Chapter 35
Janet Saunders was a sturdy Scots widow who’d set up as dressmaker in a house close to Kitty’s former home. She did simple work at economical prices, and Kitty had used her services. In time they’d become friends, and also become more adventurous. After all, Kitty was an honorable, and she played hostess to many gentlemen of high birth.
Janet had taken to walking around Mayfair, observing the fine ladies. She’d then draw similar designs, but adapted for Kitty’s slender purse. Soon her other clients, mostly wives of professional men and local tradesmen, wanted finer garments, and Janet could employ more workers.
She was clever at making do. She visited warehouses, haggling over the ends of bolts and slightly damaged cloth and trimming. She hunted through cast-off finery for trimmings that could be salvaged. Kitty had always paid Janet as much as she could afford, but she’d known she was worth more.
Janet beamed to see Kitty and Sillikin, and when told the news almost had palpitations. “A viscountess! Havers! You’ve come to make my fortune!”
She was teasing, but Kitty realized it could be true. “I have, Janet. My gowns are excellent, aren’t they, Henry?”
Henry smiled and agreed, but with provisos. “In a middling sort of way. No offense to you, Mrs. Saunders, for you’ve had to make do, but now you’ll be able to afford the finest materials and trimming. Your talents will shine, and when ladies beg for the name of Lady Dauntry’s mantua maker, my mistress can reluctantly be persuaded to share the secret.”
Janet’s eyes were sparkling at the idea, but she said, “They’ll never want to come here to Moor Street.”
“You’ll be surprised, Mrs. Saunders. Ladies who hear of a secret treasure will hunt it down like pigs hunt truffles.”
They laughed at that, but then Kitty said, “I do want you to make me new gowns for spring, Janet, but today I’m hoping for an instant miracle. I’ve brought the sapphire blue gown you made for me two years ago. Can you make it more stylish before this evening? I’m to go to the theater.”
She expected dismay, but Janet sparkled. “I love a challenge, as you know, Kitty. Is it all right if I still call you Kitty?”
“I’ll be cross if you do otherwise.”
“Come with me.”
She led them to her inner fitting room. “Let’s see the gown.” Henry passed it over and helped unpeel the muslin.
“In good condition,” Janet said, inspecting seams and hem. “Does it still fit?”
“Yes.”
“I thought so. Chenille is quite out,” Janet said, brushing dismissively over the decoration on the bodice, “and floss. Both will have to come off. Vandyke lace is all the thing and I have some to hand, dyed black. Always black, black, black, these days! I’ll put black gauze over the skirt and bodice.”
“Gauze?” Kitty asked.
“To darken it. I’m doing that for many of my clients, muting brighter clothing to provide somber wear without them purchasing new.”
“I heard that mourning was affecting trade. Is it very bad?”
Janet shrugged. “People around here need new clothes in much the same way, for they wear things out, but there’s few who are buying fancy stuff. Who wants more black and dull? I’ll retrim this and have it to you by the evening.”
“You’re an angel. I wish you could magically provide a warm black cloak. My mantle will be too bright.”
“I’ve nothing ready-made, and it would be heavy wear in any case. You might find something fancy in the West End.” Janet smiled at the Russian mantle Kitty had put off in the warm room. “I remember making this. Such a bold idea, you had, but we made it cheap as could be. I have one myself and I’ve made a few others. Most think they’ll look too grand. That never bothered you.”
“I never saw why it should. Prepare some designs for me, Janet. In spring I intend to blossom, no matter what the world says. Now, can we beg a cup of tea so you can tell me all the local gossip?”
Janet must have sent word to some neighbors, for a number of women just happened to drop by and were thrilled to tears to hear that Kitty had done so well for herself. It turned into a lively tea party, and Kitty found herself promising to come back to Moor Street as often as she could. But then she had to say that she would mostly be living in the country.
“In a grand house,” said Sally Sand dreamily. “With an estate all around, I’m sure.”
“And deer,” Kitty said, because they were enjoying this so much. “And a lake with a temple on it.”
“A perfect heaven,” Rachel Pollard declared. “And no one could deserve it more.”
Even here, however, the women spoke of the succession, grumbling over the lack of royal grandchildren and the irresponsibility of the princes who hadn’t married.
“Even the ones who marry can’t get it right,” Janet complained. “Look at the Duke of Cumberland. Married, fair enough, and to a German princess, but to one near forty! No wonder there are no children.”
