delight, the order came in for more of the same and the whole process began all over again. This time she changed the colours of the styles and sometimes the trimmings, not wishing the order to be identical to the last one.
Molly fussed over her endlessly when she arrived home worn out at night, sure that she was working too hard, but Amy just smiled. She might be tired but she was happy and with that, Molly had to be content.
Besides overseeing the orders for the hats that had already been approved, Amy continued to work on new designs, and these she took now on a weekly basis to Forrester’s Folly for the old mistress’s approval. Amy looked forward to these visits. There was something about the old lady, minus her many frills and furbelows, that reminded her of her gran. She was aware that they had come from the same beginnings and had they ever met, Amy felt that they would have gotten along famously. They were both stubborn and outspoken and both mentally alert and bright. Despite her fancy clothes and her many glittering jewels, the elderly Mrs Forrester was still proud of her roots and not ashamed to tell anyone that she had helped Samuel to build his empire from nothing, which Amy found touchingly endearing.
It was on one of these visits that Amy met Eugenie Forrester for the first time, and the meeting was far from pleasant.
She was armed as usual with her latest sketches and the spring sunshine was so warm that she took off her bonnet and swung it merrily by its ribbons. After entering the great gates that opened on to the drive of Forrester’s Folly, she struck off it and made her way towards the woods. She had discovered this short-cut some time ago, and after the heat of the sun on her back, the woods with their overhanging canopy of leaves were cool and refreshing. It was like walking into a fairy glade, for the floor was a carpet of bluebells, each one offering up its blooms to the rays of sunlight that filtered here and there through the branches. Amy was reminded of the fairy stories that Toby used to tell her when she was a little girl. Here and there, little clumps of toadstools thrust their way through the blue carpet and Amy could almost imagine tiny winged fairies sitting upon them.
When she finally left the shelter of the woods she came upon a row of cottages, all with their own little gardens front and back. These had been built for some of Mr Forrester’s staff who worked on the estate, and Amy was aware that the end one was occupied by Mary and Joe.
After passing these she continued to skirt the woods and eventually Forrester’s Folly came into view. Stepping out smartly now across the emerald-green lawns, Amy was suddenly aware of a noise behind her and, turning quickly, she saw a white horse and woman, riding sidesaddle, bearing down on her at breakneck speed. Without even stopping to think, she threw herself to one side and landed painfully in a breathless heap. By now the horse and rider had passed her, and as she struggled up on to one elbow she saw the woman fighting to control the creature. Eventually the bucking horse slowed, and to her horror Amy saw the marks of a whip all across his flanks. His nostrils were flaring and he was rearing in distress, but still she whipped him unmercifully until eventually he came to a shuddering halt. Then dismounting heavily, the rider strode over to Amy in a towering rage, her cheeks an angry red.
‘Who the hell are you?’ she demanded. ‘Don’t you know that this is private land? Why – I’ve a good mind to set the dogs on you!’
Amy tried to answer but the woman was so furious that she couldn’t get a word in edgeways. She stared in consternation at the designs that were scattered all about and the grass stains on her skirt, and as the woman’s eyes lit on the drawings, a look of recognition passed over her features and her lips drew back from her teeth in a sneer.
‘Why, let me guess … I bet you’re the new little brown-eyed designer we’re all so sick of hearing about. Well, this little tumble will bring you down to earth, won’t it? Why don’t you keep to the servants’ entrance as befits you?’