by Jennifer Joy
The ladies departed for the curtained fitting rooms, and Lord Tefton seated himself across from Richard.
“Goodness gracious, Colonel, I did not see you here.” He looked about the room. “You have not married, have you?”
“Not as yet, though allow me to congratulate you on your recent marriage.”
“Ah, yes. A gentleman reaches a certain age when such a thing is expected of him. I daresay it was an improvement for her.”
Richard clenched his jaw, all polite comments escaping him.
“Would you like to read the paper?” he asked, hoping that with the lord distracted, he would not be forced to converse with him.
“Good idea. There is nothing equal to the paper and a cigar whilst one is forced to wait,” he grabbed the paper from Richard’s hand.
“Surely you do not think to smoke, Tefton,” he addressed the gentleman the way he had at university many years ago in hopes of softening his resolve to fill the room with the stench of smoke.
“Why ever should I not? It is the duty of the shopkeeper to keep her patronesses content, and right now, a cigar would bring me much contentment.”
“I do not think the ladies would agree. Their comfort is worthy of consideration.”
“Nonsense,” said Lord Tefton, signaling one of his men over so that he could demand his cigar.
To Richard’s great relief, it was the servant who cut the tip off the cigar and lit it with the flintlock pistol. Lord Tefton would have cut off his finger, then lit a curtain on fire had he been entrusted with the task.
Lord Tefton received the odorous object, and stuck it into his mouth. Inhaling, he swirled the smoke around his mouth like it was a fine wine, before expelling it through his mouth and nose. The stench filled the air, clashing with the perfume of fresh cut flowers on the counter. Richard imagined the blooms withering up at the overpowering smell.
Another idea on how to extract Lord Tefton from the room struck Richard, but not before Miss Mauvier came out from the dressing room.
“My lord, please be so kind as to smoke outside. My lady does not want her new gowns to smell of cigar.” She words were kind, but firm.
“Oh, it is not a problem. She has grown accustomed to it. I assure you, it is no bother,” he said, puffing smoke between words.
Miss Mauvier crossed her arms and tilted her chin up.
Before she could make a scene, Richard stood. “I say, Tefton, is that a new blood bay? He is a beauty. Please, come outside with me so I can admire your acquisition.” Appealing to Lord Tefton’s vanity smarted, but Richard could cut the tension in the air with his knife. Something needed done.
“Ah, you do have good taste, Colonel.”
Richard took a step closer to the door, watching Lord Tefton.
Unfortunately, Lord Tefton chose to stub his burning cigar into the upholstered arm of the chair he sat in. The black mark left sparkled with red, and Richard lunged forward to smother them before the chair burst into flames.
Miss Mauvier fumed. Richard could practically see the insults on the tip of her tongue, but she kept them to herself. Her fisted hands and white knuckles were the only outward displays of anger on her part. Richard could imagine the position she was in. A customer like Lady Honoria was the very sort a business wished to have, so all manner of atrocities made by the keeper of the purse must be endured. It was how business survived, but it was unfair.
Smacking at the arm one more time while Lord Tefton rose from the chair, Richard said, “What an accident.” Slapping Lord Tefton on the back, Richard said in a voice loud enough for the occupants of the room to hear, “What a good thing you are noted for your generosity. Never let it be said that such an important figure as Lord Tefton would leave even a trifle thing unattended.”
“What?” asked Lord Tefton looking between Richard and Miss Mauvier.
Picking up where Richard left off, Miss Mauvier continued, “It is no bother, my lord. The damage done by your cigar can easily be replaced. I shall simply add the cost to your bill.”
Lord Tefton’s face turned a brilliant red, a shade he often wore. He sputtered some sort of protest, but Miss Mauvier was one step ahead of him.
Looking toward the dressing room, she motioned for Lady Honoria to join her. “Please, my lord, look at how beautiful my lady is.”
Entering on cue, Lady Honoria spun in a circle in front of Lord Tefton. “Oh, my love, look at this dress! Is it not positively divine? I shall be the envy of every lady. You are such a dear to keep me in fashion. Do you not agree that such a dress deserves a matching pelisse? And a new bonnet? Or do you think a turban would suit better?” Pushing him off to the side, she admired herself in front of the mirrors.
Inundated with questions, and the prospect of spending more money on female fineries, Lord Tefton stood in dumb silence, his color rising all the more.
Sensing the need to get him out of the room, Richard motioned to the door. “Come, Tefton, you have yet to show me your horse.”
As Lord Tefton joined him, Richard looked over his shoulder. Miss Mauvier met his glance, and smiled. He hoped she thought better of him now.
Chapter 10
“How exciting to make a gown for Lady Hannah. She is related to so many influential people in society, it will be interesting to see how much influence she bears in fashion with the ladies up north,” commented Adélaïde, as she sat in the workroom, after they had left.
“She is one of the loveliest ladies I have ever met. What did you think of her son? I thought the colonel was very handsome, and was it not gallant the way he came to your aid with Lord Tefton?” Mary said in a dreamy voice.
Yvette snorted in distaste. “He is no such thing. Though he is not unfortunate in looks, I would certainly never describe him as handsome. Plain is what he is. However, he did manage to secure payment for the damaged upholstery without offending my lord, and for that, I must give him proper credit.”
Adélaïde frowned. “He is the sort that becomes handsome on further acquaintance, I think. Colonel Fitzwilliam would make the ultimate diplomat. If he were left in a room with the leaders of warring nations, he would soon convince them to get along.” She wondered why she found it so easy to fight with such a man. Was he really the problem, or perhaps, was she too sensitive?
Comparing herself to him, she only saw her flaws, and it was… disturbing. Not that he was perfect, of course— far from it. Not liking to dwell on her faults, Adélaïde changed the subject away from Colonel Fitzwilliam.
“What do you think of a move to Bond Street?” she asked mostly Yvette.
Mary clapped her hands together and grinned from ear to ear. “Imagine poor, little me working in a fine dress shop on such a fancy street!”
Yvette fiddled her thumbs in her lap. Adélaïde’s heart plummeted with doubt just looking at her. What had she not thought of? Was the plan too ambitious?
After what seemed like an eternity, Yvette finally spoke, “I hope you do not think me impertinent, miss, but on the possibility of this happy occurrence, I have been cultivating a friendship with a shopkeeper on Bond Street these past few months.” She looked sheepishly down at her entwined fingers.
“Yvette, you mean to say that you knew I would make this decision all along?” At first Adélaïde was shocked, but on further thought, she should have known.
Yvette smiled as she looked up, a twinkle in her eye. “I suspected as much. I only wanted to ensure that when the time was right, we had an ally. Competition is fierce.”
“Very well. Tell me about our friend on Bond Street. How did you meet?”
“The name of the shop and the shopkeeper is one and the same. Miss Maven.”
Adélaïde nodded. She knew the place.
“I met Miss Maven’s assistant on a trip to Brick Lane to see the newest wares. We struck up a conversation, and one thing led to another. When I found out their location, I went out of my way to be agreeable. Now, I am so glad I made the effort.”
“When ca
n we meet Miss Maven?”
“During calling hours. As you know, it is the easiest time since all of the ladies are making their social calls and the shops are quieter.”
Mary, who had been unusually silent, said, “I hope Miss Maven does not disappoint. Now, I must catch up with my work.” She set to stitching the taffeta in her hands.
“Very well. Yvette, you and I will call on Miss Maven this afternoon.”
Adélaïde’s pulse quickened as they neared Bond Street. She wondered what sort of woman in their same business would be willing to befriend them.
Fat, gold letters painted on the windows left no doubt that they had reached their destination. Miss Maven’s, it said.
They walked in the front door, the bell announcing their arrival with a cheerful ring. It was no coincidence that the setup of the shop resembled Adélaïde’s. Dressing rooms and plush chairs next to large, gilded mirrors were immediately in front of her. A glass case displayed fineries to accompany and adorn the dresses against the back wall, and luxurious fabrics of all colors and textures lined the wall to the left. Large windows faced the street, allowing passersby glimpses of the treasures within, luring ladies to take a step inside.
A woman, with her hair pulled back so tightly it pulled her eyes taut, welcomed them from behind the counter with a crisp voice. “Welcome to Miss Maven’s. How may I be of service to you?” She spoke in a staccato, enunciating each syllable clearly and precisely. Adélaïde felt certain her stitches would be just as precise. Her dress was simple, with no adornment to it other than a thin piping around her collar.
When Yvette asked to see Miss Maven, Adélaïde was relieved. The lady behind the front counter did not appear friendly. Efficient and proficient, yes, but not someone who would wish to offer any assistance outside of the work she achieved.
Not even a minute had passed when the harsh lady returned with an older woman with round, rosy cheeks, and a smile displaying all of her teeth. White fabric with a red netting overlay was complimented by rosettes stitched on the bodice and along the hem. Tying it all together was a red velvet ribbon. She looked like she sprang from an English rose garden. The contrast between the two ladies was striking.
“Welcome to my shop. You must be the Miss Mauvier I have heard so much about.” Miss Maven stood between Adélaïde and Yvette, looping her arms between theirs as if they were friends of many years. Leading them back to a room decorated as a study, she sat them down in a grouping of chairs situated in front of the unlit fireplace.
“Yvette has told me so much about you, I am positive we will become the best of friends,” she said as she joined them after ordering some refreshment to be brought in. “So,” she extended one hand out and waved it over the room, “what do you think of what you see thus far?”
Adélaïde liked the room they were in. She could see herself bringing ladies in and offering them tea as they decided on their gowns. “It is a lovely shop. Do you use this room to discuss dresses with your clients?”
“I do. I find that it is easier to do business with a lady in a more relaxed environment.” Leaning closer, she said in a conspiratorial tone, “You met Miss Matilda out front. Can you imagine her assisting a lady to arrange her trousseau?”
Adélaïde admitted that she could not, though she was careful not to reveal too much of what she thought of Miss Matilda.
“Miss Matilda’s sole purpose is to project an air of efficiency that communicates to the lady that her dress will be made well and be finished on time, so long as payment is received. She is brilliant with ensuring that I get paid.” She sat back and chuckled.
Adélaïde relaxed. “I think we need a Matilda, do you not, Yvette?” The richer and more extravagant the customer, the more difficult it was to pry the payment due from their hands.
“Before I knew better, I used to do all that unpleasant work myself. I have learned that delegating not only makes my business run smoothly, but it eases my concerns.”
A tea tray was brought in by a waif of a girl. She was so thin, the tray looked heavier than she was, and it was all Adélaïde could do to keep from helping her.
After the girl left, closing the door behind her, Miss Maven said, “She is my newest addition. She is still dreadfully thin, but you should have seen her when she first arrived. I say, it is a pleasure to help some of these young girls by giving them something respectable to do.”
Adélaïde’s respect for Miss Maven grew. Still, she was curious as to why she was so willing to assist them when they were her competition.
“Miss Maven, I thank you for your hospitality in meeting with us. You have made me feel most welcome. It seems that we have much in common in the manner we do business. What I would like to know is why. Why are you willing to help me?”
Miss Maven sipped her tea thoughtfully. “It is an honest question, and it deserves an honest answer. After all, you are my competition.” Shaking her head in resolve, she added, “I am of an age when I realize the value of doing a good turn for others. I have dedicated my life to my business, even forsaking marriage so that I could avoid the distractions said union brings. My hard work has benefited me in more ways than I can count, and I feel it is my privilege to help others where I can. From what Yvette has told me, you and I are very similar.”
Her explanation sounded reasonable.
Continuing, Miss Maven said, “It is no easy task to find a vacancy here, but I will keep my eyes and ears open for any hint of one. All the gossip passes through my shop, and I am certain that if something becomes available, we will be the first to know about it.”
“That is very kind of you, Miss Maven. I thank you.”
Miss Maven considered Adélaïde a moment before adding, “I am going to suggest one thing more. For you to consider such a move, you must have a steady stream of clients…?”
Adélaïde did not want to reveal more about her business than necessary. Miss Maven was being extremely helpful, and had answered her concerns plainly, but Adélaïde did not trust anybody easily.
“I have enough, I think. My hope is that the exposure my business would receive here will fill in where it is lacking.”
Miss Maven shook her head. “Just as I suspected.” She took a bite of a biscuit, washing it down with her tea. “I have a plan that might suit you very well.”
Chapter 11
Richard could not stay home long. His mother, full of praise for Miss Mauvier, felt ready to conquer her front parlor with the suggestions she had been given. And Richard needed some distance from the constant compliments doled out to the lady. It made Richard feel guilty for spying on her, though Lord Tefton’s arrival had ensured that not much of that had been accomplished. Until Richard could prove her innocence, he had to remain watchful.
He had a plan, but it was still too early to properly effect it. So, he went to his club. It was a shame he would not see Darcy there, or Bingley. They were enjoying their wedding holiday. Richard wondered where he would take his future wife for their first holiday. Maybe Scotland? In the army, he had been sent all over England, but it would be very different traveling in leisure from traveling out of obligation.
Walking in the center of the blue carpet going upstairs, Richard greeted a couple of gentlemen on their way down. They were dressed for dinner. Turning right at the top of the stairwell, he found the room he wanted. It was cloudy with smoke and smelled of brandy— a preferable odor to the stench of London in the warm, summer months. His eyes burned, and he paused until they adjusted. Funny how the smell of smoke had been so offensive in Miss Mauvier’s shop, whereas here, it was expected and welcomed.
To his left, some gentlemen were engrossed in a game of cards. Richard steered clear of them. He had learned his lesson long ago. He sat at a table facing the door and requested a drink. One would be enough to steady his nerves.
To his right, sat the quiet gentlemen perusing their papers or one of the books brought up from the library.
Settling back, he crossed one ankle
over his knee and thought over his plan for that night. He had been disappointed not to see more of the shop, but he could not think of any reasonable explanation to go exploring freely with Miss Mauvier and her seamstresses watching. And there was Miss Mary. She had watched his every move, and he had to take care not to be too inquisitive in front of her. She was a bright one.
A gentleman entered the door. He looked familiar to Richard, but he could not quite place him. There was nothing extraordinary in his wardrobe. Black trousers, black waistcoat, white shirt and cravat… he was dressed in such a way that he would blend in anywhere. Richard’s suspicion that he had met the gentleman somewhere was confirmed when the man smiled and walked toward his table.
“So we meet again. I am so sorry for running into you earlier today,” he offered.
Ah, the man he bumped into outside the Horse Guard’s stables. That was why he looked so familiar.
Richard extended his hand to the empty chair beside him. “I should be the one to apologize. You took the worst of it.”
Sitting down, the gentleman said, “No harm done, though it did feel like I had run up against a marble column.”
Richard chuckled. “A symptom of my profession.”
Leaning back into his chair, imitating the colonel’s same relaxed posture, he said, “That explains it, then. Your training has benefited you, Colonel. As a medical doctor, I recommend frequent exercise to my patients. Where do you hail from, Colonel? I have not seen you here before.”
“I tend to keep busy most of the time, and do not come here so often as I would like. My family’s estate is at Matlock.”
“A second son?”
Richard nodded. “What about you?”
Mr. Thorpe grunted. “Even worse. I am the fourth son of a family who made its fortune in trade. In my favor, my mother was the daughter of a highly-respected gentleman. But, alas, she married for love. It was at my grandfather’s insistence that I be admitted here.”