Page 96 of The Sisters of Sea View
“I remained there until I was fifteen. At first for a few hours a day. Then we’d read for an hour and learn our sums. After three years, I was working ten to twelve hours a day. Oh, but it was cold in winter. We could have no fire, for fear the soot would stain the lace. I can still remember how my little fingers ached with cold....”
Mrs. Denby lifted her hands and stared at the knobby, enlarged knuckles as though they belonged to a stranger.
“Sometimes I dream I am still making lace, weaving the bobbins over and under. Though in my dreams, my fingers don’t look like this....”
Viola guessed that years bent over a lace pillow had contributed to the woman’s hunched back as well as gnarled hands and failing sight.
Mrs. Denby returned her gaze to Viola and continued her story. “The lace mistress was firm but fair. The lace dealer she worked for, however, was a hard man. If our day’s work was not done, we had to stay and finish. If work was wanted, we sometimes had to sit up all night, earning only a few pence. The dealer and the shops made most of the money, not us.
“When I left school, I worked alongside my mother and sister at home. In those days, the dealer mostly paid us in goods. Sometimes goods we did not want or need!” She shook her head once more, lips pursed in rare disapproval.
“Why?” Viola asked.
“I think it was to keep us from buying supplies and making our own lace to sell. Some of us did a little work on the side, but that fine thread was expensive. And most completed pieces are the work of several lace makers. Still, we managed to make these. They are all I have left of my family, and I treasure them.”
Viola leaned close to inspect the intricate sprigs once more.
Mrs. Denby went on, “How well I remember our entire family sitting together, pillows on our laps, working through the night to finish in time for trading the next morning in return for breakfast.”
“Heavens.”
“Those were hard times. But I would go back if I could. Oh, to spend even another hour with my family. How I miss them.”
Viola felt unexpected tears prick her eyes.
The woman took a deep breath and said more cheerfully, “Be glad you still have your mother and sisters, my girl. What a blessing! I hope you appreciate every moment.”
Guilt niggled. Viola knew she did not always appreciate the family she had. “You are perfectly right. I will try to remember that.”
Mrs. Denby grinned and helped herself to another of Sarah’s biscuits. “Delicious! Would you help me write a note of thanks to your sister?”
“Indeed I will. Happily.”
“Fiddle!” Sarah muttered, frustration pulsing through her. This should not be this difficult.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Mr. Henshall asked, stepping into the library-office, concern lining his brow.
“Oh, forgive me. I did not realize I had complained so loudly. I am only trying to balance this ledger, without success.”
“Perhaps I could help. A fresh pair of eyes might find what ye missed.”
“Really? I would appreciate that. Although I am embarrassed for you to see the state of our finances.”
“Not at all. And I shall keep it to myself, whatever it is—ye have my word.”
“Very well.” She gestured to the chair beside hers.
He sat down and leaned over the ledger, his broad shoulder brushing hers. She could feel the warmth of it through her dress, and smell his fresh, masculine scent.
“Walk me through each column.”
She pointed to each in turn. “This is the seller, what goods or services we purchased, the date, and the amount owed. And this is the date I paid the bill.”
He studied the numbers, his fingers slowly tracing each entry.
“What do these tick marks mean?”
Her neck heated. “That I have asked for an extension.”
