Chapter 13
The evening of the mill party, Colonel Paine and Miss Fitzjohn came upstairs after dinner to sit with Lady Celia so Anne could attend.
Jasper began reading to his aunt from Gulliver’s Travels while Katherine sat nearby, embroidering tiny purple flowers onto a handkerchief.
Satisfied her patient was in good hands, Anne retreated to her small room to change for the party.
Rosa came in to help her, grinning and eyes alight. “May I dress your hair? I’ve been longing to, I admit. A welcome change from Lady Celia’s grizzled locks.”
“I understand you arrange Miss Fitzjohn’s hair as well?”
“Sometimes.” Rosa sighed. “Though she usually insists on wearing it very plainly.”
“I appreciate your offer. Though please remember this is a gathering in a mill barn, not a presentation at court.”
The lady’s maid giggled, and Anne liked that the younger woman laughed at her little jokes.
Rosa began by removing the pins and brushing out Anne’s long, light-brown hair. Then she twisted and pinned it high on Anne’s head, leaving out strands on each side of her face to curl with a hot iron, which she would heat in Lady Celia’s dressing room as there was no fire in this one.
“What are you going to wear?” Rosa asked.
“I’m not sure. When I packed to come to Painswick, I expected to be tucked up in Miss Lotty’s spare room, not attending a party.
I have two dresses appropriate for church and a few simple day dresses.
I did bring one nicer evening dress, in case Miss Lotty invited guests for dinner, but I left that at Yew Cottage. ”
“Let’s see the others.”
Anne obliged.
As Rosa looked through her few gowns, she said, “I think you’re right, you do not want to be overdressed for such a gathering. I think this one will do nicely. The color will bring out the green in your hazel eyes.”
With Rosa’s help, Anne changed into a simple gown of light-green muslin, adding a belt but exchanging the white fichu Anne would have worn during the day for a strand of beads instead.
Rosa then brought in the hot iron and curled the hair on each side of Anne’s face into ringlets.
As she did, she said, “By the way, Dr. Finch is planning to stop by to escort you. Probably not wise to walk down to the mills by yourself after dark, at least not on a night when men will be imbibing and perhaps get ideas.”
“Oh? That is kind of him.” Anne wondered when and why Dr. Finch had told Rosa his plans. She studied Rosa’s reaction to see if she minded. If she did, her pretty face gave no sign.
Rosa stepped back and surveyed Anne head to hem. “Lovely. And a shawl, I think. It will get cool when the sun goes down.”
A short while later, Rosa walked with her downstairs. Ernest Finch was just arriving.
“Ah, Ros—Miss Stark. And Miss Loveday, I thought I’d walk with you to Mr. Palling’s barn, if that’s all right with you?”
“Yes, of course.”
“You look lovely.”
“Th-thank you. Rosa helped me.”
The doctor was undeniably handsome, dressed in a rich green frock coat with a patterned waistcoat peeking out and a simply tied cravat. With his fair coloring, he looked even more dashing than he would have in dark evening attire.
Then Anne noticed him exchange a look with the lady’s maid and felt a pinch of disquiet.
She managed a smile and thanked Rosa for her assistance, then the two left the house together.
Dr. Finch, she noticed, did not offer his arm.
Was he aware of Rosa’s watchful gaze upon them?
Anne was quite certain Rosa must be the young woman who went to his house at odd hours.
If the two were in a relationship of some sort, why was he seeking out Anne?
She had a difficult time believing he would betray either of them.
Or perhaps, she simply did not wish to believe it.
They started down Hale Lane and made their way toward the Painswick stream, following much the same path they had taken the day they’d been called on to assist the injured man.
As they approached the mill barn, light from many lanterns spilled from its open doors, like a beacon guiding their way. Cheerful music from fiddle, fife, dulcimer, and tabour drew them inside.
A crowd had already gathered, clapping to the lively music. A few couples paired off in two-hand clasps, turning round and round in an energetic dance.
Mr. Palling welcomed them. Joe Webb and his wife came over to greet them as well.
Mr. Palling offered them glasses of cider or ale, along with squab pie, Double Gloucester cheese, and crusty bread, all arrayed on a long table against one wall.
They each accepted a glass and stood to the side, two people out of their element in unfamiliar surroundings.
One old man had apparently drunk too much cider or ale already. He weaved his way through the crowd toward Albert Palling, a few of his cronies trailing behind.
“I saw me the ghost t’other night, Mr. Palling—the ghost o’ King Charles.
In the graveyard I were, missin’ my Helen, so I had a bottle with me for comfort.
I musta fell asleep out there, restin’ my back on poor Helen’s grave, for when I woke, the bottle were empty and the moon above me .
. . full. That’s when I seen him coming down the path, with his long hair and beard and flowin’ royal robe.
Or maybe I were still asleep and only dreamin’, and if so, you, Mr. Palling, was in my dream.
You gave the king a kiss, you did, right there ’neath the weddin’ tree.
Kiss of fealty, I’m sure. I imply naught improper.
Were it a dream, Mr. Palling? Or were you really there? ”
The men gathered around him guffawed. “You seen Mr. Palling kissin’ a ghost? Thunder and turf, Toddy, how much did ya drink that night?” The men slapped the old man’s back and drifted away again while the mill owner just shook his head.
Anne was relieved Mr. Palling chose to ignore the drunken accusation and let the slight to his honor go unchallenged.
This was a party—his party—after all.
As the music continued, a group of men danced in traditional Morris style while other men and their wives ate and drank and watched. Anne noticed two young sweethearts steal a kiss, which filled her with a strange wistfulness.
Then one of the musicians announced, “Come one and all and join this circle dance.”
Around the barn, women set down glasses and men guzzled the last of their ale before joining hands in a large circle.
Dr. Finch turned to her. “Shall we give it a go, Miss Loveday?”
“I’m game, if you are, though I haven’t a clue what to do.”
“Me either.”
They clasped hands and joined the circle, their free hands quickly claimed by people on either side. While the other musicians played, one acted as caller, directing the dance, “Circle right for eight. Now left. All raise hands and move center. And back again. . . .”
Anne followed along as best she could, laughing and dancing and thoroughly enjoying herself. She often felt Dr. Finch’s smiling gaze on her as they muddled through the steps together, and enjoyed the feeling of her hand in his.
The dancing, eating, and drinking continued for another hour.
Finally, the musicians paused for a well-deserved rest.
Mr. Palling stepped forward and gestured with lowered palms for his guests to quiet down.
When most of the crowd had begrudgingly done so, he began, “I hope you’ve enjoyed yourselves tonight.
And had enough to eat, and perhaps a little too much to drink, which will hopefully take a bit of the sting out of what I have to say.
Truth is, I have to sell the mills. I’m facing bankruptcy, as others have before me.
I’ve recently gone through the books with my banker, and I can’t deny the truth of the situation any longer.
That’s why there’s room in a wool barn for this party.
I’ve sold the stock on hand, the wool, the broadcloth, and scarlet army cloth, and will likely have to sell the machinery too. ”
Silence fell, eerie and complete.
“Perhaps this will become a pin mill, if not another cloth mill. I sincerely hope many of you will find positions with the new owner, whoever that might be. It gives me no pleasure to say all this. In truth, I am ashamed.”
Incredulous exclamations and murmured curses punctuated the previous silence. Anne and Dr. Finch shared uneasy looks. She heard someone grumble about Mr. Dalby’s poor management and looked around, not seeing him.
Joe Webb called out, “What will you do then, sir?”
Mr. Palling shrugged. “Begin packing up the house, which must be sold as well. Speaking of which, I could use a few men with strong backs to help me, say, in week or two. For pay, of course. If you are interested, leave your name with Simon and we’ll draw three from a hat to make it fair. I can’t afford to employ everyone.”
“Used to be,” someone mumbled.
“Well do I know it. I realize you are angry, and I don’t blame you. I am upset too. I know some of you may be tempted to take out your anger on me or the mill . . .”
Anne noticed he left Mr. Dalby’s name out of it.
“But if reason prevails, I will reward you. I will share what is left of my personal savings with everyone I employ, if there is no damage to the mills. At week’s end, if all is well, each person may come to my home and receive a final pay packet, including three pounds of my own money, in the hope it will help you provide for your families for a time until you find work elsewhere.
However, if damage is done, that will lower the property valuation, and I will be unable to do so. ”
One man swore and started to protest, but another quickly shushed him. “Maybe you can do without three pounds, but I cannot. I have a family to feed. . . .” Others joined their voices in support.
Dr. Finch and Anne shared another look. Albert Palling was smart.