The Pattern Artist

by Moser, Nancy;

  Maude took her arm. “Remove the look of panic if you please. And tell us what’s wrong.”

  Annie turned her back on the women she’d seen then answered, “It’s Lady Newley and Miss Henrietta.”

  Unfortunately, Maude, Sean, and Mrs. Sampson all looked in that direction.

  “Don’t look!”

  “Too late,” Sean whispered. “They’re coming over.”

  “Turn around,” Maude added.

  “Smile,” Mrs. Sampson said.

  Give me strength. Annie turned around and braced herself for her mistress’s anger. She managed a smile and bobbed a curtsy—feeling foolish for it in midbob. She was not a servant anymore.

  Which was the issue at hand.

  “Annie,” Lady Newley said.

  “My lady. Miss Henrietta. How nice to see you.” What a stupid thing to say! The last time she’d seen them she was a housemaid—a housemaid who ran away with no notice other than leaving Miss Henrietta a note.

  A few seconds passed and pulled on Annie’s nerves. Then Lady Newley said, “It is nice to see you, too, Annie. How did you get”—she motioned around the room—“here?”

  Annie looked at her friends. “Would you please give us a few minutes?”

  They stepped away. At least Annie could endure her scolding in private. “I am so sorry for running out on you like I did.”

  “You mentioned ‘no ladder to climb’ in your note?” Henrietta said.

  Annie didn’t want to discredit the two lady’s maids who’d betrayed her, for what did it matter now? “I have always loved fashion and …”

  “You had a ‘stirring,’ I believe?” Lady Newley asked with a smile.

  “You saw my note?”

  “Henrietta shared it with me. There was much in it to remember,” Lady Newley said. “Although it was perplexing at first, we soon discovered the reason for your departure.”

  Henrietta continued the explanation. “It seems Miss Dougard and Miss Miller have no talent for sewing without you doing the work for them.”

  Annie let out the breath she’d been saving for months. “You know.”

  “We found out quick enough. I do apologize for the two of them. If they’d given you the credit you deserved, you’d still be with us.”

  Annie’s breath caught in her throat, and she took a fresh one. “But begging your ladyship’s pardon, my place is not there, but here.”

  “You work for the House of Paquin?”

  “No, no. I work for Butterick Pattern Company in New York. I help design patterns for home sewers. We are here to see the latest fashion and adapt it for the everyday woman.”

  Lady Newley’s eyebrows rose. “My, my. Annie the housemaid is no more. Enter, Annie the pattern artist.”

  As if the words had the power of a strong wind, Annie felt knocked down with the truth of it. She was no longer the servant girl, Annie. She was the businesswoman, Annie Wood. “Thank you for saying that, my lady.”

  “I’m not your lady anymore. You have become an American entrepreneur.”

  Annie had to laugh. “I work for an American entrepreneur. I have much to learn.”

  “And you will learn it,” Lady Newley said.

  “I thank you for your encouragement. It means a lot to me.”

  “As your encouragement always meant a lot to me,” Henrietta said.

  With a nod, Lady Newley stepped away. “I’ll leave you two to chat. Very nice seeing you doing so well, Annie. I wish you all the best.”

  “She’s such a generous woman,” Annie said.

  “That she is. I am lucky to have her as a mother.”

  For the first time, Annie realized Miss Henrietta had lost quite a bit of weight. “I must say you are looking very fine, miss.”

  Miss Henrietta put her hands on her hips. “No more letting out seams for me. I’ve lost so much weight that we are here to order an entirely new wardrobe.”

  “How exciting.”

  “I plan on enjoying every moment. For I am not just ordering a wardrobe but a trousseau.”

  Annie gasped. “You are betrothed?”

  “I am. He’s an old family friend. He knew me when I was fat, and tells me he doesn’t care how large or small I am. He loves me for me.”

  “He sounds like a true gentleman.”

  “Actually, now he says I’m too slim.”

  They shared a laugh.

  “I have you to thank for my weight loss and my fiancé.”

  Annie was taken aback. “How did I …?”

  “When you ran away I was forced to stand on my own. Your courage to go after what you wanted made me think about what I wanted. I had been resigned to being a twenty-nine-year-old overweight spinster living with my parents. You gave me courage to think of what I could be. I finally gained the willpower to lose the weight, which gave me confidence enough to go after a man who truly loved me. Hank is that man. And I am a new woman.”

  “I’m so, so happy for you,” Annie said. “Truly I am.”

  “As I am happy for you. Come. The show is beginning.”

  The three Butterick workers sat behind Madame for the fashion show. The models of the House of Paquin strolled by, pausing to pose and pirouette so the women could study the gowns and feel the fine fabrics and trims.

  “I like that one,” Annie whispered to Maude as a model approached. The girl wore a gown of ecru silk covered with delicate lace. The neckline crossed, forming a V, and the sleeves had no seam at the shoulder but were draped from the same piece of fabric as the bodice. The back bodice was the same as the front, but the back of the dress sported full-length pieces of blue silk embroidered at the bottom with mauve roses and green leaves. The blue was pulled around the sides at the empire waistline in the front and culminated in a pink rosette bow.

  Annie quickly made a tiny sketch on the piece of paper they’d each been given to note the models and dresses they liked. Madame warned them to be discreet, and with just a few strokes, Annie simplified the dress into what could become a sewing pattern. The lace and silk were exquisite and out of the price range of home sewers, but the ensemble could be created in a cotton lace with a faille silk for evening. Or even a solid skirt with a contrasting color for the back piece, suitable for everyday use.

  Model after model promenaded by, filling Annie’s mind—and her card—to overflowing. She felt like a child in a candy store. She couldn’t get enough.

  But then it was over, and it was time to move on to the next galerie. The patrons who would order their own couture ensembles stayed behind to choose fabrics and have measurements taken. As her group was leaving, Annie caught the eye of Miss Henrietta, who pointed at a lovely dress of sage-green satin. Her nod asked a question, and Annie nodded back, giving her approval.

  Annie walked a little taller as she left the House of Paquin.

  The time in Paris flew by. Over the next week the Butterick contingent visited the Houses of Louise Chéruit, Georges Doeuillet, Jacques Doucet, Paul Poiret, Redfern & Sons, and Worth.

  Annie’s stack of sketches grew. Back in their room, she arranged them, making changes and notes for each design. She held a sketch for Maude to see. “I think we can adapt this skirt easily if we—”

  Maude snatched the page away. “Enough of this.”

  “Just a few more minutes.”

  With a sweep of her hands over the bed, Maude collected the pages and stuffed them in a drawer. “Tonight is our last night in Paris. We are not going to waste one more minute working.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “It’s not what I have in mind, but what Sean has in mind.”

  “Which is?”

  “Dinner at Café de la Paix.”

  It was the restaurant in the hotel. “Isn’t it expensive?”

  Maude put her hands on her hips. “We’ve saved our meal money by eating simply. Don’t we deserve one fabulous French meal?”

  All hesitance left her. Work was done. Now was the time to celebrate.


  Annie perused the tray of desserts that was presented by the waiter. “Mademoiselle?”

  Annie moaned as she sat back in her seat. “Non merci. I couldn’t eat a bite.”

  “But you must,” Sean said. “Just a bite.” He looked to the waiter, held up one finger, and ordered, “Crème brûlée à la vanilla, trois cuillères, s’il vous plaît.”

  After enjoying an overabundance of exquisitely prepared French onion soup, foie gras, lamb, sole, and asparagus, Annie took one last look at the café, searing it into her mind forever. The ceilings and walls were detailed with ivory and gold embellishments; the chandeliers glistened in the deliberately dimmed light. Their table was set amid fluted columns with intricate scrolls like ram’s horns at the tops. She ran a hand across the starched white tablecloth. The smells of food, both savory and sweet, combined with the perfumes of the fine ladies seated around them. It was like being in a palace—an eating palace.

  “Annie? Are you still with us?” Maude asked.

  She blinked and brought herself back to the moment. “Again I wonder at being here. Has all this really happened to me?”

  Sean reached across the table and took her hand. “It has. And the evening is not over.”

  “I’m not sure my senses can absorb any more. I’m quite done in. With us leaving tomorrow, don’t you think we should pack and—”

  “No,” Sean said. “Not yet.” He exchanged a look with Maude.

  “No,” she agreed. “Absolutely not. We can sleep on the train, or on the ship.”

  Sean nodded. “There is only one last night in Paris.”

  The dessert arrived and was set in the middle, between them. The waiter brought three spoons.

  “You first,” Sean said. “As it is your first crème brûlée.”

  “I don’t even know what it is.”

  “It’s a custard with caramelized sugar on top. Go ahead. Break into it.” The term break seemed odd but was immediately appropriate as Annie’s spoon broke through the sugar shell and reached the rich custard below. They awaited her reaction.

  “Mmm. I would deem it perfect, yet ‘perfect’ is too small a word.”

  They laughed and joined in the perfection.

  Since she was tired, Annie was not keen on Sean’s idea of a stroll along the Seine River. Yet not wanting to be a killjoy, she agreed to go.

  The river flowed by them quietly, as befitted the late hour. The sky was deep navy, and the stars glittered and competed with the streetlamps.

  “Worth the time?” Sean asked.

  She squeezed his arm. “Mmm.”

  “That’s what you said about the dessert.”

  “It still applies. This is delicious. And perfect.”

  “I think I’ll sit here,” Maude said as they passed a bench. You two go on. I will catch up.”

  As Annie and Sean continued talking, she glanced back. “Should we leave her alone? It’s late, and it’s a big city.”

  Sean stopped and suddenly faced her. “I needed to be alone with you, because …” He took both her hands in his. “I love you, Annie Wood. And more than that, I adore you.”

  Her heart flipped.

  He knelt on one knee and took out a ring. “Annie, would you spend the rest of your life with me, as my wife?”

  The knowledge that this was actually happening—and happening in Paris—collided with doubt and confusion.

  Sean noticed the delay in her answer and stood. “You’re supposed to gleefully answer yes and take me in your arms.”

  She felt horrible for causing him any sort of pain, yet there was no way around it. “I do say yes, but …”

  He let out a sigh and rubbed the space between his eyes. “But?”

  She looked to the river, to anywhere but the condemnation in his eyes. “But I am not sure I’m ready to be a wife.”

  “Is there training for it? If so, I am not ready to be a husband.”

  “There’s more to it than that. With being a wife comes being … a mother.”

  He took her hands and smiled. “I would hope so. For part of my hopes for a future involve children. Don’t you want children?”

  “I do, but …”

  His smile faded. “There is that awful word again.”

  “But I don’t want to be a mother any time soon.” She pointed back in the direction of the fashion houses. “I enjoy my job; I enjoy the challenge of it, the creativity of it, and the independence of it.”

  “You can do that and be a mother.”

  “Can I? None of our female coworkers have children. Few are married.”

  “But it’s done. I know it is.”

  She thought of something else. “Mrs. Sampson is being persistent about their offer to back me. How could I ever start my own fashion design business and be a wife and be a proper mother?”

  He dropped her hands. “You choose your career over me.”

  He made it sound dreadful and final. “I choose to get established in whatever path I’m supposed to be on, and then—”

  He stepped back. “You assume I’ll wait.”

  A wave of panic assailed her, nudging her to step close and take his hands once again. “I hope you will wait. I pray you will. For I do want to marry you, Sean. I love you, too. With all my heart.”

  She watched his clenched jaw relax. His eyes were plaintive. “You do?”

  “I do. Immeasurably.”

  He began to lower himself once again to one knee, but she stopped him. “The next time you ask, I want to be able to gleefully answer yes and fall into your arms.”

  He nodded, but there was a mournfulness to his face. She slipped her hand around his arm and they turned toward the Seine flowing past them, in spite of them.

  They joined Maude, and the trio walked back to the hotel. She looked at each of them expectantly. “So?”

  “You knew?” Annie asked.

  “Why do you think I hung back?” Not getting the answer from Annie, she turned to Sean. “So?”

  “She answered, ‘yes, but.’”

  “That’s no answer.”

  “That’s what I thought,” he said.

  Annie stopped their walking. “It is an answer. It’s all the answer I can give right now. I thought you understood.”

  “Understanding and liking are two different things,” Sean said. “Come now. We have packing to do.”

  They walked back amid silence. And regret.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t say yes to him,” Maude said as she and Annie finished their packing.

  “I explained it to you.” Annie thought of another point in her favor. “His family is wonderful, and mine is … negligible. I don’t deserve him.”

  “No, you don’t. But you will not give him up using those lame excuses.”

  Maude was right. Annie was trying to rationalize what couldn’t be rationalized. “I don’t know what else to say.”

  “I think you’ve said enough. Just keep in mind that Sean is a remarkable, handsome man. Don’t delay so long that you lose him.”

  Annie dropped a blouse she’d been folding. “You think there’s a chance of that?”

  “He wants to marry you now. You’re putting him off because of what might happen in the future. One is a known, and one is an unknown. Just be careful you don’t lose both.”

  Annie sat on the bed, the blouse hanging from a hand. “So you’re saying I’m wrong in wanting to wait for marriage?”

  Maude sat beside her. “I’m saying that none of us know the extent of our days.”

  “That’s a pleasant thought.”

  Maude shrugged. “Just think about it.”

  Annie knew she would think of little else.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Annie enjoyed being a world traveler, yet the logistics were daunting. A carriage from the hotel to the Gare Saint Lazare train station, a train to Cherbourg, and then the Titanic to New York City. She was glad the fashion shows were behind them. Yet the promise of shipboard discussions with Mrs. Sampson
remained. She appreciated the attention yet didn’t look forward to being mollycoddled. Annie fondly remembered her other voyage, when she and Maude whiled away their time playing cards, reading books, and gazing at the sea from deck chairs.

  A porter transferred their luggage from a taxi to a rolling cart to take inside the enormous train station, with instructions to hurry because they hadn’t given themselves enough time. Madame had insisted on taking the first taxi with her enormous collection of luggage, so Annie, Maude, and Sean had no time to spare. Yet on a whim Annie intervened. “I can carry my own on board, thank you.”

  “Why don’t you let him take care of it?” Maude asked.

  “I just have this one case. It has all my sketches and notes in it. I don’t know what I’d do if it got lost.”

  “Lost between here and there,” Maude said, pointing toward the platform.

  Annie shrugged.

  Maude sighed dramatically. “I suppose now I’ll have to do the same.”

  “Let me get yours and mine,” Sean said.

  Surprising them all, another carriage pulled up and Mr. and Mrs. Sampson emerged. They had no choice but to use a cart, for they had been in Europe all winter, with the luggage to prove it.

  Mrs. Sampson swept toward them. “I wish I could get over the deplorable habit of being tardy, but here we are at the last minute.” She took a breath. “I am ever so ready to go home. One can only be cosmopolitan so long. Let us proceed to the waiting hall.”

  Without meaning to, the young travelers were swept into her wake. They followed her through the arched doorways into the chaos that was the waiting area. Travelers of all sorts and sizes bumped against each other trying to get from here to there, all intent on the logistics of their journeys.

  Sean checked the clock. “We only have five minutes until boarding.”

  “I despise cutting things so close,” Maude said.

  “You can thank Madame for—”

  Annie cut off her sentence when she heard a child crying. She looked through the crowd and saw a boy of about six or seven, searching for someone. His cheeks were tear stained, his call of “Maman? Maman!” desperate. He looked like a younger Danny.