Chapter Eighteen
‘So what sort of favour can I do for you?’ asked Moira as she poured Clem a cup of tea.
‘I’m making a new wedding dress for Mari Campbell. Do you know her? She’s the daughter of John Campbell who owns the Cock and Feathers.’
Moira smiled and offered Clem a biscuit and grinned approvingly when she helped herself to two.
‘I know who Mari is. We all do. Half the neighbourhood practically raised Mari and Louise when their mother died. John is a wonderful father but a grieving father and two teenage daughters? It was a very sad time.’ Moira paused reflectively and Clem was reminded that Moira’s own husband had died. She hadn’t wanted to bring back any bad memories and cursed herself. She should have gone to Ginny for help, but she was here now and would have to make the best of it.
‘So, the thing is, I was thinking of doing something special for Mari’s train and veil. I was thinking of having the edges embroidered with lots of little motifs from Mari’s life, and I was thinking of asking people who know her to do it?’
Clem was so excited about her idea that she was already fidgety with ideas and, with permission, she picked up a pen from Moira’s sideboard and began to start sketching on the edges of the newspaper.
‘Like this, see?’
Clem started drawing little pictures of rabbits and violins and birds. Simple little sketches connected by ribbons and petals.
‘I thought someone could share a memory with me and I will sketch it and then teach them how to embroider it onto the train. Simple stuff, but I thought people would like to be involved and I thought it would be a lovely wedding gift for Mari?’
Moira traced her finger over Clem’s sketches thoughtfully.
‘How big is the train?’
Clem tilted her head. ‘Well it’s part of the veil rather than the dress. Look, here’s a rough idea of how it will look.’
Clem sketched quickly as Moira breathed out a small sigh.
‘Why hen, that is beautiful. Mari is going to look incredible.’
‘Yes. I know. So why did you want to know how long it’s going to be?’
‘Because absolutely everyone is going to want to be involved. Like I said, there’s a whole lot of love for that family.’
Over the course of another cup of tea, Moira helped her with a list of names who would want to be involved and promised that she would start asking around.
‘But remember, not a word of this can get back to Mari. It’s essential—’
Her phoned buzzed and Clem looked at it briefly. ‘Oh God. I have to go!’
‘Is there a problem?’
‘I have no idea. But the VA have replied to my e-mail. I need to go home and read it on the laptop.’
Jumping up, Clem grabbed her coat and ran out the door, waving to Moira as she sped away back to the castle. Today was proving to be a busy one.
***
As soon as she got home she headed straight to the ballroom and fired up her laptop, her fingers shaking with anticipation. Finally the e-mails loaded and she clicked on the one from Giles.
[EMAIL RECEIVED]Dear Clementine,
How delighted I was to hear from you and how excited I was to see the attached photos. You have uncovered something truly spectacular. I can’t decide if I am more excited by the eighteenth-century gowns or the servants’ uniforms. Or maybe I am in love with the children’s clothes? Possibly the greatest discovery though is in those yards of fabric. I know you will be keeping them in perfect condition but please reassure an old man’s beating heart that you have stored them all away again.
Clem looked at the banyan resting on the back of an armchair and the costumes on the mannequins, and offering a quick apology, continued to read.
[EMAIL RECEIVED]As you asked if I was interested in them, let me assure you that I am very interested. Very much so. I have an idea and I’d like you to think about it.
I was hoping that you might consider lending them to us so that we could have an exhibition at the museum? Until I see them I don’t know how large it might be but first I thought I would see if I could persuade you to part with them for a while?
In order to sweeten the deal I wonder if I could blatantly attempt to bribe you? I would love to offer you the chance to put together a small collection to be shown in one of our galleries during London Fashion Week. Maybe it could in some way echo the historic garments?
Clem read it twice more, then stumbled back from the desk and let out an almighty holler.
Her own show at the Victoria and Bloody Albert. Halle-sodding-lujah.