Fallen Grace - Mary Hooper [44]
Now she carefully threaded the needle, positioned her stool in order to get the best light from the small window, and began feather-stitching, very neat and close, shaping the trunk of the willow tree. She would use tiny, tiny chain-stitches for its leaves and the slab monument would be outlined in back-stitch. Thank goodness Mrs Unwin had said no to the man’s name! Besides, the bereaved woman already had two plaited wrist bracelets made from her husband’s hair and an oil portrait painted after his death and surely, Grace thought, these reminders were enough for anyone.
It took the best part of a day, but by late afternoon Grace had finished the embroidery for the brooch and had been given a new task: that of stitching the man’s initials on to what was to be his coffin pillow. Working white embroidery thread into white linen was not nearly as tiring as working in human hair, but WWBH were all quite large initials and, as dusk fell and the candle burned low, embroidering white on white became more and more tedious and Grace began to wish heartily that the corpse’s names didn’t begin with so many and such extravagant letters.
She finished this second task a little after eight o’clock. It was usually about this time that she went into the scullery to warm some soup, eat bread and cheese, or – if she were especially weary – merely went to the room she shared with Jane and, after washing and attending to any personal tasks, fell asleep. This particular evening, however, feeling a need to get out after being hunched up indoors for so long, she left the Unwin building intending to walk towards the Edgware Road, breathe in the dusky twilight and marvel at the traffic in all its noisy, hooting, shouting, neighing muddle.
While she stood watching, the swirling spider’s web of roads that circled around the arch became jammed – a common occurrence – and all the vehicles came to a complete halt. A smart carriage reined in next to where Grace was standing and its four horses stamped their feet, their breath making clouds of steam in the cold air. The carriage had purple-liveried footmen at front and rear, four brass lamps, and was such a glossy black that Grace could see her reflection in it. It also had some sort of shield on the door, and wondering what this might be, Grace bent to look a little closer. Seeing a shield with a lion and a unicorn on either side she realised, with a sudden pounding of the heart, that she was looking at the royal coat of arms.
Astonished, she straightened up and stared in the window, there to see the world’s most famous royal couple,