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I shut the door behind me and hold up the dress. “Here’s the dress. I assume Mr. Vexley told you—”
“Oh my!” she cuts in. “I remember when Mrs. Vexley wore that one. It must be twenty years ago now. She was a vision.” She eyes me up and down. “And just about your size, too. I doubt we’ll need to do much.” She takes the garment from me. “Go ahead and take off your clothes, and we’ll try this on. I used to be a seamstress, you know.”
“Yes. Mr. Vexley mentioned that. I didn’t know.”
Her jaw tenses slightly. “There are many things you don’t know.”
I look at my feet. “That’s becoming painfully clear.”
She reaches for a measuring tape. “I was one of the most sought-after seamstresses in town, once upon a time.”
“You were?”
She brings the measuring tape around my waist. “Yes.”
“What happened?”
“What happens to everyone, eventually. Life.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one worth giving.”
I tilt my head. “Hazel…”
“I had a shop,” she says. “Small, but mine. People came from all over. I dressed girls for their first dances and brides for their weddings. I altered jackets for men who thought good tailoring could improve their posture.” She shakes her head. “It rarely did.”
I laugh. “And then?”
“And then Arthur hired me.”
Arthur.
Not Mr. Vexley. Not the master of the house.
Arthur.
“Audrey has tried to get rid of me for years,” she says lightly.
“She has?”
“Many, many years.”
“Why?”
Her eyebrows twitch. “Because I know where things are kept.”
“The linen closet?”
Hazel snorts. “Among other things. But Arthur always insists that I stay here.”
“Why?”
“Turn around,” Hazel says, evading my question.
“Hazel…”
“Turn,” she says again. “Let’s get these measurements.”
