The Christmas Strike. Nikki Rivers
knew. She was reassured to hear the modiste skilfully turn her companion’s attention to a rose-tinted gown patterned in mulberry, a shade which reflected a faint glow to her skin.
Leonora herself could wear white. She was entranced by an exquisite evening gown in white silk with an overskirt of the flimsiest oyster-coloured chiffon, which shimmered in the light. It had satin ribbon trimmings. The neckline was modest and the fashionable sleeves long, which, being winter, would be an advantage.
The price was high but it needed the minimum of alteration and Leonora, turning about before the mirror, decided that she would enjoy presenting herself at a concert at the Assembly Rooms wearing it. It would do excellently well were she to be invited somewhere to dine. Regardless of the cost, she bought it.
Her other purchases were more modest: a couple of pale-coloured muslins for the morning in simple styles—though one needed some of what Leonora considered to be excessive frills removed—a walking or driving dress made from a wool and cotton mixture in an attractive shade of green trimmed with dark green velvet, a matching pelisse and a less costly evening dress in pale primrose muslin with a low neckline and short puffed sleeves for dancing.
She had no idea whether she would ever be invited to a private ball of any consequence but could not resist the temptation to order a gown in case. Surely, one day, particularly should she attach the interest of an acceptable suitor, the occasion to wear it would present itself. Madame was delighted to bring all her artistic talents to bear and promised Leonora a stunning creation.
“Your eyes,” she murmured. “Let me see.” She rummaged amongst her samples and returned with a length of shimmering aquamarine silk, which she draped over Leonora’s shoulder. “Yes. This will enhance your beautiful eyes. Trimmed with ivory and gold…Yes. A low neckline—”
“Not too low,” interrupted Leonora quickly.
Madame Fleur smiled. “Trust me, madame. Modest yet revealing. The skirt gathered at the back to give you room…Elegant and stylish—fit for a duchess!”
Leonora hoped so, considering the huge sum it was to cost her.
Being minor, the necessary alterations to those gowns which were already made up could be accomplished overnight. They would be delivered next day. Those made from the same patterns but in a different colour or material, within the week. The special ball gown would take a little longer. Madame would have to return for a second fitting in a few days.
“I shall bring the altered gowns to you myself,” announced Madame Fleur. “I must be satisfied that there are no further adjustments needed.”
“That is most kind of you, madame,” said Leonora.
“Mine will be delivered too?” asked Clarissa anxiously. As well as the ball gown, she had ordered a modest walking dress in heavy russet twill trimmed with coney.
“Indeed, Miss Worth.”
For the first time, Leonora was faced with the difficulty of explaining her predicament.
“Once I have terminated the lease and the Vitus Club has moved out there will be no problem,” she explained. “But meanwhile, if you cannot deliver before ten o’clock then you must use the back stairs. I am sorry. The situation is not of my choosing.”
“How unfortunate for you!” exclaimed Madame Fleur. “I know Lord Kelsey, a quite superior gentleman,” she added with distinct admiration. “He has been in here with…er…”
She trailed off in confusion.
“Lady O’Brien,” supplied Leonora drily. “She recommended me to visit you.”
“I must thank her! She is an excellent customer. Her husband the Baron, you understand, is elderly and rather infirm. They are in Bath to enable him to take the waters.”
And if he was like to die, then to obtain the hand of an earl in marriage would be a step up the social ladder for his widow, thought Leonora rather sourly.
“Is he very ill?” asked Clarissa.
Leonora, grateful for the question she had not liked to ask, concentrated on smoothing her gloves.
“Gout,” said Madame Fleur succinctly.
Looking up, Leonora saw her own relief, which she declined to acknowledge, mirrored on Clarissa’s face. Surely Clarissa had not decided to set her cap at Kelsey? The idea was ludicrous.
The modiste was still talking. “But the Club is popular and Lord Kelsey will not easily agree to change its location, I am certain. He has spent lavishly on refurbishing the place to make it more acceptable to his members. He must regret Mr Vincent’s death for many reasons. They were, I believe, on the best of terms.”
But he had not been in her uncle’s confidence regarding his Will. No one had been, it seemed. “I am sure he does,” concurred Leonora drily, donning her bonnet and cloak. “I will expect you tomorrow morning, then.”
“I shall come at nine, if that would suit you?”
“Capital,” agreed Leonora. The gowns could not arrive soon enough for her.
All they had to do now was to visit the milliner next door and then walk home without being noticed. Since Kelsey was going to Bristol she did not expect to encounter him again. But she particularly wished to avoid Lady O’Brien, too.
When she thought of Lady O’Brien, all sorts of complicated emotions coursed through her. The one she recognised was jealousy, and it irked her. But soon she would have no material cause to envy the delectable Alicia. With decent gowns and becoming hats to wear she would have no reason to feel loweringly dowdy and old-maidish in her presence.
Except that Lady O’Brien possessed an assured manner and an easy elegance Leonora knew that she herself lacked. Never having experienced a London Season and subsequently having been exiled from Society for seven long years, she had had no chance to acquire it.
Unaware that her own innate dignity, elegance and charm were far more engaging than the affected deportment of many a Society beauty, or that her sharp intelligence set her apart from the vapid nonentities trained by governesses at the prompting of proud mamas, and could captivate far more effectively than demure acquiescence, she decided that she must learn fast.
With her new wardrobe to keep in trim she needed a lady’s maid, someone who could also do clever things with her hair, perhaps provide her with the perfect grooming needed for her to take her place in Society with a similar degree of confidence.
Then she would be able to meet her ladyship without suffering those uncomfortable pangs of jealousy the woman’s manner and appearance inspired. The fact that Alicia was also blessed with looks any man must admire caused Leonora little concern. Any gentleman she might consider suitable as a husband would not be misled by a pretty face alone. He would admire character above beauty.
No, it was the creature’s dress and grooming that had given Leonora that lowering feeling of inferiority. That sudden burst of jealousy.
Lady O’Brien had long ago left the milliner’s when Leonora, having first satisfied herself on the point, entered the workroom. By the time she left, with Clarissa carrying a bandbox, Leonora had discovered where to go to engage a lady’s maid. Clarissa dutifully accompanied her to the Agency where the woman promised to send along several highly qualified applicants that very afternoon.
“She will have to sleep in my dressing room,” Leonora told Clarissa as they at last made their way back to Morris House. “I shall lose my privacy, but there is a bed in there.”
“She would not like to sleep in the attics,” observed Clarissa.
She had bought a bonnet in brown velvet to match her new walking gown. Leonora had purchased and was wearing a hat with a small brim and a dashing bunch of feathers in a neutral yet pretty shade of grey and had ordered a similar hat to be fashioned from the same velvet used to trim her new walking gown. She had been promised that tomorrow morning as well. The milliner would obtain the material