she murmured.
‘It don’t matter,’ he sighed.
‘But it does,’ she insisted.
‘I was saying there’s mildew, violet rust and smut to look out for. Not to mention slugs, snails, woodlice, aphids or more likely caterpillars and millipedes this time of year.’
‘Goodness,’ she murmured, her stomach churning again.
‘Not squeamish, are you?’ he asked, a gleam sparking in his eye.
‘Good heavens, no,’ she cried airily.
‘Still, it’s the blue mice we need to watch for.’ He sighed and shook his head. ‘Place is covered in them but the trouble is it’s time-consuming looking out for them,’ he said, hunkering down and lifting the leaves of the nearest plant.
‘Can I help?’ Isabella asked.
‘Not from up there, you can’t. Little blighters are the same colour as the flowers so you has to get right up close to spot them. And you wouldn’t want to get your hands muxy now, would you?’ he scoffed. Muxy? That was the second time he’d used that word, so it must mean mucky, she thought. Determined to prove him wrong, she squatted down beside him and began peering beneath the plants. The leaves felt velvety against her skin as she inhaled the heady fragrance. Suddenly something scampered over her hand and, letting out a scream, she sprang to her feet.
‘What’s up?’ William asked, frowning up at her.
‘I think one of those mice was about to attack me,’ she gasped.
‘Really?’ he asked, his mouth twitching as he turned to where she’d been searching. With a loud snort, he got to his feet, hands cupped in front of him.
‘It’s only a spider, silly, and a black one at that. It’s the red ones you have to look out for. They devour the flowers, see.’ Feeling stupid, she resumed her search.
‘I never knew you could get blue mice,’ she told him.
‘They be a speciality around here, like the red soil.’ Hearing a shout, he jumped to his feet. ‘Father’s waiting. I’ll have to come back later. Just hope the blighters don’t eat too many afore then,’ he sighed.
‘I can stay and look for them,’ she offered, eager to atone for her faux pas of the previous day.
‘That’d be a right help,’ he replied, grinning at her for the first time since she’d arrived.
Feeling happier, Isabella resumed her search. She might not be staying long, but she wanted to get along with her mother’s family whilst she was here. Breathing in the sweet, musky fragrance of the violets, she felt that faint memory stir, hover then vanish. Instinctively she knew it had something to do with her mama and this place.
‘What on earth are you doing, Izzie?’ Startled out of her reverie, she saw Dotty frowning down at her.
‘Searching for blue mice,’ she replied. ‘William had to help Uncle so I offered to look for them. I haven’t seen any, though.’
‘But Izzie, these are the blue mice,’ she laughed, her sweeping gesture encompassing the plants. ‘That’s what violets are known as round here.’
‘But why?’ Isabella asked, feeling somewhat foolish.
‘When the sea breeze ripples the flower heads, some say they look like little blue mice scampering across the fields. In other parts, they’re called shoes and stockings.’
‘How strange. And what is a vurriner?’ she asked, although she suspected she knew the answer.
‘It’s what we call incomers round here. Why, William never called you that? Wait til I get my hands on him and Mother’ll be cross when she hears,’ Dotty declared stoutly.
‘Please don’t say anything,’ Isabella said, straightening up. ‘He was getting his revenge for my taking him for a servant.’
‘Well, if you’re sure,’ Dotty shrugged. ‘Better brush yourself down then, it’s time we were making up the posies and Mother won’t want muck everywhere.’ Isabella stared at the brown clods clinging to the rough fibres of her dress.
‘Oh Dotty, I am sorry,’ she cried, shaking out the folds of her skirts. ‘I’ve made your dress all dirty, or should I say muxy.’
‘Coo, listen to you,’ Dotty laughed. ‘’Tis only a bit of dung. You’re lucky that’s the only fertilizer father uses. He swears a bit of nature’s natural is all that’s necessary to produce good blooms. Along with his tailors’ clippings and woollen rags, that is.’
‘Tailors’ clippings?’ Isabella echoed.
‘Take a good look between the rows.’ Isabella duly studied the ground and saw bits of material and rags among the red soil.
‘Goodness,’ she murmured. ‘Is that to keep the plants warm?’
‘Oh, you are funny, Izzie,’ Dotty chuckled. ‘Come on, Father will go mad if we’re not helping Mother.’ As Isabella followed her cousin across the yard, she remembered her mission.
‘Do you think we could go and see Grandmother before lunch? I must introduce myself before Maxwell arrives,’ she explained, thinking she also needed to change into a decent gown. She didn’t dare imagine what he would say if he saw her dressed like a peasant from the fields, and a soiled one at that. Dotty shook her head.
‘Best leave it for now, she’s having one of her dim and daffy days, as we call them. Now come on,’ she urged, hurrying towards the big barn.
‘I just need to take a look outside,’ Isabella replied. Ignoring her cousin’s frown, she made her way down the side path and looked left and right, but the lane was deserted.
‘You all right, dear?’ her aunt asked, appearing at her side. Isabella forced a smile and nodded. ‘Bit early for visitors, I’d have thought,’ the woman added perceptively. ‘Come and see how we bunch and pack the violets. If you’re very good, we might even let you have a go.’ Realizing her aunt was trying to make her feel better, she followed the woman over to the big barn.
Inside was cool, with seemingly hundreds and hundreds of violets nestling in big pails, their sweet fragrance permeating the air. Dotty was standing by a long trestle, cutting lengths of raffia from a large roll.
‘These have all had a nice drink now, so we’d better start sorting them into bunches,’ she said. William hadn’t been joking after all, Isabella thought.
‘Father and William have gone to collect more boxes,’ her aunt told them. ‘You show your cousin how we make the posies, Dotty, while I count out the flowers.’
As her aunt reached into the first bucket, Isabella noticed how rough and reddened her hands were. The woman smiled wryly. ‘Occupational hazard, dear.’
‘What a delightful fragrance there is in here,’ she replied quickly, not wishing to be thought rude. To her surprise her aunt chuckled.
‘Wait another ten
