“I remember you enjoyed overpricing him,” Abigail laughed.
Prim chuckled as well. It seemed that Abigail and Edwin had a complicated story as well. Perhaps she could trust Abigail with her burden.
“Well, he deserved it,” Madame Sybil deadpanned. “He and that terrible friend of his. The one with the blue eyes, and that arrogant smile.”
“Leo,” Abigail kept laughing. “I remember he proposed to you.”
“Three times, if I remember correctly.”
Prim’s jaw tightened, and her fingers dug in her palms. Leo proposed as a jest to random women. Or had ladies on his lap in secret mazes.
“Boys,” Madame Sybil gestured. “I am surprised to see your husband evolve into a man.”
“It was a painful process,” Abigail quipped. “Now, I would love for these beautiful ladies to have new gowns this Season from your miracle-working hands. This is my good friend, Prim Jenkins, and her sisters Camilla and Myrtle.”
Madame Sybil looked at Prim with a cold, assessing look.
“With a body and colors like that, Miss Jenkins, I can make some miracles indeed.”
“Thank you, Madame Sybil,” Prim said. “You seem like a person who wouldn’t lie just for empty compliments.”
“Your assessment is correct.
“There is a particular gentleman Prim would like to dazzle,” Abigail said helpfully.
“A lady should dress for herself,” Madame Sybil claimed.
Prim’s breath was caught, and the smile that was already fake froze on her face.A particular gentleman.Abigail was probably referring to Nathaniel. But Prim thought of Leo. But then again, Leo preferred to remove gowns rather than admire them from afar.
“I agree with Madame Sybil. One should dress for themselves.”
Madam Sybil nodded with appreciation, then led Prim to a rack with the most amazing silks. Prim decided to forget everything and everyone and enjoy herself. She would not miss the chance that was given to her and sour her friends’ and her sisters’ moods in the process.
Abigail took her by the arm, and they chose the fabrics together. And it really worked for a while. All Prim could think of was the feel of silk and satin, the intricate designs of the lace, the soft velvet.
“I think we would look good in blue,” Myrtle said in glee.
“Of course, you do,” Camilla scoffed, holding up a length of deep emerald satin to her own chin. “We have the complexion of a sun-starved milkmaid. Blue is safe. It’s expected.”
“Exactly. My plan is to be a subtle pleasant surprise at a ball, not a cardiac arrest.”
“Which I hope,” Prim looks at Camilla, “is not anyone’s plan in this family. We’ve given people enough gossip opportunities.”
“They are going to gossip anyway. I would prefer to be looking dazzling while they do.”
“I must admit, this is a wise path for a lady your age,” Abigail said.
“Society expects young ladies to be pastel, placid, and preferably silent. It’s our duty to be a thorn in its well-tailored side,” Camilla said with a glint in her eyes.
“That doesn’t mean you need to look like an eye sore while doing so,” Prim smiled.
She went to the rack of fabrics and looked for a few moments before picking an iridescent periwinkle satin.
“I must say,” Myrtle smiles. “This is not a milkmaid blue at all, is it?”
“No,” Camilla says, impressed. “This is a I-fully-intend-to-outshine-your-daughter blue.”
“Good eye,” Madame Sybil is also impressed. “Now, for the designated trouble-maker,” the modiste looks in her collection. “This green and gold.”
