The Ribbon Weaver

Chapter Two



1835

As Bessie entered Molly’s bright little cottage on a blistering hot day in 1835, she was as usual struck by the difference between her neighbour’s home and her own. Molly’s place was as spick and span as a new pin. Everything seemed to gleam – the copper pans suspended above the fireplace, the plates on the wooden dresser; even the stone floor with the brightly coloured peg rugs scattered here and there looked spotless.

Bessie sighed as she thought of her own cottage. She had yet another baby to care for now and her tiny home was bursting at the seams. Jeannie, her new baby, made her brood up to five children. There was Toby, the eldest at thirteen, followed by Mary, Beatrice, Henry and now little Jeannie, and there would have been seven of them, had she not lost two children the previous year to measles. Her husband, Jim, was a good man, a hard worker who tipped his wages up as regularly as clockwork every Friday. But even so, it was a continuous battle just to keep the wolf from the door. Even with Toby’s wages it was still hard to cope with the demands of her ever-growing family.

Toby had recently joined his father at the Griff Hollows pit. Her firstborn was the apple of Bessie’s eye and she had adored him since the moment he drew breath. She always laughingly told anyone who would listen that she had named him after the Toby jugs that were so popular at the time, because of his scrunched-up little face when he was born. He was a good lad, and although she was grateful for the extra money he earned, it hurt her to see him doing such a menial job, for her Toby was bright, with an unquenchable thirst for knowledge. Every day before beginning his shift at the pit he would study, and he never tired of telling his mother that one day he intended to be a teacher. Bessie did not doubt him: she felt her son was destined for better things and encouraged him in his ambition as much as she possibly could.

Bessie guessed that this was what had formed the bond between him and Amy, for already at just five years old she could say the alphabet and write her name, along with other words that even Bessie couldn’t write. Toby would spend hours of an evening round at Molly’s teaching Amy her letters and numbers, and Bessie had long since been forced to admit that Toby was closer to her than to any of his own sisters or brother Henry. He obviously doted on the little girl and she in turn doted on him. It had been like this ever since Molly took Amy in, and Bessie could see no sign of it changing now. In fact, she didn’t mind it, for she was also extremely fond of her. Amy and her Beatrice had lain side by side in the same crib and fed from the same breasts, and Bessie loved the child almost as much as her own brood.

The sound of the children’s laughter reached her now as they skipped past the cottage door. Amy and Beatrice were almost inseparable although they were as different as chalk from cheese. Beatrice was the taller of the two, with straight mousy hair and solemn grey eyes. She was a quiet little girl, content to follow Amy about whilst Amy, although more petite, had the more outgoing personality. She had huge dark brown eyes that could appear almost black if she were upset, and her hair, which defied any ribbon to hold it for long, cascaded down her back in thick auburn curls.

But it wasn’t just the child’s beauty and her dimpled smile that set her apart from Beatrice and the other children in the neighbourhood; it was the way that Molly dressed her. You would never see Amy in the dull browns and greys that were usual for the children thereabouts. Instead, Molly would sit for hours stitching her little dresses of all the colours of the rainbow from remnants of material that she had bought from the market. Sadly, Molly had never discovered what had happened to Amy’s mother and sometimes Bessie suspected that Molly had forgotten that Amy wasn’t really hers. In many ways Amy was spoiled, but even so she had such a bright and kindly little spirit that no one could fail to love her.

Molly absolutely adored her. Since taking Amy in, her life had completely changed. The child was her reason to live, and never a day went by when she didn’t thank God for her. Molly also had a big soft spot for Toby, and since he had taken on the role of Amy’s protector she loved him even more. Whenever she had a few pennies to spare she would buy him a book and he would read it from cover to cover again and again. He would sit at night and read stories to Amy as Molly sat in her rocking chair quietly sewing, and the old lady would smile at the expressions of wonder that flitted across the child’s face as the stories unfolded. In truth, Molly could not confess to being much of a scholar herself, but that made her all the more determined that Amy should be educated. She was as proud of Amy as Bessie was of Toby, and this over the last years had strengthened the bond between them.

For some time now, Molly had taken to working at home again, using the loom in the attic. Once a week Amos Bennett would come and collect the ribbons she had weaved and pay her the wages that were due. Molly had soon discovered that she couldn’t earn as much as she had when working in the factory, for her loom was merely a rude single handloom, which restricted the types of ribbons she could weave. It was, however, excellent for turning out tartan plaids and rich plain ribbons, and luckily these were still very much in demand. Amy would stand at the side of the loom for hours at a time, fascinated by the beautiful ribbons she produced as Molly smiled at her fondly. Although her savings jar was not quite as full as it had used to be, it suited Molly to have extra time to spend with Amy and she was more content than she had been for many years.

But today, Molly had no intention of working all day, for this was the day that Mary, Bessie’s twelve year old, was going for an interview at Forrester’s Folly for the position of laundrymaid. It was reputed to be a very grand house on the outskirts of the town, the home of a local factory-owner, and Mary had secured the interview after applying for the post she had seen advertised in a local shop window. They were all very excited about it and could hardly wait for Mary to return to tell them all about it.

Glancing up at the skylight at the position of the sun in the cloudless blue sky, Molly realised that it was already mid-afternoon and that Bessie would probably already be downstairs waiting for her. Slowing the treadle, she leaned away from the rest and placed down the shuttle that she had been expertly throwing from hand to hand. Then stretching and flexing her aching fingers, she descended the stairs to find Bessie standing watching the children from the tiny kitchen window.

She smiled at Molly over her shoulder. ‘Just come and look at these two little imps,’ she urged as Molly joined her.

The two girls were running up and down the cobblestones that ran the length of the cottages laughing and giggling with not a care in the world, while Henry and little Jeannie watched them admiringly.

‘It does your heart good to see them so carefree, don’t it?’ grinned Molly.

Bessie nodded. ‘Aye, it does that, I just hope our Mary is smilin’ when she comes back from her interview.’ Her homely face suddenly clouded and Molly patted her arm.

‘Mary is a good girl. She’ll get the job, never you fear,’ she said confidently. ‘In the meantime, let’s have a cup o’ tea an’ take the weight off our feet, eh?’

Shuffling away she pushed the kettle into the heart of the fire. She knew how much it would mean to Bessie if Mary got this job, although she also knew that Bessie had very mixed feelings about it. Her daughter would have to live in the servants’ quarters at Forrester’s Folly, which would make a little more room in Bessie’s cottage for the rest of her family, but Molly knew that Bessie would miss her dreadfully.

Bessie remained at the door. ‘She surely can’t be much longer now,’ she sighed, gazing up the lane over the heads of the children.

Molly laughed. ‘Come away in, woman. Yer know what they say – a watched pot never boils. Now come and drink this tea.’

Obediently, Bessie crossed to the large scrubbed table and plonked herself down while Molly made the tea. It was some minutes later when a shadow in the door blocked out the sunlight and Mary almost exploded into the room, her plain little face alight.

‘I got the job, Mam – I got it!’ She was almost beside herself with excitement.

Bessie threw her arms about her and hugged her in delight. ‘You clever girl, you. When do yer start? What are yer hours? When’s yer day off ?’

Laughing, Mary held up her hand to stem the flow of questions, saying, ‘Slow down, Mam, let me sit down an’ get me breath back an’ I’ll answer as many questions as yer like.’

Once the girl was seated, both women stared at her intently.

‘Now tell us everythin’, mind, right from the time yer got there,’ ordered Bessie, and nodding, Mary began.

‘Well, I got there and the gate man let me in, then it took me ten whole minutes to walk up the drive – it seemed to go on forever. And the grounds … eeh, you’ve never seen anythin’ like ’em. There are flowerbeds everywhere and the grass is so green. Apparently there are two gardeners who work fulltime just to see to the grounds.’

Both women were already suitably impressed and stared at Mary in awe.

Aware of her captive audience the girl continued, ‘Nearer to the house is trees all cut into the shapes of animals. A to … topiarararay or sommat like that, I think it’s called. Eeh, they’re lovely, I’m tellin’ yer. An’ there are real marble steps that lead up to a front door that looks as big as the whole of the front of our cottages.’

Bessie gaped in amazement as Mary giggled and went on, ‘To one side o’ the house is a little wood, and inside it looks just like a carpet o’ wild flowers. The other side o’ the house, the lawns slope right down to the River Anker and there’s a little boathouse where Mr Forrester has his very own boats.’

It was Molly’s turn to gawp now and Mary, who was enjoying herself immensely, gabbled on, ‘Well, as I’m approaching the front o’ the house, the butler comes out to meet me. Yer should have seen his uniform; the buttons on his jacket were so shiny I could see me face in ’em. He told me to follow the path around the house to the back to the servants’ entrance, so I did.’ Here she stopped to catch her breath, but both women urged her on impatiently. ‘Around the back is the stableblock, the laundry room an’ the dairy, and by the time I got to the back door I can tell yer I was shakin’ like a leaf.’ She giggled again as she recalled her nervousness.

‘Anyway, then the housekeeper appears and she takes me down this big long passage to the kitchen. I couldn’t believe me eyes when I saw it. It must be as big as the one in Buckingham Palace!’

She nodded as if to confirm the truth of her words before hurrying on, ‘The housekeeper, well at first she points to a chair and tells me to sit down, so I did, then she starts asking me all these questions. I was so scared by then that the words kept gettin’ caught in me throat. After that she took me back out across the yard and showed me the laundry room – that’s massive too. There’s great dolly tubs and mangles everywhere, and there was a girl there washing who winked at me and made me feel a bit more at ease like. It’s her job I’ll be takin’ as she’s leavin’ to have a baby. Anyway, the housekeeper asked me if I thought I could do the job and I said yes, so then she took me back to the big house and told me to sit down and sit still.’ She paused again, trying to recall every single thing that had happened to her so as to leave nothing out. By now Amy and Beatrice had also joined her audience and were standing side-by-side, hands clasped, hanging on to her every word in the doorway.

Eventually, Mary continued, ‘It seemed like I sat there for ages an’ there were people scurryin’ about everywhere. One of the maids was laying this little trolley on wheels for the master and the mistress’s tea. I don’t mind admittin’, the things she were loading on to that trolley made me mouth water. There were tiny sandwiches all cut into dainty little triangles with the crusts trimmed off, an’ homemade cakes and tarts with icing on the top and cream inside. And the teapot, well … I’m tellin’ yer it must have been made of solid silver, and the milk jug and the sugar dish. And the china tea cups and saucers and plates were so fine that you could see your hand through ’em.’ She paused for effect and unconsciously licked her lips at the memory.

‘Any road, once the trolley was fully loaded, this other girl comes in. Cook told me she was Lily the parlourmaid and she was really pretty. She had on a black dress with a little frilly apron and a starched white cap, an’ off she goes to take the trolley to the master and mistress. Then when she’d gone, Cook gave me a cup of tea and a big wedge o’ fruitcake. It were lovely and it melted in me mouth. I can still taste it now, mm!’ She rubbed her stomach and grinned at the memory, and now it was Amy and Beatrice’s turn to lick their lips.

‘Cook’s name is Mrs Gibbs but everyone just calls her Cook. She frightened me at first ’cos she were shouting out orders right, left and centre whilst she were gettin’ the tea ready. But then once the parlourmaid had gone she calmed down and was really nice. She told me not to look so worried, that her bark was worse than her bite and that’s when she gave me the tea and cake.’

By now Amy and Beatrice had sidled up to the table and were listening wide-eyed.

‘After a time the housekeeper came back and told me to follow her. We seemed to walk for miles through all these corridors at the back of the house. She took me upstairs and showed me this bedroom, and it were then that I realised that I must have got the job because she told me that this would be the room I would be sharin’ with the other laundrymaid, Lizzie, the one I had met earlier in the laundry.’

‘What’s the room like?’ asked Bessie, and Mary frowned as she tried to recall every detail.

‘I suppose it were fairly sparse. There was a wooden wardrobe that I’m to share with Lizzie, until she leaves that is, two beds an’ a washstand.’ In fact, although sparse, the room had appeared luxurious to Mary. She had never had a bed all to herself before, but she didn’t like to say that for fear of hurting her mam’s feelings.

‘Next we went back downstairs and she told me that I will be issued with a uniform when I start. I can begin next Monday, and I’ll have every Sunday afternoon off, then if I do all right after my first six months, I’ll get to have two afternoons off. But I’m telling yer now, Mam, I will do all right, I promise, and one day I’ll make me way up to be a parlourmaid, you just wait an’ see.’

Her face was glowing with the excitement of it all, and in that moment her homely features could almost have been described as pretty. Standing, Bessie gathered her into her arms and gave her a big cuddle. She was delighted and yet also dreading Mary going, all at once. Mary would be the first of her brood to fly the nest, and the thought of losing her made Bessie’s heart ache. She was a good girl, almost like a second little mother to her brothers and sisters. If truth be told, she was Bessie’s right arm – and she would miss her daughter sorely.

Noting the unshed tears in Bessie’s eyes and guessing at her feelings, Molly rose noisily from the table. ‘I think this calls for a celebration,’ she said loudly, winking at Amy and Beatrice, and the two little girls clapped their hands with glee and went to fetch the others.

Within minutes they were all tucking into great wedges of Molly’s own home-made sponge cake and the occasion took on a party atmosphere with much giggling and laughing. But all good things must come to an end and eventually Bessie rose, eyeing the mantel clock.

‘Come on then, you lot,’ she grinned. ‘Let’s be havin’ yer back round home. Yer dad an’ Toby will be home from work soon and expecting to find their meals on the table.’

With much merriment the little family departed and after clearing away the pots into the deep stone sink, Molly set about preparing their own meal of scrag end of lamb with a good handful of barley and carrots.

Amy hurried away upstairs and soon reappeared with her treasured pencils and papers, and within minutes was seated at the old oak table contentedly drawing. Molly never ceased to be amazed at Amy’s sketches. She was obviously going to be a gifted artist, for already she could draw pictures that could put the work of most adults to shame. Were she to be given the choice between a new pencil or a sweetmeat, she would choose the pencil every time.

Lately she had taken to drawing hats, and when she went into town with Molly she would always insist that they stopped before the hat-shop window so that she could admire the designs. Forrester’s Millinery hadn’t been open for long and was doing extremely well, as did most of Samuel Forrester’s ventures. He already owned nearly all of the ribbon factories in Abbey Street and another hat shop in the nearby town of Atherstone as well as one in London.

But then Molly begrudged him none of his success. It was a well-known fact that Samuel Forrester was a selfmade man who had worked himself up from selling ribbons from a barrow in the town centre to being one of the wealthiest men in Nuneaton.

It was at his home that Mary would be going to work. Forrester’s Folly had been the talk of the town when it was built almost twenty-five years before. It was a folly of Regency architecture with turrets and towers, built on the outskirts of Caldecote, a little hamlet approximately three miles outside of Nuneaton. Samuel had ordered it to be built after announcing his engagement, and it was even said that he himself had set to and helped the workmen to build it with bricks all made and fired in Nuneaton.

Samuel Forrester had married far above his class and it was to Forrester’s Folly that he had taken his new bride once it was completed. The couple had lived there ever since, and it was known that Samuel Forrester still doted on his wife who was said to be a beautiful fragile creature. It was rumoured that he was a hard taskmaster but fair, and Molly had no doubt that Mary would be well cared for once she had entered his employ. She suspected that beneath his crusty exterior beat a heart of gold and had heard over the years of many kindnesses he had done for employees of his who had fallen prey to illness or hard times. It was actually he who paid her wages and those of the many other weavers hereabouts who worked at their own looms, for they all sold their ribbons to the factories in Abbey Street, many of which were owned by Samuel Forrester.

He was often to be seen about. A tall dark handsome man, he regularly walked about the town and visited the factories, although the same could not be said about his family. Of them he was extremely protective and private. It was thought that his wife had given him only two children, a son and a daughter, but no one was really sure, for he guarded them jealously. When he was young the son had been sent away to a private school, whilst his daughter had been educated at home by a governess until she was in her teens, when Samuel Forrester had employed a private tutor to further her education at The Folly and a further house that he owned in London where he spent part of each year.

Now that the time for her to leave was approaching, Molly was quite looking forward to Mary working at Forrester’s Folly. No doubt she would come home and tell them tales of the happenings there, and Molly and Bessie enjoyed a good bit of gossip as much as the next person.

It was later that evening; the meal was over, the pots were washed and put away, and Molly was sitting at the side of the empty fireplace with the back door open enjoying the balmy summer night as she stitched yet another little petticoat for Amy. Every now and then a giggle from Amy or Toby, who were sitting at the table doing sums on a wooden abacus, made her look up and smile, and without thinking she offered up a silent prayer of gratitude. All in all, life was good and she had a lot to be thankful for. The youngsters’ heads, bent close together at the table, made a pleasing contrast. Toby’s fair hair, straight as a poker, and Amy’s deep auburn curls seemed almost joined as they worked in harmony to do their sums. And it was as she gazed at them that, for the first time, Molly had a premonition of things to come. It was something in Toby’s eyes as he looked at Amy. The youngsters looked for all the world as if they belonged together. Molly was a great believer in fate. What would be would be. And on that thought she returned to her sewing and left the children to themselves, with a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.