Farringdon's Fortune, page 16
‘But Lady Far—’ she began, staring dubiously at the woman’s bodice which was inappropriate for daytime.
‘The only but that I can think of is that of your position, Vanstone,’ Charlotte retorted, snatching up a silk wrap and disappearing down the stairs. Keeping the maid busy was the only way she could think of to prevent her prying into her affairs. The girl knew too much already and if she wasn’t so clever at dressing her hair and accessorizing her costumes, she would have been dismissed long since.
Luckily, her carriage was waiting outside as she’d requested, and as she left Chester Square behind her spirits lifted. What could be better than ensuring her stepdaughter’s future was secured? And if she had a little fun into the bargain, well, she deserved it, surely? She’d certainly had enough of acting as a chaperone. Furthermore, having learned that Victoria was going behind her back to meet Tristan gave her ammunition for the future. Ammunition she wouldn’t hesitate to use to get her own way.
Chapter 20
Jane inhaled the soothing fragrance of eau de rose as she cast a critical eye around the magasin. Although Mouse had ensured the shelves were replenished and the window display updated with what limited accessories they had left in stock, there was no doubting more were needed.
Picking up the bills that had just arrived, she took herself through to the Receiving Room. Running a business was considerably more expensive than she’d envisaged. If she was to succeed, she either had to cut costs or increase custom, as well as being more effective in managing her finances. Millie and Mouse relied on her and giving up was not an option.
Clearly, there was a growing demand for special occasion accessories by the fashionable ladies who either lived or vacationed in the area, and she could extend her repertoire to cater for the carriage trade.
While she had no desire to become a dressmaker, Lady Victoria’s commission had made her realize she could offer a more varied and inclusive service. Salthaven might only be fifteen miles from Exeter, but the more affluent clientele differed significantly in their requirements.
Sinking onto the chaise, she began jotting down ideas. Engageantes, removable sleeves that added service to gowns, and modesty pieces to replace the bulkier camisoles, were becoming de rigueur – plus accessories ladies simply must have so they leave her emporium wondering how they’d managed without them. That was it: in order to reflect the new scope of her business, from now on the magasin would be known as Miss Haydon’s Emporium.
‘Lady Connaught, Miss Haydon,’ Mouse announced, standing back so that the woman could enter. She was wearing an eau de nil silk dress with pearl buttons from collar to the gently flaring waist, which, whilst a nod to the changing mode, was elegant and flattered her fair colouring. Perhaps she had called to discuss a new corset, Jane thought, her spirits lifting as she welcomed her visitor with a smile.
‘My apologies for visiting unannounced, only I found myself with a free half hour and thought I’d see how my protégée, Mouse, is progressing.’
‘She is doing very well, Lady Connaught. Mouse has already learned to stitch a basic corset and is eager to learn how to use the sewing machine. Won’t you take a seat?’ she asked, indicating the chaise she’d vacated. ‘May I offer you some refreshment?’
The woman shook her head.
‘To be frank, Miss Haydon—’ Miss Haydon? Jane frowned; Lady Connaught might be her patron, but it was unlike her to be so formal. ‘—I was somewhat surprised and disappointed at the lack of merchandise displayed in the window and the sparse selection of fabric in your shop. Are you awaiting a delivery?’ Trying to return her candid gaze, Jane cursed under her breath. The woman was undoubtedly shrewd when it came to matters of business.
‘Actually, I am in the middle of refurbishing and expanding my emporium.’ The woman appraised the room with its modest furnishings then quirked her immaculate brow in surprise.
‘It is all very much in the initial stages,’ Jane went on quickly. ‘Planning and ordering.’
‘Hmm. After hearing about the wonderful debut gown you made for Lady Victoria, I confess I was expecting to see you displaying exotic fabric like the pail-red silk you used. Although I understand it hasn’t been seen for many years.’
‘It belonged to Madame Pittier,’ Jane explained.
‘Ah yes, Lady Louisa explained about the letter. Interestingly, Lady Montgomery, who was a client of Madame’s since she established her business, mentioned talk of a handsome French weaver but, being so long ago, she couldn’t recall the details. Not that we spend our time tittle-tattling at these soirees, you understand. Although Lady Louisa did confide that Victoria has been hailed as the Girl with the Golden Gown, tipped to be the one to watch this Season. Her concern is that you hadn’t charged enough for such exquisite silk.’
‘Lord Farringdon settled the account immediately,’ Jane assured her, hoping that would be the end of the matter. Lady Connaught might be her benefactor, but she didn’t want her prying into her financial affairs, at least until she was back on her feet again.
‘Well, that will help with your overheads,’ Lady Connaught said brightly as she rose to her feet. ‘However, I feel it my duty to remind you that under our terms of agreement, you must prove the business is profitable after your first six months of trading. Then, should you be in a position to take on another poor unfortunate girl from the orphanage, you will be doing a great service. Philanthropy is all about helping each other, is it not?’
Jane nodded, understanding the woman’s meaning.
‘It is, and I am truly grateful for the opportunity you have afforded me. And, when my emporium becomes successful, I intend opening an apprentice school for girls from local orphanages.’
‘What a splendid notion,’ Lady Connaught beamed. ‘Although, I fear that will take some time. Now, I must take my leave, or I shall be late for my appointment.’
As the door closed behind her visitor, Jane smiled, visualizing the workroom upstairs filled with young girls eager to learn how to sew. How satisfying it would be to give them the means to earn their own living, she thought. It would lend new meaning to her own life. Give her a sense of purpose. For the first time since losing Sam, she felt warmth stealing through her body.
First things first, Jane chided herself, returning to her notebook. In order to expand her business, she had to increase production, which was where the sewing machine came in. Having used it successfully for Victoria’s train, she could see how much quicker it would be to produce her corsets, camisoles, chemisettes and modesty pieces. Though every single garment would still be bespoke and finished by hand. She had no desire to compete with the factories that were now churning out mass-produced items at reduced cost. They were fine for the everyday woman, but she wanted to attract the elite. A frisson of excitement tingled her spine. It would take hard work to increase her repertoire, but she wasn’t afraid of that.
Snatching up copies of The Ladies’ Companion and Godey’s Lady’s Book Victoria had let her keep, she ran upstairs to the workroom. After studying the pictures carefully, she began sketching out her own patterns. She only needed the basic concept then she could apply her own vision. Finally, she began running them up in calico. She was so busy she hardly noticed the dimming room until it forced her to stop and light the candle.
‘Yous been up here for ever,’ Millie said, eyeing her warily from the doorway. ‘Mouse locked up hours ago.’ Her glance went to the machine and the sample garments alongside. ‘Thank the Lord yous seen sense at last.’
‘Come and tell me what you think of these?’ Jane said, holding up the candle so the girl could see. ‘Of course, they’re only samples.’ But Millie had spotted a camisole in emerald silk she’d made earlier.
‘Coo, imagine Bert’s face if he saw me in this,’ Millie cried, swaying this way and that as she held the garment against her apron.
‘I trust you wouldn’t be so brazen, Millicent,’ Jane chided. ‘It would be improper, not to say downright immoral.’
‘Sorry, Mother Superior,’ Millie giggled. ‘Oh Jane, yous face is a picture. Saucy, I may be, but sinful I ain’t. He’ll have to put a ring on my finger before he can sample me in satin, I can tell you that for naught,’ she declared hotly.
‘I’m relieved to hear it. Now, most of the chemisettes and modesty pieces will be in serviceable linen or cotton for wearing with day dresses. What do you think of this?’ Jane asked, holding up a sample engageante.
‘Be a bit lopsided wearing just one, wouldn’t yous?’ she chirped, pulling the detachable sleeve up over her wrist. ‘And what’s this? Looks like one of them kidneys in Bert’s window, only them’s brown, of course,’ she asked, scrutinizing the curved piece of calico.
‘It’s a dress preserver, to be tacked on the inside.’
‘Coo, it’s good to know the toffs sweat just like us normal folk, though they’s probably get hot dancing and drinking rather than scouring pots and scrubbing floors. This machine is going to make a difference, isn’t it?’
‘Except it is on loan,’ Jane replied, trying to calculate how she could afford to purchase one. Suddenly the elation of the past hours dissipated, leaving her drained and exhausted so that she didn’t hear the maid muttering about stupid pride as she left.
Deciding she might as well make the most of the machine before it was collected, Jane spent the next few days perfecting the new accoutrements. As she thought chemisettes were quicker to make than the bulkier chemises and she had ideas for individualizing the garments with embroidery or lace trim, letting the client choose her own embellishment. Dress preservers and modesty pieces were easy to run up on the machine, but it was the engageantes that caused her the most trouble. No matter what fabric she used, the finished results didn’t meet her high standards.
It was half-day closing and, as the clock on the church finished chiming the noon hour, Mouse appeared by her side. Jane had promised to teach her how to make accessories and use the machine.
‘I do love the smell in here, it’s heaven,’ the girl told Jane, her face alight with excitement.
‘The only angels we have to do the sewing is us, so we’ll start with the dress preservers,’ Jane told her, smiling at her enthusiasm as she laid out the fabric on the long table. ‘In order to maximize usage, it’s imperative to lay down the pattern correctly.’ With Mouse watching intently, Jane demonstrated how this was done. ‘Once you have cut them all out, I will show you how to use the machine.’
Jane went back to the table and began adding the trimmings to a corset that needed completing, but it seemed no time at all before Mouse had finished and was hovering, impatient to use the machine. As ever, the apprentice only needed showing once and, no sooner had Jane risen from the seat, than the girl had taken her place.
‘Ooh, I love this,’ Mouse cried, carefully guiding the fabric with her hands. Her enthusiasm was infectious and there was no doubting her ability even if the whirr of the machine took some getting used to as Jane tried to concentrate.
‘I can’t believe how quick it is,’ Mouse cried, placing her third pair of preservers on the table an hour later. Jane smiled, enjoying the companionship of the girl working alongside her.
‘When you have made a dozen pairs you can cut out a chemisette in the cotton and we’ll see how you get on sewing that together.’
‘What, on this?’ she asked, tapping the top of the gleaming machine.
‘Of course, what else?’ Jane asked, shooting her a wry smile. ‘Meanwhile, I shall try making another pair of engageantes, in broderie anglaise this time.’
‘That’s a funny name; what does it mean?’
‘Broderie anglaise is French for English embroidery. The oval patterned cut-outs give it a delicate lacy effect. Although it’s not as fine as lace… oh, that’s given me an idea,’ she cried.
She glanced over at the dwindling fabric on the shelf and sighed. This was the last piece of broderie anglaise, and they were almost out of lace. Stocks of silk and cotton were dwindling at an alarming rate. Having bought accessories and paid bills with the money from Lord Farringdon, she would have to eke everything out until the end of the month when, hopefully, clients would settle their invoices. If only people would pay when they made their purchases instead of asking to be billed. Then she remembered Lady Farringdon’s refusal to even contemplate the subject of money and sighed again. Life really was easier for the upper classes.
Under Jane’s instruction, Mouse diligently laid out the pattern then cut carefully around it.
‘Now you need to pin and tack the neckline, then along the edges of the fabric. When you become more experienced you will be able to dispense with this part of the operation,’ Jane told her. ‘Whilst you’re learning it’s easier, not to say more cost effective, to unpick tacking stitches should you make a mistake, rather than waste the fabric if it doesn’t lie flat. Not that I’m sure you would intentionally,’ she added quickly, seeing the girl frown.
‘Will I have me wages deducted if I do waste any?’ Mouse asked quietly.
‘Of course not,’ Jane replied. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘At the home we were supposed to be paid for our work, but they kept fining us for making mistakes, even when we knew we hadn’t. I’m always careful you see,’ she said, looking so solemn, Jane’s heart went out to her. ‘They’d tell us we were in debt and cut our food, giving us smaller and smaller meals until sometimes we didn’t get anything to eat all day.’
‘That’s dreadful,’ Jane exclaimed. No wonder the poor thing had been so thin when she’d arrived. ‘I can assure you that will never happen here. We might have to scrimp and scrape come the end of the month, but we always have something in our bowls. Now, let’s see how you get on sewing that chemisette.’
As Mouse hurried back to the machine, Jane began work on the broderie anglaise engageantes. The fullness of fabric needed gathering tightly at the wrist to fit under the bell-shaped ‘pagoda’ sleeves of day dresses. The shape for those worn with evening gowns varied according to the cut but she’d worry about those later. Just as Jane was satisfied she’d produced a pair she’d be happy to sell, Mouse brought over her completed chemisette.
‘That looks professional, well done,’ Jane told her. ‘As we have both had a productive afternoon, let’s we go and see what Millie’s cooked for supper.’
They were greeted by the aroma of yet more bacon broth but were too tired and hungry to object.
‘I heard the fearsome beast whirring away all afternoon, so I takes it yous pleased with it now,’ Millie grinned knowingly at Jane.
‘It does serve a purpose,’ she admitted.
‘And I love using it,’ Mouse exclaimed, quickly looking at Jane in case she’d said the wrong thing. But Millie was already recounting the day’s happenings in Salthaven, including the fact that Bert had asked her to tea on Sunday.
‘Only wants me to meet his ma; I mean, what does that tell yous?’
‘That she wants to see who’s been nicking all the offcuts of bacon,’ Mouse quipped. Jane stared at the girl in surprise for it seemed she was coming out of her shell at last.
‘I’d take you along,’ Millie retorted. ‘Except yous too pretty and I don’t want no competition.’
‘But you are pretty, Millie. Besides, I can’t cook like you and that’s what men want isn’t it?’
‘In my experience, they want everything they can get their hands on. You ever had a follower?’
‘No,’ Mouse squeaked.
‘Blimey, girl, keep your hair on,’ Millie cried.
‘Is Mouse your given name?’ Jane asked.
‘No, the housemaster called me that because he said I was afraid of my own shadow. The orphanage called me Hope.’
‘How lovely; was that Hope for the future?’
‘No—’ the girl sighed ‘—hope they had room for me.’
‘I think Hope’s a lovely name,’ Millie told her.
‘And that is what you shall be known as from now on, Hope Brown.’ Jane smiled at the girl.
‘Now I really feel as if I’ve started a new life,’ she beamed.
‘Good. Now I must go and check on supplies. Hopefully, we should have enough samples of our new lines to exhibit alongside our current stock.’
‘Aren’t yous going to advertise them new accessories?’ Millie asked.
‘That would be expensive, and I am operating on a shoestring.’
‘Or corset lace,’ Millie trilled. ‘But how will people knows what’s here if yous don’t publicize?’
‘By creating mystery and intrigue, word will soon spread. Ladies love being the first to be seen wearing a new line. I shall tell them what they are purchasing is unique, and, as the item itself will be bespoke, I won’t be lying.’
‘You crafty old thing,’ Millie exclaimed. ‘They won’t be able to resist bragging to their friends.’
‘That’s the plan. Always supposing we have enough fabric and trimmings,’ she sighed.
However, a detailed inspection of the stock revealed she hardly had enough to fulfil her current commissions let alone make the additional accessories she had planned. Why hadn’t she checked before? She’d have to pay a visit to the wholesaler first thing in the morning.
With no money, she would have to ask for credit. But then that’s what the gentry did, didn’t they?
Chapter 21
Jane thanked the haulier who’d given her a lift to Exeter and clambered down from the cart.
‘Yer be careful, this ain’t no place for a maid like yer,’ he told her.
‘I’ll be fine,’ she called up to him. He tipped his hand to his flat cap and urged the old bay cob to walk on, leaving Jane standing on the bustling wharf. It was much busier than she’d thought it would be this early in the morning, and she stared around in dismay. The sun was barely a blush on the horizon and yet the huge ships moored to the quay by thick ropes, were already having their cargoes unloaded. Burly men, their bear-like arms operating the derricks, were shouting orders as heavy crates were dropped onto wagons waiting on the dockside. The horses then hauled them into the huge warehouses, or out past the Customs House and over the bridge towards their various destinations. A sudden gust of wind tugged at Jane’s bonnet and, as she reached to save it, another one lifted her skirts, drawing unwanted attention as she hastily smoothed them down. Blushing at the catcalls and whistles, she gritted her teeth. She’d come here on a mission and refused to be thwarted by a mob of leching louts.
