“Oh, I’ve longed to see the new dress patterns.” Miss Doyle sighed, smoothing her hands over the new bolts of fabric. “And the colors! So vibrant.” Her own gown’s fabric was faded to an indeterminate shade of gray the same shade of her hair. Her pale skin was nearly translucent in the lamplight, and she sported fine lines at the corners of her eyes.
Miss Singh, a taller, visibly younger woman with a dark completion and very large eyes, though colorless, as was typical of vampires, reviewed the pattern books avidly. “How glad I am that hoops and crinoline have decreased. But what shall we do about the tail that the gowns now require?”
“Certainly, some people will not wish a dramatic bustle,” Miss Doyle said, glancing anxiously at Sparrow and Genevieve. “Perhaps simply a pad of some sort, to give the correct shape?”
“I’m sure that would serve very well,” Genevieve said. “If there is a high demand for bustles that we can’t supply before the ball, I’m sure we could order whatever we lack.”
Both dressmakers froze.
“From…a human establishment?” Miss Doyle ventured tentatively.
Miss Singh huffed. “No, from a djinn. Of course human, Margaret.” However, her expression remained dubious.
Genevieve exchanged a look with Sparrow. “Would that be a problem?”
“Oh, no!” Miss Doyle exclaimed hurriedly, a waxen smile stretching across her face. “No, no. Of course not. We would never dream of questioning…” She swallowed.
“I should have phrased that better,” Genevieve amended. “I should have said, ‘I would like to know your thoughts on the subject.’”
Sparrow sent her a subtle nod.
Miss Doyle worried at her lower lip.
Miss Singh sighed and said, “We have always been instructed by our maker that vampires and humans shouldn’t mix.”
“I see,” Genevieve said.
Certain vampires—such as Godfrey, Dominic’s maker—thought vampires should maintain a separate existence from human society. They never took into account how feasible that actually was with vampires’ need to feed. Or how such beliefs conflicted with their actual lifestyles, such as in Godfrey’s case, with a human household that supported them.
However, that was only one outlook. There were those like Dominic, who understood humans were necessary to their survival and functioning in a household, and subsequently took care of those who took care of them. There were those like Laurent and Cuthbert, who loved causing chaos and pain and viewed humans only as playthings and food. Then there were the puppeteers who wished to move other vampires and humans according to their whims like pieces on a chess board. Genevieve had acquired a much closer acquaintance with the first and last groups since she and Kendrick had begun to make what she privately thought as “lord and lady of the manor” trips to all the known large vampiric households in London.
Though she privately wondered,Where do you think all the fabric came from?she did not say that.The women could very well have been subject to their makers’ opinions and foibles, just as she and Elspeth had been. Disobeying could have resulted in their punishment—and still could, she noted cautiously. Tart rejoinders would not serve here. Instead, she gathered her thoughts and said, “There are many opinions on the subject, but I do believe that interacting with humans is healthful and, in many cases, necessary to maintain control over one’s urges. When we stop seeing humans as people, we lose our way and can give in to the madness.”
“Was it a command from your maker to avoid mixing with humans?” Sparrow asked gently.
“No, no, not a command,” Miss Doyle said hurriedly. “Not…as such.”
“Rest assured that if we need to purchase foundation garments from humans, the expense will be part of the Ossuary’s budget, and Sparrow will facilitate the purchase,” Genevieve said. “However, if you do ever find yourself encountering…trouble because of a lingering command from your maker, we are always available to mediate those issues.”
“Thank you,” Miss Singh said quietly, her eyes flicking up and away.
Genevieve nodded and turned the conversation towards the seamstresses’ workspace and upcoming fittings, but she exchanged a subtle glance with Sparrow.
Sparrow nodded, making a note on her writing tablet to have one of their newly selected mentors check on the women and their relationship with their maker.
After checking on the other Ossuary projects in progress, Genevieve hurried home along the corridors that led to Carmine House’s cellar. As she approached, the cellar door swung open with some force, banging into the wall.
Genevieve froze.
Someone carrying a stack of hatboxes higher than their head walked through the doorway. As the figure turned and awkwardly reached for the door to shut it, Genevieve realized it was Elspeth.
Her held breath escaped in a choked gurgle.
Elspeth looked up. “Oh! Genevieve. I didn’t see you.”
“How could you, with all those boxes?” Genevieve said faintly.
“These hats were supposed to go to the millinery station, but they got left behind. I’m just delivering them to the hatters.”
