The Penmaker's Wife Read online

The dress was next to go on. It was made of striped maroon satin with a bow on the bustle, and the reason Effie had said she no longer wanted it was because she felt it was too bold a colour for her. Her eyes lit up as soon as she saw it on Angelica, suggesting she thought it none too bold for her.

  ‘Why do you stare so, Effie?’ Angelica asked with a laugh. ‘If you don’t close your mouth soon you might catch a fly.’

  ‘Was I staring?’ Effie said. ‘I’m sorry. The dress just looks so beautiful on you. I could never do it justice, but it complements you very well. I’m surprised you’ve not yet taken another husband.’

  ‘I’m afraid my experience of men has not been good.’

  ‘It hasn’t?’ Effie said, sitting up as though keen to find out why.

  ‘No. My husband was kind enough, I suppose, but he never had time for me. Once we were married he only cared for his work, not that it amounted to anything. We never had any money to spare.’

  ‘He sounds just like Violet’s husband,’ Effie said. ‘Apart from the money of course. How did you meet him?’

  Angelica smiled to herself as she recalled the occasion. ‘He came to Rouen with a cart full of leather cases to sell, and my grandfather, who happened to be in Rouen at the time, bought one from him. It was for his ear trumpet, to protect it whenever he left home. He didn’t have it with him, of course, and when he arrived home with the case he found it was too small, so I offered to take it back, along with his ear trumpet, to exchange it for one that would fit. I ended up taking more back to our little village that day than I’d bargained for.’

  Effie gave a small laugh. ‘Did you love him?’

  ‘I suppose I did,’ Angelica said, ‘but it didn’t last. I was young and I didn’t really know what I wanted – a happy future and someone to share it with, I suppose.’

  ‘He doesn’t sound so bad,’ Effie said. ‘I’m sure he’s not the only reason your experience of men hasn’t been good. Have there been others?’

  Angelica’s thoughts turned to Reggie Price and she decided she had talked enough about her past for now. ‘You’re beginning to sound like Violet,’ she said. ‘She’s always asking questions about my life before I came here.’

  ‘Am I?’ Effie said. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.’ A moment later she fidgeted and added, ‘It’s a pity Violet can’t come with us today. I’m sure she would have enjoyed it. I do hope she’s feeling better soon.’

  ‘I hope so, too,’ Angelica said, ‘but I’m glad it’s just the two of us today. Violet hasn’t really taken to me, has she?’

  ‘Let’s not talk about Violet any more,’ Effie said. ‘A moment ago you told me that when you married you just wanted a happy future and someone to share it with. Do you still feel that way?’

  ‘Yes, and if society didn’t frown so on unmarried women, I could quite happily spend the remainder of my days in company such as yours.’

  ‘You could?’

  Angelica nodded. ‘Although I must confess to finding Mr Hampton quite different from the type of man who has so blackened my opinion of their sex. He’s very caring.’

  ‘Yes, he is,’ Effie said, casting her eyes to the window, away from Angelica for the first time all morning.

  ‘Now, with the boys away at school,’ Angelica continued, ‘I suppose I must turn my thoughts to leaving Priory House, before Stanley politely asks me to.’

  ‘I can’t imagine he would ever do that. I’ve seen how he looks at you.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Oh, come now, Angelica. You must have seen it. It’s become so obvious since Georgina died. I think that’s perhaps why Violet seems a little cool towards you lately. She sees the way Stanley is around you. She often talks about it.’

  ‘She does? What does she say?’

  ‘Only that she doesn’t think it right that Stanley should have so quickly forgotten his Georgina. Violet and Georgina really were the best of friends.’

  ‘It’s been three years,’ Angelica said. ‘I’m surprised Stanley hasn’t found another wife by now.’

  ‘Yes, well, he did love Georgina very much.’ Effie smiled to herself. ‘It’s a good thing Violet wasn’t able to come to dinner the other evening. Stanley was openly flirting with you from the moment we sat down. I shudder to think how far he’d have gone had I not been there.’

  ‘He’d had too much wine, that’s all.’

  ‘I’m sure he had, but he wasn’t flirting with me. In fact, he barely seemed to notice I was there. He’s very fond of you, I tell you. He won’t ask you to leave.’

  ‘Perhaps, but I should not wish to remain with no greater purpose than to play écarté with him of an evening, as Georgina used to.’

  ‘I’m sure he takes great comfort from it.’

  ‘Just the same, playing cards is not enough. I have a small amount of money saved. Now that I no longer have to concern myself with William’s well-being, I think it would be prudent to seek a governess position elsewhere.’

  ‘Will you remain close by so that we may continue our friendship?’ Effie said, looking out of the window again. ‘Or must I be content with the occasional letter?’ She turned back to Angelica with a smile. ‘You know you could always come and live with me. I’m sure Father wouldn’t mind. We can become old spinsters together.’

  Angelica laughed. ‘I’m sure society would frown all the more on that!’

  ‘Who cares about society?’ Effie said, scowling. ‘We should be allowed to do whatever we please.’

  ‘Yes, perhaps we should,’ Angelica said. To Rose, she added, ‘Pass me the hat, would you?’

  Before Rose could oblige, Effie sprang to her feet. ‘It’s all right, Rose,’ she said. ‘Thank you. You can leave us now.’

  ‘Very good, miss,’ Rose said with a small curtsey.

  Once Rose had gone, Effie offered up the hat, which was also maroon to match the dress. It had a narrow oval brim and was lavishly trimmed with red and black feathers and ribbons. She stepped close to Angelica and set it on her head, placing it just so before reaching her arms around Angelica’s neck and slowly tying the ribbons beneath her chignon. The back of Angelica’s neck began to tingle at her touch. As Effie withdrew her hands, biting her lower lip ever so slightly, their eyes met and neither looked away. For reasons Angelica could not explain, she felt a curious heat rise within her, flushing her cheeks. It was like nothing she had ever felt before.

  ‘You really are quite beautiful,’ Effie said, remaining close. She reached in and slowly tucked a few loose strands of Angelica’s hair behind her ear, and Angelica could see that Effie’s cheeks were also flushed.

  Before Effie could take her hand away, Angelica held it close to her neck, and as she suspected, Effie made no attempt to withdraw it. Instead, their eyes met again and their gazes lingered as an unspoken understanding was exchanged between them. Then came a knock at the door and Effie pulled away with a gasp.

  ‘Come in!’ Angelica called.

  When the door opened, the housekeeper came in. ‘The carriage is ready for you now.’

  ‘Very good, Missus Redmond,’ Angelica replied, still looking at Effie, although by now Effie had turned away to the window again.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The Jewellery Quarter was home to many trades beyond the manufacture of jewellery. Among the factories and workshops were those dedicated to the production of gilt buttons and pins, cap badges and metal toys, and fountain pens. The jewellery trade was in decline, but thanks to the inventions of free-flowing ink, hard rubber and iridium-tipped gold nibs, the penmaking industry was thriving. This was how Hampton and Moore had been able to establish their new and expanded business in a former jewellery factory on Legge Lane.

  As the carriage conveying Angelica and Effie to the pen factory pulled up in the street outside the main factory gate, which was busy with passers-by, Angelica gazed out at the building’s three tightly spaced rows of tall arched windows with a degree of apprehension. She was unsure how she fe
lt about being back in Hockley again. She had such terrible memories from her short time in the company of Tom Blanchard not far from here, that she would rather she never came near its streets again, but she had to remind herself that she wasn’t there to live this time, and certainly not by Blanchard’s unthinkable rules. Much had changed since then, and she had now become so ensconced in her new life in Edgbaston that she was starting to believe at last that she would never again have to return to the dark days she had left behind.

  Two men were standing by the factory gate, waiting to meet the ladies off their carriage. One was Stanley Hampton, dressed as finely as ever, Angelica thought, in a top hat, grey pinstripe trousers and a deep blue frock coat that shimmered as he walked towards them. The other man appeared to be of similar age, but there all comparison ended. The plain black suit that hung without structure on his frame had clearly not been made for him, and it had just as clearly seen far too much wear, suggesting that he was not a man of particularly good income. His presence alongside Stanley, however, and the bowler hat on his head, told Angelica that he was likely a man of position within the business.

  ‘Welcome! Welcome!’ Stanley said, full of smiles as he approached them. ‘I trust you’ve both had an agreeable morning?’

  Effie spoke first. ‘We’ve had a delightful morning, haven’t we, Angelica?’

  ‘Yes,’ Angelica agreed, ‘and such a fine morning it is.’

  ‘Quite,’ Stanley said. ‘Which makes it more the pity that we shall all be cooped up inside for the next hour or so.’ He laughed to himself. ‘It might just as well be raining. Drive on, Childers!’ he called up to the carriage driver, who responded quickly with a flick of his reins.

  Turning back to the factory gate, Stanley escorted Angelica and Effie towards it, one on each arm, his smile still fixed. When they came to the gate he stopped and the other man removed his hat.

  ‘This is our invaluable foreman, Mr Jack Hardy,’ Stanley said. ‘He keeps everything running like clockwork.’ He winked at Hardy. ‘Although we shall have to see how he does now that Hampton and Moore has quite literally doubled in size.’

  He laughed and Hardy laughed with him, and as he bowed his head the foreman said in a husky voice, ‘I’m very pleased to make your acquaintances. I’d shake you by the hand, only I wouldn’t want to get any grease on those pretty lace gloves of yours.’ He held his own calloused hands up, revealing numerous dark stains. ‘I’m afraid it’s something of an occupational hazard.’

  ‘Yes,’ Stanley said, grinning at him, ‘even though I’m continually reminding you that you no longer work on the shop floor!’

  Hardy shrugged. ‘You know me, sir. I can’t help myself when it comes to getting my hands dirty.’

  ‘And you set a fine example by doing so,’ Stanley said. ‘Now, lead on, Jack, lead on. I’m sure our guests would rather be out strolling in the park. A woman’s patience cannot be expected to last long in a stuffy factory full of machinery.’ He paused and turned first to Effie and then to Angelica, before adding in a lower voice, ‘Although I do have something to show you before you leave that I’m sure will delight your senses.’

  They were about to go through the gate when a man in rolled-up shirtsleeves and a waistcoat interrupted them, drawing their attention with a cough as he removed his bowler. He held up his other hand towards Angelica, drawing her eye.

  ‘Excuse m-my interruption,’ the man said with a stutter, ‘but have we m-met before?’

  The man’s features startled Angelica. On first seeing him she drew away, shocked by his appearance. The hand he had extended towards her was attached to a withered arm, and she thought his face nothing short of grotesque. It was crooked and disfigured, lacking any kind of symmetry. His mouth was twisted, his nose bent, and his left eye drooped lower than his right. His head was bald on top, his scalp red and flaking, although he had a thick crop of dark hair at the back of his head, which fell on to his shoulders in long, greasy strands. She put him in his mid-forties, although it was difficult to be sure on account of his appearance.

  ‘We have not met, sir, no,’ she said, looking to her companions with a wavering smile. She thought Effie looked as shocked to see this wretched-looking man as she was, although Stanley’s expression, which was mirrored by Mr Hardy, was more one of concern for their safety.

  ‘What is it you want?’ Stanley said, his tone firm as he moved protectively closer.

  The man’s head snapped around to Stanley now, as if he had only just noticed that he, or anyone other than Angelica, was there. Until now, he had been staring solely at her, presumably trying to recall where he might have seen her before.

  ‘W-want?’ the man said, his eyes back on Angelica. ‘N-nothing. I merely wished to understand where we had met.’

  ‘I have already told you,’ Angelica said, losing her smile and her patience. ‘We have not met. I’m sure I would recall you if we had.’

  ‘Oh, b-but we have met,’ the man insisted. ‘I’m convinced of it. I rarely forget a face, and could never forget one as b-beautiful as yours.’

  Stanley stepped between them. ‘Now that’s enough. The lady has told you she’s never met you before. Be on your way.’

  The man stepped aside as if to leave, but he continued. ‘It was a few years ago. You had a small b-boy with you. Was he your son?’

  ‘That’s no business of yours,’ Angelica said, but she realised she had indeed seen this man before. It had been close to dark, their encounter brief, but they had met.

  ‘Damn your impertinence, man!’ Stanley said. ‘Be off with you before I call the police.’

  ‘There’s n-no need,’ the man said, putting his hat on again. ‘I’m g-going. I expect it will come to me sooner or later.’

  With that, the man continued along the street, looking back over his shoulder now and then until he passed from sight.

  ‘What a poor creature,’ Effie said.

  ‘Strangest fellow I’ve ever seen,’ Stanley offered. ‘As if anyone could forget meeting such a man.’ He turned away from the street and offered his arm out towards the factory gate. ‘Now, shall we continue?’

  Once inside the building, they followed Hardy up a flight of ironwork stairs to the first floor, where they entered into a long room which housed a series of contraptions that Angelica had no understanding of. They were being operated almost exclusively by women, which she thought accounted for why the windowsills were laden with colourful, fragrant plants, turning Angelica’s expectations of such a workplace on their head. This was unlike any manufactory she knew or had imagined. Because of the many tall windows, it was also a bright and airy space that was vaulted further down.

  ‘These are the fly presses where the nibs are slit,’ Hardy said, gesturing to one of the lime-green contraptions. ‘Slitting the nib is the final part of the process before the nib is polished and set.’ They continued walking between the lines of workers, who remained busy at their various roles. ‘First the rolled steel or gold is marked and cut. Then it’s pierced, creating the hole that allows air into the pen so the ink can flow. It’s then embossed with one of our own unique patterns before it’s raised, ground, and slit, as you’ve just seen.’

  ‘And if you’d now care to follow me,’ Stanley said, dashing ahead of Hardy towards another set of wide ironwork stairs by the far wall, ‘I’d like you to see where we create the barrels and caps for our fountain pens. I’m sure you’d also like to see some of the finished products.’

  At that moment a call went up from one of the workers behind them. ‘Mr Hardy, sir!’ It came from one of the women they had passed.

  ‘If you’ll excuse me,’ Hardy said. ‘It’s likely a bit of trouble with one of the presses.’

  ‘Not at all, Mr Hardy,’ Stanley said. ‘We must keep the cogs of business turning. I can take the tour from here.’

  ‘Very good, sir,’ Hardy said, and with a bow of his head he went to attend to the troublesome press.

  Stanley continued to
wards the staircase, which ran up to a galleried iron balcony that turned back on itself on both sides, giving views of both this floor and the upper floor, where Angelica imagined the barrels and caps Stanley had just mentioned were being made. The height of the stairs and the openness of the supporting ironwork made Angelica feel a little dizzy by the time they reached the top. As they turned and surveyed the upper floor, she could see a number of other machines, where mostly men were at work.

  ‘This is where our pens really take their form,’ Stanley said as they made their way along the narrow gallery to their right. ‘And a great deal of skill and craftsmanship is required to do so, I can tell you.’

  Angelica clutched at the rail every step of the way, realising that height was not something she had much of a head for. At the end of the gallery they paused to watch the men work at their various roles.

  ‘Here the barrels are turned on the lathes,’ Stanley continued, indicating the machinery to their left. ‘And here are the engravers who work in all materials from wood to solid gold,’ he added, indicating the workers to their right.

  Angelica watched one of the engravers for several seconds as he remained hunched over his work, gently working his burin over a silver pen cap, seemingly oblivious to her presence. ‘Such focus and patience,’ she said. ‘It’s quite remarkable.’

  ‘Indeed it is,’ Stanley said. ‘Now, let me show you just what such attributes combine to create. If you’ll step this way,’ he added, heading back to the staircase, where there was also an office, ‘I’d like you both to see some of our recent commissions before they’re delivered – one of which is a most luxurious example for none other than Lord Calthorpe.’

  As they reached the office, Stanley opened the glass-panelled door, inviting Angelica and Effie through. To Angelica he said, ‘You know, there will still be a place here for Master William once his education is complete.’

  Angelica stopped, allowing Effie to go inside ahead of her. She gazed warmly into Stanley’s eyes and smiled. ‘I really cannot fathom what either of us has done to deserve such kindness,’ she said, ‘but to my dying day I shall be most grateful. It is enough that you continue to pay for my son’s education, but to offer him a place in your business when he’s old enough is . . .’ She trailed off, searching for the right words to convey her feelings. ‘Well, it fills my heart with joy to know that even at his early age his future is secure.’