The seamstress folded her arms. “And your father, does he want you to help him run this factory?”
“He and my brothers will—but I’ve convinced him my talents are better served by taking over the secondhand trade.”
Miss Narayan nodded thoughtfully, and turned back to Maddie. “What is it precisely you are asking of me?”
Maddie smiled softly. “Alterations. At whatever price you care to name.”
Mr. Samson broke in. “I’ve told Miss Crewe there’s no better seamstress in Carrisford. Particularly if you’re working with delicate fabrics and eveningwear. But more than that: we needed someone we could trust.” He swallowed, lifting his chin. “And I’d put my life in your good hands, Miss Narayan, if you asked it.”
The seamstress’s eyes widened. “And if I need time?”
“Then I’ll wait.” He smiled, as she stared. “As long as you need. I’ll wait.”
Miss Narayan’s soft lips parted on a sigh that was too soft for Maddie to hear.
“Whatweneed,” Maddie said eventually into the silence, “is six identical gowns. What we have—are these.” She waved at the wealth of fabric heaped on Emma’s worktable, a heap of Pomona green frocks and flounces in a dizzying variety of fabrics. Silks and satins mostly, with a few cotton and muslin dresses. The more one looked, the more the difference in the dyes became pronounced: one having slightly more yellow, another slightly more blue.
Miss Narayan cast one last searing glance at Mr. Samson then moved forward, sorting thoughtfully through the chaos of fabric.
“This hue was extremely popular last season,” Mr. Samson explained, after clearing his throat, “so there were plenty of castoff gowns to choose from. And Mrs. Money seems like the kind of woman to be fashionable, but not to the point of buying a completely new wardrobe every season.” His smile hitched up on one side as his voice turned wry. “Especially in a backwater like Carrisford, where nobody of significance is around to see her.”
“Nobody but all of us,” Miss Narayan said drily, and tilted her head. “How much scrutiny are they expected to withstand? If they must look identical side by side it will be a very different amount of work than if they are passing on opposite sides of the street.”
“Let us say: as identical as you’d make them if they were on a theater stage,” Maddie said.
Miss Narayan’s smile widened. “That gives us a little flexibility,” she said, and rubbed her hands together.
“And you won’t be working alone,” Maddie said. “My friend Emma will be helping—she’s as quick with a needle as anyone you’re likely to find, though most of her experience is in garment construction rather than alterations. And she’ll be making slippers to match.”
“Only one final question,” Miss Narayan said. “How much time do I have?”
“One week,” Maddie said softly.
The seamstress snorted. “You just added fifty percent to my rates, if that’s how fast I’ve got to work.”
“Done,” Maddie said.
Emma was out with John and Cat for her evening off, so Maddie helped Miss Narayan—“Call me Gita, since we’re now in league together”—consider the whole of the project. They began sorting through the gowns, comparing sizes, embellishment, length, and color. “We need one to be presentable very close up, a garment some fine lady would wear in the evening if she wanted to look impressive—but the others can be less precise.”
“One true bride, and five imposters,” Gita said, with a chuckle. “Well, that makes things simpler... Do you have any trimming around I could use? Any ribbon or lace or silk scrap? Gold or silver, for preference.”
Maddie ran up and came down with a quarter bolt of gold silk.
Gita stopped and stared at the richness of the silk, liquid and smooth and enchanting. “Where on earth did you come by this?”
Maddie swallowed. “It’s all that’s left of the last broadcloth my mother wove, before she died. I’ve been saving it for something special.”
Gita peered at her. “Wouldn’t you prefer to make this into something you could wear?”
Maddie bit her lip, and shook her head. “My mother lived and died believing that what we did together was more important than what each of us did alone. She might not approve of the crime aspect, but I know she’d be proud we could use some of her work to make life better for everyone in Carrisford.” She stroked one hand down the silk, then pushed it into Gita’s hands. “That’s more important than whether or not one person looks pretty.”
Gita looked askance at this, but accepted the fabric with no further objection. Within an hour, the seamstress had sketched out a plan for the taking apart and reassembling of the various gowns into things that would more or less look similar. This skirt with this bodice, that neckline in the other fabric—it was all a bit dizzying but it gave Maddie hope the scheme would work. “The trim is the key,” Gita said, tapping the gold silk. “If you put the same embellishment on the same places in all the gowns, most people won’t look too closely at the fabrics unless they’re given a reason.” She narrowed her eyes at Maddie. “So whatever you do, don’t give them a reason.”
“I’ll do my best,” Maddie promised, and heard Cat’s voice and John’s and Emma’s laughter as the trio returned home. “Now let me introduce you to everyone else, and we can get to work.”
Chapter Sixteen
Show up after sunset,Sophie’s note had said. So Maddie had worked on her attic loom until the last fingers of daylight slipped below the horizon, then grabbed a quick supper and walked the dusky streets to the Roseingraves’ shop. It was one of those nights where the fog poured in from the sea, and the streets were filled with curling wisps like fingers reaching out to grasp the unwary. Maddie walked fast enough that she sweat a little beneath her cloak, and had to pause to catch her breath outside the instrument shop window.
