Page 25 of Pride of Honor
“Of course you can,” her father’s friend said. “Consider this a gift from Paolo. I owed him a large sum…”
“You did not,” Sophie interrupted sharply.
“Sorry. I forgot you were ever the little accountant.” Mrs. Withers gave her a wry grin. “Please? Let me give you a gift.”
Madame Bonheur pulled several pins from her mouth. “Since this gown was custom-made for one of the Loxley sisters and never picked up, I can give you a very good price. And, believe me, you look much better in the gown than she did, which is probably why she never picked up the frock.”
“Settled. Add it to my account,” Mrs. Withers said, with a wave of a hand toward Madame Bonheur.
“Thank you,” Sophie said. “If you ever need my help…”
“Yes, yes, yes. And ifyouever needmine, promise me you’ll send word here.” She handed Sophie a torn slip of paper with an address scrawled in a strong hand. Mrs. Withers rose suddenly to her full height. “I must get to rehearsal now. I’m late. You know where to send the costume,” she directed to Madame Bonheur and gave a small salute to both women before sweeping from the room.
Once the sound of the actress’s steps faded from the hallway, Madame Bonheur put a finger to her lips in the sign of secrecy and confided, “If she decides to become your champion, you should let her. She has some very powerful protectors.Vraiment.”
Chapter Nine
During one ofArnaud’s turns outside the shop, he spotted two familiar boys. As they raced down the street toward him, he stepped out at the last minute, extended a boot, and toppled the leader. The second boy tumbled over the first.
“Oy!” Arnaud shouted. Where are you two lubbers off to in such a hurry?”
They peered up at him, defiant, from the pile of street filth where they’d landed.
“We’re looking for summat,” the bolder of the two said, his expression revealing nothing.
In one swoop, Arnaud clutched a boy in each hand by the filthy scruffs of their shirts. “You will tell me, or I’ll drag you off to a runner.”
“Cor,” the other boy swore. “It’s those ladies.” He produced a grubby, crumpled sheet with a surprising likeness in a sketch of Sophie and Lydia. “We followed that cove like you told us, and he turned on us. Threatened us if we didn’t follow these two around and report back to him.”
“Wot’ll you give us to forget we saw them?” the cheekier of he two asked.
“I won’t rip your heads off.” Arnaud shook them again and growled.
“Stop.” The first urchin gave a piteous moan. “We’ll do whatever you want.”
“If you give me a good description of the man who paid you to follow the young women, I might make it worth your while.” Arnaud held out his hand with two coins and waited for the little thieves to make up their minds.
Sophie stood in companionable silence while Madame Bonheur finished pinning the hem of the gown gifted by Mrs. Withers. The tiny French woman worked quickly, her lips firmly holding a number of pins. She would pause frequently when she ran out of pins to give directions to her assistant madly basting the hem in place as the two of them worked their way around Sophie’s feet.
Sophie’s feet were cold despite the borrowed fur-lined slippers and nearly numb after she’d stood as still as possible for the last few hours. Her stomach finally gave an embarrassing rumble.
“I am so sorry.” Sophie reached out and touched the seamstress’s arm in apology.
Madame Bonheur stopped and patted Sophie’s hand. “You have been here since early this morning. I think you’ve had enough for one day. And, besides, with the measurements we’ve taken, we can complete enough gowns to get you through the first weeks of the Season.”
The modiste clapped and called to her assistant to have some tea and small sandwiches brought to the fitting room.
“There is no need…” Sophie demurred at the modiste’s insistence on seeing to her comfort.
“A woman who faces the most important Season of her life needs to maintain her strength.” Madame Bonheur made small tutting sounds and re-clamped her lips over more pins, returning to pinning up the hem.
Once Sophie’s hem and bodice adjustments were basted into place, Madame Bonheur led her back to the sitting room where the small fireplace had been banked anew with coal. The flames rose high, raising Sophie’s spirits. Madame Bonheur settled her in a cozy chair with a heated brick on a stool close to the grate.
After a small tap sounded at the door, Lydia, her maid Jane, and Mrs. Bellingham joined them. Lydia spoke so quickly, her breath came in short gasps. “I never thought I would meet someone who knew more than I do about trim. Mrs. Bellingham is the queen of re-inventing simple gowns with nothing more than buttons, ribbons, a bit of lace here, a bit of lace there…
In a lower voice to Sophie, she added, “Papa will be over the moonwhen he gets the bill for my dress.” She half-covered her mouth as if sharing anon dit. “I chose one of the abandoned gowns, and Mrs. Bellingham suggested changes to the trim and buttons so no one will suspect it’s the same dress.”
“Please, call me Honore, now that we know each other’s wardrobe tricks and secrets.” Her face glowed with excitement. “I haven’t had so much fun at the modiste since Arnaud’s older sister came out.”