A Family For Christmas (17 page)

‘And you have a housekeeper,
staff?'

‘Indeed. I will put my housekeeper at
Eliza's disposal. She will be looked after as if she were my own. The cook provides meals
par excellence. As for my business, Eliza will train alongside my other apprentice, Amos. He is
in his second year and très promising. I trust the terms I set out in my letter proved
satisfactory?'

Fay nodded. ‘And you engaged the services
of a chaperone?'

‘Oui, at extra cost, you understand? Madame
Simmons is waiting outside in my carriage.'

‘Chaperone?' Eliza gasped.

‘Oui, Mademoiselle. Our journey to
Follytown is long, necessitating an overnight stop at the hostelry in Tiffeton. It would be
inappropriate for us to travel alone, n'est-ce pas? Now tell me, have you made any perfume
before?'

‘Oh, yes, I have made rosewater and other
infusions, of course,' Eliza said, producing a bottle.

He inhaled and smiled. ‘Bon, you have used
the roses well. With a little training in the blending you have the potential to be très
bon. Now, Madame, I do not wish to hurry our discussion but we need to embark upon our journey.
You have your receipt book?'

‘Indeed, Charles. Here is my part of the
bargain,' Fay
said, handing over the book
along with a sealed envelope.

His green eyes glittered with greed as he jumped
up and took them with almost indecent haste. But the look was so quickly replaced with that
charming smile, Eliza wondered if she'd imagined it.

Pocketing the envelope, he then began flicking
through the pages. ‘Excellent.' Then he frowned. ‘I had thought there to be
more, however …' he commented, raising an immaculately arched eyebrow.

Fay shrugged but said nothing.

‘Well, if you are ready,
Mademoiselle?' he said, turning to Eliza and smiling graciously.

‘I would just like to say farewell to Eliza
in private, if you could spare us a few moments, Charles?' Fay asked.

‘Of course, Madame. I will wait outside in
my carriage. It has been a pleasure doing business with you,' he said, bending and kissing
Fay's hand.

‘And you will send me regular news of
Eliza's progress?'

‘Mais oui, of course,' he
confirmed.

As soon as the door had closed behind him, Fay
turned to Eliza.

‘Remember what I said?' she asked,
inclining her head towards Eliza's bundle that lay waiting on the dresser. ‘On no
account is Charles to know you have my other book of receipts. It is my present to you and
insurance for your future. Promise me?'

Eliza could only nod as the prospect of leaving
made her too choked to speak.

‘I also want you to take this black scent
bottle,' Fay said, drawing a small parcel wrapped in velvet from her pocket. ‘When
you are alone, inhale the aroma that still lingers
inside and commit it to your memory. Once you are trained, see if
you can find the flower to recreate it. Do that, Eliza, and you will become a woman of standing
in your own right. I began once myself, but circumstances …' She swallowed, then
shrugged. ‘Well, let's just say, sketching the flora became the focus of my life.
This is also to be your secret. I'll hide the bottle in your bundle whilst you put on your
cape.'

‘Do I really have to go?' Eliza
asked, staring sadly around the hobble that had been her home these past months.

‘Yes, and you'd better not keep
Charles waiting,' Fay urged, gently smoothing down Eliza's cape then all but pushing
her out of the door.

Making her way down the path, Eliza swallowed
hard, determined not to disgrace herself by crying. At the gate, she turned back to give a final
wave and was dismayed to see tears glistening on the woman's cheeks. She hesitated and was
about to go back, but Fay pushed the door closed and Eliza knew her old life was over.

She sighed. Nobody truly wanted or loved her.
Even Duncan hadn't found the time to come and say goodbye. Well, she could stand on her
own two feet. She would go with this Monsieur Farrant, learn what she could, then make her own
way in life.

Eliza took a deep breath and hurried towards the
waiting carriage. The driver jumped down and took her bundle. Then, as Charles Farrant put out
his hand to help her up the step, he noticed her ugly boots and frowned.

‘Oh, I hadn't realized,' he
muttered, looking quickly away.

‘It doesn't affect my sense of
smell,' she advised him pointedly. As she took her seat opposite she caught a whiff of his
peculiar aroma and wished it did.

There was no time to dwell on it, though, for no
sooner had she settled herself onto the plush leather squabs than the carriage began moving.
Eliza glanced back at the hobble for the last time but could see no sign of Fay.

‘This is Madame Simmons, who will be
chaperoning you until we reach Follytown,' Charles Farrant said, gesturing towards the
woman sitting in the corner. She was smartly dressed and wearing the most enormous hat Eliza had
ever seen. Smiling and thinking it would be nice to have some cheerful company on the journey,
she moved closer, but Madame Simmons merely nodded and turned quickly away.

Charming, Eliza thought, staring out at the
scenery as the carriage lurched and rocked its way down the steep incline of the moors. Ponies
and sheep grazed contentedly on the heather and she wished she was out there with
them. As the driver carefully negotiated his way
over the stone bridge spanning the river, Eliza thought of Duncan and the night they'd
found Fay by the side of the road. Then they were passing the hills they'd sledged down to
reach the farm, and with every turn of the wheels taking her away from all that was familiar her
heart grew heavier.

Fay didn't want her and she hadn't
seen Duncan since that day in the garden. Involuntarily her hand went to her cheek and she
sighed. She'd thought he cared for her as much as she did him but as he hadn't even
called to say goodbye, obviously he didn't.

Now they were passing his beloved woods and she
angrily dashed away a tear. If that was what they wanted, so be it. She would concentrate all
her energy on becoming a perfumer. No, not just a perfumer, a master one – or should that
be mistress one? She was pondering the conundrum when the hairs on her neck prickled and for one
mad moment she thought she saw Duncan's chestnut eyes peering out from the dense foliage.
Hoping for a better look, she leaned against the window, but the carriage had already passed
by.

‘You have travelled to Devonshire before,
Miss Eliza?' Madame Simmons asked, her West Country burr breaking the silence. Surprised
but welcoming the diversion, Eliza looked up to find the woman smiling at her. Well, she assumed
the woman was smiling but that outrageous hat obscured nearly all of her face.

‘No, I've lived in Somerset all my
life,' she answered.

‘And a beautiful place it is, too,'
the woman said.

‘Remember your status, please,
Madame,' Charles Farrant rebuked, looking up from the book to give her a
warning glare. The woman flushed and Eliza caught the faintest
whiff of violet before she stared down at the floor.

Charming again, Eliza thought, turning her
attention back to the passing scenery. Far below she saw Ben and Rose's fields, brown
speckled with gold now their harvest was gathered. What happy days she'd spent there,
helping with Joshua, preparing for the Wassail celebrations and dancing with Duncan. It had been
such a contrast to her unhappy life back home and for the first time ever in her life
she'd felt wanted. Then she recalled what Mother Evangaline had purportedly said about her
and sighed. Seemingly she wasn't deemed good enough to mix with anyone, even this Madame
Simmons. Well, whatever life had in store for her, she was determined to make something of
herself. She'd show them all.

The sun was high in the sky now, its rays almost
burning Eliza's cheek through the glass, the glare making her squint.

‘You wish some shade, Mademoiselle?'
Charles Farrant asked, reaching up and pulling on the cord to lower the blind. She smiled her
thanks, relaxed back in her seat and closed her eyes.

‘Dulvester,' the driver shouted,
jerking her awake. No sooner had the carriage ground to a halt in the hostelry yard than it
became a hive of activity with ostlers running out to see to the horses. As the driver threw
open the door and let down the steps, Charles Farrant carefully alighted, smoothing the creases
from his trousers. Then he helped them down the steps and ushered them into the taproom, which
was gloomy after the brilliant sunshine outside. The buxom barmaid was clearly bowled over by
his charm, fluttering her eyelashes and leaning
lower over the bar to reveal her magnificent bosom. Eliza stared around the dingy room,
grimacing at the smell of ale, tobacco and sawdust.

Then the landlord appeared and the woman
reluctantly left Charles to show Eliza and Madame Simmons where they could refresh themselves
before luncheon. A little table had been set for two in the corner of a private room and
platters of ham, pickles and bread were placed in front of them. Madame Simmons gasped in
delight and immediately tucked in with relish, but the colossal hat kept coming between her
mouth and the food. Finally, with a cry of exasperation she pushed it to the back of her head
and Eliza was able to see her velvety brown eyes for the first time. The woman would have been
quite attractive if she hadn't been shovelling great handfuls of fare into her mouth as if
she'd never been fed before. Well, Eliza thought, status or not, she at least had better
table manners. They were just finishing when Monsieur Farrant appeared and glared at Madame
Simmons, who hastily pulled her bonnet down over her face again.

The tension in the carriage was palpable, nobody
spoke and Eliza found the rest of the journey tedious. Tree followed tree, and fields stretched
out as far as the eye could see as the carriage continued its seemingly endless descent. By the
time they pulled up at the hostelry in Tiffeton where they were to spend the night, the shadows
were gathering and Eliza couldn't help yawning.

‘Show Mademoiselle to her room,'
Charles Farrant ordered as soon as the landlady appeared. The woman nodded and led the way up a
steep flight of stairs and
along a narrow
corridor. Eliza tried to keep up but her legs were wobbling like jelly after being in the coach
for so long and her foot throbbed, making her limp more pronounced. When she was eventually
shown into the small but comfortable room, she sank thankfully onto the one single bed. She was
surprised Madame Simmons wasn't to share with her then remembered Monsieur Farrant's
earlier comment about status. Obviously, Eliza wasn't deemed of the right class to
associate with even the chaperone.

Too exhausted to remove her clothes, she closed
her eyes but it seemed like she was still moving. Although the bed was comfortable, she tossed
and turned, wild thoughts going round and round her head. Unused to noise, she was kept awake by
the loud voices and bawdy laughter rising up from the taproom. Grey dawn was lightening the sky
before all went quiet and she fell into a dreamless sleep.

When she woke the sun had already risen and she
could hear men shouting and the sound of hooves on the cobbles outside. Quickly splashing her
face with water from the ewer, she ran her fingers through her hair, smoothed down her crumpled
clothes and hurried down the stairs.

Charles Farrant glanced impatiently at his fob
watch as she reached the hallway. ‘Bonjour, Mademoiselle Eliza, I trust you slept well?
You are requiring le petit déjeuner, non?' From the way he emphasized the non, Eliza
took this as a signal she was to refuse. Ignoring her rumbling stomach, she shook her head then
followed him out to the carriage where Madame Simmons was already seated.
As the carriage moved away, Eliza leaned back against the leather
squabs and promptly fell asleep.

When she woke some time later, they were
travelling alongside a river. Nearby was a huddle of buildings from which the most noxious
stench emanated. She wrinkled her nose.

‘Ah, you have woken, Mademoiselle,'
Charles Farrant commented. ‘That delightful smell it comes from the tanyard, but luckily
for us the prevailing winds blow from the south-west. It is fortunate my premises are situated
on the far side of town, for perfume and tanned hides are not usually renowned for
mixing,' he said, rocking with mirth so that his shiny moustache quivered. Eliza stared at
it in fascination wondering what could have amused him so much.

Fearful of being thought rude, she turned to look
back out of the window and her eyes widened in amazement. She blinked and looked again but there
it was, a monster cockerel rising up from behind the trees. Why, it must surely be as tall as
me, she thought.

‘That's the octagonal lantern of St
Andrew's church,' Charles Farrant said, serious once more. ‘It is beautiful,
non? Truly a sign of money and worth,' he added, puffing out his chest as if he was
personally responsible for building it.

After that, Eliza didn't like to admit
she'd been looking at the church's weathercock, which she could now see was perched
magnificently atop the tower.

‘My perfumery is but a few moments'
ride from here.'

They were passing through the town square now.
How busy everywhere seemed and how smartly dressed the
people were. The men wore toppers, frock coats edged with braid
down the front and brightly coloured cravats showing at the neck, while the women were attired
in tailored dresses, matching waisted jackets and high plumed hats. Eliza gazed down at her
crumpled gown and worn, down-at-heel boots and wondered how she'd ever fit in.

The carriage duly slowed outside an imposing grey
limestone and flint house, with so many chimneys on the roof that Eliza could only wonder how
many rooms were inside. It was surrounded by a weathered stone wall with a bolted arched gate at
the front and a wide-open gate to the side. The coachman turned into this gate and onto the
drive, coming to a halt by the front door. It was opened by a butler wearing a white shirt, long
black coat and grey striped trousers, who greeted Charles Farrant as if he were gentry.

Monsieur Farrant nodded and turned to the little
maid who was standing behind him. ‘Mimi will show you to your room where a light lunch
should be ready and waiting?' Turning, he quirked an eyebrow at the little maid, who
nodded vigorously.

‘Bon. Now Eliza, do you have any formal
attire with you?'

‘Formal?' she asked.

‘Oui. I noticed that what you wear is past
its best and many seasons out of mode. As for your bundle, it is well …' he grimaced
and shook his head, ‘… hardly worth bringing inside.'

‘But it contains some precious personal
belongings,' she said quickly, thinking of her treasured box and the things Fay had given
her.

‘Then I will order it to be sent to your room. When you
have decided what you really must keep, perhaps you would be good enough to get the housekeeper
to dispose of the rest. Ask Mrs Symms to arrange for the dressmaker to call at her earliest
convenience,' he said, turning to the maid, who nodded and bobbed a curtsy.

‘But that will cost money and
…' Eliza began.

‘Your guardian, she has
provided.'

‘My guardian?' Eliza muttered,
shaking her head in bewilderment.

‘Oui. I explained in my letter to Madame
Beaumont that your attire will need to befit a perfumer's apprentice, and perhaps a linen
cap would also be in order,' he said, frowning at Eliza's head.

‘A cap?' she gasped.

‘At the very least you must wear your hair
Cadogan manner. It would be unseemly for you to be seen around my premises with it dangling, how
you say, like drowned rat's-tails. I shall expect you to look smart and dignified at all
times. Remember you represent moi, Monsieur Charles Farrant, Master Perfumer. I am very well
known around these parts,' he said, puffing up his chest in the way Eliza had come to
recognize. Hearing a titter from behind, he spun round.

‘And servants are easy to replace,'
he added, frowning at the little maid who stared nervously down at the floor. ‘Now Mimi
can show you to your room and I will see you later, Mademoiselle Eliza.'

He hurried away leaving Eliza to follow the maid
along a light airy vestibule, its walls hung with ornate pictures of amber-coloured amphorae and
amber-coloured scent
bottles similar to the ones
she'd seen in Fay's book. Then the maid threw open a door and led her across a
little courtyard and into another, more modest building.

‘This be where you sleep, miss,' the
maid said, opening yet another door. ‘Monsieur likes his staff to be housed here in the
west wing,' she lowered her voice, ‘out of the way.' Before Eliza could say
anything, she gave a quick bob and left.