He saw the pearls among them and his face darkened. He carefully separated them from the tangle of jewelry she’d given him and dumped them back in her lap.
“I might agree to sell some of your precious trinkets, but not these,” he growled. “There is a limit.”
“Didn’t you listen to a thing I said?” she began.
“I listened to everything,” he said shortly. “And I’ll sell these other blasted bits and bobs, since you insist—though it goes very much against the grain. But the pearls your father gave you for your sixteenth birthday are not for sale. They are for your daughter, or your granddaughter. You will not sacrifice everything, dammit!”
He stalked out of the room, leaving her with a lap full of pearls and a lump in her throat.
In the morning they woke to soft, steady drizzle. The weather would not affect the shoppers, but the plans to take Nicky and Jim for a riding lesson in the park had to be postponed. However, as a visit to the Tower of London to see the wild beasts, followed by an excursion to Astley’s Amphitheatre was to take its place, the boys were not too cast down.
Lady Gosforth had sent for Giselle, her own mantua maker, to come and measure up Callie and Tibby, and to choose designs for the wedding dress and other dresses.
Giselle, an elegant, acidic-looking Frenchwoman, had flung up her hands in horror. “Maismilady,ce n’est pas possible—such short notice!”
Lady Gosforth raised an eyebrow. “Not even for a royal wedding, Giselle—the ‘secret’ royal wedding of Princess Caroline of Zindaria?” She made a careless gesture. “In that case we will have to call on Madame—”
Giselle visibly melted. “Aroyalwedding?Non, non.I speak without thinking,” Giselle said hastily, her sharp black eyes assessing Callie swiftly. “I have just recall that I ’ave a cancellation. I ’ave assistants to take care of other matters.” She snapped her fingers and the assistant leapt forward with the tape measure. “I will devote myself to the princess.”
Callie and Tibby were caught up in a whirlwind of designs and choices. Callie had to be firm, refusing to order the number of dresses Giselle and Lady Gosforth assured her was necessary.
Giselle soon regretted her sudden cancellation, as the princess seemed regrettably uninterested in the latest kick of fashion.
“They are too heavily ornamented,” Callie insisted. “Look, this design looks more like a wedding cake than a dress.”
But after some discussion, they finally were able to agree on the design for her wedding dress. It was to be was made of café au lait satin, very simply cut with a little lace at the sleeves and neck. Giselle became passionate about a border of frilled and plaited white and coffee satin around the hem, neck, and entirely covering the short sleeves, but Callie put her foot down. She agreed to a plaited border, but no frills.
“I don’t want to look dowdy and unfashionable,” she told them, “but my dresses will be of my own choosing. And not frilly. I am not a frilly person.”
Giselle gave a sniff that indicated she entirely agreed. It was not a compliment. Royalty, the sniff gave them to understand, was not what it used to be.
They visited silk warehouses with Giselle, where they selected dozens of lengths of fabric to be made up. She and Tibby tried them out, holding up swathe after swathe of colored material—silk and satin for Callie, Tibby stubbornly maintaining she needed bombazine, cotton, and wool.
They preened like young girls over all the colors, and Callie bullied Tibby into a blue silk dress for her wedding, saying, “It brings out the color of your eyes, Tibby,” and then unguardedly, “Oh, Ethan will love that on you!”
Poor Tibby blushed furiously and put the blue silk aside. Callie ordered it secretly.
She felt dreadful about her slip. Tibby had atendrefor the big Irishman, she knew, but they both knew there was no possibility of a match between two such different people with such different backgrounds. It had been careless and cruel of her to suggest there could be anything between them.
Callie ordered dresses in bright, brilliant colors; morning dresses in rose and green and peach. She ordered a walking dress of green and gold cambric and another in sky blue; an emerald pelisse with scarlet and white trimmings; a blue spencer with white satin frogging that quite wrung her heart, it was so beautiful.
Her favorite of all her new purchases was a scarlet cloak in fine wool with a hood and black silk velvet trim, to replace the cloak she’d left on the ship. She held the fabric up against her and examined it in the looking glass, and heard,You look like a delicious bonbon wrapped in that red thingummy…
She flushed at the memory and was about to choose a green fabric instead, but changed her mind. She’d never worn scarlet before. Why let his words stop her? Besides, she liked feeling like a bonbon.
They bought stockings in silk and cotton; ordered new corsets and purchased chemises, petticoats, drawers, and nightgowns.
“You aren’t going to buy those!” Lady Gosforth exclaimed at one point.
“Yes, why not?” Callie had selected several cotton nightgowns and one of flannel. “They will last well and be warm.”
Lady Gosforth was so shocked she could not speak for a full minute. “One doesn’t buy a nightgown for warmth and durability! Not at your age, and not when you are about to become a bride!”
“I do,” Callie said firmly and bought the nightgowns she’d chosen.
Lady Gosforth gave a sniff that outdid Giselle’s in scorn for the state of royalty today, but Callie didn’t care.
She wanted to splurge on the sort of clothes she’d craved, but was also aware of the need to conserve them and to have as flexible a wardrobe as possible. She was having fun. And she was answerable to no one. It was a heady feeling.
