A Love Made to Measure

by Eliza Emmett

  “Oh, that vile man.” Addy’s nose crinkled. “But why are you going?”

  “Because I am not the kind of person who hides from a challenge, and I am sure this has something to do with Cora.”

  Grant kissed Addy on top of her head and dashed out.

  He walked the streets of London with a renewed sense of purpose. At first he had been mystified by the invitation. Lester had requested his presence at a social club. The previous association between the rake and Cora filled Grant’s heart with ire for the man. The fact that the meeting had been arranged at such a venue further bewildered him. He decided to stay for as little time as necessary, but he would not avoid this unpleasant encounter.

  He arrived at the elegant building on Piccadilly five minutes early, and he paced the front of the mansion as if intent on wearing down the cobblestones. The cold, humid weather was helpful; he would otherwise be fuming. This invitation had come at a bad time, when he had decided to deal with confronting his mother. He wondered if, in a strange way, the two confrontations were related, but he dismissed the notion as absurd. His mother and this man could not have anything in common.

  When the approaching time of the meeting compelled him to go in, a polished butler took him to a smoky room where gentlemen played chess, read the newspaper, or simply drank brandy and smoked their pipes. The place smelled of the smoke and of musky perfume. Few of the inhabitants—for he assumed many spent more time there than in their own houses—bothered to raise their heads and acknowledge his arrival. They were there because of a conscious desire to be left alone. Most clubs had strict codes of behavior and quiet rooms to guarantee their members’ peace. The idea that men voluntarily avoided the company of women—the delight of their voices and the pleasure of their delicate nature—was ludicrous to Grant.

  Lester sat by a curtained window when Grant entered, and in response, he issued a broad smile before standing up and buttoning his coat.

  “How good of you to accept my invitation.”

  “I have to confess it was an unexpected request.”

  “Would you like to join me for a brandy?”

  “No, thank you. I would appreciate if you’d tell me how I can help you. I have time constraints.”

  “Ah, a man that likes to go straight to the point. I admire that. Very well. It has come to my attention that you have become, shall we say, friends, with Miss Cora Larsen?”

  “Sir Lester, I fail to see why that information might be of any interest to you.”

  “Oh, but it is. It is of extreme importance. You see, Lord Galavyin, the truth is that Miss Larsen and I have a long, outstanding attachment that I am looking to renew right away.”

  “I see. Does Miss Larsen know about your intention?”

  “I’m sure she does. She was—how shall I put it?—quite infatuated with me. Unfortunately for many reasons at the time, the connection didn’t stand. I was not ready for a lasting commitment. As a man of the world, I am certain you appreciate what I mean.” That he said raising an eyebrow, and Grant had to control himself not to show disgust in his face. He refused to give the man the satisfaction of knowing any slight to Cora’s reputation sent a piercing pain through his heart.

  “My understanding was that you eloped and at the very last minute you abandoned Miss Larsen, leaving her to her own fate, completely disregarding what your actions would do to her feelings and to her reputation. That does not constitute ‘many reasons.’ ”

  Rudolph Lester smoothed his hair and grinned. Grant felt a visceral annoyance that at any point could turn into loathing.

  “I see you are familiar with the tale, though I would say it has changed a bit from being told around. Nothing like being passed from lady to lady in the ballrooms of London for a story to change, isn’t that so?”

  “I don’t think so. I have it on good authority that it is just as I’m told.”

  Another slimy smile. “Be that as it may, I would like to correct any misdoing of the past. Restore her reputation, if you will. I’m in a position to do that now. I have the means and the intent.”

  “Why am I here, Sir Lester?”

  “I would like to ask you to stay away. I’m quite sure of Miss Larsen’s feelings for me. But your presence could…confuse her. She is a woman after all.”

  “I don’t think Miss Larsen is the kind of person who gets easily confused. And I don’t see how being a woman would make her prone to what you call confusion. In fact, in my experience, it is very unlikely for women to get confused.”

  “When it comes to love, we are all vulnerable in that respect, are we not?” Lester said

  Grant did not respond. He simply stared at the man until his eyes were squinting at the effort of beholding such a detestable face. His hands formed tight fists at the sides of his body.

  “There is no gallant way for me to say what I must, so I will not even try. Stay away from Miss Larsen, Sir Lester. If you don’t, you will be offending me personally.” And thinking he should have been even clearer, Grant Galavyin walked away, daydreaming of a time, imaginary or real, when he could punch the man in the face.

  ****

  She could remember a time when her shop was a haven of calm, a place where she actively managed to hide from the precariousness of the world. The shop had been a site of wonder and magic, where the color of the fabrics brought her joy and where rearranging ribbons and sequins felt like a favorite pastime. Sewing gowns felt to her like she imagined a writer felt weaving a narrative or a composer stringing notes that belonged together. Like a book or a song, her gowns also told a story, and to work on them was a way to express varied emotions and feelings: joy in spring ensembles, anticipation in gowns for parties, hope in wedding dresses. In her shop, she had the privilege of being transported to this fantasy world.

  But of late, every time the door of the shop opened, Cora shivered, wondering what kind of trouble the next guest would bring. The period of rest and exile in the country had done nothing to ease those worries, and given all that had happened in the last few months, it was not hard to figure out why.

  This time was no different. When the door slammed, scooping in a blow of cold air, Cora felt her stomach sink in her belly, and when she turned around, she was surprised to see a small boy with what appeared to be a note in his hand. Although she knew several of the kids in the neighborhood, she did not recognize this one.

  “I have a message for Miss Cora Larsen,” the child said.

  “That’s me. Who asked you to deliver this?”

  “A gentleman. He gave me a coin.”

  “All right. See that lady over there? She will give you an apple. Thank you.”

  The boy smiled broadly and ran to Sally.

  Cora waited for him to leave before sitting down and unfolding the paper. It read, “Meet me at Piccadilly Circus at five o’clock.” It did not have a signature, but she would have recognized the penmanship anywhere, and that recognition caused her heart to contract in sheer agony.

  Lester was waiting for her, wearing the smirk she had come to loathe.

  “Punctual as always.” He examined her like a connoisseur examines a piece of art at the museum—from top to bottom and back again.

  “I couldn’t believe it when I read your note.”

  “Did you know it was from me?”

  “Obviously.” She could not fathom what she had ever seen in that man.

  “And still you came.” He brought his hands together, excited as if he was about to open a gift. “That makes me happy.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. I only came because if I didn’t, you might turn up at my shop, or worse yet, at my house.”

  “I would only do that if I were invited.”

  “You certainly are not.”

  “Would you sit? This way we could talk better.”

  “I’m not planning on staying long.”

  “Fine. Then I will be direct. I have been thinking, and I have reached the conclusion that we should get married. I’m here
to tell you that I’m amenable to the idea…again. And of course it would turn out to be a profitable decision for you, after all. I’m a rich man, and you would become a reputable society woman, leave behind all of the gossip that circulates about you—and the need to be a tradeswoman.”

  “I am a reputable woman who is proud of her job. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Do you have any idea of the pain you inflicted? Of the time it has taken for me to get on with my life?”

  “Perhaps all the more reason to turn things around, don’t you think? To go back to where we’ve been and give that story a happy ending?”

  Cora felt the resentment she had stored for so long turn to anger, and that was a welcome change. She could use anger. She was not afraid of it. Quite the opposite. She could see very clearly now that the only way out of fear was through it, and right now anger was carrying her through, making her confident. It wasn’t an emotion she planned on cultivating in the long run, but for now, it fulfilled its purpose.

  “Stay away from me. Stay away from my family, my shop, stay away from the whole neighborhood if you please. If you see me from your carriage while I’m walking down a street, turn your face to the opposite direction and if you are invited to a party or a ball, ask if I am invited, and if I am, don’t go. This is the last time I intend to see you. I don’t want even to consider the possibility of running into you ever again.”

  And with that, she left Rudolph Lester standing alone in the middle of Piccadilly Circus.

  ****

  Addy found herself in a house that felt more like a home than any place she had ever visited. From the kitchen a delicious smell, which she could only guess was cucumber soup, travelled to her nostrils. Through a side window, a cool stream of sun danced, making shadows on the wall. Several clocks created a beat that was almost musical. In front of her sat Hattie, a young woman with the kindest, brightest eyes Addy could imagine. She resembled Cora, but while the eldest Miss Larsen’s predominant feature was fortitude of the eyes, in Miss Hattie’s case it was the sweetness of her smile. “It is so good to meet you, Mrs. Crofford. Cora speaks so fondly of you that were we not the closest of sisters, I could become quite jealous.” She laughed such an easy laugh that it was impossible to take the comment as anything other than the highest of compliments.

  “Dear Hattie, it is my greatest wish that one day we shall be sisters, so I beg you to call me by my given name, Adele or Addy, like good sisters would.”

  “That would be a great happiness to me too, but I fear at present this dream is moving away from us, and most importantly, away from our siblings.”

  “Not if we can help it, Hattie. We need to sort this out. I have a plan, but I need your support to make it work. Are you willing?”

  “Anything and everything you need. Cora has not confided in me since her return from the Bristow Estate, but I can tell you with certainty that I have never seen her this sad in my life, not even when—never mind. My heart bleeds for her, and I would do anything to see my sister restored to her old self. I already love Grant as a brother.”

  “Then do you think you could convince Cora, under any pretenses necessary, to go to the Henley Regatta in two weeks?”

  “I will do my best.” Hattie acceded.

  “They depend on us, Hattie. We have no choice but to make this plan work.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Every June, on a rural portion of the Thames, the Season has one of its highlights in the form of the Henley Royal Regatta. In this year of 1870, the regatta was to take two days, having been expanded from its original one afternoon only in 1839. Like all events of the Season, the regatta was an opportunity to see and be seen, for ladies to wear their best fashions and most extravagant hats, and given Cora’s chosen profession, she expected to be as busy as ever for the two weeks preceding the event.

  It was a blessing, really, having so much to do, measure, and stitch. With so much happening, thoughts of Grant Galavyin had to be relegated to the background. The shop itself looked like an event, with constant comings and goings by debutantes, mothers, aunts, and society ladies, all dressed in their best day garments. These ladies knew they would meet their peers at the shop, so they dressed up as if fittings were parties and Cora’s front sitting area a ballroom.

  Sally looked tired from all of the tea brewing and serving. She walked so fast across the floor that Cora wondered if the young woman even left an impression on the antique wood boards. But business was profiting, and this was the only piece of good news she had. She held on to it like one does to a life preserver.

  “Sally,” she whispered, “make sure Lady Musgrove chooses ribbons for her gown and don’t let Mrs. Fermoy go before getting her measurements taken again. I don’t think Gertie did it properly. I’ll do it myself.”

  “Yes, Miss.”

  “And Sally, make sure to come see me after work. Your help…I couldn’t do this without you. I would like to talk about your wages. You deserve more.”

  “Thank you.” Sally walked away with a new spring in her step.

  And so the days passed, one blending into another toward an indistinguishable but productive whole only made slightly varied by changes in weather. Cora always made sure to work until late. By the time she got home everyone had gone to sleep. She explained to her family that the arrangement was temporary and a result of too much work this time of year. But what she really wanted was to avoid chitchat or any confessions to her sister. Despite the guilt of shutting Hattie out, she carried on with the plan. She reasoned it was for her sister’s own good even if deep inside she knew she was doing it mostly for herself. To speak of her broken heart could lead to her collapse.

  Cora knew her plan had failed one day when she saw Hattie go in through the door during a very busy hour. Hattie waved at her sister and gestured to show that she would be sitting in a corner until Cora had a free minute. She seemed intent on waiting for as long as necessary.

  Cora found it hard to concentrate while Hattie waited. She wondered if her sister, having seen through her scheme, had decided to end the charade and confront her. She started rehearsing in her mind different retorts for different possible demands by her sister. Not that Hattie was demanding. She had Cora’s best interests at heart, to be sure. It didn’t matter in the end. Hattie would have to understand the way things were going to be from that moment onward.

  As soon as she bid goodbye to two rather loquacious clients, who left comparing the splendors of their gowns, she went to Hattie.

  “I’m sorry you had to wait. As you can see this place is busier than Hyde Park.”

  “I see that. I am happy for you. To know what one wants to do and to be able to do just that sounds like a dream. I had fun helping before, and now that things are even busier, you can call on my help anytime.”

  “Great, Hattie. I apologize for not helping much at home either. I miss you, and Dad, and Nan. The Season is always a busy time, but this year has been particularly trying. I have never made more gowns.”

  “That is actually what has brought me to you. An event of the Season.”

  “Oh?” In none of the replies Cora had rehearsed did the Season figure. “You came here to talk to me about the Season?”

  “Yes, I just couldn’t wait. It has finally happened, Cora. I have met someone, and it is rather important that you take me to the Henley.”

  ****

  Cora was surprised, embarrassed, and ashamed when Hattie told her she had met a gentleman who was very much to her liking. So entangled had she been in her own heartbreak that she had started to believe the world revolved around her, and that kind of self-absorption was unbecoming and unwelcome. Why couldn’t Hattie have a suitor? She was beautiful and kind, nurturing and strong, even if her strength came with the grace and delicacy of a good pair of crocheted gloves. There was no jealousy, just the warmth of sisterly love for her Hattie. No one was more deserving of love than her sister.

  Feeling she could not deny this opportunity to her sib
ling, no matter how disinclined she felt about going to another event, Cora dutifully agreed to take Hattie to the regatta. As the older sister, she had an obligation to look after Hattie who needed her emotional support. She was curious about the gentleman too. She hoped he was worthy of Hattie’s affection.

  ****

  “What are you going to wear?” Hattie peeked into their bedroom.

  “I don’t know. I’m sure I will find something. Likely the cream-colored lace with teal velvet trims. It doesn’t really matter, does it? I think the more important question here is what are you going to wear?”

  “The mint green dress with little white flowers? I like how perfect a color that is for a day dress. I was so happy when you made me that.”

  “Remember we will stay for two days, so you need to pack accordingly. I sent a letter to a dependable inn where we can spend the night and have a nice evening meal.”

  “Should we buy hats?” Hattie’s eyes shone.

  “That’s a good idea.”

  “We should favor the small round hats that are so in fashion this season.” Hattie said.

  “You choose, Hattie. With the shop prospering, I believe we can splurge a bit. You deserve it.”

  “Thank you, Cora. You won’t regret going with me.” She couldn’t swear on it, but for a moment Cora thought she had seen a flash of mischievousness cross Hattie’s face.

  ****

  The Henley Royal Regatta had brought all of the highest fashions from London. Besides the regatta taking place in the waters, another competition was taking place on the margins of the Thames, where fancy ladies promenaded arm-in-arm with the most eligible bachelors or the most successful husbands. Occasionally, an aristocrat crinkled her nose at a fashion from last season or a rather humble ensemble. But too many women were self-involved enough not to devote much time observing the fashions of others. Each was sure all eyes were on her.

  Hattie spent the first day scanning the crowd for the elusive gentleman that had brought them there. Cora tried to help despite not knowing exactly whom she was supposed to spot. But, alas, he was nowhere to be found. Hattie brought the tip of her fingers to her mouth several times during the day and bit lightly on her nails in a nervous tic.