The Shoemaker's Daughter (9 page)

‘But it isn’t entirely Craig’s money, you know, a substantial part of it will be mine once my father’s estate is sorted out properly.’

Emily shook her head. ‘I don’t believe Craig would be involved in anything illegal, certainly nothing that would harm your prospects, Spencer.’

‘There’s such a thing as greed, Emily, and sad to say brothers are capable of hating each other, take Cain and Abel for example.’

He rose and put his hand on Emily’s shoulder. ‘Let’s leave the subject, shall we, I don’t want us to quarrel, there’s a more serious matter I want to talk about.’

‘What could be more serious than the trouble Craig is in?’ Emily asked quickly.

‘It’s your father,’ Spencer said, ‘I’m sorry to be the one to tell you but you have to know, he is in financial difficulties.’ He paused to let his words sink in. ‘Your father is a worried man and he is looking to you to make a good marriage, that way at least your own future will be secure.’

Emily bit her lip, ‘I didn’t know, my father hasn’t said anything to me.’ It couldn’t be true that her father’s leather business was failing, could it, and yet hadn’t he urged caution on several occasions lately? Even to refusing her new boots. She thought guiltily of the money she had been spending on new clothes and of the new slippers she had ordered with the amethyst decoration. And then the full implication of her cousin’s words fell into place.

‘Marriage? But I’ve been promised to Craig for years, I can’t break my word.’

‘You may have to break your word, Emily.’ There was something spiteful about the way Spencer spoke the words, they held an almost gloating ring.

Emily moved away from her cousin, anger forcing a harsh note into her voice. ‘No, if I can’t marry Craig, I will never marry.’

‘We’ll see,’ Spencer said softly. He put down his glass and rose to his feet. ‘I’ve taken up quite enough of your time, my dear cousin.’ He moved into the hallway and in the hazy light falling through the stained-glass window, he might have been Craig. Then he looked down at her and the similarity was gone.

The maid came through from the back of the house and bobbed a curtsy to Emily. ‘That person is here again, Miss Grenfell, she says she has slippers for you, shall I show her in for the fitting?’

‘Tell her to wait,’ Emily said quickly, she didn’t want Spencer to learn anything about where Craig was hiding.

‘Hold on there,’ Spencer said easily, as though sensing Emily’s wish to get rid of him. ‘I need some boots repaired, I’d like to see the workmanship of this shoemaker.’

‘She does mostly ladies’ slippers,’ Emily said, ‘I don’t think she would be of any use to you.’

Spencer smiled and turned back into the room. ‘Nonsense, I must decide that for myself.’ He seated himself in a chair and Emily paused for a moment, she could hardly ask the maid to bring the girl into the drawing-room where Spencer would be listening to every word. Resolutely, she moved swiftly towards the kitchen.

The girl was standing near the back door, obviously she had not been invited inside. Over her arm was a basket covered with a snowy cloth.

‘Your slippers are ready,’ she said, her eyes challenging. ‘If you are not pleased with them then don’t pay me.’

Emily swallowed her pride. ‘My cousin is here,’ she said in a low voice, ‘Craig’s brother, be careful . . .’

‘Oh, there’s the little shoemaker, bring her inside, Emily, let me see her workmanship.’ Spencer had followed her and was standing smiling at her.

‘Come in,’ Emily said shortly. She was very conscious of the girl following her towards the drawing-room and a sudden sense of jealousy bit like sharp teeth as Emily imagined them together, Craig, and this girl who, however poor she might be, had beauty as well as dignity.

Spencer was staring with obvious delight at the young girl standing before him.

‘I understand you are a shoemaker.’ He said thoughtfully, ‘I would very much like you to make a pair of boots for me. How do you work, do you buy in the uppers or do you do the entire job yourself?’

‘I’d prefer to do it all myself, sir,’ the girl said. ‘I can buy uppers from abroad if French calf is required but there is nothing wrong with our own leather.’

‘What about design? But then it’s probably beyond your powers to design boots as well as make them.’

‘
Duw
, there’s nothing I like better than to work on my own ideas.’ The girl spoke quietly but with conviction.

Emily watched as the shoemaker’s daughter uncovered the amethyst-decked slippers.

‘See,’ the girl said proudly, ‘these flowers made of gems, I created the pattern for them and designed the slippers in such a way that the amethysts would be shown to the best advantage.’

Emily impatiently took the slippers away from the girl. ‘Send me your bill and it will be paid in full.’ She waved in a gesture of dismissal and turned back to her cousin.

‘I’m sure you have enough boots to provide for an army,’ she said jokingly. ‘In any case you can shop in London any time you choose.’

‘Where do you have your workshop?’ Spencer ignored Emily’s words and continued to gaze at the girl who had paused near the doorway.

‘Oh, I think Miss Grenfell is right,’ she said guardedly, ‘my work is not up to the standard you require.’

She left abruptly and Emily closed the door after her with a sigh of relief.

‘That was uncalled for, cousin.’ Spencer said easily, ‘I think you might have been a little more enthusiastic about such lovely slippers, they are a work of art, you must be very pleased to find someone with the talent to work as well as the best London shoemakers and at a fraction of the price, if I’m any judge.’

‘Forget the girl,’ Emily said, ‘let’s talk about my father, shall we?’

Spencer shrugged. ‘Nothing to say, dear girl, your papa is flat broke, that’s all there is to it.’

The words fell harshly into the silence and Emily looked at her cousin in disbelief.

‘If this is true, don’t you even care?’ She spoke accusingly and Spencer shrugged again.

‘I would like to help but then the business is not entirely in my hands. If Craig were to show up now, he could perhaps bale uncle out of the difficulties. After all, it’s Craig who will own Summer Lodge after your father’s day.’

‘What do you mean?’ Emily’s throat was dry as she stared up at her cousin. He moved to the door. ‘Don’t they tell you anything? The house is entailed to Craig, no-one else can have Summer Lodge.’ He carried on speaking without giving Emily a chance to catch her breath.

‘What I suggested earlier might be a solution to all your problems, marriage, my dear, and I know just the man for you.’

‘Oh, do you now,’ Emily said sharply, ‘and who may I ask have you got in mind?’

‘Me, of course, I’m young and handsome, aren’t I?’ He smiled, ‘What more could a girl want?’

‘You can’t be serious!’ Emily said. ‘You are joking, aren’t you, Spencer?’

‘Think about it, dear girl,’ Spencer said softly, ‘anything is better than disgrace to the family name, don’t you think, and between us, you and I could rescue the old family firm? I’m not badly off, you know, I have some money from my mother’s side.’

Emily turned her back without answering, she could scarcely talk, marriage to Spencer was unthinkable. She sighed with relief as she heard her cousin leave the room.

She stood in the window, holding back the heavy curtains, watching as Spencer climbed into his carriage and, with a wave to her, bowled off down the drive towards the roadway. When the carriage was out of sight, she sank down into a chair and put her hands over her face.

‘Oh, father,’ she whispered, ‘why didn’t you tell me you were in trouble?’ No wonder her father had not been well these last few weeks, he was worried about money. His temper was uncertain and he was drinking a great deal of brandy during the evenings.

She rose suddenly and brushed back the tears, crying would get her nowhere. She crossed the hall with determined strides and pushed open the door to her father’s study. She was not used to searching through his private possessions but she needed to learn the truth before he returned home.

She looked through the drawers of his desk and found nothing to indicate the financial problems her cousin had spoken of. But the middle drawer of the desk was locked and there was no sign of the key.

Emily picked up the knife from the desk and inserted it between the top of the drawer and the desk and after a struggle, the drawer burst open.

It was crammed with unpaid bills for food and clothing. Emily stared at them in horror but then a few bills didn’t mean anything, most people hung on to their money for as long as they could, it was simply the way of businessmen.

She closed the drawer and stood thinking for a moment, then she moved into the drawing-room and rang for the maid.

‘Letty,’ she said as the young girl bobbed in the doorway, ‘ask Mrs Beynon to come in please.’

The housekeeper glided into the room and stood tall and gracious with greying hair under a black cap. She maintained silence, but it was clear that the sudden summons had surprised her.

‘How long has my father had outstanding bills with the tradespeople?’ Emily tried to sound casual. The housekeeper’s eyebrows lifted a fraction. ‘For some time, Miss Grenfell, indeed only this morning the butcher refused to send around any more meat until he was paid.’

Emily felt cold. ‘And the servants, have they been paid properly?’

‘Not for some time but we are not worried, miss, it’s not unusual for the gentry, if you will excuse me saying so, to keep folks waiting for payment.’

‘Right,’ Emily said with more confidence than she felt, ‘please send Letty in with a tray of tea, I’m quite thirsty.’

The housekeeper inclined her head and silently left the room. Emily sighed with relief, she must be alone, she must have time to think things out.

Later when her father returned from his office, Emily greeted him with her usual kiss. ‘Hungry, father?’ she asked quietly. ‘We’ve some fish for supper.’

‘I’m not very hungry, truth to tell.’ Her father handed his topcoat to Letty and made his way into the drawing-room.

‘I could do with a drink, though.’ He poured himself a large brandy and Emily watching him tip the liquor into his mouth noticed how thin he’d become. In a few short months he had changed, his hair was greyer, his face more drawn and the gold Albert hung loosely around his once corpulent stomach.

Emily had meant to wait until her father had eaten but she couldn’t bear the suspense a moment longer.

‘Papa, something is very wrong, please tell me, I’m not a child any more.’

He looked at her and frowned as though he would make a denial and then he saw from her face that she knew the truth.

‘I’m sorry,
cariad
,’ he said wearily, sinking into a chair, ‘I’ve done my best to keep things going but someone has been poaching my customers. One by one my orders for leather have fallen away,’ he paused, his voice sinking lower, ‘now I’m almost ruined.’

He handed Emily his glass and, without a word, she refilled it.

‘I’ve not even the money to see you properly married, Emily,’ he said softly. ‘How can you ever forgive me for I shall never forgive myself.’

Emily felt a moment of pure terror, the spectre of the workhouse on Mount Pleasant Hill rose before her eyes, the poor house where the homeless lived a life of sheer drudgery and hardship.

Suddenly an unsuspected strength flowed through her. ‘We’ll survive, papa,’ Emily said with a certainty that brought a light of hope into her father’s eyes. ‘But you must show me the books, tell me everything about the business.’

Emily rose to her feet and moved restlessly around the room. ‘I need to know who your customers are, what orders they have placed in the past and why they no longer wish to trade with you. I will personally see them all myself and talk them into offering us their business again.’

‘It’s impossible, Emily,’ her father said at once. ‘No lady can enter business and keep her reputation intact. Folk will think you eccentric at the very least.’

‘Let them,’ Emily said. ‘Anything is better than starving, isn’t it?’

He shook his head. ‘But you don’t understand, there’s no money to buy in the leather stocks we need, how can we sell a commodity we haven’t got?’

‘I don’t know all the answers,’ Emily said fiercely, ‘not yet but I will not let us sink, I will not.’ She smiled. ‘Now come on, let’s go and eat, you look as if you need to keep up your strength.’

Her father accompanied her into the dining-room and though he made a pretence of eating, he barely touched the food on his plate. Emily noticed that he was drinking excessive amounts of brandy, his cheeks became red and his eyes glazed and when the meal was over, he rose from his chair unsteadily.

‘I’m going to bed, Emily,’ he said, his voice slurred, ‘I don’t think I’ll bother to go to my office tomorrow, it would only be in order to wind matters up in any case.’

Emily watched him go and then, rising, she threw her napkin down furiously on to the table.

She would not give in! She paced around the room thinking desperately, she needed free reign to look over her father’s books and records and to speak to the men in his employ.

She moved into the drawing-room and stared into the fire, tears misting her eyes. According to her father they were ruined, poverty stricken. She glanced around at the house, she would lose her home; entailed as it was it would pass to the next male heir of the family. Craig would inherit Summer Lodge.

‘Damn Craig!’ Why did he have to be so careless that he’d ended up in prison? He could have sorted out all her problems if he’d been here.

She bit her lip, she must avoid financial ruin at all costs, what did she have that she could sell to raise money?

There was her jewellery, the Grenfell emeralds that had belonged to her mother, they were hers, hers to sell if she so chose.