She was still wearing her oldest clothes when they drove into the village. It wasn’t as if she wore her Sunday best for housecleaning, and she didn’t have anything else until the laundry dried. Once upon a time, she’d had a dozen frocks to choose from. These days, she settled for two interchangeable black bombazines for working in. The worn muslin she wore now required several shawls and a cloak if she meant not to freeze in the unheated shop.
Rafe had left his ex-convict minding the inn desk. As both bailiff and innkeeper, Rafe had twice the work of any man in Gravesyde. For Rafe’s sake, she hoped Mr. Parsons truly had turned over a new leaf and wasn’t robbing him blind.
Dressed in what apparently passed for her oldest clothes—a sprigged cotton with green ribbons instead of lace on the bodice—Lavender greeted Kate’s arrival with relief. “If we can set up this window with some fashion books, we might attract customers wanting a bit of new for Easter. I’ve asked Rafe if we might hold a tea for our opening.”
“That will help people to understand the pub, as well as the shop, is open to all. Rafe should be delighted.” Kate knew the men wanted Monk’s Tavern for themselves. Rafe’s pub was more suitable for women and families.
Sorting through the various fashion sketches that might interest local women was far more interesting than dusting furniture. When they had those chosen, they began choosing trinkets and ribbons to catch the eye.
“What on earth is that rolling into town?” Lavender exclaimed some time later, leaning over the table to stare out the bay window overlooking the inn yard and the main road into the village.
Standing to one side, Kate peered out. Two unwieldy carts, one of them covered like Henri’s peddler’s wagon, the other piled high with luggage, and both straining their teams with an assortment of colorfully garbed people, hesitated in front of the inn, before turning with some difficulty down the road toward Kate’s home. . . and Sutter Hall.
On the back of the open cart sat two. . . men. . . in garish pink and green coats with striped scarves and insanely tall hats bearing gay ribbons. They waved at the inn as the cart rumbled away, as if they knew they were being watched.
Of course they were being watched. Who wouldn’t notice a circus coming to town? Kate sighed. “Damien must have told Jacques his thespian friends can rent the Hall for rehearsals. I suspect Damien imagined stiff-necked Shakespearian actors.”
Lavender laughed and waved back, as if the pair could see her. “Jolly fun! I’ve never seen a circus. Or a play. Perhaps they will invite us to watch.”
She turned back to designing her window. Ideas poured out of the child faster than Kate could keep up. Working with her brain instead of her hands was so refreshing, that she almost matched Lavender’s enthusiasm.
“I need hat stands!” Lavender cried as they decided to arrange linen over the table in front of the mullioned window. “How can I show off our bonnets if they just lay there limp?”
Kate studied the plaster overhead. “Do you think one of the men might have small hooks they can install in the ceiling? Then we could tie ribbon around the hooks and pin it to the bonnets and let them dangle?”
“Oh, yes! That will leave room for more ribbons on the table. Brilliant. Let me find Rafe.” Lavender raced off to annoy her new landlord.
Kate stuffed old papers into the bonnets to fill them out. On his trips to Birmingham, Henri purchased old hats and bonnets others had discarded. Vivien and Odila reshaped them, lined them with muslin, and then everyone adorned the brims with ribbons and lace and any ornaments they’d rescued from other bonnets.
If Lavender meant to display hats, she probably ought to bring in Odila or Vivien as shop clerk rather than Mrs. Young, who only covered buttons. But Odila and Vivien were young and quick on their feet and didn’t mind climbing the hill.
Except Vivien was currently limping. Hmmm. . .
Preferring not to consider the manipulative goosecap, Kate returned to stuffing hats and studying the tables. Running a shop required exhaustive preparation. Having spent the better part of her life organizing all the details of a busy household, and then managing the sewing room, Kate had practice in planning ahead.
She made notes in the notebook she’d learned to carry to keep all Lavender’s ideas from bouncing away. Glancing out the window again, she grimaced at the sight of Vivien’s limping approach on the arm of the new hardware clerk. Poor boy, if she set her snares for him. He had to walk in the mud while helping Vivien’s daintily-shod feet and walking stick balance on the boards Rafe had laid out to mark the new walkway he meant to install.
Kate sighed and wondered if she might vanish when it became apparent from the direction of their voices in the lobby that the pair weren’t going into the pub.
“I was looking for Miss Marlowe.” Entering and glancing around with a moue of disapproval, the chit sniffed at finding Kate alone. “I gather your lunatic didn’t cripple you yesterday.”
“I am quite well, thank you for your concern,” Kate said with only a hint of irony. “Miss Marlowe is busy. May I tell her you wished to speak with her?” Kate hoped the girl meant to quit to get married, but her luck never ran that way.
“I’ll wait here. I’m sure she will appreciate my ideas for the shop. I worked at a modiste’s and know all the latest notions. She’ll need a wall of French fashion dolls and books on those shelves.” Vivien indicated the bookshelves Damien had left behind.
Kate continued working with the bonnets. The manor ladies visited Lavender and the sewing room when they wanted new. The shop was meant for the village women, none of whom could afford or even use French fashions. But the girl could dream, if she liked.
“Her clerks ought to be modeling the latest styles,” Viv continued, while the gangling hardware clerk stood against a wall, looking out of place.
Kate practically choked on a snort. Vivien was obviously picturing herself as that fashion plate in an expensive gown even Lavender wouldn’t wear. “Perhaps you ought to apply at a modiste’s in London,” she suggested instead. “You are obviously underappreciated in this backwater.”
“When I have sufficient funds, I shall certainly do so,” the girl said stiffly. “I will need a wardrobe and travel funds first. Feeding my sister’s children obviously comes first.”
Mr. Jasper appeared a little startled at that revelation. Good. He should know Vivien’s intentions.
“Glad to hear that,” Kate said sincerely. “Children cannot easily fend for themselves. How are they liking school?”
Swinging her walking stick, Viven shrugged. “They’re dull louts and don’t like starting in a class with babies.” She brightened at the sound of Lavender’s excited voice in the hall.
