Tessa didn’t know which surprised her more, being given the final choice, or being called Lady Gosforth’s niece.
Needing two habits, Tessa made her next choice bolder: claret colored wool, with silver facings and slightly military-looking ornamentation not unlike a hussar’s uniform.This time, Lady Gosford gave her a thoughtful glance, then nodded briskly.
Then it was on to order riding boots.Tessa had been wearing Lady Gosforth’s old ones, but they were too big, and the old lady insisted she needed new ones—again by the bootmaker who had supplied the Renfrew family for generations.
After the bootmaker’s appointment they stopped for refreshments at Gunter’s, a place Tessa had long wanted to visit but had never been given the chance.While Lady Gosforth and her dresser—Bragge sat outside: servants did not partake of tea with their employers—drank tea and nibbled on almond biscuits, Tessa ate her first ever ice—brown bread ice studded with brandied cherries.It was delicious.
Next was the dressmaker.Tessa braced herself.She’d always hated being fitted by dressmakers.With her husbands present and making all the decisions, she’d felt like a doll being dressed.She never wanted to feel that powerless again.
“Well, where is this mantua maker of yours?”Lady Gosforth asked her.“You’ll need to tell the driver where to go.”
Tessa blinked.She had no idea.She was just about to admit it when Bragge leaned forward and said, diffidently, “It’s just off Piccadilly, m’lady.Shall I give the John Coachman the directions?”
Lady Gosforth directed her lorgnette at her dresser.“You know of this new dressmaker, Bragge?”
“I like to keep up with the developments in fashion,” Bragge said demurely.“Miss Chance has an excellent reputation.”
Tessa smiled gratefully at Bragge.
The old lady waved an indifferent hand.“Very well, Bragge, tell the driver where to go.”
#
THE HOUSE OF CHANCEwas a small, elegant-looking shop just off Piccadilly.The front window was quite bare, with a single long white satin glove draped elegantly over a stand, and green velvet behind.The window bore the name CHANCE in elegant gold lettering, and the stylized design of a daisy.
Inside, it was all green and cream, deep, soft carpet, velvet curtains, and several elegant, velvet-covered sofas and chairs.Very fashionable.Tessa heaved a surreptitious sigh of relief.
A young woman appeared from between the curtains at the back of the room.Bragge gave her Lady Gosforth’s card, and she disappeared, saying, “Miss Chance will be with you shortly.”
The woman who emerged was short, quietly but stylishly dressed and walked with a decided limp.And when she greeted them, her accent, much to everyone’s surprise, was pure Cockney.She made no attempt at all to mimic a French accent, as had every dressmaker Tessa had ever visited.
Lady Gosforth stiffened.Tessa braced herself, hoping that the old lady would not say something to embarrass Miss Chance.She liked the little lady’s friendliness and lack of pretension.
But though the old lady’s disapproval was obvious, Miss Chance seemed not to notice.She questioned Tessa about what she wanted—Lady Gosforth sitting in a silent cloud of aristocratic disdain, and Bragge in nervous dread—and drew forth some bound booklets containing drawings of some of the dresses she’d made.
“I like these very much” Tessa told Miss Chance.They were simple, but beautifully stylish and there was something unusual about them.Tessa wasn’t up on the latest fashion, but she could tell these were both up to the minute and at the same time, original.
“Right then, Lady Hewitt, let’s get you measured up,” the little lady said, and ushered her behind the curtain, where it was still clean and neat, but more workmanlike than luxurious.Sending an assistant out to offer Lady Gosforth sherry, champagne or tea, she had two more assistants taking Tessa’s measurements.
“I’m sorry about my, um, friend’s rudeness—” she began, but Miss Chance chuckled.
“Don’t worry about it.They often start like that—a Cockney cripple?”she said in a horrified faux aristocratic accent.“But when they see me clothes, they soon come around.And if they don’t”—she shrugged—“it don’t bother me.I’ve got plenty of customers.Now, you mentioned a trousseau, so you’re gettin’ married?”
Tessa nodded.
“‘Ave you thought about a wedding dress?”
“Not really.I thought I’d just wear one of my new dresses.I ...I’ve been married before, you see.I’m a widow.”
Miss Chance gave her a thoughtful look.“So, you don’t want white then?”
“No.And there’s not much time, either.The wedding is in three weeks’ time.”
“Right then, ‘ow about a dress in a nice soft violet color.It’ll match your eyes perfect.I’ve got a lovely length of silk here.A lace or gauze overdress’d soften the color even more, and you could use the dress—and the overdress—separately.I’ve got one here a bit similar in pink.Of course, yours won’t be the same—all my designs are unique—but this’ll give you the idea.”She rummaged through a rack containing dresses hanging up and pulled out a pink dress with a lace overlay.It was very pretty, if a little fussier than Tessa liked.
“I’d keep yours simple with a gauze overdress instead of lace, with just a few touches of embroidery.For the wedding I’d make a small train, not so long that you’ll need a string of bridesmaids to carry it, but it’ll look elegant, and it can be removed later by your maid.”
Tessa thought about it.It might be a small wedding, but though she’d prefer a simple dress, she knew Lady Gosforth was champing at the bit, fretting about what she was already calling a “hole in the corner” wedding.“I think the violet silk and the gauze would be perfect,” she said.“My betrothed’s aunt”—she nodded toward the waiting room and lowered her voice—“is very concerned that I look my best.”Really, she was hoping Tessa wouldn’t disgrace them all.
