Maggie almost stopped breathing. Tobias had told her he’d never told a living soul but her. He would not like Henrietta to have such information about him. “Oh?”
Henrietta drummed her fingers on the table. “I had been in our father’s study. He kept copies ofLa Belle Assembléethere. Research, I suppose, and I was not supposed to touch them, but how could I help myself? I heard father and Tobias enter, and it was too late to sneak away, so I hid. Tobias told our father he did not want to work in cotton. And Father laughed, loud and long. Tobias waited and told father he wanted to go to France and learn fashion design from the masters. And …” Henrietta looked at Maggie almost apologetically. “Father laughed again. Tobias stormed from the room before Father was done. Father followed him from the study, and I heard him yelling down the hall, words likefrivolousandfoolish. And now those are the things Tobias appears to be.”
“But he’s not. Not really.”
“I’m glad you see that. Most do not. Hm.” Henrietta stood and rounded the table toward Maggie. “A wife has insight into a man others do not. Tell me, what is Tobias up to? I know it’s something. He just won’t tell me.” She huffed with irritation.
Maggie offered Henrietta a wan smile. “If I knew anything”—and she did—“I would not give Tobias’s secrets away.” But she could continue encouraging him to talk with Henrietta, who grew more and more perfect a partner by the minute. “What’s this?” Maggie stopped before a large wooden bin that reached to her waist and peered into its dark depths.
“Oh! That!” Henrietta traipsed forward and leaned into the bin. When she emerged, she held bright fabric scraps in her hand. She stared at it quizzically. “My seamstresses and shopgirls take the larger pieces of discarded fabric for themselves to do with as they please, but the smaller bits we collect here.”
“For what purpose?” Maggie reached into the bin and brought up a handful of scraps—blue and pink and green.
“Oh, this and that. Some are large enough to make matching reticules for our clientele.”
“What about patchwork?”
Henrietta’s head tilted to the side, a smile spread across her lips. “Quilting?”
Maggie nodded and bounced on her toes. “Yes. Sew the bits and pieces together and make something warm. A blanket for a child, for example.” She’d made some herself.
“Hm. Willow is always looking for more ways to help the orphanages she supports. I could ask my seamstresses to—”
“No. I can do it.”
“Would you really like to?”
The hidden secret about herself Maggie could not see before strode fully into light. This is what excited her, making something beautiful for people with little beauty in their life—those who were in the most need of what it could offer the soul. “Yes. I would very much like to.” She nodded. “Send me everything in the bin.” She’d start with a single blanket and then a second, and she’d have to find a child to wrap them round, and then—
“Lady Rigsby.” A shopgirl stood in the doorway, her hands folded neatly in front of her.
“Yes, Sarah?” Henrietta said.
“A lady is here to see you. I told her you’d closed the shop for the morning, but she insisted. She said you’d make an exception for her.”
Henrietta scowled and shook her head. “Did she give you a name?”
“Mrs. Piedmont.”
“Oh! Celia. She’s always a touch overbearing. My apologies, Sarah. I’ll speak with her myself.” Henrietta bustled back into the drawing room.
Maggie followed. Mrs. Piedmont, Celia, she of the mysterious relationship with Tobias. Curiosity drew Maggie even if good sense told her stay put.
Henrietta stood with another woman near the front of the shop, and Maggie inched closer. She stopped when Mrs. Piedmont’s head swung toward her with an assessing and … pleased? … gaze.
Mrs. Piedmont rushed toward Maggie, arms outstretched as if they would run into each other’s embrace like old friends too long separated. But at the last moment, she dropped into a nearby seat and patted the chair next to it. “Do sit down, Mrs. Blake. I’m dying for a chat.”
Maggie sat hesitantly. “Did you know I would be here?”
“Not a bit. I came to see dear Henny about a new gown. But now that I have you …” she shrugged.
Henrietta sat in a third nearby chair, completing their grouping. “Meredith completed the gown yesterday. It’s scheduled to be delivered this afternoon. You did not have to come all the way here.”
Mrs. Piedmont laid a hand on Henrietta’s knee. “Nonsense. I wouldn’t put you to the trouble.”
Henrietta moved slightly, dislodging Mrs. Piedmont’s hand. “It’s no trouble. But if you wish to take it with you now—”
“And I do.”
