Lydia fell in love with York from her first visit as a child. The romans founded the historic town of York in 71AD. At the end of the 9th century, the Norse viking warriors stamped their identity on the town.
Lydia’s favourite landmark was the large roman wall that surrounded the town. She often called into York’s medieval cathedral, which dominated the town’s elegant town houses and shops. Her favourite place to shop for food, which was more pleasing on the eye, than the nose, was the ‘shambles’.
The medieval street dated from the 14th century and had timber framed buildings. It was populated with butcher shops with meat hooks and shelves to display wares of meat outside the shop. Unfortunately, the foul smell of guts and offal, which came from the butcher shops’, was distasteful for some of the ladies of the town.
However, Lydia found York an exciting place to spend her holidays, with plenty of shops, taverns and assemblies.
***
After George and Marianne retired, they bought a small manor house in York. George did odd jobs around town and Marianne stayed at home baking and making Jam, which she sold at the local market.
The farmer’s markets in York were very popular. They were open from dawn to dusk and sold fresh produce such as poultry, chickens, rabbits, geese and fowls. There was also a range of vegetables, herbs, preservatives and cheese on display.
When Marianne saw a small shop in the centre of York with a lease to sell, she gave Lydia the idea of opening her own confectioner shop. It was an idea she found very appealing. It was better than running a baker business like her father.
Lydia had watched her father toil into the night to provide bread for the local community. He had no time off, apart from religious holidays and spent most of the morning selling his wares.
As he got older, he wished he could expand his business to provide new lines of baking. However, he was restricted to three forms of bread baking. ‘Wheaten’ baked with the best flour, superior fare for the upper classes. ‘Standard wheaten’ a mix of several flours, standard fare for the lower classes. ‘Household’ coarse flours, sub-standard fare for the poor and the work house.
The hard toil of the baker was not a life for a man, let alone a woman. Lydia was amazed that her father lived to sixty, as most of his staff never got beyond their forties. Being the owner of a confectioner business would be hard work, but certainly more exciting than being a baker.
Marianne and George had also shown an interest in working in a shop. They could bring a wealth of food preservation skills to the business. Together they could make a profitable business and provide a new life for Lydia.
There was also living accommodation over the shop, which finally gave Lydia a place of her own. She was overjoyed to have a business and a home in one place. It was the perfect way to leave the past behind and start a new life.
Once George signed the legal formalities of the property. Lydia, under George’s direction, was in charge of her own business known as ‘Lydia’s Confectioner Shop.’
During the last two years, she had built a viable business. Lydia sold cakes and biscuits of every variety. She also sold meringues, gingerbreads, dried apricots, peaches in brandy, a range of liqueurs, ice creams and cold drinks.
Lydia and Marianne baked a range of wedding fruit-cakes, while George did all the odd jobs around the shop. He also delivered orders on his pony and trap to local villagers and various country estates in the countryside.
Lydia had the patronage of the Duke of Somerset, after he purchased a supply of cakes and pastries for his famous parties at Downton Hall, a large estate he inherited in the Yorkshire countryside. After two years of hard work, Lydia’s confectioner shop was firmly on the map.
Chapter 8
As the morning sun rose over the Yorkshire hills, Lydia stood outside her confectioner shop in York and checked her window displays. She was fortunate to have two port glass bow windows to display her luxurious wares. She originally began with one shop, but as her business expanded, George secured the lease of the shop next door.
The addition of a new shop brought more staff on the premises. Marianne’s two daughters helped out during the holidays, when they came to see their parents. Lydia also hired Polly, a pretty brunette, who was good at selling the wares of the shop and chatting to the customers.
Lydia was a perfectionist, who worked hard to achieve an eye-catching display of her wares, inside and outside the shop. As she stood in the chill of the morning breeze, gazing through the port glass windows of her shop, she was pleased with one of her elaborate shop displays.
A lavish collection of meringue, liquorice and gingerbread cakes, were displayed on decorative cake stands at the centre of the window. A mouth-watering range of sweet and savoury cakes, were arranged around the main display, decorated with fine sugar stars, castles, churches, knights.
At the front of the window, preserved fruits, marzipans and jellies where arranged in neat rows in attractive packages, alongside a variety of candles. When dusk fell, the cakes glistened under the candle light.
Inside the shop, more confectionary wares were displayed, on various counters and sideboards throughout the shop. Large ornate mirrors on the walls, reflected pyramids of small pastries, tartlets and sweetmeats. Preserved jellies in gleaming glass jars and wine glasses with lids, filled with liqueurs of every brand and colour, completed the confectionery range.
***
At the rear of the shop, Lydia and Marianne spent long hours baking in a spacious bakery.
They baked their cakes in a Dutch cast iron oven, which was set on a stone hearth in the open fireplace. It resembled a large black cooking pot with iron legs placed over a layer of sand. The sand protected the hearth from the heat, when hot coals where placed beneath the iron legs. Hot coals where also placed on the domed iron lid to keep the oven warm.
Lydia found the Dutch oven so versatile, she installed another oven in the second fireplace in the bakery, which increased her supplies to the shop.
However, Polly was not a big fan of the oven. Once a week she had to sweep out the charcoaled remains of the sand and replace it with a new layer. She also had to clean and maintain the confectionary tools used in the shop.
The amount of equipment was endless; jelly moulds, pastry cutters, tartlet pans, pudding cloths and pastry brushes. As well as forcing bags for icing and strainers made out of fine woollen weaves.
Although the interior of the shop was ship shape, the exterior of the shop was causing Lydia problems. Polly was doing a very bad job of her wedding cake display in the adjacent window. No matter which way she arranged the luxurious fruit cake, rich in alcohol, exotic fruits and rare spices, Lydia still found fault with the display.
Polly was not in a good mood. She had come into work early, but wished she had stayed in bed, as Lydia made one demand after another, the moment she walked through the door.
“Polly wake up!” Lydia knocked on the glass window. “Put the wedding cake to one side of the window and put some rich ingredients next to it.”
“I did that before,” she protested. “And you didn’t like it.”
“Well do it again,” Lydia ordered. The shop girl rearranged the wedding cake in a different format. “No, it’s still not right.”
“Lydia!” Polly was getting impatient. She had been stuck in the draughty window for half past the hour. “I can’t rearrange it again.”
“Yes you will,” Lydia demanded. “I only have one window to display my wedding cakes.” She stood back and folded her arms. “It’s important that my customers see the exotic fruits and spices that are baked into the cake.”
Polly screwed up her face and left the window display. She couldn’t resist the fresh aroma of sweet patties from the oven.
***
Polly walked into the bakery and nicked a fresh cake on the table. “I am all at sea with Lydia,” she complained to Marianne.
“She knows what she
wants,” Marianne sighed with flushed cheeks, as she put another batch of ginger breads in the oven. “She’s built this shop from nothing.”
Polly sat down and consumed the sweet pattie. “That’s all she dreams about is selling cakes.” She poured out a tankard of barley water. “A woman should only dream about getting a husband and having a family.”
“Well fortunately for Lydia.” Marianne placed a layer of hot coals on the lid with a pair of tongs. “She has more sense than a silly, sixteen year old girl like you.” She returned to the table and pulled a cloth from a tray of savoy biscuits. “With romantic notions about life.” Marianne sat down and wiped a bead of sweat from her brow.
Polly pulled a face and took a biscuit from the tray.
“Polly come back to the window!” Lydia called into the shop.
She ignored her and swallowed the biscuit. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting romance in your life.”
“In the real world,” Marianne emphasised with her voice. “Some women have to make a living.” She stopped Polly from taking another biscuit. “So stop eating the profits!”
“This is my breakfast,” Polly protested, with crumbs around her mouth.
“Come out here now,” Lydia demanded.
“Get back to the window display,” Marianne shoed her away with her cloth. “Before she gets another shop assistant.”
Lydia was beginning to regret taking Polly on as a shop assistant, as she stood outside the shop. She thought an attractive brunette like Polly, would be good for business. The women enjoyed her cheerful chatter and men of all ages found her appearance very agreeable. But, she wasn’t sure if she took the job seriously.
“Polly, do you really want this job?” She enquired when she came back to her. “There are plenty of other young girls that would be happy to work here.”
“I do Lydia.” Polly tried to stifle a yawn. “I’m just a bit tired.” She did have doubts about working in a shop. But it was better than working on her dad’s farm, milking cows at dawn and mucking out the pigsty.
However, one perk of the job was the handsome young clerks that came in for their daily pastries. One day she might get a husband out of it. That in mind Polly put on her best smile for Lydia. “I'm ready for your next direction.”
***
After another set of commands, Polly heaved the wedding cake to the centre of the window and arranged a sample of the ingredients on either side of the cake. "Stop! That’s it,” Lydia said with an outstretched palm. "The perfect wedding cake display.” Polly sighed with relief, as she finished a floral trim around the window.
“What’s all this talk about wedding cakes?” George said, as he led his horse to a pony and trap stationed by the shop. He had been in the back yard, stocking up the cart with confectionery deliveries. “Is someone getting married?”
His voice startled Lydia. “I’ve put my latest wedding cake in the window.” She rubbed her hand against her chin. “It’s made from very expensive ingredients. I hope it doesn’t put off my regular customers.”
“It might catch a chaperone’s eye,” George said, as he attached a harness over the horse.
“I want to attract the eye of a rich bride-to-be.” Lydia gently whacked his shoulder. “Not her widowed mother.”
“I heard there might be a wedding at the Duke of Surrey’s estate in Yorkshire.” George secured the harness to his cart. “His niece is having a lavish wedding in a few weeks.”
“That’s good news,” Lydia said. “I haven’t heard from him for a while. He might put in another order for cakes and pastries.”
Polly came out of the shop and viewed her cake arrangement. “My first wedding cake display,” she proudly announced.
“My cake display,” Lydia said with a proud huff.
“I helped you do it.” Polly insisted.
“And you took a long time to do it!”
“Stop bickering women. It doesn’t matter who done it.” George climbed aboard his jerking cart. “As long as it catches the eye of a wealthy gentleman.” He began to ride away. “They’re the ones with the capital.”
Chapter 9
The profits in Lydia’s confectioner shop had risen, since her lavish wedding cake was advertised in the window on Monday. It was Saturday now and while George and Polly served in the shop, Lydia and Marianne were busy baking in the bakery.
Everything was running as regular as clockwork, apart from the usual complaint from Polly, who moaned about her aching feet. But as soon as a nice young man came in, she forgot her sore feet and turned on the charm to sell more cakes.
When there was a quiet lull in the shop, George and Marianne went out on the cart and delivered the next batch of fresh baking to their customers. Polly also took advantage of the quiet spell and came into the bakery for a quick break.
“Here you are Polly.” Lydia laid out a hot buttered scone and a tankard of lemonade on the table. “You’ve worked hard this morning.”
"So have you.” She was amused by Lydia’s dishevelled appearance. “Have you seen yourself?” She sat down on a chair by the table. “You’ve got flour in your hair and egg stains on your apron.”
“I don’t care, business is booming.” Lydia retrieved a strand of floury hair from her face. “We’re making lots of capital! That’s all that matters.”
Polly was just about to eat her scone, when the shop doorbell rang. “Not again.”
“Just serve that customer.” Lydia pushed her scone to one side. “When I’ve tidied myself up, I’ll serve the next one.”
Polly strolled into the shop and was astonished to see Lady Charlotte Cringlewood. The attractive brunette was the wealthy niece of the Duke of Surrey, who owned the local 2,000 acre estate of Downton Hall in the Yorkshire Dales.
Lady Cringlewood was the daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, who had a vast estate of 6,000 acres in Norfolk. Her father had a respectable position as Q.C. to the Prince Regent. When Charlotte came to stay at her Uncle’s estate in Yorkshire, she often called into York on occasional shopping trips.
Lady Cringlewood was about the same age as Polly and always wore the latest French fashions. Polly and her friends would watch her in awe, as she swept past them followed by her lady in waiting. Polly never believed she would meet the lady herself and here she was in Lydia’s confectioner shop.
“Hello ma’am.” Polly gave a little curtesy. “I’ll get Miss Somerville.” Polly rushed into the bakery in awe of her prestigious customer. “Lydia, you won’t believe whose in the shop.”
“Not now Polly.” Lydia delivered a batch of savoy biscuits into the oven. She was getting behind with her baking schedule, as Marianne had not returned from her deliveries with George. “Can’t you see I'm busy?”
“It’s Lady Charlotte Cringlewood,” she said excitedly. “She’s looking at the wedding cake display.”
“Who?” Lydia queried, as she wiped her forehead with a cloth.
“She’s the niece of the Duke of Surrey.” Polly rolled her eyes at her lack lustre response. “A very rich heiress from London Society!”
“Rich heiress.” Lydia’s ears pricked up. Polly’s ramblings made some sense for once.
“Capital!” Her eyes lit up. “I must get a purchase before she leaves.”
As Lydia rushed into the shop, she forgot to remove her smear-stained apron. She was met with a disdainful look from the heiress, as she gave her a respectful courtesy.
Lydia gazed down at her apron and realised her mistake. “Forgive my appearance ma’am.” She brushed some flour away. “We are very busy in the bakery.”
Lady Charlotte refused to engage with her, as she examined the wedding cake more closely. Her lady in waiting broke the awkward silence. “I’m Jane,” she offered her hand to Lydia. “Lady Charlotte Cringlewood’s lady in waiting.”
“Pleased to meet you Miss.” She shook her hand, then looked over to the heiress. “Can I be of assistance?” Lady Cringlewood failed to answer her
.
Polly joined her by the display. “Is the wedding cake to your liking?”
She gave Polly a curt smile. “I find it very agreeable.” She fingered the floral trimmings with interest. “I like the palatial design.” She looked back at Polly. “I think my Fiancé would be impressed too.”
“It would grace the most opulent wedding banquet,” Polly replied with a charming smile.
“It’s a very extravagant cake.” The heiress pondered. “For a wedding.”
Lydia glared over at Polly. She was being upstaged by a mere shop girl. It was her job to sell cakes to the gentry.
“Ma’am allow me to peruse for one moment.” Lydia stepped in front of Polly, which forced her to step back. “This wedding cake has been made with the finest ingredients.” She draped her hand towards the display. “It has an array of rare spices, exotic fruit, candied orange peel and alcohol preservatives such as wine and brandy. It’s the most expensive fruit cake in our collection.”
“A collection of wedding cakes.” Charlotte was mildly impressed and gave a slight nod at her lady in waiting.
“Lady Charlotte would like to see the lady, who baked this charming cake,” Jane enquired.
“That lady is me ma’am,” Lydia said proudly. Charlotte took more of an interest in her. “I also manage the confectionery shop.”
“How impressive.” The heiress turned back to the wedding cake. "The Duke of Surrey is my Uncle. He has mentioned your shop in agreeable terms at many gatherings at the estate.” She turned back to Lydia. “He has recently departed to India, to engage in a two year diplomatic post with the East Indian Company.”
“I’m very honoured to have his patronage.” Lydia returned a polite bow. “I often deliver extra sweet and savoury fancies at his spring and summer balls.”
“Will you be staying long at the Duke of Surrey’s estate?” Polly quietly asked.
“Lady Charlotte,” Jane intervened. “Is getting married at Downton Hall by a special license. Then she will reside at the estate with her husband, until her uncle returns from India.”
“I’m getting married in two weeks’ time.” Charlotte suppressed a giggle with a gloved hand.