The Girl with the Red Ribbon (24 page)

Rowan stared at her in surprise. ‘As your apprentice?'

Louisa laughed at her shocked expression. ‘Does that sound such an outrageous idea?'

‘But I don't really know anything about dress or bonnet making,' Rowan gasped.

‘You could soon learn. You have a wonderful eye for colour and style, combine that with your beautiful stitching and,
voilà
, you have the makings of a fine mantua maker and milliner. I feel with the right training, you could be a valuable asset to my trade. What do you say?'

Rowan stared from Louisa to Mrs Acland, who was nodding her head encouragingly.

‘Louisa runs a first-class business, my dear, and I can see you fitting in very well with the fashionable ladies of Saltmouth.'

‘Yes,
if you can handle Verity, then you can certainly deal with the most demanding of my clients. And as for your little
faux pas
with the coffee cups, there's nothing you can't learn about etiquette,' Louisa said, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Rowan shook her head at the memory.

‘Besides, I haven't forgotten how you pointed out the colouring of my bonnet was too strong. Oh, in a most tactful way, of course,' she added, as Rowan made to protest. ‘The fact is, I shall be returning to Saltmouth first thing in the morning, and if you decide to become my apprentice, you may accompany me on the daily coach.'

Rowan's heart leaped. What a wonderful opportunity to make a new start and learn a trade. She would be foolish not to accept. Then thoughts of her father crept into her mind.

‘I would love to accept, Louisa. However, there is just one thing,' she said, turning to Mrs Acland.

‘Yes, my dear?'

‘If I were to write a letter to my father, could you see that it gets delivered?'

‘Indeed. In fact, it would put Alexander's mind at rest. He feels terrible about the way you've been treated. Apparently you were subjected to behaviour that contravenes the asylum regulations and he is carrying out an investigation to ensure it can never happen again. I understand one guard in particular is to be reprimanded severely.'

‘I would be obliged if you could ask him to ensure my note gets delivered to my father personally. I know that if it is intercepted by my stepmother, he'd never get to see it
and I'd like him to know where he can find me,' Rowan said.

‘Leave the note with me before you leave, Rowan, and I shall see that Alexander receives it with those very instructions,' Mrs Acland assured her.

‘Thank you very much, and thank you for making me so welcome here.'

‘It's truly been a pleasure, my dear. In fact, by the way Alexander was looking at you tonight, I think it is you who has done us the favour,' Mrs Acland said.

‘Me? I don't understand,' Rowan said, frowning.

‘Your kind and attractive nature may just have reminded him of his first wife.'

‘But Mr Acland is much older and …' Rowan stuttered to a halt, not wishing to appear rude.

‘Don't worry, Rowan, we merely mean you have made Alexander see the light and saved him from the jaws of madam predator,' Louise added with a laugh.

‘Right, on that note, I think it's time we turned in,' Mrs Acland said. ‘Rowan, I wish you well for the future. Please remember, though, that on no account must you mention your stay in the asylum to anyone. Although we here know your incarceration was a terrible mistake, there will always be those who prefer to think the worst, especially of a pretty young girl like yourself. Alas, in this society, once a stigma has been placed on someone, it is virtually impossible to remove. Which reminds me, I must ask Alexander to speak with Verity's driver. We must be assured of his discretion.'

As Louisa had promised, the coach picked them up from outside the Aclands' house just after they'd broken their fast. Rowan stared down at her shiny new shoes, thinking how kind Mrs Acland had been. She'd quite refused to take any money for them, insisting Rowan should wear the cotton dress and cape for travelling and take the silk outfit and slippers with her. ‘You can make me a hat when you have completed your apprenticeship,' she'd said, kissing her goodbye.

What would her new life in Saltmouth hold for her?

Almost as if she'd picked up on her thoughts, Louisa smiled, looked around at their fellow passengers and then leaned forward in her seat.

‘You know, one thing puzzles me,' Louisa said, staring at Rowan with those beautiful violet eyes.

‘What's that?' Rowan asked.

‘How are you so knowledgeable about colours? You said you were brought up on a farm, so I don't suppose you frequented the draper or haberdashery shops.'

‘No, that's true,' Rowan said, laughing. ‘The nearest we got to that was Mabel's stall at Sudbury market. She stocked ribbons, gewgaws and gimcracks. It was Mother and Auntie Sal who taught me about dying wool and clothes. They showed me which plants to collect and how
you could vary the depth of colour by using either the leaves, stems or flowers.'

‘Fascinating, and I love the way you call them by their botanical names. “Periwinkle”, for example, sounds much more exotic than “light mauve”, and I fully intend to make use of these descriptions of yours,' Louisa said, her eyes alight with plans for the future.

‘Well, Mother always said that for putting colours together, you can't beat Mother Nature's good eye,' Rowan said, her heart jolting as she thought about the kind gentle woman.

‘I knew you were going be an asset to my business,' Louisa cried, clapping her hands excitedly. The gentleman opposite frowned over the top of his newspaper and the woman seated beside him had given up all pretence of knitting and was listening avidly to their conversation. ‘We'll talk more later on,' Louisa whispered, sitting back in her seat and staring out of the window.

As the carriage rumbled along, Rowan noticed the trees were in full leaf and feathery blossoms festooned the orchards. Later in the year the boughs would be laden with fruit, she thought, remembering with a pang the fragrant spicy apple cakes her mother had made. Then her attention was caught by the bluebells spread out like luxury carpeting under the trees, and campions blazing pink among the nodding creamy froth of cow parsley. She sighed with pleasure, knowing she'd never take her freedom for granted again.

Her thoughts turned to the new life awaiting her in Saltmouth and happiness bubbled up inside. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought she'd become apprenticed to a mantua maker and milliner. Louisa had already
explained what her duties would be, leaving Rowan in no doubt she was expected to do as she was instructed, willingly and without question. In return, Louisa had promised to train her to the highest standard and provide a room in the attic along with her board.

The coach lurched to a sudden halt, sending Rowan sliding down the seat to the woman sitting by the opposite window. She smiled apologetically then hastily resumed her position as more passengers clambered into the carriage, only just managing to snatch up her neatly wrapped parcel before a rotund gentleman with a florid face sat on it. However, her discomfort was soon forgotten when they turned down the Saltmouth Road and she saw the iridescent shimmer of the sea in the distance. The coach carefully made its descent towards the town, throwing up dust in its wake. They clattered over a bridge spanning a little river, passed houses with castellated roofs, first-floor balconies and tent-shaped canopies, and slowed down beside an imposing old stone church. Rowan stared towards the marketplace where water carts stood beside the pumps, and men were working the handles to wash down the streets. She gazed up at the tall, ornate buildings and shook her head in wonderment.

‘Well, here we are, Rowan,' Louisa said, as the coach pulled up outside the church, where Sunday worshippers stood putting the world to rights after morning service.

As they crossed the street, a little woman with a birdlike appearance broke away from the throng.

‘Good morning, Madame Louisa. I don't believe I have met your companion before,' she said, her beady eyes boring into Rowan.

‘Mrs Parker,
allow me to introduce you to Miss Rowena. She has kindly consented to become my apprentice, so no doubt you shall be seeing more of her when you pay your next visit to my humble establishment. For now, I hope you'll excuse us. We have spent the morning travelling by the staging coach and are quite in need of refreshment,' Louisa said, taking Rowan by the arm and leading her towards the entry set to one side of a bay-windowed shop.

Madame Louisa? Rowan wondered. Was her new employer married then? She'd never mentioned having a husband. And why had she called her Miss Rowena? Her mind was buzzing with questions, but then the creation set on a stand in the centre of the little bay window caught her eye.

‘Do you approve of my latest design, Rowan?' Louisa asked. Staring through the little panes of glass, she saw a pink and white bonnet adorned with toning ribbons that interlaced as they trailed down from the stand.

‘Why, it looks just like a maypole,' Rowan answered.

‘I'm pleased to hear that, Rowan. It is my May Day frontispiece.'

Rowan turned her head this way and that, then frowned.

‘Is something wrong?' Louisa asked.

‘I was just wondering why there is only one bonnet in the window. I was expecting to see a display of them.'

Louisa gave a tinkling laugh. ‘Look behind the bonnet and tell me what can you see.'

Rowan duly stared into the shop. Her eyes widened as she saw the room beyond was festooned with every bonnet, hat and trimming imaginable.

‘More
bonnets, hats, parasols and lots of other pretty things,' she gasped.

‘The idea is to excite the clients' interest. Whet their appetites. If they can see only one creation, they think it must be exclusive and stop to look. Then their attention is attracted by the others inside. It's an idea I copied from Paris and I have to say it works perfectly. Now let's go in. We'll have some luncheon and then I'll show you around.' Louisa led the way down the entry and unlocked a side door.

Rowan followed her into a little kitchen area, which led through to a larger room furnished with a Pembroke table around which four tall-backed chairs were set.

‘Do make yourself comfortable, Rowan,' Louisa said, taking off her bonnet and placing it carefully on the little chiffonier. ‘There's a pump and privy in the yard outside if you need to refresh yourself. I'll go and see what Maria has left for me. She's a treasure and sees to all my household needs. Alas, I can only afford her services on a shared basis, so she is often working next door.' Louisa bustled back through to the kitchen.

Rowan stared out of the little window, delighted to see that the yard was bordered by lavender, myrtle and hydrangeas. Placing her parcel beside Louisa's bonnet, she took off her cape and was folding it over the back of a chair when Louisa reappeared carrying platters of bread, ham and cheese. She really had landed on her feet, Rowan thought, eyeing the food hungrily.

‘Luckily for me Maria, who has a handsomely rounded shape herself, thinks I need feeding up and leaves enough food to feed the proverbial five thousand. From tomorrow, business will dictate we take our refreshment at
different times as I keep the shop open throughout the day. I find that luncheon time can sometimes be the busiest.' Her smile turned to a frown, as she looked at Rowan's appearance. ‘This afternoon we will attire you with apparel suitable for a milliner's apprentice. Now do help yourself,' she said, pointing to the food on the table.

They ate in companionable silence, but Rowan's mind was buzzing with a thousand questions. Finally, when the platters were cleared, Louisa turned to Rowan.

‘Your brain's been ticking louder than my mantel clock, so fire away.' Rowan stared at her in surprise. ‘Go on, ask me anything you want and then I'll take you on the grand tour.'

‘I was wondering if you were married,' Rowan said. ‘Only Mrs Parker called you “Madame”.'

‘I shall never, ever marry,' Louisa burst out so vehemently that Rowan shrank back in surprise. ‘Mrs Parker is renowned for being the Saltmouth tittle-tattle. She is a frequent visitor to my establishment, but alas her tongue wags far more often than she opens her purse. You must watch out for her, Rowan. Be polite, of course, but wary of what you divulge, for her ears can grow by at least two inches if she gets a whiff of gossip.'

Rowan gulped and vowed to watch the woman's ears next time she encountered her.

‘Madame Louisa is my trade name, Rowan. It's all about respectability, and as such I have decided Miss Rowena will be the perfect title for you. If you have no objection, that is how you will be addressed during business hours which, as I have already said, are from seven a.m. to eight p.m., or later if the season requires.' Louisa looked at Rowan expectantly and she nodded.

‘It
will be your duty to sweep the pavement outside the shop each morning and whenever any dirt accumulates, which it does frequently from passing carriages and the staging coach, of course. You will also ensure the glass of the window is kept sparkling. There is nothing more off-putting to a prospective client than not being able to see for grubby windows. Now, unless you have any more questions, we will go through to the workroom and I'll show you where everything is,' she said, smiling as she got to her feet.

Rowan's eyes widened in amazement as she stared around the workroom, its high-rise shelving stacked with seemingly every colour of ribbon, feather and trimmings imaginable. The huge table running the length of the room was laden with the most peculiar tools and gadgets Rowan had ever seen. There were big wooden blocks in various shapes and sizes, irons and cutting tools, measuring tapes, needles and pins of all sizes. As she shook her head in bewilderment, Louisa gave her tinkling laugh.

‘Don't worry, Rowan – or should I say, Miss Rowena – you will soon learn what everything is for, and who supplies what. Come through to the shop itself and I'll show you some of my creations.'

The first thing Rowan noticed was the heavenly fragrance that wafted around the room. It was similar to the floral scent that Louisa wore but lighter.

‘What is that delightful smell?' she couldn't help asking.

Louisa smiled. ‘That, Miss Rowena, is my establishment's signature fragrance. It is called Madame L and is made in Paris to a secret receipt. It is another little sales ploy I learned from my stay in France. You will find that
all my robes, wrapping papers and hatboxes are impregnated with the same scent. The idea being that whenever a client smells it, they associate it with Madame Louisa's. Rowan stared from Louisa to the colourful bonnets and shook her head. Would she ever be half as clever?

‘Now, if you've no more questions, we'll go upstairs. I will show you which will be your room, and then we must see you correctly attired for business tomorrow.'

The room she showed Rowan was up two flights of stairs and nestled under the eaves. It was cosy and had a multicoloured coverlet over the bed, and a tiny window with a curtain to match. She could hear sparrows chirruping in the thatch, and the bells from the church summoning worshippers for evensong made everything feel homely.

‘Mixed blessings, being here,' Louisa said, grimacing. ‘On the one hand all those passing on their way to church can't resist glancing in the window of the shop. It is an excellent time for ladies to point out their hearts' desires to their husbands. On the other hand, the bell ringers are so earnest in their work, one can hardly hear oneself think, let alone try to have a decent conversation. Leave your things and come down to my dressing room,' she said. Then, seeing Rowan's look of surprise, added, ‘Well, it's just a spare room full of fabrics and whatnots from the shop, but it serves a useful purpose.'

Rowan stood in Louisa's dressing room and tried not to shudder when she held up a bolt of black bombazine.

‘I think this would be admirable for an apprentice, don't you?' she asked. Then she saw Rowan's expression. ‘You don't agree?' she asked, frowning.

‘It's
not for me to disagree with you,' Rowan murmured, remembering the woman was her employer.

‘But … ?' Louisa persisted.

‘Well, it is so dull and funereal, and besides …'

‘Please speak your mind, Rowan. If we are to work together it's essential we understand each other.'

‘Well, the uniforms in the asylum were black dresses and …' Her voice trailed off as she remembered the feel of the rough materials chafing her skin. ‘I don't mean to be awkward,' she said, as the woman turned away.