Summer's End by Amy Myers Read Free Book Online Page A

far end of Bankside, and almost simultaneously turned the knob and walked in as she usually did. Nanny had a visitor, but the strange thing was that at her approach both of them instantly fell silent. Even stranger since the visitor was Aunt Tilly.
    â€˜Don’t tell me you’re discussing your dress for next Friday too, Nanny?’ Caroline bent down to kiss the upturned button face. Here was a comfortable double chin that saw no need of chin-straps.
    â€˜That’s right, Miss Caroline,’ she agreed. ‘Scarlet, ’tis, showing me bosom, and with a hat to match with three white feathers. Being presented to His Majesty, I am.’
    Tilly laughed. ‘And I’m in white lace with a pale pink underskirt, Nanny, with darling little embroidered rosebuds.’ She rose to go. ‘I’ll leave you to talk to Caroline.’
    â€˜Tell the Rector, mind,’ Nanny said.
    â€˜What about?’ asked Caroline. She’d been right. There was something odd going on.
    â€˜None of your business, miss. Just jawing the hind leg off a donkey like I usually do.’
    â€˜Why don’t you tell her, Nanny? You can trust Caroline.’
    â€˜She’s a young lady, Miss Matilda,’ Nanny reminded her charge severely. ‘She’s unwed.’
    â€˜Young ladies grow up, Nanny, and I too am unwed.’
    â€˜That’s different, Miss Tilda, and you know it.’ Nanny’s mouth snapped shut. Her decision was made, and Caroline knew she would get no more out of her.
    When she returned to the Rectory, none the wiser, she was surprised to find Felicia in her bedroom, and Isabel draped gracefully on the bed looking supremely bored. Caroline’s room was the only one that boasted a full-length mirror and Felicia was standing somewhat dolefully before it. This too was surprising since Felicia was the least interested of them all in what she wore, though she was easily the most striking in looks.
    â€˜You’ll help, won’t you, Caroline?’ Felicia pleaded. ‘Isabel won’t take me seriously and I must do something to this.’ She glanced disparagingly at her old white satin skirt and blouse.
    â€˜I don’t know why Felicia’s getting so het up about it. It’s my dance,’ Isabel pointed out unmaliciously.
    Seeing the flush on Felicia’s face, Caroline quickly intervened. ‘We all know you’re to be the belle, Isabel, but even bells need clappers.’
    â€˜What?’ Isabel stared at her, then dismissed, first, this incomprehensible statement, and, secondly, the problem. ‘Ask Mrs Hazel to look at it, Felicia. There’s still time.’
    â€˜We can’t afford her, Mother says. Not for all of us.’ The village dressmaker lived on Bankside next to old Sammy Farthing the shoemaker, and was occasionally employed on new dresses for the Rectory womenfolk, and frequently on repairs and alterations.
    Isabel made no reply, but Caroline knew what that look on her face meant: that Isabel was planning something she was slightly ashamed of. If so there was no use pursuing it, for Isabel kept her own counsel.
    â€˜It needs an overskirt adding, Felicia, or ruche this one up and provide a different underskirt. You could have my blue one,’ Caroline offered, ‘and dye the blouse to match. You could do it, Isabel. You’re the handiest with a needle.’
    â€˜Me?’ Isabel looked astonished. ‘I’m far too busy. Get Harriet to do it.’
    â€˜It’s too big a job for her. She hasn’t time.’
    â€˜She’s only a housemaid. She’ll do what you tell her to.’
    â€˜You’re not a Swinford-Browne yet, Isabel.’ Caroline was irritated. ‘And this isn’t The Towers.’
    â€˜Don’t I know it,’ Isabel yawned.
    â€˜Please don’t be horrid,’ Felicia pleaded.
    â€˜Why not? You’ll be even more glad to get rid of me.’ Isabel slid off the