when I heard but, as your Uncle Bill pointed out, the man has as much of a right to turn his land over to flower growing as us. We all have a living to earn, after all. But I’ve worked darn hard to get this business up and running and don’t intend to lose my market share.’
‘Market share, that’s good, Father,’ William chortled. ‘Market garden, market share, get it?’
‘Very funny, boy, but it won’t be no laughing matter if the price drops, which it will if the market’s saturated with violets. ’Tis all about supply and demand, and from today we are going to double our efforts to provide Covent Garden with the finest blooms at the best price. By the time Furneaux’s violets are ready for sale, we will have proved to the buyers that Northcott’s can fulfil their needs.’
‘But we work hard enough as it is, Father,’ Joseph said, waving his spoon in the air.
‘I know, boy, and that’s why your uncle and I have come up with a plan. But in order for it to succeed, each of you must play your part.’ He took a sip of his tea then stared at each of them in turn. ‘From now on, we will be working towards doubling our output.’
‘But Father . . . ,’ Mary began but her husband held up his hand to silence her.
‘No buts. As I said, Bill and I have worked out a way. First of all, Joseph, you will team up with your uncle and as it’s too far for you to travel there and back each day, you’ll move into his cot. Afore you complain, Mother, Bill will bring Joseph for Sunday lunch each week, so you will see him then.’ From the grin that met this statement, Isabella guessed that Joseph was happy with the news.
‘William, you’ll turn the rest of your grandmother’s garden over to growing violets. There’s a large patch down the bottom going wild and we might even dig up her yard, seeing as how she never uses it now.’ He leaned forward and patted William’s hand. ‘I’m putting you in charge of this part of the business, so it’s a good chance for you to prove yourself.’
‘Dotty, as well as taking violets to the big house on Thursdays then selling the rest in town, you will attend the Saturday market as well.’
‘Yes, Father,’ Dotty smiled, and again Isabella could see his idea had gone down well.
‘Perhaps I could come with you,’ Isabella offered, her spirits lifting at the thought of escaping for a few hours.
‘Don’t take two of you,’ her uncle growled. ‘You’ll stay here and help Mother.’
‘But . . .’ She looked at Dotty, hoping she would concur, but the girl stared quickly down at her dish.
‘If we’ve all got to do extra work, does this mean Alice and me don’t have to go to school no more?’ Thomas asked hopefully.
‘No, it does not. Eddy-f’cation’s everything,’ his mother said.
‘Didn’t do William any good, did it?’ Alice grinned. ‘He can’t read nor write proper, Izzie,’ she told her gleefully. Isabella stared at William in surprise.
‘Least I can add up, and the word is properly anyway,’ William retorted, but Isabella could tell by the way his face flushed that he was embarrassed.
‘That’s enough,’ his father said, banging his fist down on the table. ‘We’ve got enough to do without bickering. Alice and Thomas, you will get up an hour earlier every day to help Mother with the chores then pick the extra flowers we’ll be growing.’ This was met with groans but their father ignored them.
‘Mother, Dotty, and you girl – for the time you are here,’ he added as Isabella opened her mouth to protest, ‘will have extra flowers to pack. And as Dotty will be out more, you can watch how Mother prepares our meals then take over in the kitchen. I’m sure even you can manage to make brewis,’ he added.
‘What?’ Isabella gasped.
‘Of course she can, Father,’ her aunt said quickly, smiling encouragingly at Isabella.
‘As long as you remember to use the crusts and not just the bread,’ William smirked. Knowing it would be foolish to retaliate, Isabella bit her tongue. When he realized she wasn’t rising to the bait, William turned to his father. ‘So, what will you be doing then?’
‘Managing the extra orders and invoices. Then after supper I’ll spend the evenings propagating and bringing on fresh plants. Give Furneaux something to really compete with. Now, to work,’ he said, getting to his feet and pulling on his hat.
Isabella watched him go then glanced at the clock. It wasn’t yet 5.30 a.m. and yet she felt as if she’d been up for ever. She’d go upstairs and write to Maxwell and Papa. There was no way she could stay here with this strident man and his strict routine. As for the food, she thought, glaring down at her bowl . . . why, she’d seen Cook put better offerings in the pig swill.
As the family carried out their father’s wishes, knowing her presence on the small holding was temporary, Isabella tried her best to fit in. While she applauded her uncle’s determination and tenacity, she was still smarting from the way he’d spoken to her on their journey back from Starcross. If he noticed her coolness he ignored it, treating her the same as the others during the day, then disappearing through the door at the end of the barn after supper each evening.
‘What’s through there?’ Isabella asked her aunt as they stood side by side bunching up the violets a few days later. Dotty, wearing her best bonnet, had departed earlier for the big house, a large willow basket filled with flowers over her arm, and the letters she’d promised Isabella she’d post in her pocket.
‘That’s Father’s domain,’ she replied. ‘He’s bringing on a new strain of plant. Between you and me, it’s a bit risky financially but very exciting. He’s keeping it under his hat so nobody’s allowed inside.’
‘You don’t mind him taking a chance with your money?’ Isabella asked, thinking of all the shabby things in the house that needed replacing. The woman chuckled.
‘Once Father gets something in his mind, there’s no stopping him. He’s no fool, though. Put everything into this market garden, he has, and if he wants to expand the range of flowers he can offer, who am I to stand in his way?’ Isabella nodded and concentrated on tying up the posies, but as she worked her mind was busy processing what her aunt had told her. Finally, she had to ask the question that was uppermost in her mind.
‘Auntie, when I arrived here, I handed Uncle an envelope from Papa that I’m guessing contained money for my keep?’ Her aunt stared at her in surprise.
‘He never mentioned it, but then he’s had a lot on his mind,’ she frowned. ‘Not that we expected anything for having you here. You’re family, after all.’
‘Thank you, Auntie,’ she replied, touched by the woman’s kindness. The more she thought it about it, though, the more she was convinced that the envelope would have contained money. Quite a lot too, judging by the thickness of it. Could her uncle have kept it for himself? Perhaps to purchase these new flowers?
‘Oh, well done, dear. You’re really getting the hang of this now, aren’t you?’
Isabella stared down at the posy she’d been fashioning
