AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“And what if you ruin it, hmm?” Mrs. Cavendish slurred. “What then? Lady Lydia will not be seen in some silly mend job that looks like it was thrown together by a street whore.”
So that was what the housekeeper thought of her? Marilee had wondered what assumptions the woman must have. The idea repulsed Marilee, but she refused to trade barbs. She lifted her chin.
“I am well apprised of the current fashions and will ensure that the end result is up to snuff,” was all she returned.
“You had best,” the housekeeper laughed, “else it be your flesh on the line.” She seemed already to be reveling in Marilee’s failure. Was Lady Lydia so very hard to please? Marilee repressed a shiver of dread.
“Will you get the ribbon first thing? Lady Lydia wants the gown for a dinner party tomorrow.”
“Aye, I’ll send for it.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, but the words grated. “Four finger widths,” she said holding up her hand as an example, “and as much as you can manage.”
With that, Marilee returned to her work on the gown. She would be lucky to finish the hem tomorrow if she worked all day. Tonight, she must still address the soiled sleeve. Peggy had said that the ink spot could not be removed in time, if at all. Marilee pulled the scissors and a few scraps of lace from the sewing basket, and praying that this was not the biggest mistake she had ever made, cut the brocade sleeves from the bulk of the garment.
For the next several hours she removed stitches, added panels salvaged from the sleeves, and created a ruffle and capped shoulder where there had once been long elegant lengths to cover the arms to the knuckles. She trimmed the caps with a fine edge of white lace ruffles taken from the marred sleeves. She stitched the lace back on the shortened sleeves and stood back to admire her work. Miss Caroline would have loved the effect. Lady Lydia might very well be struck with apoplexy. With dawn lightening the sky, she finally found her bed.
* * *
When Marilee wokethe next morning, there was a parcel at the foot of her bed. Peggy had greeted her again with a steaming cup of tea while Marilee, somewhat bleary-eyed, opened the package.
“I cannot believe what you’ve done to the gown,” Peggy murmured with a grin.
“Is it bad?” Marilee had lauded the effect by night, but now she wondered if the light of day had revealed the fault in her choice. She sighed. There was nothing to be done about it now. The work could not be undone.
“No. No. It’s beautiful!” Peggy exclaimed. “Where did you learn to do that? Were you a seamstress…before?”
“None of them ever talked about their lives before Blackwell. It was as if to speak of it would break some taboo.
Marilee bit her lip hesitant to talk about her life before, but she was relieved to hear that Peggy thought the adjustment well done. Marilee wondered, could she reveal how she had come to know such things? She was not supposed to be a lady’s maid, and yet, neither could she fathom claiming to be a lady. Could Peggy be trusted with the truth? Was it a trap?
Marilee settled on a partial truth. “I’ve finished my fair share of gowns but no, I’m no seamstress.”
“I think it looks better than before,” Peggy admitted with a secretive laugh. “It was far too much like a peacock in my opinion. Now it is simply breathtaking.” She must have recalled the torn hem because she then grimaced and asked what was to be done about that. Marilee thrust the parcel toward Peggy to reveal several roles of pristine white ribbon. “Gads, where did you get that?” the laundress exclaimed.
“I had to ask Mrs. Cavendish,” Marilee admitted with a groan. She had the distinct feeling that the housekeeper would not hesitate to either place full blame upon Marilee for the ruined gown or take enough credit for the ribbon that she would demand some form of later payment from Marilee.
“No!” Peggy giggled. “How did you get her to agree?”
“I told her it was for the lady,” Marilee admitted, “although it did feel somewhat like trading one’s soul to the devil.”
“Not if all goes well,” Peggy shook her head. “Mrs. Cavendish will be pleased enough not to have to deal with Lady Lydia’s outcries that her precious wardrobe is lacking.”
“Lacking?” Marilee scoffed. “There are enough gowns in this house for an army of ladies.”
“Never enough,” Peggy rolled her eyes. “And yet we servants get these plain black frocks.” She plucked at her own skirts with dismay.
“I wish,” Marilee said. “At least you don’t have that high-necked monstrosity. It’s been itching me to death in this heat.” She pointed over at the woolen grey sheath that she had worn since her arrival. Her skin chaffed with even the thought of putting the rough fabric back against her throat.
“Then I have good news for you, Kate, my dear!” Peggy leapt up with glee. “You have been promoted to the luxury of the mourning garb.” She pulled a fresh dress from where she had hung it over the rail of her own bed. They both laughed. It was hardly an improvement, but it was clean and soft, and mercifully, cotton muslin. The woolen gown with its choking collar could burn for all she cared. Marilee donned the black dress with a smile, perhaps the first true one she had had since the duke had arrived in Northwick all those weeks before and proposed marriage to her mistress, Miss Caroline.
Peggy had made an accurate guess as to the size of the dress. It even fit well enough to give Marilee some shape and a hint of her natural beauty. Still, she shook her head. She did look as if she were set to attend a funeral service. “There’s a purple one too,” Peggy said. “I thought it was ripped too much to fix, but perhaps you can do something with it.”
Peggy held up the garment. The bodice was indeed ripped straight through to the waist, which made one wonder just how such a tear may have happened.
Marilee raised an eyebrow, and Peggy giggled. “It’s for when you go into half mourning,” Peggy supplied and even Marilee had to laugh.
* * *
