Still, I thank my lucky stars whoever abandoned me knew I’d soon be found by folk that cared. They made enquiries but . . . ,’ she shrugged. ‘Anyhow, at least I was placed in a home . . . of sorts, anyhow,’ she added.
‘That’s terrible,’ Isabella frowned.
‘Your uncle’s the best thing that ever happened to me.’
‘How did you meet?’ Isabella asked.
‘I was in service at a big house on the edge of Moretonhampstead and met him at the town market on my half day. We got talking and just sparked. Couldn’t believe it when he called the next day and asked my employer if he would agree to my having a follower. Always been a man who knows his own mind, has Frederick,’ she smiled. ‘After we wed, he brought me back here with him.’
‘How romantic,’ Isabella gushed, feeling a sharp pang that her own plans for the future had been deferred.
‘Don’t mind me and my ruminations, dear,’ her aunt said quickly. The rosy flush staining her cheeks made her look softer somehow, and Isabella realized she wasn’t as old as she’d thought.
‘But I’d like to know more,’ she protested, seeing this as an ideal time to discover something about her own family. ‘Did you know you’d have to look after Grandmother as well?’ Isabella asked, pausing mid-posy.
‘Of course. Father told me about the shock . . . ,’ her voice trailed off and she quickly resumed her counting. Isabella wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass, though.
‘Am I right in guessing it had something to do with my mother?’
‘Well . . . ,’ her aunt began, looking flustered. Then William appeared, two laden baskets over his arms and, looking relieved, she said: ‘Oh my, you’ve picked yet more, I see. Father will be pleased. Good job Mrs Pudge let you have all those boxes.’
Grinning, he carefully placed them in the buckets they’d spent the past few hours emptying and it was all Isabella could do not to groan.
‘This little lot are from Grandmother’s garden. I’m off to dig over the wild patch at the back so we can plant more. We’ll be swimming in blue mice soon,’ William said, grinning at Isabella’s look of dismay. ‘Finding it hard to keep up, are you?’ he crowed. ‘No sign of your knight in shining armour coming to your rescue then?’
‘Now then, William. Your cousin’s doing a fine job and I for one am pleased to have her here. It’s nice to have a bit of intelligent conversation for once,’ she added.
As William snorted and loped from the barn, taking Isabella’s good humour with him, her aunt patted her shoulder.
‘Don’t mind him, dear. He might be my son but he’s all the sensitivity of a pumpkin.’
‘I’ve written to Maxwell again, as he might not have received my original note.’ Isabella could see the scepticism in her aunt’s eyes.
‘Well, suppose we’d better get on it like a bonnet,’ she joked. Knowing the woman was trying to make her feel better, Isabella forced down her frustration and reached for another box.
‘I hope this is the last lot, my back’s killing me,’ she winced. Having been in here since downing a hasty breakfast at the crack of dawn, she was hot and sticky. What she wouldn’t give for a lovely soak in the tub. Even a bowl of lovely warm water would suffice. However, a quick rinse under the pump each evening seemed to suffice for everyone here.
They worked on in silence, but whilst Isabella’s hands calmly tied yet more flowers into bunches, her thoughts ran amok. William’s remark about Maxwell rankled. However, the more she thought about it, the more she was convinced it was business that was keeping her intended in the City, for hadn’t he mentioned there’d been a big takeover in the offing? Maybe he was involved in it and unable to leave his office. Well, she’d soon know when he replied to her note. She hoped dear Papa would respond quickly too, for she longed to find out how he was, and surely by now he would know how much time he needed to sort everything out.
‘Come along, Daisy Daydream, as soon as we finish this lot we can break for luncheon.’
‘Shall I make a start on it?’ Isabella offered.
‘Please. There’s some of my brawn left so perhaps you could cut some bread to go with it and lay out pickles.’
‘Brawn?’ Isabella frowned.
‘Yes, from the pig’s head. I’ll show you how to make it if you like.’ Isabella gulped, her appetite vanishing completely. Oblivious, her aunt continued. ‘You’ll find it in a dish on the cold slab in the pantry. And I’m that parched, a nice strong brew would go down well,’ she said. Realizing it was her aunt’s tactful way of reminding her of her uncle’s preference, she forced a smile.
‘Don’t worry, Auntie, I’ll make strong tea in mugs with milk this time. And I’ll remember not to cut the crusts off the bread.’
‘You’re learning, dear,’ her aunt chuckled. ‘Keep your man’s stomach filled and he’ll be happy. Dotty won’t be back until later so there’ll just be the four of us. Perhaps you could make one of those dainty sandwiches for Mother. She so enjoyed hers the other day.’
‘I’ll take it in to her, shall I?’ she asked eagerly.
‘Best we go in together, dear, she’s that unpredictable,’ her aunt replied before returning to her counting.
To Isabella’s surprise, when she entered the kitchen, her grandmother was standing by the range. She was waving a spill in the air above the hob, her white curls bobbing wildly as she chatted away.
‘Got to get this lit.’
‘Hello, Grandmama,’ Isabella said cheerily, looking around to see who she’d been talking to. To her surprise there was nobody else in the room.
‘Who are you?’ the woman asked, staring at Isabella blankly.
‘I’m Isabella, your granddaughter,’ she explained. ‘We met a few days ago, don’t you remember?’ The woman narrowed her eyes.
‘Never see you afore in me life,’ she muttered. Then to Isabella’s horror, tears began rolling down her cheek. ‘Can’t abide strangers in my kitchen,’ she sobbed. Isabella moved to put a reassuring arm around her, but the woman backed away and cowered in the corner. At a loss to know what to do, she was relieved when William hurried into the room.
‘It’s all right, Grandmother,’ he soothed. ‘You’ve wandered into Mother’s kitchen by mistake. I’ll take you home, eh?’ Gently he put his arm around the woman and led her towards the door. ‘Don’t look so worried, she often gets like this,’ he whispered as he passed Isabella. ‘Put the kettle to boil, eh?’
She stared at William, hardly able to believe this was the terse person who’d delighted in taunting her ever since she’d arrived. Hands trembling, she did as he said then began setting out the luncheon. As she worked she began to feel calmer and couldn’t help puzzling over the old lady’s outburst. How could her grandmother not remember they’d met? And why was she crying? By the time her aunt came in, Isabella was pouring hot water into the big brown teapot.
‘I’ve
