on his wife who was said to be a beautiful fragile creature. It was rumoured that he was a hard taskmaster but fair, and Molly had no doubt that Mary would be well cared for once she had entered his employ. She suspected that beneath his crusty exterior beat a heart of gold and had heard over the years of many kindnesses he had done for employees of his who had fallen prey to illness or hard times. It was actually he who paid her wages and those of the many other weavers hereabouts who worked at their own looms, for they all sold their ribbons to the factories in Abbey Street, many of which were owned by Samuel Forrester.
He was often to be seen about. A tall dark handsome man, he regularly walked about the town and visited the factories, although the same could not be said about his family. Of them he was extremely protective and private. It was thought that his wife had given him only two children, a son and a daughter, but no one was really sure, for he guarded them jealously. When he was young the son had been sent away to a private school, whilst his daughter had been educated at home by a governess until she was in her teens, when Samuel Forrester had employed a private tutor to further her education at The Folly and a further house that he owned in London where he spent part of each year.
Now that the time for her to leave was approaching, Molly was quite looking forward to Mary working at Forrester’s Folly. No doubt she would come home and tell them tales of the happenings there, and Molly and Bessie enjoyed a good bit of gossip as much as the next person.
It was later that evening; the meal was over, the pots were washed and put away, and Molly was sitting at the side of the empty fireplace with the back door open enjoying the balmy summer night as she stitched yet another little petticoat for Amy. Every now and then a giggle from Amy or Toby, who were sitting at the table doing sums on a wooden abacus, made her look up and smile, and without thinking she offered up a silent prayer of gratitude. All in all, life was good and she had a lot to be thankful for. The youngsters’ heads, bent close together at the table, made a pleasing contrast. Toby’s fair hair, straight as a poker, and Amy’s deep auburn curls seemed almost joined as they worked in harmony to do their sums. And it was as she gazed at them that, for the first time, Molly had a premonition of things to come. It was something in Toby’s eyes as he looked at Amy. The youngsters looked for all the world as if they belonged together. Molly was a great believer in fate. What would be would be. And on that thought she returned to her sewing and left the children to themselves, with a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
Chapter Three
Amy and Beatrice stared down the lane expectantly. It was Mary’s first day off from Forrester’s Folly since she had started her new job and they had been waiting for her for over an hour.
‘She can’t be much longer,’ complained Amy, pushing her damp curls from her forehead. The sun was blazing down and both little girls were hot and sticky. Luckily they didn’t have to wait much longer, for minutes later, Mary turned the corner in the lane and came into view. Delighted, both children flew to meet her and Beatrice hugged her sister tight. At sight of them, Mary’s eyes filled with tears and a huge lump formed in her throat. The first week had not gone at all as she had imagined it would. The hours were long and hard; she missed her family and was suffering from a severe bout of homesickness. But not wishing to upset the children, she smiled at them as best she could and pointed to the basket on her arm.
‘I’ve got some rare treats in here for yer,’ she told them. ‘Cakes left over from yesterday teatime. Cook let me bring them for yer.’
‘Cor, can I have one now?’ asked Beatrice, her eyes shining greedily as she reached for the linen cloth covering the basket.
Mary laughed and gently slapped her hand away. ‘No yer can’t, yer little madam. You’ll wait till we get home, so