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The Flower Seller
Linda Finlay
A charming and evocative tale of family and fortune from the queen of West Country saga, Linda Finlay.Isabella Carrington has been brought up in a life of privilege in London. Her life seems perfect, until her father suddenly announces bankruptcy. To save Isabella from destitution he sends her to stay with family she has never met, far away on a violet farm deep in Devon.Isabella is horrified to find her uncle expects her to work for her keep, packing up the flowers and selling them in the nearby market. However she soon discovers that life on a violet farm may not be so bad, especially when she meets handsome local farmer Felix Furneaux…Perfect for fans of Dilly Court and Katie Flynn.
LINDA FINLAY lives on the Devonshire coast and is the author of seven novels. From lace-making to growing Devon violets, each one is based on a local craft which, in order to write authentically, she has learnt to do herself. However, it is people and their problems that make for good story writing and, with so much interesting material to work with, it is easy for Linda to let her imagination run as wild as the West Country landscape which has inspired her writing.
Also by Linda Finlay (#ulink_a99405c2-4c1e-5400-b479-111f30a035de)
The Royal Lacemaker
The Girl with the Red Ribbon
A Family For Christmas
The Sea Shell Girl
Monday’s Child
Orphans and Angels
Copyright (#ulink_0b1af48a-893f-57c5-9378-49b69ced647a)
An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2018
Copyright © Linda Finlay 2018
Linda Finlay asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Ebook Edition © March 2018 ISBN: 9780008262938
To Pern, for your continued encouragement and support
Contents
Cover (#uffdd5248-042d-5d1c-9392-976f3c0b22d5)
About the Author (#uec7922b4-f91b-5e30-982d-d18edc9240ee)
Booklist (#ulink_2bd3b8a9-9bbe-5975-acd7-861c50326a75)
Title Page (#u1c69d4ea-75e5-5962-9bac-bdb6f061ee3d)
Copyright (#ulink_eabcbf45-0f9b-599e-8093-faba26d1b3e6)
Dedication (#u742f3962-4298-5e85-979d-0834e508f6e7)
Chapter 1 (#ulink_126691d0-33e7-5cae-9279-b40f1c28ffe9)
Chapter 2 (#ulink_76226526-4e56-526e-b61d-013f60323413)
Chapter 3 (#ulink_f7e91afe-d4d2-528a-a794-3d64e4867ffc)
Chapter 4 (#ulink_4f1b128d-a2db-5b46-864c-d919a34ef059)
Chapter 5 (#ulink_2ceb190a-bb2a-597b-904d-c858a6fec3e1)
Chapter 6 (#ulink_91938fda-45bc-51ef-a69b-d50a3e043eca)
Chapter 7 (#ulink_06c59f17-3843-56b3-bedf-6b7ce5996b92)
Chapter 8 (#ulink_1dcc4fbb-4d31-5e3c-9829-1cd0c3704f94)
Chapter 9 (#ulink_3e3444f0-f195-57a1-a58f-a4e21996a481)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 29 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 30 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 31 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 32 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 33 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 34 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 35 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 36 (#litres_trial_promo)
Acknowledgements (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1 (#ulink_97229446-597f-522e-ac17-aa0a1ff71b8e)
London, September 1892
Forgetting all she’d been taught about dignified deportment, Isabella swept through the doors of Claridge’s as if blown in on the autumn breeze. Her golden curls and bright blue eyes drew many an admiring glance to which she was oblivious, as she hastily smoothed down the silk of her lilac skirts and straightened the strands of pearls around her neck. With her visit to Italy only days away, she’d been shopping for accessories to complement the new outfits her dressmaker had delivered that morning, and browsing the delightful displays, she’d completely lost track of time. Not wishing to keep Maxwell waiting, she hurried between the ornate marble columns and into the garden room decorated with potted palms. He’d been so preoccupied with business recently that time with him was precious.
A waiter showed her to a table secreted behind one of the oriental silk screens that divided the room into private alcoves.
‘Isabella, darling,’ he greeted her, rising to his feet. He was looking especially handsome in his dark jacket with a high-necked waistcoat, and the appreciative gleam in his slate-grey eyes sent shivers tingling down her spine, although she endeavoured not to show it.
‘I hope I haven’t kept you waiting?’ she asked demurely. Instead of answering, he glanced beyond her and frowned.
‘No bodyguard this afternoon?’
‘Oh Maxwell, you are terrible,’ she giggled. ‘You know Papa feels happier if Gaskell chaperones me. Though where she is this afternoon, I have no idea. I expressly told her I would be leaving the house at 2 p.m., yet when the clock struck the hour she was nowhere to be seen.’
‘You mean you took the opportunity to slip out unaccompanied? Whatever would dear Papa say?’ he exclaimed, throwing up his hands in mock horror.
‘I know it was bold of me, but I had shopping that couldn’t wait and, of course, I’ve been looking forward to our meeting. Although I have to confess Papa doesn’t know,’ she told him, staring at him from under her lashes. In truth, much as she hated deceiving her father, wild horses wouldn’t have prevented her coming.
‘Well, I can’t pretend I’m sorry to have you all to myself. Those beady eyes of hers watching my every move make me nervous, I don’t mind admitting. Still, here you are, and all on your own. How I shall restrain myself, I don’t know.’ He waggled his eyebrows so outrageously she had to laugh.
‘Oh Maxwell, you are a terrible tease.’
‘It’s the truth, I assure you. Now before you slap my face with your lily-white hand, I have taken the liberty of ordering sandwiches, fancies and a pot of Earl Grey,’ he told her becoming serious as another waiter approached, bearing a silver tray.
‘My favourites,’ she smiled, thinking how considerate he was.
‘How is your father?’ Maxwell asked, as soon as the waiter had poured their drinks and departed.
‘Busy as ever,’ she sighed, eyeing the food longingly. Shopping always made her hungry and the delectable fragrance of smoked salmon and cucumber was making her mouth water. However, Maxwell was staring at her intently.
‘I heard there was a takeover in the offing. Your father had a successful outcome, I trust?’ he asked solicitously.
‘If the long hours he’s been spending at his office are anything to go by, then yes he surely must have.’
‘That’s gratifying to hear,’ he replied before adding: ‘There have been rumours circulating recently.’
‘Oh?’ she asked.
‘Nothing for you to worry your pretty head about,’ he assured her, reaching across the snowy tablecloth and running one finger lightly down the back of her hand. She glanced around guiltily. Although they were screened from view, she daren’t risk word getting back to Papa. Her father had been polite whenever Maxwell called for her, but they were so close she knew by the set of his face he didn’t approve of their liaison. Discovering she was here unchaperoned wouldn’t help matters at all, even if Maxwell wasn’t to blame. As if reading her thoughts, Maxwell’s hand tightened on hers.
‘Isabella darling, you must know how I feel about you,’ he murmured, leaning closer and staring into her eyes. ‘Don’t you think it’s time we set a date for our betrothal?’ Her heart leapt yet she endeavoured to stay composed.
‘I leave for Florence next week, Maxwell,’ she reminded him.
‘The city that shimmers gold,’ he smiled.
‘You’ve been there?’ she asked.
‘Indeed, I have. Father insisted I see something of the world before taking up my position with his firm. I shall think of you on the Ponte Vecchio, the glorious green waters of the Arno gliding beneath your feet.’
‘You paint a delightful picture, and of course I’m thrilled I shall be visiting Rome as well. I really can’t believe my good fortune.’ Her eyes clouded. ‘You do realize I shall be away for over three months?’
‘I know, dearest, and I shall miss you terribly,’ he sighed. ‘However, with your appreciation of the arts, it will be a wonderful experience for you.’
‘I have to confess to looking forward to going, although I do worry . . . ’ her voice trailed away.
‘Worry? What about?’ he asked.
‘You’ll think me silly, but it’s the first time I’ve travelled abroad and, although Gaskell will be with me, I can’t help worrying something will go wrong. Suppose I don’t like it?’
‘Oh Isabella, you will love it, I’m sure,’ he assured her. ‘However, should there be any problem then I shall come and bring you home again.’
‘You’d do that for me?’
