The Girl with the Red Ribbon (36 page)

‘Is something wrong, Jack?' she asked, stumbling to a halt.

He shook his head. ‘It would appear you have been busy whilst I've been away. No time for any recreation then?'

‘Oh, no, I'm afraid it's been all work, but Madame
Louisa said I would be pleased with my Christmas box,' she enthused.

‘So you've not had any time for promenading then?' he asked, looking at her closely.

‘Gracious, no. What about you? That dog of yours looks a lively fellow. I expect he takes a lot of exercising,' she said, trying to inject some lightness into the conversation.

‘Yes, he does. But you know where you stand with animals.'

Rowan shook her head. What a strange thing to say. Then she was struck by a terrible thought. Had Mr Acland carried out his threat? Could that be the reason for Jack's coolness towards her? Should she mention the asylum? But if he didn't know, would she be risking their relationship? The ribbon tightened.

Fumbling to find the right words, she stared around the room, taking in the smiling faces, animated chatter, tinkling of glasses, chink of china and the lively background music coming from the pianist in the corner. The overall happy atmosphere of the place contrasted starkly against their awkward pauses, and she couldn't help thinking how much easier conversation with Sab had been when she'd last visited here. She was about to mention her old friend when Jack fumbled in his pocket and took out a soft leather money bag.

‘We are very busy at work and I need to be getting back as soon as we've finished,' he muttered, throwing some coins beside the bill and getting to his feet.

‘But we've hardly …' she began, looking at their untouched scones and still steaming cups of tea.

‘Whenever, you are ready,' he said politely but she
couldn't stand the strained atmosphere any longer and got to her feet.

‘Clearly you are anxious to be away,' she said stiffly. ‘And I have more dyes to make.'

‘So you said.' He waited whilst the cape was placed around her shoulders and then strode out of the Coffee House.

By the time he drew up outside the shop, Rowan could have screamed. She stared at Jack for a long moment but he refused to meet her gaze. Whatever was troubling him, he wasn't going to share it with her.

‘Goodbye, Jack,' she finally said, climbing down from the cart.

He nodded and she'd barely alighted when he called for the pony to walk on. Stamping down the entry, she threw off her cape and, deciding she needed a cup of tea she could drink, went through to the kitchen. This being Maria's afternoon off as well, the place was empty. Rowan set the kettle on the range, snatched up the maid's apron and began preparing the carrot tops and leaves for her dye. By the time the maid returned, she was vigorously stirring the pot.

‘Jem loves me flower,' Maria said, taking off her bonnet and pointing to the trimming Rowan had made.

Rowan grunted.

‘My, my, someone's in a moody. Hope you're not going to do more of that weird mumbo jumbo stuff, 'cos if you are, I'm off.'

‘No, I've almost finished. I just need to steep these ribbons overnight. Can I leave the pot here or will it be in your way?'

‘No,
it'll be fine. Madam's going to evening service, so she had a hot meal lunch time. Do you want anything? You're looking right peaky, if you don't mind me saying.'

‘I've got a bit of a head so I'll get an early night,' Rowan muttered, taking off the maid's apron and returning it.

Up in her room, she tore off her new dress. All those nights she'd spent stitching whilst the candles had burned low, and what for? It had been a complete waste of time. Jack had hardly glanced in her direction, let alone noticed what she'd been wearing. Why, he hadn't even commented on her new hairstyle. What a waste of effort. She'd been so excited at the thought of spending time with him again. Clearly he didn't find her attractive any more, she thought. Or had he found out about her past? Burying her head in the pillow, she let the hot tears fall.

Although she felt drained after her restless night, Rowan was up at first light. After bathing her swollen eyes with cold water, she dressed carefully and made her way down to the yard. The mizzle had cleared and a fresh sea breeze was carrying the tang of salt on the air. Returning from the privy, she smiled at the timid young girl who was hurrying out to sweep the pathways. Well, at least that was one job she didn't have to worry about any longer, she thought, stepping back indoors to see how her ribbons had turned out.

‘Good morning, Miss Rowena,' Louisa said, as Rowan carried them through to the workroom. ‘I see you have plenty of work to do here today, so I shall leave you in charge of the shop whilst I deliver this new bonnet to Lady Arlingham. She is becoming quite a regular client and, as you know, where Lady Arlingham leads the ladies of Saltmouth follow.' She paused and stared at Rowan, her violet eyes clouding. ‘Are you quite well this morning?'

‘Yes, I'm fine, thank you, Madame Louisa,' Rowan assured her employer.

‘Ask Maria for some beef tea later. It will do you the power of good. I can't have a wet blanket seeing to my clients.'

Rowan watched as she gathered up her things and
bustled out of the door. Resting her throbbing head in her hands, she prayed the shop would remain quiet for a while. Jack's strange behaviour had played on her mind all night, and she'd tossed and turned, worrying what could have been wrong. Perhaps he really had been busy, or maybe something had gone wrong with one of his jobs. Of course, the covert nature of his work meant he could never discuss it in detail with her. Or was it that Mr Acland had carried out his threat? No doubt it would all come out in the wash, as her auntie Sal used to say.

Forcing herself to concentrate, she spread out the ribbons on the work table and began measuring. But as she reached for the scissors the blocks seemed to spring to life, glaring at her with Jack's angry eyes, snarling with his tight lips. She blinked and looked again, but the blocks were devoid of anything other than their wooden shapes. Chiding herself for having fanciful thoughts, she shook her head to clear it and resumed work.

She was just thinking she should stop for some nourishment, when the little bell tinkled. Before she could get to her feet, Louisa appeared at her side, eyes glowing with excitement.

‘Look, Miss Rowena. Is this not the most beautiful looking-glass you have ever seen?' she said, placing a parcel down on the work table and pulling back the soft cloth. As Rowena stared at the bronze mirror, its trumpet scrolls decorating the grip, her heart began thumping. She'd know that design anywhere.

‘Where did you get it?' she whispered.

‘Why, at the local repository. The old fool sold it to me for a song, but I think it could be valuable.'

‘It's
priceless,' Rowan whispered, tracing the engraved scrolls with her finger. Immediately, she felt the energy flow through her body, and couldn't help smiling.

‘Of course, I shall have it valued properly, but if it's worth what I think, then my prayers have been answered and I can start searching for larger premises straight away,' Louisa continued.

‘But you can't sell it,' Rowan said, looking up in alarm.

‘I beg your pardon, Miss Rowena,' Louisa remonstrated. ‘I can and I will.'

‘But you don't understand. This mirror belonged to my mother and has magical properties. It passed to me when she died,' she said, snatching it up and hugging it to her chest.

‘Rubbish. This is a Celtic mirror from a burial ground, of that I am sure, for I remember reading about one in the paper some time ago. Now, please give it back, Miss Rowena,' Louisa ordered, holding out her hand. As Rowan hugged it tighter, her employer's eyes narrowed.

‘I can prove it's mine,' Rowan exclaimed, turning the mirror upside down. ‘See, the face looks like a grinning cat.'

‘I agree it does. However, that in no way proves it is yours.'

‘I wouldn't have known that otherwise, would I?' Rowan persisted, staring down at it.

In an instant, Louisa reached out and snatched the mirror from her hand. ‘It is mine, Miss Rowena. Bought and paid for by me this morning. Now I suggest you go and have your luncheon and we will say no more about this unfortunate confrontation.'

‘Madame
Louisa, please listen. I promise you this is my mother's mirror. She found …'

But she was talking to Louisa's back, for the woman had turned and was rewrapping it in the soft cloth. Instinctively, Rowan reached out to snatch it back, but Louisa was too quick for her, moving so that she was between Rowena and the mirror.

‘I have had my suspicions about you for some time, young lady.'

‘Suspicions? What suspicions?' she asked, in surprise.

‘That you take things that don't belong to you,' she said slowly, emphasizing every word. Rowan gasped. ‘Oh, you may well look innocent, but no sooner had you arrived than my signature scent started to disappear at an alarming rate.'

‘I knew you thought I was taking it, but I can assure you I am not the thief,' Rowan protested, her face growing hotter by the minute.

‘Well, how do you explain the ostrich feather then? One went missing after you'd cleaned them, only to reappear the next morning.'

Rowan stared at her employer in disbelief. ‘What would I want with an ostrich feather? I didn't go anywhere.'

‘Well, who else would have taken it?' Louisa asked.

‘I can't stay here if that's what you think of me …' Rowan began, but Louisa cut in.

‘No, I agree you cannot stay here. Pack your things and leave immediately.'

The ribbon around Rowan's wrist tugged so tightly that she cried out.

‘Oh, please, Louisa.'

But
the woman was adamant. ‘I cannot have someone of dubious behaviour in my employ. Neither can I furnish a thief with a character.'

As the air crackled between them, Rowan squared her shoulders.

‘I repeat, I am not, and never have been, a thief. That was my mother's mirror, and I shall return and prove it to you,' she vowed, turning on her heel and running up to her room.

Taking off her uniform dress, she donned the yellow dress and cape Mrs Acland had given her. Carefully ensuring she gathered only her own possessions together, she tied them into a bundle and stole down the stairs and out of the entry.

How had her beloved mirror come to Saltmouth, she wondered as she stormed along the street. The last time she'd seen it had been the night she was snatched. She'd been carrying out her Eostre ritual, and it had been left on the ground when she'd been abducted. So how had Louisa come to find it in the local repository? As her feet pounded the ground, questions pounded her brain. Who could have found it and brought it here?

She walked another mile or so before remembering her chance meeting with Sab. He had known how much the mirror meant to her and would never have sold it. But then he had thought she'd run off with a man. What a ridiculous notion, she thought, stamping even harder. Then she remembered Sab saying he'd come to Saltmouth on a spot of business. What was it he'd said exactly? She thought hard. He'd had to bring something in to one of the shops. Yes, that was it. So he must have had something to sell,
mustn't he? Clearly no one could be trusted, she thought, coming to a halt as exhaustion overtook her. Overwhelmed with misery, she leaned against a nearby fence and sobbed. Finally, when there were no tears left, she wiped her face with her kerchief. What should she do now, she wondered, and it was only when she looked up that she realized she was standing outside Poppy Cottage.

She wasn't sure if Camilla had returned from her visit to relatives but, before her courage left her, she opened the gate and defiantly marched up the front path. Just as she reached the door, it opened and Jack stood there, smartly dressed in his uniform.

‘What on earth are you doing here?' he asked, staring at her in surprise.

Remembering his cool manner from the previous afternoon, she hugged her bundle closer and stuck her chin in the air.

‘I merely came to enquire if Camilla had returned yet.'

Eyeing her warily, he shook his head. She waited a moment and when he didn't say anything, turned to leave.

‘What did you want her for?' he said finally.

She thought quickly. ‘I just wanted to say farewell and thank her for her kindness,' she replied.

‘Oh.'

‘Is that all you can say, Jack Carslake?' she burst out. ‘You invited me out for tea then spent all afternoon ignoring me. Despite your proposal for our future, you clearly couldn't care a tinker's cuss about me.'

‘That's not true,' he sighed. ‘I rather think it's the other way around.' Anger blazing in his blue eyes turned them to navy.

‘What?'
Rowan asked.

‘Come along, Carslake. You haven't got time to spend chatting up a lady, however pretty she might be.' They looked up to see a uniformed man, grinning as he walked towards them.

Jack muttered an expletive under his breath. ‘You go on, Crawton, I'll catch you up,' he called, straightening his hat. ‘Look, Rowan, I must go, we've got wind of a big movement of wool from a farm up Sudbury way. Word is it's to be transported to Saltcombe Regis, then shipped out sometime in the next few days.'

‘What?' she asked, her mind ticking back to old Davey's words. ‘You don't mean owlers?' He nodded and her heart sank.

He sighed again. ‘I don't like leaving you like this, Rowan, but I must obey orders. We're trying to catch the farmer red-handed as he hands over the wool to the owlers. If we can do that we'll be up for promotion and that means a pay rise. Look, as soon as I'm back, I'll call by the shop and we'll talk. Something's been on my mind that I need to ask you about.'

‘But …' she started, but he interrupted.

‘This job is rumoured to be of great magnitude, and I really shouldn't have said anything, so not a word about this to anyone,' he ordered. Before she could answer, he was running down the path to join the other Preventative.

Could this day get any worse, she wondered. She had no job, no home, no mirror, no explanation from Jack for his strange behaviour, and now this. Collapsing on the lawn, she put her head in her hands. Even Camilla had
deserted her. What was she going to do now? The red ribbon jerked and, as if her mother had spoken the words, her question was answered. ‘Sorry, Jack, but I must warn Father, just in case he's involved,' she whispered, and as the words came back to her on the freshening breeze, she got wearily to her feet. Her father was basically an honest man. Whatever he had or hadn't done, he was still her father and she couldn't wait to see him and her old home again. After all, she had nowhere else to go, she thought miserably. The ribbon loosened its grip.

Clutching her bundle to her, she trudged up the hill, trying not to think of the long walk ahead of her before she reached Orchard Farm. The lowering cloud grew even blacker, and before she'd got to the top of the road, the rain was coming down in stair rods. Pulling her wet cape tighter round her, she took shelter under a tree until the worst had passed. The time dragged on, and she was just wondering whether to risk continuing on her journey, when a cart drew to a halt.

‘Be likin' a lift, little un?' the carter called.

Hardly able to believe her luck and for the first time in her life grateful for her petite stature, Rowan nodded.

‘Where you be goin' to?' he asked.

‘Sudbury, sir,' she replied, taking in his friendly smile and gentle eyes.

‘Well, ain't you the lucky one. I be goin' near there myself. Hop in.'

Climbing up, she stared around for somewhere to sit, for every surface was piled high with odds and ends of furniture. ‘Reckons you'll have to find somethin' to perch on, but it'll be better than walkin', eh?' he chuckled.

She
couldn't argue with that, she thought, upturning an old box and making herself comfortable. He looked at the bundle on her lap and frowned.

‘Not runnin' away, are you, little un?'

‘No, returning home,' she answered, feeling a mixture of excitement and trepidation.

‘Why, you ain't no little un at all,' he said, assessing her with his shrewd eyes. ‘Sorry, maid. On we go, Jess,' he called to his horse.

They'd been travelling some time when the cart suddenly lurched off the main road and onto a rutted track. Startled out of her musing, Rowan looked sharply at the carter.

‘Where are we going?' Thoughts of being kidnapped ran through her head. Had she been foolish taking a lift from someone she didn't know?

‘Calm yourself, maid. 'Tis a short cut I know. Want to be in Sudbury before sundown,' he answered, looking up at the sky and chortling. ‘Not that we can see it. Here, you hungry?' He bent and took a package out of a knapsack. ‘Missus always packs me a feast.' He handed her a chunk of bread and a wedge of cheese. Her stomach rumbled in appreciation, and she remembered she'd missed her luncheon.