Page 4 of Miss Pauline’s Perfect Present (Double-Dilemma #3)

P auline had been reasonably certain Aloysius wouldn’t have gone home, not with several tailors, pressers, and embroiderers still hard at work at Meyer’s.

What she didn’t expect was that one of those working late that night would be the very young man who had insulted her months before.

She recognized him instantly, and almost turned around and went back home.

It took very little reflection for her to change her mind about that, however.

He may have been insolent, but she needed help.

Never mind his bright blue eyes and regular features, and a well-proportioned physique that could be considered attractive—if she cared or had any time just then to think about it.

All she could hope was that he’d forgotten the incident and he wouldn’t make a cake of himself again.

But of course, he’d managed that evening to mangle his words just as before in a way that made him sound rude.

Did he really think so little of her? Could she stand being around him, if he could be so thoughtless?

She couldn’t help noticing how chagrined he’d looked every time he stumbled over his words though.

It was so confusing. But she had bigger matters on her mind just then.

Thus it was that the three of them—Aloysius followed by Pauline followed by Cooper—threaded their way through the hallways and workshops that led to the ladies’ tailoring department.

Pauline had the uncomfortable feeling that Cooper’s gaze was fixed on her back, although she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of turning around.

A number of spencer jackets and riding habits in varying stages of completion hung on racks and padded torso forms in the capacious workroom.

Some were inside out, the stiffening buckram and discreet padding at the shoulders partially attached, or with military style silver braid pinned along seams. Others still had the chalk lines that indicated where they needed to be altered to fit a particular lady.

Hooks and cubbies on the walls held heavy shears, buttons, and threads of all colors.

Thankfully, all the tailors in that department had left, so they had the well-stocked room to themselves and they would be able to spread out and use it as they wished.

Meyer worked his craftsmen hard, but most of them still managed to take their days off.

It was usually the new ones, the tailors who were not quite journeymen or who were recently hired, that she knew would sometimes stitch by candlelight until late in the night—as this Mr. Cooper had apparently been doing.

A little imp inside her hoped he was being tormented by Meyer, made to work all the hours God gave him.

But she couldn’t spend time thinking about that now.

All that mattered was completing this last-minute order.

Or did it? Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized that it might not matter as much as she thought it would.

On further reflection she thought that surely Madame Pauline’s was well established enough to withstand a bit of malicious gossip.

She ignored that little voice telling her that she’d latched onto the mysterious project as to a lifeline, something to drag her out of her doldrums and keep her unpleasant memories at bay.

She ignored the other voice that told her she was being unfair to involve Aloysius and Mr. Cooper in it.

But she was committed to it now, so what else could she do?

“We need six ells of silk, two of each sort, one a sarsenet perhaps, and a figured silk—the one you told me about, Aloysius, with the tiny floral buds all over it. Or a crepe perhaps, or a shot silk. I think a spider gauze overdress for the sarsenet. For the day dresses, two different colors of the heavy silk twill, or perhaps a jaconet muslin—or even kerseymere—and merino for the pelisses to match. Oh! What about velvet? What colors do you have enough of to make the two evening cloaks? Don’t forget the satin for the lining. ”

“I’ll go to the storeroom to see what’s left after the Christmas rush. I’ll fetch Kenton to come with me to help.” Aloysius took a tape measure out of one of the tidy workboxes left on a table and draped it around his neck.

“What about the cutting?” Pauline said, suddenly panicked.

Aloysius turned to her, hands on hips. “Have you forgotten, Ma’am, that I am an expert cutter? I shall see to it.”

Pauline relaxed just a little. Of course. No one knew more about fabric than Aloysius, so he would be sure to find the best if it was to be had. Her own stocks of material were almost completely depleted by their other holiday orders, and she hoped that wasn’t the case here.

With a determined smile and a tug to smooth an invisible wrinkle on his smart coat of Bath suiting, Aloysius swept out in the direction of the stock room.

No doubt Meyer will make sure I pay a hefty price for whatever material I use, Pauline thought.

Of course she would pass that on to her unknown customer, so there was no point worrying about it right then.

That left her alone in the workroom with Mr. Cooper.

The way he looked at her as if he wanted to say something to her, was beginning to get on her nerves.

She had no desire to hear him utter anything else that would turn out to be an insult or in some way rude.

So she adopted her most businesslike manner and spoke abruptly.

“I shall need that bench cleared away, and the lamps lit in here. Could you find some more candles as well?”

“Mr. Meyer, he’s a bit close with his candles,” Cooper said.

Was he arguing with her? “I don’t much care. If he says anything you can tell him Lady Bridlington requested it.” She hadn’t intended to say anything that might call that infamous moment in October to mind. It simply slipped out. She looked up just in time to see the deep blush in Cooper’s cheeks.

“Miss Dawkins,” Cooper said and strode over to her. “I’m a clod, and sometimes I rattle away when I’m nervous and say things I don’t mean.”

“You better rid yourself of that habit. Not too smart if you hope to move up in the world.” Pauline made an effort to use her most ladylike voice and laced it with glacial chill.

She turned away from him, pretending to busy herself gathering some spools of thread from the dozens of small cubbies—although until she knew what color materials Aloysius would find, there was no real point.

And that was odd, now that she thought about it.

The instructions did not mention colors.

The two of them turned away from each other and busied themselves preparing their work areas—gathering needles, thread, tapes, small scissors, and other essential tools. Pauline could feel the tension hanging in the air between them. It was ridiculous!

Just as the silence became almost unbearable and Pauline was about to confront Cooper about his insolence, Aloysius burst through the door followed by Kenton, both of them struggling to keep hold of bolts of slippery silk and heavier fabrics for the pelisses and cloaks and the day dresses.

Cooper ran to help them while Pauline held the door open.

She couldn’t help noticing the spots of heightened color in Aloysius’s cheeks and wondered if he’d been running.

There were matching blotches on Mr. Kenton’s cheeks as well, so she supposed they must have been.

“Now,” said Pauline, “We need a plan.”