“My clothes are fashionable,” Liberty protested. “Elegant even,” she added when both women looked at her.
“I know they are, dear, but still you are unwed.”
“Mother!” Liberty protested.
“Good luck, Miss Battlemore,” her mother then whispered on her way back out the door.
“Remove your dress if you please. I wish to study your figure.”
There was a trace of an accent there, but Liberty didn’t think it wasFrench like a lot of the seamstresses in London.
Helen started unbuttoning her dress from behind. “She looks like a right one,” her maid whispered.
“You will not leave me alone with her,” Liberty whispered back while Miss Battlemore opened her large bag after lowering it to a side table.
“Clothing should enhance not hide,” Miss Battlemore declared, coming to study Liberty now clad in only her chemise. She then walked around her twice, and then did so again the other way, her eyes running up and down Liberty’s body. “You will wear my creations adequately,” the woman then declared.
Over the next thirty minutes she was measured, looked at from all angles, and draped in materials. Helen was enlisted and any fear she’d had of Miss Battlemore had soon eased, and she was happy to discuss styles with the woman.
“Do I get a say in any of this?” Liberty felt she needed to ask.
“Tell me, Lady Liberty, when you were last fitted for your dresses, did you tell them you wished for colors that accentuated your lovely hair?”
“I do dress in colors that suit my hair,” Liberty protested.
“My dresses will promote it, as they will your lovely figure.”
It was not often someone said her hair was lovely.
She nodded, unsure what to add to that. Ten minutes later Miss Battlemore had gone, promising to have a dress ready in time for the Talbot ball.
“Mother wants to speak to you in Father’s office,” Edward said, appearing in her doorway.
“About what?”
“I don’t know, but brace yourself. She looks angry. My guess is she heard about the chess game.”
“Botheration,” Liberty muttered. “I thought I’d got away with that as it was two days ago now.”
“Yes, well, good luck. I’m for the kitchens. I believe biscuits have just been baked.”
“You don’t want to support me?”
“Definitely not,” her brother said.
“At least bring me a biscuit back. I’ll likely need it,” Liberty muttered.
He kissed her cheek and left. Liberty sometimes wished she had Edward’s life. He’d marry whomever he wanted one day, and could really do as he wished without repercussions.
“Such is the life of a woman,” she muttered, heading for her father’s study.
The door was open, and her mother stood behind her father, who was seated at his desk. The picture was one of solidarity, which didn’t bode well for Liberty.
“You wished to see me?” Liberty said as she walked inside.
“Close the door, daughter,” her father said.
She did as she was asked.
