‘Am I imagining it, or…’
‘You’re not imagining it. This is the exact dress from the drawing.’ Henri grinned. ‘I spent almost every waking hour after you left the chateau searching archives for it and reaching out to private collectors, and I didn’t want to just tell you. I wanted to show you.’
‘Henri, I can’t believe it,’ she gasped. ‘This is, I can’t even…’ Blake’s eyes filled with tears as she looked from the dress and back to Henri again. ‘I think this is the most incredible thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you, thank you a hundred times over.’
‘There are slight differences between the drawing and the finished dress, but I think they may have just been small adjustments that were made during the fitting process. Otherwise it’s true to the original design that was left behind.’
‘It’s beautiful,’ Blake said, lifting her hand to touch the velvet, even though she knew exactly what it would feel like. It was soft and buttery, and seemed to glide against her skin.
‘From what I’ve been able to find out, this dress was from her most popular collection, that was stocked by Les Galeries Renaud at the time.’
Les Galeries Renaud. The name had come up so many times in her search for information about Evelina. ‘It’s almost as if they were part of her career from beginning to end.’
‘I had the very same thought,’ Henri said. ‘I can only imagine that she was such a popular clothes designer for them that they wanted to see if they could recreate that success with her perfume. When the perfume rights were put up for sale after her passing, they must have acted quickly. Perhaps they were in contact with her all that time, even after she left Paris?’
‘That does seem like the most plausible explanation,’ Blake said, ‘although I suppose we’ll never know.
Henri’s expression told her that he felt the same.
‘Were there many of these dresses made?’ she asked, as she continued to study the design.
‘I believe this one was made in a few different variations, different colours, most probably, but this was the most popular.’
‘Thank you, Henri,’ she said, turning to him with tears in her eyes. ‘Just seeing this, it makes her feel real to me. It doesn’t matter that I don’t know any more than I already do, this is enough.’
‘Well, I’m pleased that you feel that way,’ he said. ‘I’m also honoured to have her dress on display here. I’d said for months that I wasn’t accepting any more submissions, and then along came a lovely English girl with a tale of her long-lost relative.’
They stood together, side by side, both staring at the dress. It was stunning even by today’s design standards, and Blake could imagine a beautiful woman in the late 1930s sashaying into a party or a restaurant, making heads turn with such a figure-hugging design, the fabric luminous under the light.
‘I do wish I could have known her, or that my grandmother could have known her,’ Blake said. ‘But to be honest, it’s just a relief knowing that someone else in my family loved fashion the way I do. That another woman in my family somehow had the talent and determination to make a name for herself, because it makes me feel that maybe, just maybe, I can make my dreams come true, too.’
‘It would have been so hard back then. Coco Chanel led the way, but for a woman to become a designer…’
‘She must have had the heart of a lion.’
They stood there for some time, before Henri closed the glass box and locked it. It reminded Blake of the little box she’d carried around for so long. How special it was that Henri had been able to create such a tribute to her. Blake almost felt as if everything had come full circle.You left a box for your daughter, and this box, Evelina, is for you.
‘Come and see the other designs,’ Henri said, taking her hand and seeming far more relaxed as they moved on to the 1940s. ‘This is one of my favourite eras, when the world stepped out from the shadow of war.’
‘Everything you’ve created here, Henri, you should be immensely proud of,’ she said. ‘You talk about stepping out of shadows, well, this is what you’ve done, too.’
The way he looked at her, she knew she’d said something that truly resonated with him; that perhaps he hadn’t even known she’d understood the way he felt about his career.
‘Your mother is one of the best fashion editors France has ever known, but you, Henri Toussaint, you are an incredible curator. I’m so proud of you.’
Blake touched her palm to his cheek and stared into his eyes. He didn’t need to say anything for her to know how much her words had meant to him.
She kissed him, smiling against his mouth as he wrapped his arms around her and twirled her beneath the bright lights of his soon-to-be-opened exhibition.
‘Do you know who would love this?’ Blake said, as she caught her breath.
‘A very special older woman from London?’
‘Don’t tell me you’ve already invited Mathilda?’ Blake asked.
‘When you told me that you’d promised to keep her informed about your search, I knew that I had to invite her here to see Evelina’s iconic dress.’
‘Please tell me she said yes?’
