I certainly didn’t. But a girl of pedigree, a girl like Sophie, would.
“I do.” Sophie extracted a black hairpin from her hair and flicked it onto the marble. “Alexander used to put funds into it, but he hasn’t since I left his manor.”
“The telegraph office is just up the street,” I said. “I’ll say I’m sending my mother a wire and I’ll message Cynthia’s house manager to transfer the forty percent there. It’ll be a lot of money. We can buy the finest fabrics, threads, and beads to create her piece.”
Thoughts of sumptuous silks filled my head. My fingers thrummed with excitement as I imagined touching them and crafting them together to create something wondrous.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Sophie abandoned her search for hairpins and lay down on the chaise longue, stretching. With a soft sigh, she arched her back and pointed her toes. “We should use it to buy all the materials for our collection. Otherwise, how will we afford them?”
“But Cynthia thinks the money is going toward her gown.” I chewed on my lower lip. “I suppose we could buy a midrange silk and just a few crystals.”
“We should supplement them by scrounging the beads thatfall off the Fashion House gowns in the fitting rooms. Those always get thrown away, so no one will notice.”
“Isn’t that stealing?”
Sophie grimaced with annoyance and tapped her fingers on the chaise’s one-sided armrest. “Who cares? They’re going to get thrown out anyway. And we won’t have any other way to fund the collection if we don’t stretch the money to buy everything we need.”
I didn’t let myself consider the consequences. Stealing beads was the least of my crimes. I rubbed my forehead, the champagne from the night combining with my exhaustion and rising to my head. “We also need to start thinking about our collection. We’ll each need to design at least four looks, and I’ll create the pattern for Cynthia. Her client card should still be in the filing cabinet with the rest. I’ll have the pattern done by Tuesday. How about we meet up in your fitting room?”
There was much to do. I tried not to think about how we would manage it, all the while sewing our weddings gowns for the challenge. No matter what, we needed to appear to devote plenty of time to Lady Harrison’s bridal dress.
“Sounds fine.”
I glanced at my bed. Tilda had turned down the covers (sloppily, of course) and the thick layers of sheets and puffy blankets beckoned me. I wanted to slip into it and ease my aching body. Still, I pressed on. “There’s also the invitations to the press and members of Parliament who are interesting in currying favor from the queen. Since I’m doing the pattern, would you do those?”
“Yes.” As she lay on the chaise, she gathered up her thickhair and wound it into a topknot. “Alexander has mentioned several of their names to me.”
“I suppose he would know who to ask... but let’s try to keep his involvement to a minimum.” I didn’t want his help—I didn’t want to ever see him again. But we needed him. From Sophie’s account to his contacts, he was involved in our new line. “We also need to book a venue for the show.”
“I can do that when I mail the invites,” Sophie said. “I know where the exhibition is going to be held, so I’ll find a place nearby.”
I nodded. Things were coming together. Maybe—just maybe—we really would pull this off.
Chapter Sixteen
THE NEXT DAY WAS SATURDAY,typically one of the Fashion House’s busiest days. However, since the gala had been the night before, we were closed until Monday. We hadn’t had a single day off since the Fashion House Interview began, so work on our wedding gowns was prohibited to give us time to rest.
“Madame Jolène has interviews with theAvon-upon-Kynt Timesand several other smaller papers today,” Francesco informed us that morning at breakfast. His voice was a raspy whisper, and he winced anytime the morning light hit his eyes. In one hand, he held a mug of fragrant peppermint tea. He kept drinking it, but it didn’t seem to be reviving him. “You ladies may enjoy the day. Just do stay out of the way, and please, no loud sounds.”
Ky and Alice, who were sitting across from me, immediately grinned at each other.
“Paddington Park?” Alice whispered to Ky. Ky nodded vigorously. The main street winding through the Quarter District ended at Paddington Park, where several of Avon-upon-Kynt’seligible bachelors often played croquet and polo.
While they would chase after titled gentlemen and enjoy a day outside the Fashion House, I’d finally have uninterrupted time to sketch and work on the collection.
I pushed my chair back and started to leave the dining room to head to my chamber. Then I stopped. Francesco was still in the dining room, trying to cure his hangover. Everyone else was finishing up breakfast. This was the perfect opportunity to take Cynthia’s measurements card from the filing cabinet.
I hurried down the stairs to the fitting-room hallway. The card cabinet sat right outside it. Francesco organized and maintained the cards and pulled the ones we needed for our appointments every morning. Thankfully, he never threw any of them out. His motto was, “Once a Fashion House customer, always a Fashion House customer.” Supposedly, even the cards of deceased clients were still in there, filed right alongside the current ones.
And, luckily for me, blacklisted clients as well.
The large black cabinet had gold letters affixed to each drawer. Approaching it slowly, I listened for any footsteps. Aside from the soft breakfast sounds trickling out of the dining room and down the stairs, everything was silent. Quickly, I found theSdrawer and pulled it open, revealing rows and rows of thin cards inside. I ran my finger over them, my panic subsiding a little. Each one belonged to a woman who had come to the Fashion House for a custom gown. I could only imagine how many stories and lives were represented in these rows. Almost reverently, I ran my fingers over the different names onthe cards. Most were traditional English names, but there were others in languages I didn’t recognize, along with a variety of titles:Her Imperial Highness, Maharani, Czarina.
And there, right in the middle of theSdrawer, was Cynthia’s card. I pulled it out and read it.
CLIENTPROFILE:CYNTHIASANDRINGHAM,DUCHESS OFKREMWALLESTATES
FIRST APPOINTMENT NOTES
