Page 6 of Caroline Saves the Blacksmith
“I was in service at Baydon Hall in Somerset. The housekeeper, Mrs. Harris, apprenticed me in the sewing arts.”
The blacksmith frowned, tilting his head in question. “Is there much call for a seamstress in a stately home?”
“There is a surprising number of tasks. Repairs to curtains and cushions. Mending livery, mobcaps, and other household attire. In theory, I worked in the kitchen, but I mostly did needlework for my entire tenure under Mrs. Harris, who had vast experience in such things.”
He drew a heavy breath. “Modiste.”
It sounded as if the blacksmith was trying the word out, feeling the shape of it on his tongue. Caroline’s eyes widened in shock as she imagined his tongue and— She cut the thought off before it could fully materialize.
That aspect of your life is dead and buried!
“I am William Jackson.”
Caroline stepped back in surprise.
The man was not justablacksmith. He wastheblacksmith, owner of the largest smithy in Chatternwell with numerous journeymen and apprentices in his employ. From what she had heard, he was an astute merchant who stocked an array of iron and steel tools, locks, and other mechanisms for purchase. Considering his accomplishments, he was rather humbly attired. Caroline supposed he might be in want of a wife to coax him into displaying his success.
She had gathered from her staff’s gossip that the smithy itself rivaled the best in Bath for its excellent work. Apparently, the man had set quite a few female hearts aflutter, but had shown no sign of interest. It was surprising to meet the man and discover firsthand his lack of social finesse. It must have been his appearance and business acumen that had the women of Chatternwell so enthralled, not his fine manners.
“I need a gift for my neighbor, Mrs. Heeley. Something suitable for an old woman who does not get around much.”
Now that she was no longer being interrogated, Caroline suppressed a thrill of visceral pleasure at the gruff tones of his deep voice. Mr. Jackson was pure man, and it was heady to be a petite woman in his overpowering presence. Awareness of her femininity was undeniable in such a presence. Wait … She had already thought about his powerful presence. Presence, presence, presence, thumped her heart relentlessly.
Good Lord, he is intoxicating.Whoever eventually claimed the man’s attentions would be fortunate indeed.
“Of course. How about a pretty shawl to keep her warm in the winter months? We have just received a fine selection.” Caroline was proud of how even her voice sounded, even if it had taken a fraction too long to respond.
Mr. Jackson raised his massive shoulders in a shrug. He was a man of few words. Caroline smiled encouragingly and steered him toward the shawls.
Fifteen minutes later, his purchase made, it was almost a relief to watch him exit the shop. The man had a physical charm that was exhausting to ignore. She wanted to fling herself against him and rub her body in wild abandon against his powerful form, which went against all her principles—she must be a chaste woman after the painful lessons of her past. Nay, she would need to keep her distance from Mr. Jackson of the rough but attractive features and virile being. She had a reputation to uphold in her adopted home.
This had been easier when she was in service. Not only was there no time for relationships, one was not permitted to marry, which had made her vow much simpler to keep.
The man was pure temptation despite his gruff manner, and Caroline vowed to stay at her end of the street and leave Mr. Jackson to his.
THE REQUEST
CHRISTMAS EVE, 1820
Annie finished fastening the last Christmas bough to the shop window. Turning around, she planted her small fists on her waist and declared, “There you are, Mrs. Brown! All decked out for the holidays!”
Caroline clapped her hands and smiled in acknowledgment. She did not celebrate the holidays herself, but she had commissioned Mrs. Greer to make up boughs and sprigs for the shop as an excuse to pay her some coin. It did not displease her to enjoy the aromatic greenery until Twelfth Night, when it must be taken down to avoid bad luck.
Annie had filled out in the past weeks, and Mrs. Greer’s health was gradually improving, which made it all worthwhile. The child had turned out to be a hard worker, sweeping the shop, waxing the counters, and dusting the shelves with vigor. She had also begun to help with small sewing projects, and Caroline had paid Mrs. Greer for little jobs here or there that she could manage around her ailments. Caroline had wondered if the lack of funds, and subsequent poor diet, were the underlying cause of the widow’s ill health.
Caroline might not be celebrating the holidays herself, but she was ensuring the Greers had the means to.
“Good work, Annie! It is very festive! Tell your mum she did a very fine job.”
“It smells so good!” Annie took a deep breath, clearly enjoying the scent of rosemary, which had been woven into the bough along with holly, ivy, and Christmas rose, as the girl had loudly proclaimed when she had brought them in this morning.
Caroline grinned, giving an exaggerated sniff for her apprentice’s pleasure. It smelled good, like a forest of greenery.
“I think you have done excellent work, young lady. You should go assist your mother to prepare your Christmas feast for tomorrow.”
Annie’s mouth immediately drooped. “Are you sure you will not join us, Mrs. Brown?”
“Do not worry about me. I have work to complete. It will be a pleasure to finish my walking dress over the next couple of days. When you come in to work on Tuesday, I shall be able to show it to you.”
