‘Yes, me too. We were both young and foolish, and you think only of yourself at that age. We should not forget that when chastising our own children. Even though we want the best for them.’ Harriet looked around her and remembered the time when Atkinson’s was just starting out, and all the excitement there had been in the air. Her mother-in-law had been dressed to the nines, and she and Isabelle had taken orders and fittings for dresses and clothes that no one in the district could compete with. Now things were changing. Some working-class households – the ones that could afford it – owned their own sewing machines and bought ready-made patterns in different sizes, to make their own clothes more easily. Coupled with the new ready-to-wear range that Atkinson’s now had in store, tailor-made clothes would soon be solely for the few, with alterations perhaps being the most that Atkinson’s seamstresses could offer. Times were changing, and the economy was more austere. She couldn’t help but think that the best times for Atkinson’s had perhaps been and gone now. Anyway, time would tell and she could do nothing about the ways of the world, even if she wanted to.

27

27

Windfell Manor was thronged with staff getting the hall ready for Christmas and the coming ball. The kitchen was especially busy, as they prepared for the many meals that would be expected of them.

‘I’m rushed off my feet. I don’t know how the mistress thinks we can cope,’ said Ruby. ‘She’s not offered any extra staff, or told me yet how many guests we have at this ball. I haven’t even got Lily any more; she used to help, if she thought we were busy. But you won’t find Dorothy getting her hands dirty down in the kitchen. Oh no, she’s far too much up her own arse to come down here too often. Too busy making sure everyone’s wardrobe is correct – as if that takes much doing in this house!’

Turkey feathers filled the air as Ruby and Nancy plucked the four birds that Jethro had brought in from Settle market.

‘You’d think Jethro would have plucked these birds for us, but no, he’s too busy faffing about with his horses and moaning about his lad. I don’t know why he’s so bothered about Ethan. I say, “Good lad.” There’s nowt wrong with aiming high, and Rosie is a grand lass – unlike our snooty Miss Jane.’