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Chapter22
Madame Rousseau had made a masterpiece out of the white confection Lady Edith dreamed up, and in the gown, standing upon a small dais, I felt as though I was wrapped in an elegant cloud.
“You are stunning, Mrs. Bradwell,” the French modiste said, stepping back to admire her handiwork.
“I believe you are the cause of that,” I said quietly, though I agreed that the image I could see in the looking glass was much better than I’d expected it to be.
Lady Edith circled me with a discerning eye. “Can you take it in across the shoulders a bit? It looks to be hanging strangely. The gathers are fine at the shoulder blades.” She continued to walk, and I found my breathing shallow under her scrutiny. “Is it possible to add more flowers to the hem? It is a little light on the roses.”
I looked down, and there appeared to be a tasteful number of flowers to me. “I like the way it looks now,” I said meekly.
Madame Rousseau looked from me to Lady Edith. She busied herself adjusting the pins and did not reply.
“We want this gown to shock the attendees at the party by its magnificence, Felicity.”
I held her gaze. It was my ball, was it not? “I believe this will accomplish the awe you seek.”
She shook her head, looking at me from head to toe. “It is close, but not quite there.”
“Just a few more flowers, then?” Madame Rousseau asked. “Not too many.”
I was grateful that she seemed willing to compromise between our tastes, but I didn’t want any more flowers at all. But peace with my mother-in-law was equally important, and Lady Edith did not appear as though she would retreat from her position. In this particular battle, I was willing to surrender. “A few more, then,” I agreed.
“Now that we have that settled, I wondered if you have another ball gown nearly ready? We must attend a ball Tuesday, and I hoped Felicity could wear one of the new ones.”
Because evidently my old ball gowns left much to be desired.
“There is the pink, my lady,” Madame Rousseau said.
“Shall we have it fitted then?”
“It is not quite ready for that, but I can use the white gown to ensure it is the correct size and send it to you straight away.”
Lady Edith nodded her approval. “Are there any other dresses ready to be fitted?”
“One more.”
I remained a silent model while Madame Rousseau and Lady Edith analyzed another gown. The style was not exactly to my taste, but I tried to remind myself that, as the mistress of Chelton, I now had a reputation to uphold and an example to set. I supposed I could grow used to more extravagant gowns if it pleased Lady Edith.
By the time we left the modiste’s shop an hour later, my arms were weary from holding them out while Madame Rousseau adjusted pins and my legs tired from standing still for such a great length of time. Uncomfortable silence followed us to the barouche and wrapped around us as we pulled out of Bakewell toward home. Lady Edith looked to the pale stone buildings and rolling green hills behind them, her hand pressed to her stomach.
“Who is holding a ball on Tuesday?” I asked.
Lady Edith drew in a breath through her nose. “Lord and Lady Grenville, but I imagine you’ve yet to make their acquaintance. They do not leave their house often, and they are very selective with who is invited to their soirees.”
“A small private ball sounds like a wonderful way to dip my toe into local Society.”
Lady Edith’s eyes drifted closed. “Do not mistake me, Felicity. This might be a smaller gathering than you are used to in London, but it is no less scrupulous. We must be on our best behavior. Lady Grenville’s approval will go a long way in securing your place in local Society.”
“In what way? The woman does not go out much, yes?”
“Yes, but her soirees are the peak of local Society. If we find ourselves uninvited to those, we’ve fallen too far.”
I struggled to understand why that would matter much, but it was clear that it was of the utmost importance to Lady Edith.
“I will be on my best behavior.”
She nodded but did not open her eyes. Her hands pressed against her midsection tightly, and it occurred to me that her cheeks looked greenish. “Are you feeling unwell?”
