Page 16 of Count the Cost (The Secrets of Elizabeth Bennet #2)
A week later, Elizabeth yawned and stretched as the upstairs maid crept in to light the fire. “Thank you, Bessie,” she murmured and rolled over. It was still full dark outside, and she would indulge herself and take another ten minutes.
Despite her three much younger cousins, the house on Gracechurch Street exuded a sense of calm and serenity that was absent from Longbourn. There, even when her sisters were still asleep, the tension in her did not allow her to appreciate any silences, unless she walked out into the woods.
But Elizabeth knew she could not stay abed more than five minutes, whatever she told herself. Her mind was already awake, running through the plan for the day, recalling yesterday, and the discussions she’d had with her aunt and uncle over the last week.
She sat up and stretched, swung her legs over the side of the bed and crossed to the table by the window to pour herself a glass of water from the carafe, and sat in the chair while she sipped it. This morning, she would speak to her uncle about Mr. Reed’s last letter.
She frowned slightly; it was an excellent idea, although she might have to change the layout in her part of the warehouse, and obtain a variety of items for the display. But could she make the gloves individual and unique enough? That was the pertinent point she must discuss with Uncle.
But she must be finished by the noon hour — she was accompanying her aunt to the orphanage again.
She smiled to herself, she had thoroughly enjoyed the two afternoons she had been there last week and was going to take full advantage of the opportunity while she was in town.
And some of the other ladies were wonderful, too.
They had welcomed her, and as the niece of the kind and gentle Mrs. Gardiner she was especially welcome, and the mix of personalities she had met so far was gratifying.
Mid-afternoon, the older ladies always took afternoon tea and were waited on by some of the older orphans as part of their training to be maids.
Elizabeth had stood with the girls and supported them in pouring tea and handing it round when requested, showing them how to stir quietly, to take care not to spill the tea, and not to expect to be noticed or thanked.
Elizabeth had met the dowager Countess of Abingdon at one of those little tea parties.
Lady Palmer must be at least eighty, but had the mind and liveliness of a much younger woman.
Elizabeth was enthralled with her stories of life in the first circles and her observations on the various personalities, full of wit and amusingly described but never unkind.
Miss Bingley could have learned a lot from her.
She rose to her feet and turned to dress. Perhaps she would have the opportunity to talk to Lady Palmer again this afternoon. But first, business.
She sat in her uncle’s office, turning the sample of doeskin over and over, rubbing her fingers along both sides. “It is beautifully cured, Uncle. And there’s none of the lumpy unevenness you sometimes get from hand tools, and yet, it is obviously hand tooled, so unique.”
Her uncle nodded, frowning slightly. “So why are you thinking to branch out to gentlemen’s gloves and not use them for ladies?”
“It just feels right. The lighter skins can be dyed and used for ladies, as you say; but on these pieces, the skin is naturally quite a dark grey.” She turned it over again.
“But I am concerned regarding the exclusivity. There is little scope to make each pair outwardly distinctive, keeping in mind we cannot charge too high a price.” She glanced up at her uncle.
“I think men’s accessories are a good idea.
Not to entice the gentlemen in, heaven forfend —” she rolled her eyes, laughing at the thought.
“But as an additional purchase for a lady to buy a birthday gift while she is making her own purchases.”
Her uncle’s face cleared. “Now I understand. We want a selection of things a lady might wish to buy for a male relation, but if they are here, she will not have to take the trouble to look in other shops.”
“Exactly.” Elizabeth beamed at him. “Pocket watches, snuff boxes, pen and ink stands and the like. Do you think it is a good idea?”
“I certainly do. In fact, I think I trust your business ideas more than you do.”
Elizabeth smiled wryly. “Well, I need your advice on how to individualise the gloves.” She frowned down at the sample. “The tooling is very intricate and skilfully done. But a glove is not really big enough to have a variety of patterns.”
“Hmm.” Her uncle seemed lost in thought. “Do you think they could be tooled to order? I mean, when a lady purchases them, we can have the requested initials engraved on them, and then have them delivered to her.”
Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully. “But would a gentleman want his initials on show like that?” She glanced up.
“We could certainly offer it, or perhaps the estate or peerage crest, but perhaps we could also do designs for masculine sports, too. Foils, guns, horses, horseshoes, hounds, things like that.” She turned over the piece of doeskin.
“Look how fine the tooling is. We could certainly give the craftsman quite complex designs.”
“You’ve got it, Lizzy. We can continue on with the plans. I suppose the skins will all arrive at the same time after the culling has been done?”
“I’ll ask Mr. Reed. His uncle is the steward on the estate with these darker-skinned herds. But I imagine the culling is done over several months. The kitchens won’t want too much venison for the table at the same time.”
“But the carcasses are hung for a while, aren’t they?” Her uncle frowned. “We don’t really want to store a year’s worth of skins.”
Elizabeth rose to her feet. “I will write to Mr. Reed this evening and say that we are interested if the supply issues can be sorted out.” She dropped a kiss on her uncle’s head.
“Thank you for talking about this with me; it’s better than the fans will be, although I will still look into those for the future; as for engraving initials — we could do pocket watches with those.
But now I must get ready for the orphanage. ”
He chuckled. “I see it was too much to hope for that you would take even a week to rest.”
Elizabeth laughed lightly. “I would be bored to tears within a day. You know that.”