At that, the girl quieted. Her expression held wariness, and when Amelia stepped forward, at least her stepdaughter followed. Glancing back at Christine, she asked, “Who created the gowns you’re wearing?”
Christine gripped her skirts, her face holding wariness. “They were my mother’s, from when she was a girl. I have no need of new clothes, since I have everything she wore.”
It was now becoming clear that the girl was clinging as hard to the past as her father.
“Do you remember your mother at all? What was she like?” Amelia prompted.
“I was five when she died. I hardly remember her at all,” Christine admitted. She sniffed and blew her nose in the handkerchief. “But Papa told me stories about her. And sometimes, if I close my eyes tight enough, I can remember what it felt like to be in her arms. She did love me.”
There was a deep hunger for affection in the girl’s voice. “So does your father,” Amelia offered. “You mean the world to him.” She opened the door to the first shop and waited for Christine to follow. “I’m trying to talk him into staying with us over the summer.”
“He won’t,” the girl insisted. “He’s too busy traveling. I ask him every year, and he always says no.” She sniffled again and sneezed.
Amelia guessed the earl was avoiding the house, and a thought occurred to her. “When did your mother die?”
“Six years ago,” Christine answered.
“Was it in the summertime?” Amelia walked over to look at a few bolts of fabric, keeping her voice low.
Her stepdaughter nodded. “In July.”
Amelia didn’t bother asking if Katherine had died at Castledon. Undoubtedly she had, particularly if the earl was avoiding this place every summer. It likely brought back bad memories.
To change the subject, she held up a bolt of rose muslin. “This is lovely. We could have a new dress made for you, and a ribbon of the same color for your hair.”
“I told you, I don’t need anything new to wear.”
But Amelia didn’t miss the way the girl’s attention drifted to a bolt of lilac muslin. On impulse, she saw a length of deep violet ribbon and beckoned for the shopkeeper to approach. There was nothing Amelia enjoyed more than bargaining, particularly when it came to shopping. Perhaps it was because her family had endured poverty in the years her father had been fighting in the war. Although Aphrodite’s Unmentionables had made it possible for herto buy new gowns and ribbons without worrying about the cost, she still couldn’t bring herself to break old habits.
After the shopkeeper offered her the ribbon for one shilling, Amelia shook her head and sighed. “That is not at all the price they would charge for such ribbon in London.” To Christine, she added, “Now you must be careful whilst shopping, to ensure that you do not pay more than the ribbon is worth.”
“It’s quite a fair price, my lady,” the shopkeeper protested. The man appeared indignant that she would question him, until Amelia sent him a sly smile.
“For those who do not know better, I am sure you are right.” Then she returned to the lilac muslin. “Now, the purple ribbon would make an excellent trim if I were to purchase four yards of this material. Lady Christine will need new gowns, and I know you would not try to ask too high of a price.”
His eyes gleamed as he understood the game. “Perhaps if she also requires a new bonnet, we could come to an understanding on the price.”
Amelia sent him an answering smile. “There may be some items I will choose for myself. But only as long as we remain in discussion about how you’re going to lower the prices for me.”
The man now appeared delighted, and he invited them to look around more. “Why don’t you find what else is to your liking, and I’m certain we can agree upon a price that satisfies both of us?”
“We don’t need any of this,” Christine argued, sneezing again. “And why would you ask him to change the prices?”
“Has no one ever taken you shopping before?” she asked. When the girl shook her head, Amelia saw the bewilderment there.
“Well, Lady Christine, you are about to learn one of the joys of being a woman.”
They spent the remainder of the day exploring the village, and Amelia purchased several bolts of muslin and lengths of ribbon for the young girl. She also arranged for a dressmaker to come to Castledon the next day to measure Christine for the new clothing. When they had finished for the day, the girl looked as if she was about to fall asleep. She leaned her head against the back of the carriage seat with a heavy sigh.
“Are you feeling all right?” Amelia asked. “You look tired.”
“It’s nothing,” Christine insisted, sniffling again. “But we didn’t need most of those things. My father will be very cross with you for buying so much.”
“You will need all of it when you accompany us to London next Season,” Amelia said. “And once the new gowns are ready, you will love them, I promise you.”
“Ilikewearing my mother’s clothes,” the girl insisted.
“There is nothing wrong with that.” Amelia kept her voice gentle, knowing it was Christine’s way of holding on to a piece of her mother. “But it’s nice to have new things as well.”
