too,’ Dotty pointed out. ‘She lives in the house next door. No doubt you’ll get to meet her, though be warned, she’s away with the pixies most of the time.’
Isabella stared at Dotty in surprise. Until then, she hadn’t even thought about having a grandmother. Would she look like her mama? How wonderful it would be to meet this woman and find out about her.
‘Perhaps you could introduce me after supper?’ she asked eagerly. Dotty frowned.
‘I’ll speak to Mother. She’ll probably say it’d be best to leave it until Grandmother’s having a good day, though they’re as rare as hen’s teeth.’
‘I must meet her before I leave, though,’ Isabella insisted.
‘But . . . ,’ Dotty began. Then, hearing her mother call again, she shrugged.
As they squashed into their seats round the table, a delicious smell wafted from the large pot on the range.
‘Here you are, dear,’ the woman said, passing her a dish of stew surrounded by a mound of mashed potatoes.
‘Goodness me, I shall be enormous if I eat all this,’ Isabella protested, then seeing her uncle frown, hastily picked up her knife and fork.
‘Mother is a fine cook,’ he said, causing her aunt to blush. ‘And we need sustenance for our work tomorrow.’
‘We don’t usually get this much meat, so I likes you coming to live with us,’ Thomas piped up.
‘Actually, I’m not . . . ,’ Isabella began, but her uncle interrupted.
‘No talking at the table.’ Isabella blinked in surprise. Surely this was the very time for genial conversation? Obediently the others turned their attention to their food and the only noise was the scraping of cutlery on dishes.
‘That was very nice, thank you,’ Isabella said politely, pushing aside what she couldn’t eat.
‘Fancy words don’t butter no parsnips, Isabella,’ her uncle grunted. ‘And talking of fancy, there’s no room for all your luggage in here, so unpack what you need and we’ll store the rest in Grandmother’s barn.’
‘A barn,’ Isabella exclaimed.
‘Perhaps her spare room would be better?’ Mary ventured.
‘I’ll help you go through your things, Izzie,’ Alice cried. ‘I bet you’ve got lots of lovely dresses.’
‘I have,’ Isabella agreed thinking of her silks and chiffons. ‘Although I’ve left many behind in London,’ she added seeing the look on her uncle’s face. ‘If you tell me what you do around here in the evenings, I’ll have a better idea of what to unpack. Are there many balls or concerts . . . ?’ her voice trailed away as she saw their astonished expressions.
‘This be Doulis not London,’ William grunted.
‘Even so, you must have some form of entertainment,’ she persisted.
‘We have a harvest hop next month,’ Dotty volunteered.
‘And the church put on a splendid concert at Christmas,’ her aunt chipped in. ‘The choir sing lovely.’
‘There’s the Violet Ball in May,’ Dotty added.
‘May? But that’s months away,’ Isabella said, her heart sinking.
‘We don’t have much time for socializing, what with the long hours we work,’ her uncle told her.
‘Surely picking a few flowers doesn’t take all day,’ Isabella replied. Her uncle gave a snort.
‘You’ll see, Isabella. Market gardening is more than just picking a few flowers, as you put it. It’s a way of life. As well as sorting the violets into bunches and packing them up ready for market, there’s the cleaning to be done, meals to be cooked.’
‘Oh but . . . ,’ Isabella began. However, her uncle carried on as if she hadn’t spoken.
‘And you’ll pitch in and help, starting with breakfast in the morning.’
‘But I’ve never cooked anything in my life before,’ she frowned.
‘Then it’s time you learned. When your father sent that communication asking us to take you in, we didn’t hesitate.’
‘But I’m only staying a short while,’ Isabella pointed out. Her uncle gave a long sigh.
‘For as long as you are here, you’ll help Mother with the chores.’ Seeing the challenge in his eyes, something stirred in Isabella.
‘Of course, Uncle,’ she replied. She’d show him, she thought.
‘Now, go and sort some suitable clothes for the morning,’ he grunted. ‘Come along, boys,’ he ordered, going outside.
‘Don’t worry, my dear, we’ll show you what to do,’ her aunt told her as the door closed behind them. ‘Best stow those fine jewels in your trunk. You don’t want them getting dirty or damaged,’ she said, pointing to the pearls around Isabella’s neck.
That night, sleep eluded Isabella. Although enthralled by her fine gowns and jewellery, her cousins had decided none were suited for life on the flower farm. Reluctantly, she’d packed everything away again and 17-year-old Dotty, who was of a similar height although a little broader, had loaned her a cotton frock and smock. Now they were asleep, their snorts and snuffles disrupting her peace.
She sighed and ran her fingers over the silver locket, the only piece of jewellery not packed away. Oh Mama, she wept, I can hardly believe this tiny cottage is where you were raised, or that Uncle with his fastidious ways was your brother. He is so stern and forbidding while you were always so charming and gentle. Auntie has her own funny way of speaking but has been kind and welcoming. You should see my cousins, though. William is so hostile and the younger boys, Joseph and Thomas, follow his lead. At least Dotty and Alice are friendly. One good thing to come out of this enforced holiday is that I’ll hopefully get to meet your mama in the morning. Before Maxwell comes. Maxwell! Her heart flipped at the thought of seeing him again. Imagine having to live here permanently like Dotty and Alice. It didn’t bear thinking about, she thought, closing her eyes.
What a frightful noise, Isabella groaned, pulling the cover up over her head. Only it wouldn’t reach and the bed was rock-hard beneath her. Frowning, she opened her eyes then blinked in the brightness. Why hadn’t the maid drawn her drapes? Then she remembered that she wasn’t in her comfortable chamber with its feather bed and sateen eiderdown, but crammed into a poky room, with a lumpy mattress on the floor alongside her cousins. Then she heard the dreadful squawking again but, turning her head, saw she was alone in the room.
Easing herself out of the makeshift bed, she noticed the plain clothes laid out ready for her to wear. Pulling the shift over her head, she grimaced as the coarse material prickled her skin. Just as she was fastening the smock over the top, there
