Foxden Hotel (The Dudley Sisters Saga Book 5) by Madalyn Morgan (ebook reader ink txt) 📕

the three outlets were the nearest thing the small market town of Lowarth had to a city department store.

During the last year Bess had spent very little money on herself. She needed a summer nightgown, but having to spend so much money on the hotel, she’d put it off and off until it was winter. Now the nights were warmer she could wait no longer and strode into Kimpton Smith’s with determination.

Once inside, instead of going up the grand stairway in the centre of the foyer to women’s wear, Bess followed the sign for the children’s department. She had no intention of buying anything for Margot and Bill’s baby today - it was much too soon - but her eyes were drawn to a stand displaying little dresses in pink and cream with smocking on the bodices. Next to the dresses were summer coats. Bess’s eyes settled on a pink coat with a Little Bo-Peep style hat. She moved on. More practical for an autumn baby were the vests and socks, bootees and mittens - and winceyette nightdresses. Bess picked one up and held it to her cheek. It was very soft, and very pretty.

‘Are you looking for anything in particular, Bess?’ Mrs Kimpton Smith asked, with her head in an inquisitive tilt and a knowing glint in her eyes.

‘Not really. I’ve just had news that a friend of mine in London is having a baby. I thought I’d buy something that was suitable for a girl or a boy, and post it to her.’

‘I have just the thing.’ Mrs Kimpton Smith bobbed down behind the counter. ‘These have just come in,’ she said, springing up and putting a white box with a silver stencil of a sleeping baby on the glass counter top. ‘They’re not cheap,’ she warned, lifting the lid, ‘but then you can’t put a price on quality, can you?’

Bess caught her breath. ‘No,’ she said, ‘you can’t.’

The shop owner laid three shawls on white tissue paper. One was pastel pink, one powder blue, and the third was a delicate shade of pale yellow. Bess picked up the yellow shawl. ‘I’ll take this one, please,’ she said, forcing herself not to show the emotion that was bubbling up inside her.

‘A wise choice,’ Mrs Kimpton Smith said, and summoned a shop assistant to take over from her. ‘Wrap this shawl for Mrs Donnelly. It’s a gift, which has to go in the post, so use the sturdiest brown paper,’ she said. ‘Is there anything else I can do for you, Bess?’

‘Not today, but the mother-to-be is a very good friend, so I’ll be in again.’

‘I look forward to seeing you soon, then.’ And with that Mrs Kimpton Smith left the children’s department.

The assistant waited for the owner to leave the floor and turned to Bess. ‘Would you like it wrapped in tissue paper first? I’ll tie a bow round it too. It’ll look much prettier. I’ll wrap it in the strong paper afterwards, so it’ll be safe to post.’

‘Thank you, that would be lovely.’ Bess watched the girl fold the shawl carefully and wrap it in white tissue paper, before laying it in its box. She then took several sheets of tissue paper and some ribbon, wrapped the box, and tied a bow around it.

‘I’d like to show my husband before I send it, so I’ll parcel it up for posting when I get home.’

The shop assistant cut off a length of thick brown paper, folded it, and put it in a bag with the box containing the shawl. Bess thanked her, paid, and left the shop, all thoughts of a summer nightdress for herself forgotten.

Delighted for Margot and Bill, and pleased with the shawl, Bess skipped down High Street to the bus stop. ‘Miss Hawksley?’

‘Mrs Donnelly?’ Katherine Hawksley looked as shocked to see Bess, as Bess was to see her.

Henry had advised Bess to stay away from Katherine and Sir Gerald Hawksley, but he hadn’t taken into account that Lowarth was a small place and the bus that went to Foxden went to Kirby Marlow - and beyond - where Katherine Hawksley lived.

Katherine’s face was deathly white and she looked as if she had lost half her body weight since New Year’s Eve. ‘How are you, Miss Hawksley?’ Bess ask, expecting the girl to say she was suffering from some dreadful illness.

‘Fine, thank you,’ she said, in a voice that was no more than a whisper.

‘You don’t look fine, dear. Would you like me to take you home in a taxi? It won’t take me a minute to--’

‘No!’ Katherine Hawksley spat out the word so quickly that Bess stepped back, startled. She put up her hands to signal that she understood and was careful not to move. The girl lowered her head and began to tremble. ‘Thank you, but-- I--’

‘What is it?’ Bess asked.

Katherine looked up, her eyes darting left and right. ‘I’m sorry,’ she cried, backing away from Bess. ‘I really am so, so, sorry.’

‘You have nothing to be sorry for.’ Bess put down her bags and caught hold of Katherine’s arm to stop her from falling off the kerb onto the busy main road. ‘If it’s New Year’s Eve you’re referring to, none of what happened was your fault.’

‘It was, ‘she said, nodding frantically. ‘Everything was my fault. If it hadn’t been for me, Daddy--’ The girl looked like a frightened animal. ‘I have to go.’ All of a sudden, as if it was the first time she had seen Bess, she said, haughtily, ‘Sergeant McGann has warned me about you. He said I was not to speak to you, Mrs Donnelly!’

Katherine looked up and down High Street, as if she was waiting for a break in the traffic before crossing. Instead she ran in front of an oncoming car. The car swerved to miss her, as she zigzagged