Part 7 (1/2)
”Not in so many words,” Lady Purnam sniffed. ”Yet society would certainly think the better of you for it. My advice to you is to observe three months. Oh, don't look so glum! You can go abroad in half mourning.”
”But we can't go to b.a.l.l.s,” Ava pointed out.
”Certainly not. Who can dance when a dear mother has pa.s.sed?”
”I beg your pardon, your ladys.h.i.+p,” Lucy said. ”I'm not one to ever disagree with the need for propriety, but I believe they should be allowed in society.”
Ava and Phoebe exchanged a wary glance. If anyone was more rigid in following the rules of proper society than Lady Purnam, it was Lucille Pennebacker.
Even Lady Purnam seemed surprised. ”I daresay it may be customary to enter society after one yearwhere you hail from, Miss Pennebacker,” she said imperiously as she s.h.i.+fted again in her seat. ”But Ibelieve I am better suited to judge what is proper here in town.”
”Perhaps,” Lucy said with a sniff of her own. ”But the girl's stepfather will return in April, and I daresayhe won't abide a longer period of mourning. It is well past the time they were married, their poor dearmother's death notwithstanding.”
”Oh, Lucy, please-” Ava started.
”I a.s.sure you, Miss Pennebacker,” Lady Purnam interrupted, ”that when I have had occasion to speak with Lord Downey, he will not force the issue of marriage before the period of mourning has been duly observed.”
”Speak to him all you like,” Lucy said, and picked up the tea service. ”But I believe I know my brother very well. If you will excuse me?”
”By all means,” Lady Purnam said, and smiled so thinly that it seemed more like a sneer.
When Lucy had left the room, Lady Purnam shook her head. ”She is the most disagreeable woman to ever grace a proper salon! I suppose she is responsible for the hiring of your Mr. Morris, that fool! Do you know that he kept me waiting on the stoop while he announced me?”
”I shall speak to him at once,” Ava said.
Lady Purnam sighed and stood up. ”You might suggest to Lord Downey that he look after theupholstering of Ca.s.sandra's furniture when he returns. It's in desperate need of repair. Well, then,darlings, I must be off. Shall I have a modiste sent round to measure you for half mourning?”
”That won't be necessary,” Phoebe said quickly. ”I'll do it.”
”Now, Phoebe,” Lady Purnam said as she moved as slowly as a barge toward the door, ”have a care that you don't do so much needlework that you mark your hands. A gentleman does not care for a lady's hands to show the signs of toil.”
”Yes, madam,” Phoebe said politely, and she and Ava dipped identical curtsies as Lady Purnam said good day and promised to call again in a week.
”We will look forward to it,” Ava lied beautifully.
When the door shut behind the departing battle-ax, Ava groaned with exasperation as Phoebe rushed to the chair in which Lady Purnam had been sitting and picked up the cus.h.i.+on.
”Oh dear G.o.d,” she sighed, and pulled a crumpled linen day dress from beneath the cus.h.i.+on.
”What is it?” Ava asked.
”A trial of sorts,” Phoebe said wearily. She dropped the gown and walked to the windows overlooking the courtyard, reached behind the long, heavy burgundy drapes, and withdrew a basket that was spilling over with fabric.
In antic.i.p.ation of their coming out of mourning, Phoebe had been taking their late mother's gowns and cutting them down to fit herself or Ava. In some instances, she took two gowns and combined them into one.
”Are those gowns?” Ava asked as Phoebe picked up a green silk she had combined with gold brocade. She quickly took it from Phoebe's hand and held it up to her body. ”What on earth will you do with so many? There are more here than we could possibly wear in a Season.”
Phoebe shrugged. ”I find needlework comforting,” she muttered, and turned away.
Ava believed her, but at the same time, she was highly suspicious, for when Lucy or Sally would enter their rooms, Phoebe would quickly shove the gown she was working on under the bed, behind a cus.h.i.+on, or now, it would seem, in a basket behind the drapery.
”All right, let's have it, shall we?” Ava demanded as she turned and looked at the other gowns piled inthe basket. ”What on earth are you doing, hiding these gowns?”
”I am not doing anything at all. I am only sewing,” Phoebe insisted.
”Yes, darling, I can plainly see that you are sewing. But why are you hiding it?”
Phoebe looked at her sister, chewed her bottom lip a moment, then glanced at the door of the salon. She suddenly rushed across the room and pushed a heavy ottoman against it and fell onto it, as if she were exhausted.
”What are you about?” Ava demanded.
”All right, if you must drag it out of me, I'll tell you.” She lifted her chin. ”I fancy myself a decent seamstress.”
”Phoebe, you are an extraordinarily talented seamstress! Just look at this!' Ava exclaimed, holding the green and gold gown up to her again. ”I always rely on you to take the gown from our modiste and alter it to make it more flattering.”
”That's just it, Ava. I can do that. I can make my own creations. Therefore, I decided I should make them for purchase.”
Ava blanched. ”For purchase? Oh dear heart, you can't sell them. Where would they be purchased?”
”On Bond Street.”
”Bond Street?” Ava cried. ”Are you mad? A trade? A trade, Phoebe? You cannot possibly think toentertain a trade, not after all the work we've done to maintain appearances! If you were to take up atrade, it would relegate us to the very bowels of the ton, for no one will tolerate a loss of fortune and atrade! No,” Ava said firmly, shaking her head and throwing up a hand when Phoebe opened her mouthto speak. ”Your idea is not without some merit, but it is absolutely insupportable.”
And with that, she tossed the gown aside and folded her arms implacably.
”If you are quite finished,” Phoebe said with a snort, ”you've not yet heard the brilliance of my plan. No one, save you-and Greer, when she returns, naturally-shall know that I have made gowns to be sold.”
”Indeed? And just how do you propose to perform this bit of magic?”
”You may laugh if you will,” Phoebe said indignantly, ”but I know which Bond Street shops would be happy to sell such fine gowns!” She suddenly stood up. ”Just imagine it, Ava: Suppose you were to wear my gown and patronize one such shop,” she said, sweeping up the green and gold gown Ava had tossed aside and holding it up to her sister. ”After many compliments are made-and how can they not be made, for this is beautiful, if I do say so myself-then you might casually mention to the shopkeeper that you happen to know the very reclusive and exclusive French modiste who has made the gown.”
Phoebe thrust the gown toward Ava, forcing her to take it, then began to pace, her hands clasped behind her back, her brow furrowed. ”There certainly will be gossip of a new modiste in London, a very eccentric modiste, one who refuses to be seen. One who refuses to create gowns for just anyone.” She stopped pacing a moment and looked at Ava. ”You will make that claim. You will say that had it not been for a very good friend of our dearly departed mother, who convinced the modiste to take pity on you, you would not have such a beautiful gown.”
Ava blinked and looked down at the gown she held.