Page 13 of Miss Pauline’s Perfect Present (Double-Dilemma #3)
A ugusta climbed down from the barouche with her husband’s help so that the bolts of material along with all the garment pieces could be more easily unloaded.
She watched Pauline take charge in that way she had of being brisk and businesslike but still friendly and her heart swelled with affection.
They had started out friends and remained so even though Augusta was now the Countess of Bridlington and Pauline was—just Pauline.
“Are you coming in, My Lady?” Pauline asked.
Miss Carp scowled at her. “Lady Bridlington needs to go and rest!”
“It’s all right, Phyllida,” Augusta said.
“I’ll just have a quick word with Pauline inside.
” She threaded her arm through Pauline’s and they walked into the showroom together.
Pale winter sunlight streamed through the windows on three sides of the square display space at the front of the shop, where torso forms on stands wore two pink muslin day dresses, making Augusta shiver at the thought of wearing so little.
But the spring season would be upon them before they knew it.
Sally came running out as soon as the shop door opened.
“Miss Dawkins! I was that worried when I woke up and took you yer tea and you wasn’t there. And My Lady!”
“It’s all right, Sally,” Pauline said. “Something came up, but I’m here now. Along with some fellows who will help us with an odd commission I received last night.”
Sally peered in the direction of the open workroom door.
“If you could put the kettle on. We’re all thirsty and hungry.”
“Yes Miss,” Sally said dipping two curtsies, one to Pauline and a slightly deeper one to Augusta, and than skittered back to the kitchen.
Sally was a good girl, Pauline thought, suddenly realizing that she was positively weak with hunger.
She was also relieved to be back in her own domain, not working in someone else’s space.
The main workroom door stood open, and the voices of the three men spilled into the showroom.
The walk from Conduit Street was not far, and they’d arrived at the same time as the barouche, the slippery cobbles making it impossible for the horses to go any faster than a walk.
As they settled themselves to work, all business, Aloysius took command in his usual way, giving instructions about where to find scissors and thread and measuring rods and which torso forms to use, where to find the pins.
They sounded happier, Pauline thought, than they had in Meyer’s shop.
The workroom featured no elegant display window, just three simple casements that opened onto a back street.
Pauline had chosen the location so that customers shopping on Bruton Street would see the finished products to whet their appetites and open their purses, and the seamstresses and cutters would have enough light to work and only the delivery boys and tradesmen would peer in as the work progressed.
The cutting and pressing was done on the floor above, where there was another room large enough for three more seamstresses.
Yes, it was good to be back. She, Aloysius, and Augusta had collaborated on choosing the premises and allocating the space.
Perhaps that was why something about the atmosphere promoted a feeling of camaraderie.
Pauline had worked hard to encourage her employees to feel a sense of both pride and belonging there.
She smiled with satisfaction at the thought.
But she was brought down to earth with a resounding crash a moment later.
“Pauline, I can’t stay to help you.” Augusta had not moved from the spot she stood in when they’d first entered the showroom
“Yes, I know you shouldn’t ought to be here, you so close to your time and all. You must be all done up!”
A pained look crossed Augusta’s face and she stood very still.
“What’s wrong?” Pauline asked.
“It’s nothing. But I think it would be better if I were in my bed at home.”
At that moment, a sound of water dripping made Pauline look around in confusion. Augusta blanched and lowered her eyes to the floor. Pauline followed them to see that a puddle had formed around Augusta’s feet.
“My Lady!” Pauline said, and steered her to a chair. “I’ll go fetch the earl in.”
“No!” Augusta cried. “I don’t want him to know just yet. He mustn’t see me like this. Please go and tell him I want to stay for a short while, that he should take the carriage back to Lanyon House. And send Phyllida in to me—but don’t say anything to alarm her.”
“Then what will you do? You can’t stay here! You need a doctor.”
“I will go, but you and Phyllida will help me. I think between us we’ll manage.”
Pauline was not happy about this, although she understood why Augusta wanted it so.
She knew that Lord Bridlington would be beside himself fretting over his wife and possibly not be very much help if she were to let him know that her time had come.
So she did as instructed and ran back in with Phyllida in tow.
“I told you, M’Lady! This was a foolish idea, and now look at you!”
“Yes, yes,” Augusta said, pausing and laying her hand atop her belly as a grimace of pain crossed her face.
Holding her breath as she listened for the sound of horses being given the office to go and then clattering away, Pauline wrung her hands.
As soon as she thought Lord Bridlington’s carriage must be out of sight, she said, “Get a hack, quickly Miss Carp!” Pauline was too overwrought to worry about being rude to the dresser.
But Phyllida understood well enough and dashed out the door.
“My Lady,” Pauline said, “will you be all right for just a moment while I go and tell Aloysius that he’ll have to manage without me for a bit?”
“Only for a bit,” Augusta said with a weak smile. “I just need help getting home, then you can come back.”
Pauline didn’t say anything. She didn’t want to make Augusta feel bad, but there was no way she was going to leave Lanyon House until she knew Augusta had been safely delivered of her child.
And that meant that the job would most certainly not be finished on time.
They couldn’t manage it without her. In fact, they likely couldn’t manage it with her, she thought, finally facing the fact that she had foolishly taken something on that was likely to end in disaster.
She took a steadying breath and strode into the workroom. “Aloysius, I have to go,” she said.
“You can’t!” he cried, with a panicked look around room.
“Sshh! I don’t want her ladyship to hear. I have to go with her and Miss Carp. We must get her home.”
She gave the haberdasher a fierce look, and he opened his eyes wide, suddenly understanding. “Of course. We’ll do the best we can.”
“No,” Pauline said, wilting with resignation. “There’s no point.”
She spoke loudly enough for Mr. Cooper to hear, and he stopped what he was doing and came over to her.
He had removed his coat and stood in only his shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
The muscles in his forearms were too obvious, too distracting.
Oh God! Pauline realized that she had lost the tailor—this man she was drawn to despite herself in these strange, intense circumstances—she had lost him his job to no purpose whatsoever, because there was no way now to finish the order.
She met his eyes, which were full of concern and questions.
“I’m so very, very sorry,” she said, dangerously close to tears.
“I shall ensure you are paid handsomely for the work you have done thus far.”
Before he could protest, she wheeled around and ran back into the front room, pulling the door closed behind her.