Farringdon's Fortune, page 5
‘Perhaps you could begin by trimming them,’ Jane suggested, suppressing a sigh as she turned back to the silk. Ida Somers was right, of course, it was better being put to good use than languishing on the shelf. And it wasn’t as if she was going to need it herself. Her heart had died along with Sam and her business was now her future. Still, this was a prestigious commission that could only enhance her reputation. As long as she got it right. And finished in time.
She turned her attention to laying the pattern on the silk in the most efficient way. However, the fabric was slippery and kept sliding along the table so that she had to start over again.
‘Yer should smooth out the paper it came wrapped in and put it on that,’ Ida called from the other end of the table.
‘Good idea,’ Jane agreed, wondering why she hadn’t thought of it herself. By the time she’d finally got the pattern laid out and held down with weights, for even silk pins might leave holes in such a delicate weave, she was feeling hot and bothered. She never had this much trouble working on her corsets. Determinedly, she picked up the chalk ready to mark out the seam allowance.
‘Yous tea is getting cold,’ Millie chirped, peering round the door.
‘I asked to have refreshments set out in the kitchen at noon,’ Jane replied, fighting down her exasperation at the interruption.
‘The bell on the church clock tolled that ages ago,’ the maid pointed out.
‘Well, I can’t stop now; I’ve got far too much to do.’
‘Come on, Jane, you need a break and there’s nothing better than a curative cuppa to get things into perspective,’ Ida chided.
Jane stared at the fabric still waiting to be cut out and sighed.
‘Just ten minutes then,’ she conceded, putting her hand to her head. All that concentrating had left her feeling as though someone had stabbed her with every single pin in the jar.
Chapter 6
Fortified from luncheon, yet nervous of cutting into the delicate fabric, Jane set about remeasuring everything.
‘That’s it dear, measure twice, cut once,’ Ida Somers chirped as she scuttled to the other end of the table and took up the headdress again. Admittedly, it was looking good, but Jane would have welcomed some help. Yet the woman was humming happily as she worked which at least left her free to concentrate.
Satisfied her measurements were correct, Jane picked up the shears and took a deep breath. The rasp of metal on silk as she made the first cut sounded loud, making her jump. Fearful of making a mistake, progress was slow and laborious but, by the end of the afternoon, the pieces had been cut. Picking up the strips that were left, Jane was disappointed to find there was less remaining than she’d hoped. She was either going to have to make the train smaller than the one in the picture, or somehow incorporate another fabric into the design.
‘Yer’ll need to tack them sides together before yer sew the seams,’ Ida commented, leaning over her shoulder. ‘Best use the hand-basting technique; silk will pucker else. Ooh, I can hear me lift.’ She grinned, straightening her bonnet and pinching colour into her cheeks.
‘But I don’t know what that technique is,’ Jane cried, staring at her in dismay.
‘’Tis only loose stitches to hold the pieces together,’ Ida explained. ‘Oh, give it here,’ she sighed, settling on the seat beside Jane and threading a fine needle. ‘Like this, see,’ she said, her needle moving surely in and out. ‘It’s the best way to make sure yer final seams will be smooth. ‘Now, I mustn’t keep Mr Handsome waiting.’
As the clatter of boots on the stairs receded, Jane suppressed a sigh and turned back to her work. The stitches looked like a dotted line, and yet as she tried to replicate them, she realized it was not as easy as Ida Somers made out. It was going to take an age to do so before she made a start, she needed to check that all was well in the shop.
‘Is everything all right in here?’ she asked Mouse.
‘Yes, Miss Haydon, although it’s been hectic. Two ladies were most insistent they be fitted for new corsets this week but knowing how busy you are with the gown, I made appointments for next week. One really wasn’t happy, but I told her your good reputation meant you were in great demand.’
‘And just let slip the commission was for Lady Farringdon,’ Millie trilled. ‘The Receiving Room’s neat as a pin and I’ve doused the fire ’cos supper’s nearly ready. That Mrs Somers said yous must eat regular like, so I’ve made a pot of pease pudding,’ she added, giving Jane a stern look when she opened her mouth to protest that she didn’t have time.
The next day, Jane was already at her worktable when Ida Somers arrived.
‘Goodness, girl, hasn’t you moved since yesterday?’ the woman asked.
Jane smiled but didn’t respond, for the truth was the sky had been lightening to grey by the time she’d completed the hand basting. She hadn’t realized Victoria was so tall until she came to tacking the sides and the slippery fabric meant her progress had been slow and laborious. However, now everything was ready for sewing, the seams and the sleeves were ready for inserting. Millie urged her to try using the sewing machine, but she couldn’t, could she? Her glance involuntarily went to the gleaming machine.
‘You ain’t thinking of using that fearsome beast?’ Ida shrieked.
‘It would surely be quicker than hand sewing.’
‘But suppose it goes wrong and messes up that lovely silk?’
Jane hesitated. Speed against safety? It was tempting and yet she really couldn’t take the risk.
‘You’re right, Mrs Somers,’ Jane agreed. It might be slower but at least she was certain of the result. And it needed to be completed to the hem stage before Victoria came for her fitting.
As Ida Somers put the finishing touches to the headdress, Jane painstakingly sewed, her confidence growing with every stitch so that, by that afternoon, it was ready for fitting. Triumphantly, she threw the gown over the mannequin and smoothed it down, revelling at the smoothness of the silk. But as she stepped back to admire her work, she let out a cry.
‘It looks all wrong,’ she wailed, ‘yet I’m sure I followed the pattern.’ She glanced from the model to the magazine.
‘Them shoulders is too wide,’ Ida declared, beady eyes assessing. ‘Victoria’s much narrower across here,’ she added, her hand sweeping across the straps. ‘It needs to be more like this.’ Jane watched as with a few deft strokes, the woman gathered and pinned until the gown draped as it was meant to.
‘Oh, Mrs Somers, you’re amazing,’ Jane gasped.
‘Na, experienced,’ Ida chuckled. ‘Can’t have the girl baring her all in front of the Queen of England now, can we?’
‘Goodness, I never thought about her dress being seen by Her Majesty,’ Jane gasped.
‘Doubt she’ll even notice. Has hundreds of girls presented to her each day. Probably spends the time wondering what delights she’s getting for her dinner,’ Ida snorted.
‘You are funny,’ Jane chuckled, giddy with relief that she hadn’t ruined the silk after all. ‘I really do appreciate your help though. It would have taken me ages to work out what was wrong.’
‘Like I said when you was staying at my cot when Madame Pittier was ill and you had that interview with Lady Charlotte Farringdon, I’da been sewing since before yer was born so there’s not much I’da don’t know. Look how I helped you make them toiles.’
Jane suppressed a grin, remembering how she’d asked the woman to thread needles and count pins to stop her constant chattering while she concentrated on making the toiles. Still, having gained the commission from Lady Farringdon, she had ended up staying longer with Ida than intended and the two had formed an unlikely friendship.
‘Not that I’m changing me mind about using the beast,’ she sniffed, jerking her head towards the sewing machine and bringing Jane back to the present. ‘Yer can have that pleasure.’
‘I might try using it on the veil,’ Jane said quickly in case the woman should report back to the Farringdons and they think her ungrateful. However, Ida wasn’t listening. Having heard a cart clattering to a halt in the street below, she was now peering out of the window.
‘Just finished in time, that’s me lift,’ she grinned, turning and placing the headdress in Jane’s hands before straightening her bonnet. ‘Gotta make the most of me chances.’ Then with a broad wink, the woman was gone.
Jane stared down at the feathers neatly attached to the white band, marvelling at the woman’s invisible stitching. For all her ways, Ida really was a talented seamstress and Jane was grateful for her help. At least that was one thing ready, she thought, placing it on the table then turning back to the mannequin. It was amazing the difference those few tweaks had made. Reaching out, she couldn’t resist running her fingers over the silky folds of the gown. Although it wasn’t finished, she could see it would be perfect for Victoria. And yet, she couldn’t help wishing that circumstances were different and that she would be the one wearing it.
Still, it was no good dwelling on the past, Jane thought, moving towards the sewing machine. Picking up a piece of calico, she set it in place then gingerly put her foot on the treadle. Although she had no intention of keeping the fearsome beast, as Ida Somers called it, Lord Farringdon had taken the trouble to bring it all the way from Nettlecombe and it would be churlish not to see how it worked. Besides, if it saved time and enabled her to produce more corsets, she would make extra profit. And that was the key to becoming the successful businesswoman she intended.
Reaching the end of the seam, she stared down at the treadle, thinking how much easier and quicker it had been guiding the material with both hands whilst using her feet to power the machine. When funds permitted, it would indeed be prudent to purchase one herself, for she still had to repay Lady Connaught, who had advanced her the money for the rent on the premises.
She yawned, the stresses of the day and working long into the early hours catching up with her. Her eyes grew heavy. Strains of that haunting song echoed in her head. Madame had hummed a similar tune as she’d sewn, she thought, jerking herself awake. She shook her head to clear it then saw something glinting under the table. Reaching down, she retrieved a little package tied with the same gold thread that ran through the silk. Gently easing it from the paper, there was a tinkling sound as tiny, shiny buttons spilled onto the table. Made of mother of pearl, they were exquisite and a perfect match for the silk fabric. Ideal for the bodice of Victoria’s gown, in fact. It was then she spotted the sheet of paper that had been secreted beneath them. Although it was fragile and yellowed with age, she could just make out the faint outline of writing and realized it was a letter. Squinting, she tried to decipher the faded words that were written in a foreign language.
Ma très chère Rosa
J’ai terminé mon apprentissage et j’écris pour vous faire savoir que quand je reviendrai vous voir, ce sera en tant que tisserand à part entière.
Donc, ma très chère Rosetta, je peux enfin vous demander d’être ma femme. Dans l’espoir et l’anticipation que votre réponse sera favorable, j’envoie ceci avant mon arrivée. J’espère que vous trouverez la soie à votre goût. Maître m’a aidée à la tisser, le fil d’or qui la traverse est connu sous le nom de sceau rouge et quand il reflète la lumière de la chandelle, il me rappelle vos tresses d’or.
Votre Jean Pittier
Ma très chère Rosa? Donc, ma très chère Rosetta? Madame had been called Rosetta. Had this been written to her? Frustratingly, she could only make out a few French words which she remembered hearing Madame use. It was signed by Jean Pittier. Madame’s sister, perhaps? She didn’t recall her former employer ever mentioning one and yet the note must have been enclosed with the parcel of silk.
The chiming of the church clock in the market square jolted her back to the present. She must get on. Victoria was coming for her fitting the next day and, although the shadows were already gathering in the corner of the room, there was much to do before she could retire for the night. Placing the letter in her work box for safe keeping, she lit yet another candle then carefully removed the silk gown from the mannequin. Pushing aside the glass buttons she’d intended using, she began sewing on the beautiful pearl ones. How much finer they were.
Just the train to go now. She’d found some satin fabric with a weave that would complement the silk and cut it into long panels; now all she had to do was join them together. She stifled a yawn, her previous late night’s working catching up with her once again. However, would she manage to get everything done?
‘Use the machine, girl. That’s what it’s here for.’
Madame’s strident tones cut through the workroom, making Jane jump.
‘Or are you too scared?’
‘I most certainly am not,’ Jane cried, gathering up the fabric panels and marching over to the fearsome beast. However, stitching the fragile fabric proved to be very different to the calico she’d tried previously. Cursing as she caught her finger under the needle and frowning at the resulting bubble of blood, she jumped up and wrapped a rag around it. Perhaps she should resort to hand sewing after all.
‘If at first…’
‘All right, Madame,’ she replied then laughed to think she was still jumping to her former boss’s orders. However, she wasn’t going to be beaten by a stupid machine. Amazingly, as if the woman was guiding her, she finished the seams in seemingly no time at all. Holding the train up to inspect by the light of the candle, she smiled at the perfect rows of stitching.
‘Well done, girl.’
Smiling at Madame’s praise, Jane covered her work then snuffed out the candle. Sparing with her praise, her employer had always known when she needed encouragement. It was almost as if working on the silk and reading her letter had conjured up the woman’s presence.
‘Gracious me,’ Beatrice cried, bursting into Victoria’s usually immaculate dressing room, and staring at the gowns, gloves, and hats strewn on every surface. ‘This is so unlike you,’ she added, picking her way through the maze of footwear and hat boxes that littered the floor.
‘I know,’ her sister wailed. ‘Despite Step Mama’s list, I don’t see how it’s possible to ensure I have everything required for the entire Season. I shall be away for three months at least.’
‘Calm down. It won’t be the end of the world if you forget something. Cousin Hester’s bound to help. Besides, you will have access to London’s finest modistes. Not like me who will merely require a dress, apron and cap, always assuming Professor Todd thinks I have what it takes to become a nurse when he interviews me.’ She flopped down on the chest that stood ready and waiting.
‘Of course you do, Bea. You’ll make a fine one,’ Victoria loyally declared. ‘Sarah and Maria always come to you when they’re feeling off colour.’
‘But I want to do more than that. I want to heal people when they’re hurt.’ Bea frowned. ‘I felt so helpless when Mother fell from her horse.’
‘I know,’ Victoria said, patting her shoulder. ‘You really will make a wonderful nurse, though how you got round Papa is beyond me, and I really can’t see Step Mama approving.’
‘She’s too wrapped up in her own affairs to worry about me. Anyway, aren’t you excited about being launched into society?’
‘I will be if I can decide what to take. Vanny is anxious to pack ready for our things to be sent on ahead of our arrival.’
‘Yes, she is, m’lady,’ the maid confirmed, appearing in the doorway. ‘It will be more than my job’s worth not to have everything ready by noon. Now, tell me which of these white shoes you wish to take,’ she asked, holding up three pairs of satin slippers.
Bea laughed. ‘Oh Vanny, white is white surely.’
‘You might mock Lady Beatrice but there are many shades of white and it is important to get the right one. Which pair do you think will match your debut gown, Victoria?’
‘Goodness, I hadn’t even realized there was a difference, Vanny. Whatever would I do without you?’ she replied, then let out a squeal. ‘You are coming with me to London, aren’t you?’
‘Lady Farringdon has sent word that Shears is to accompany you.’
‘But she can’t do my hair or…’ Realizing it was improper to voice her thoughts in front of her lady’s maid, her voice trailed off.
‘Would you like to come to London for the Season, Vanny?’ Bea asked.
‘I most certainly would, m’lady,’ she replied, her eyes shining at the prospect. ‘However, Shears is senior lady’s maid so…’ she shrugged. ‘Now please could you tell me which of these you wish to take?’ Victoria studied the slippers, noticing for the first time their varying hues.
‘Those will best match the golden thread in the silk,’ she said, pointing to the creamier coloured of the pairs.
‘I shall wrap them in their cloth bag to protect them and then return to help in here,’ Vanny told them, staring pointedly at the piles of clothing before she left.
‘Why don’t you suggest to Papa that Vanny accompany you? It is your debut, after all and Shears is… well, more suited to the needs of an older woman,’ Bea said, giving a wicked grin.
‘Step Mama would swoon if she heard you say that.’ Victoria chuckled. ‘I would certainly feel more confident if Vanny were there to dress me. Do you think I dare ask Papa?’
‘I do. Look, I know you hate confrontation, but you need to be more assertive if you are to survive a Season in London. Why not start by tackling him at dinner tonight?’ she challenged, blue eyes alight with mischief.
‘All right, and in return you can help me decide what I should take.’
‘My things have already been taken downstairs, so why not. Oh, really Victoria, you’re surely not taking Miss Darcey?’ she laughed, picking up the porcelain doll with its froth of pink lacy skirts and matching feathered hat.
‘I most certainly am. Dearest Mama gave her to me before she died and she’s my most treasured possession.’ Victoria stared around the room and sighed. ‘Everything’s going to change, isn’t it?’
