park, a gentle stroll in the fresh air with your husband, but no business worries and that’s an order.’
When the doctor had gone, Hari sank back against the pillows sighing with relief. She would miss her work of course and she would need to deputize the finer tasks to one of the men.
Hari bit her lip, Ben was not practised enough for delicate tooling and Lewis, though a fine solid craftsman, had the large strong fingers of a bootmaker. It would have to be Will, he must be the one to do all the finer skilled sewing, it would be a challenge for him and one she felt he would accept gladly.
As if sensing her thoughts, Will appeared in the doorway, his face anxious.
‘Come in, Will,’ Hari said, ‘I’m all right, I promise you.’
He stood awkwardly at the bedside, a handsome young man with his future before him. His jaw had strengthened and his eyes were steady and honest.
‘I’m going to have to rely very heavily on you for the next few months, Will,’ Hari said holding out her hand.
‘I’m willing to do anything I can,’ he said quickly, ‘I should have made you pack in work sooner, I blame myself for this.’
‘Nonsense!’ Hari said quickly. ‘There’s no-one to blame. In any case I’m going to be all right so there’s nothing to worry about.’
‘Well, you know I’ll work hard, Hari,’ Will said earnestly, ‘I’ll work night and day if it will keep the orders going out.’
‘What I want you to do, Will,’ Hari said, ‘is to take over my job. You will do the fine tooling, the stitching on the ladies’ slippers and the making up of the flower motifs when required.’
Will nodded. ‘I won’t be as good as you but I’ll do my very best, you can depend on it.’
‘I do,’ Hari said. She heard footsteps running up the stairs and nodded for Will to leave. He smiled and left the room just as Edward came puffing in through the door.
‘I’ve just shown the doctor out, it’s good news then, Hari, the baby is going to be all right.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Hari said, ‘the baby will be just fine. Sit down, Edward, you’re out of breath, you’ll do yourself harm if you run upstairs like that.’
‘I was so worried about you, Hari,’ Edward said softly. ‘If I lost you and the baby I wouldn’t want to live.’
Hari took both his hands and held them tight. ‘Well, you won’t lose us, so stop worrying. Now, how about a nice cup of tea? I could certainly use one.’
Hari sank back against the pillows, listening contentedly to the soft sounds of the house around her. From the kitchen she could hear the clink of cups against saucers and then the sound of the coals being moved in the grate.
A band of sunlight spread warm fingers into the room and the light fell across the bed, illuminating the flowers in the satin sheet. Soon it would be high summer, the fruits would ripen on the branches of the trees and blackberries would grow in hedgerows.
With the coming of the harvest, her child would almost certainly be born, a fine son or daughter to bring Edward and she close together.
Suddenly, Hari sat bolt upright in bed, her mouth dry. The doctor had said the pregnancy was more advanced than he had first thought, he had made the cryptic remark that he would leave it to her to tell her husband. Which all meant that the baby had been conceived before the marriage had taken place.
Hari covered her face with her hands as the full import of the situation swamped her. It was not as the doctor believed a case of an over-zealous bride and groom anticipating the marriage night, it was far worse than that.
Hari felt tears hot and bitter burn against her lids, she pressed fingers against her eyes in an agony of guilt, how would she explain that, if the doctor was right, the baby she was carrying was not her husband’s but Craig’s? She rubbed at her eyes, and how could she explain tears at a time like this when she should be so happy?
‘Forgive me, Edward,’ she whispered into her hands. But how could he ever forgive her if she were to tell him the child he so longed for was the result of her one night of love with Craig Grenfell? Hari sank back against the pillows and closed her eyes and suddenly the world seemed a very dark place.
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