Page 5 of Miss Pauline’s Perfect Present (Double-Dilemma #3)

H er mind shifting into action, Pauline quickly sketched similar designs to one of Lady Bridlington’s very popular modes for the two evening gowns and, after a consultation with Aloysius, transferred them to pattern paper.

The day dresses were a bit easier. As for the pelisses, she decided they should make them in the classical Grecian style rather than the more severe style of military uniforms, as the lines would be looser and less exact, being easier to fit.

Mr. Kenton measured out the cloth for the gowns, Aloysius started the delicate process of cutting, and soon the workshop hummed with focused activity.

Only snipping scissors, creaking stools, and occasional muttered comments disturbed the industrious peace of that room.

At least, it was peaceful on the outside.

On the inside, Pauline’s mind was racing.

Like it or not, she was keenly aware of Mr. Cooper’s presence on the other side of the table where she sat lining the pieces of dress bodice Aloysius put in front of her as soon as they were cut out.

A hum of something barely tangible vibrated between them.

Was he looking at her? It felt as if he were.

Whenever she stole a quick glance at him, though, his eyes were bent on the work he was doing on the pelisses. It was infuriating!

By midnight, dismembered garments littered the tables—collars, sleeves, cuffs, skirts, petticoats, and overdresses.

Pauline stood up from where she’d been leaning over so she could inspect the slippery silk crepe that Aloysius was struggling to cut for the final evening gown and pushed her fists into the small of her back.

She’d grown unaccustomed to the physical labor of making clothes, forgetting just how backbreaking it could be.

As Madame Pauline, she no longer haunted the workrooms, instead spending her days in the office or the front of the shop.

Her efforts went to advising customers, doing fittings, managing her staff, ordering materials, and bookkeeping.

And she was grateful for this change in her circumstances. She had stepped up in the world.

Yet although it was hard work to sit making tiny backstitches and running stitches for hours at a time, a part of Pauline missed feeling a garment take shape under her fingers. It was a sort of magic to transform flat pieces of shapeless cloth into dresses that made women feel beautiful.

“Miss Dawkins,” Mr. Cooper said, interrupting her reverie.

He sounded tentative. Even fearful. Was she so intimidating?

Well, perhaps she was. And why should that matter?

“Yes Mr. Cooper?” she said, arching her eyebrows at him.

Just because they would be forced to keep company with each other for the next thirty-two hours was no reason to feel as if she should be friendly with him, whatever was going on inside her.

It was just the being alone for the holiday, she thought, that stirred up these unaccustomed feelings.

“The way I figger it here, we have at least a week’s worth of work spread out on these tables. That’s even with one stitcher for each piece, and that ain’t what we have. There’s just four of us. Maybe even only three. I don’t know if Mr. Kenton will sew, him being a presser and all.”

Mr. Cooper’s words were unpleasantly accurate. That didn’t make them any more palatable to Pauline. She took a deep breath and surveyed the room.

Aloysius came and stood next to Pauline and glared down at Cooper. “Mr. Cooper, no one asked your opinion.”

Pauline shook her head. “No, Aloysius. He’s right, more’s the pity. It’ll take a miracle to get all this done. We need help.”

“That’s as may be, but we have another problem,” Mr. Gordon said.

Pauline raised questioning eyes to him. “What else is there to trouble us besides lack of time?”

Mr. Gordon held up a cut piece of cloth. “We don’t have enough of this to make the second pelisse,” he said.

They were all silent for a while. Then Mr. Kenton cleared his throat. “I say, Ma’am, why did you say you could meet this order? It’s impossible.”

Pauline turned to the presser, not mincing her words. “We do it or Lady Bridlington’s investment goes out the window.” She knew it was an exaggeration, but something kept pushing her to demand the impossible of herself—and them.

Aloysius said, “Is there no one you can call upon to come and do some of the sewing tomorrow? One or two of your girls, perhaps? Of course, that doesn’t solve the problem of the missing cloth.”

Pauline bit the side of her thumb as she thought about it.

She would have to pay them a lot to make it worthwhile.

And then it might make the order so expensive that whoever it was for wouldn’t want to stand the nonsense—despite having said in the order not to spare any expense.

People believed that until they saw the final bill, in Pauline’s experience. And what about the second pelisse?

Gussie—Pauline still thought of her that way, even though she had to call her My Lady now—generally trusted her to make all the business decisions, and the shop was very profitable.

It was profitable even while paying decent wages to the seamstresses and cutters and never stinting on materials and quality.

But this one order could end up being a terrible loss.

“I have to ask her,” Pauline said, half to herself, half out loud.

“Ask who?” Cooper and Kenton said in unison.

“Never you mind!” Pauline snapped at them, and then instantly regretted it. There was no need to be so mean. She didn’t know Kenton, and whatever Cooper had said or done in the past, however his mere presence disturbed her equilibrium, he showed himself willing to assist her now.

She turned to Aloysius. “I do think I may have enough merino back at my workshop to get us through,” she said. “I’ll go and get it.”

“No you won’t!” said Aloysius in his most astringent tone.

“Why not?”

“You can’t afford to take any time away from sewing. We can send someone else.”

Pauline looked around at the few bodies assembled in the workshop. “Who?”

Mr. Cooper cleared his throat. “If you’ll trust me, Ma’am, I can get there quick, and I know what we need. Pelisses are my specialty—or they were before I came to Meyer’s. And I can’t get on with my work until we have the material.”

Pauline, who still hadn’t looked directly at Mr. Cooper, found that she couldn’t avoid it any longer in the circumstances.

Their eyes met for the second time that evening.

The soft expression in his was unmistakable, as was their brilliant blue color, and Pauline quickly looked away and toward Aloysius, afraid she’d already started to blush. “Very well, Mr. Cooper.”

He came closer to her and held out his hand. She looked at him blankly.

Aloysius said, “He’ll need a key. And a note so your maid doesn’t think he’s a thief.”

Now Pauline’s cheeks burned. Of course. She recovered as quickly as she could and said, “In the meantime, we all need to keep working. I’ll start on the gowns.

Mr. Kenton, would you be willing to begin sewing the cloaks?

” Pressers had to have good sewing skills in order to work their way up to that important position.

He might be a little out of practice, but the cloaks were the least exacting job.

“I have to write the notes before I start stitching. Is there writing paper, pen, and ink anywhere?”