The Sweeping Saga Collection: Poppy’s Dilemma, The Dressmaker’s Daughter, The Factory Girl. Nancy Carson

that’s such a good idea, Poppy. I mean to say, however much of a friend she is, do you really want a street girl at your party to lower the tone? There will be some very respectable people there. They will not want their sons and daughters to be mixing with that sort of girl.’

      ‘But Minnie’s all right, Aunt Phoebe. Honest. And she’ll be all dressed up in nice new clothes. She’s really very friendly. Nobody’ll know she’s that sort of girl, I promise.’

      ‘Are you absolutely sure?’

      ‘Yes, I’m sure. Anyway, I’ve asked her now …’

      ‘Very well then,’ Aunt Phoebe grudgingly agreed. ‘Will she be escorted?’

      ‘You never know with Minnie.’

      A string quartet had been engaged and they sawed their way through the first half hour or so almost unheard, and certainly disregarded, as the guests arrived and engaged in excited chatter. Aunt Phoebe stood in front of the fire that burned brightly in the huge grate. With a roundly smiling face, she introduced Poppy to everybody in turn. Although Poppy was determined to remember all the guests’ names, she knew she must inevitably fail … but not with the Crawfords …

      ‘Clarissa, dear, how lovely to see you.’ The two women greeted each other superficially. ‘Clarissa, let me introduce you to my friend and companion, Miss Poppy Silk … Poppy, Mrs Crawford, my dear sister-in-law …’

      ‘How do you do, Mrs Crawford?’

      So this was Robert’s mother. It was obvious she had once been a fine-looking young woman and the years and bearing of children had not been entirely unkind. She was not tall, but her demeanour, her slenderness and straight back made up for it. She wore a dark green velvet dress and matching stole, and she smiled cordially as she took Poppy’s hand, of course unaware of her association with her long-absent son.

      ‘It was such a pleasant surprise to receive an invitation from Mrs Newton to the birthday party of her friend and companion,’ Mrs Crawford said to Poppy. ‘We had heard that she had a companion living with her, so we just had to come and see you for ourselves. It’s such a pity that my daughter couldn’t be here. She would have enjoyed mixing with people of her own age.’

      ‘Yes, it’s a pity, Mrs Crawford. I would have liked to meet her.’

      ‘We see precious little of her ourselves while she’s at boarding school.’

      ‘I see. What’s her name?’

      ‘Elizabeth.’

      ‘So she must be your youngest?’ Poppy deduced.

      ‘She’s sixteen. Not much younger than yourself, Miss Silk. Anyway, I do hope our birthday gift to you will be to your liking.’

      ‘Thank you,’ said Poppy, taking the small parcel.

      ‘It was actually suggested by the fiancée of my son Robert.’

      ‘Oh, then I’m sure I shall like it a lot.’ Well, fancy that – the choice of Robert’s fiancée. It felt like a book.

      ‘Now let me introduce my husband, Mr Crawford …’

      ‘Delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Silk.’ Ridley Crawford’s eyes scanned Poppy up and down assessively. He was a tall man, heavily built. Poppy, still a navvy’s daughter beneath her finery, imagined him and his slim wife in bed engaged in awkward copulation, she smothered by his bulk. She smiled to herself, glad that he could not read her saucy thoughts.

      Aunt Phoebe turned to a young woman who was waiting to be introduced, the wife of Robert’s elder brother. ‘Clare. It has been too long since last we met. How well you look.’

      ‘Thank you, Aunt Phoebe. You too. I’ve never seen you looking better,’ Clare Crawford responded.

      ‘And how are the children?’

      ‘Little tinkers,’ she giggled. ‘But thank you for enquiring.’

      Aunt Phoebe laughed with her. ‘This is Poppy Silk. We get on so well, Clare, I can’t begin to tell you … Poppy, Mrs Oliver Crawford.’

      ‘So this young lady is your companion these days?’ Clare looked at Poppy expectantly and smiled. ‘How do you do, Miss Silk?’

      ‘Very well, thank you. And yourself?’

      ‘Well enough. This is my husband, Miss Silk. Mr Oliver Crawford. Oliver, this is Miss Silk whose birthday we are celebrating.’

      Poppy looked at him with curiosity, looking for a facial resemblance to Robert. She found none, except for the shape of his mouth when he smiled. ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Mr Crawford. I’ve heard very little about you, but you must be Mr and Mrs Crawford’s eldest son.’

      Oliver looked her up and down like his father had. ‘I am indeed. I hope we shall have the opportunity to speak later, or even dance together, Miss Silk.’

      She smiled at him appealingly. ‘I’ll be sure to keep one dance free in case you come asking.’

      Poppy’s heart jumped when she saw Bellamy Crawford, the youngest son, Robert’s younger brother. There was no mistaking him. He had a distinct and disturbing facial resemblance to Robert.

      ‘This is such a pleasant surprise,’ he said, looking directly into Poppy’s shining blue eyes. ‘You know, I rather expected the new companion of Aunt Phoebe to be a bit of a frump. I hardly expected to see such a vividly beautiful, fair-haired girl who makes the other ladies here pale into total insignificance. Please assure me, Miss Silk, that you are unattached …’

      Oh dear … She nodded and smiled, uncertain what to say at his gushing praise.

      ‘Please may I have the first dance with you? And, indeed, the second?’

      ‘I’ll gladly have my first dance with you, Mr Crawford, once I’ve met all my guests.’

      As more people arrived and handed over gifts in that smoke-filled, noisy room with the maroon velvet drapes and flock wallpaper, Poppy graciously met them and seemed to grow in confidence and poise. Aunt Phoebe watched her with increasing pride. Poppy was statuesque in the pale blue satin dress that set off her figure to perfection. Esther had carefully tended her hair and it was piled on top of her head, enhancing the elegant set of her youthful neck. Her bare shoulders glistened like flawless ivory and her breast rose and fell with every excited breath and each peal of laughter. Her face was a picture of spontaneous gaiety and her large blue eyes sparkled with the reflection of the gas lamps that hung from the ceiling.

      Aunt Phoebe watched with amused interest the reactions of the young dogs that came sniffing around; and the not so young ones too, who could not prevent their eyes from dwelling on Poppy. She felt a great surge of satisfaction. Oh, this Poppy Silk was going to be the toast of the town.

      Another guest stood waiting to be introduced. He was tall and erect with a military bearing, and aged about forty-five, Poppy estimated. Quite old.

      ‘My dear Cecil,’ Aunt Phoebe cooed. ‘How good of you to come. How is your mother? Is she improving?’

      ‘Mother won’t improve,’ Cecil replied, his eyes dancing between Aunt Phoebe and Poppy, in anticipation of meeting her. ‘It’s just a matter of time, I’m afraid.’

      ‘Do give her my love. I must get Clay to drive Poppy and me to see her one of the days … You haven’t met Poppy yet, have you? Cecil, this is Poppy Silk, my companion. Poppy, Captain Tyler.’

      ‘Miss Silk …’ He took her hand and held on to it for longer than was necessary. ‘Enchanted. So you are the fine young lady who has kept my cousin company through the long dark days of winter?’ His voice was deep and masculine and his diction was perfect.

      ‘Cecil was an army man, Poppy,’ Aunt Phoebe explained. ‘Recently retired, of course.’

      ‘Oh?’ Poppy said, wishing to appear interested