Clarissa was the most patient with her. Being in the late stages of pregnancy, Clarissa didn’t go out much; mostly she just walked around the gardens a little. She brought over a pile of her clothes for Milly, saying she couldn’t fit into them now, and if she ever did get her figure back, fashions would have changed. She, her maid, Betty, and Zoë’s maid, Marie, had been adjusting them to fit Milly.
“But of course you won’t want to wear one of my dresses for your wedding,” Clarissa said. “We’ve made an appointment for you with Miss Chance of the House of Chance.”
“The House of Chance?” Milly exclaimed. “No! That little woman is frightfully common!” She saw their expressions. “Mama says so.”
There was a cold little silence. Izzy opened her mouth, but Clarissa held up her hand. “That ‘little woman’ is frightfully brilliant,” she said. “Izzy and I have all our clothes made by her.”
“Except for riding habits,” Izzy said, “which are always made by a tailor. But Miss Chance makes everything else, even our nightgowns.” She and Clarissa exchanged secretive smiles.
Milly sniffed. “That nightgown you lent me last night is nothing special.”
“No, that one was a gift from my old nurse,” Clarissa said. “The ones Miss Chance makes are more for married ladies.”
“And for wedding nights,” Izzy added.
Milly pouted. “But she’s so common. A horrid Cockney accent, and the way she talks to people, as if she’s their equal. Mama says—”
Zoë was getting fed up with Milly’s constant sighing and complaining and bleating never-ending nonsense beginning “Mama says.” “You know, Milly, isn’t it time you stopped parroting your mother’s words? Given what she thinks is important, you might want to start thinking and deciding things for yourself.”
Milly blinked. “But—”
“Oh, let her get married in one of your old dresses, Clarissa,” Izzy said. “If she doesn’t want to meet Miss Chance—”
“No, no. I’ll go. I do want a new dress. It’s just, couldn’t we go to—”
“It’s Miss Chance or no one,” Izzy said firmly.
Milly sighed. “Oh, very well.”
So, time being of the essence, they bundled her into the coach, veiled and muffled to the eyebrows, and took her to the House of Chance.
Miss Chance greeted them in her usual friendly fashion and whipped Milly into a private room, where she was measured up. When she finished, she stepped back, scanned Milly thoughtfully and said, “You know, I reckon I’ve got something that’d suit you proper, Miss Harrington.”
She sent an assistant off, and in a few minutes the girl returned with a cream wool dress. “This is almost finished, but the lady who ordered it is now in the family way and it won’t fit her. Try it on. The wool is very fine, so it falls nicely, and it’s lined with silk so it will feel lovely and also keep you nice and warm.” Milly tried it on, and the others were invited in to look.
“It’s perfect,” Clarissa declared.
“It’s very plain,” Milly said doubtfully, having been raised in multitudes of frills, but she was overruled.
“I can get it to you by tomorrow morning,” Miss Chance said. “There’s only a couple of small adjustments to make and the hem to sew up. It mighta been made for you, miss.”
Returning home in the carriage, Zoë said, “Well? What did you think?”
“Well, she is very common—that accent! But she was all right, I suppose. That dress is awfully plain, though. It has not a single frill or flounce.”
“For which you should be grateful,” Izzy said acidly. “The clothes your mother commissioned for you, all frills and fussery, made you look like a pig bursting out of a cushion!”
Zoë stifled a giggle. Clarissa stared fixedly out the coach window, her lips pressed firmly together.
Milly huffed. “You are horrid, Izzy Salcott.”
“But truthful. Wait until Thaddeus sees you in that dress.”
“And the nightgown on your wedding night,” Clarissa said.
Milly’s eyes widened. “You ordered me a nightgown as well?”
“Yes, it’s a wedding present.”
