Chapter Ten
The Mayfair modiste. If there was a worse place in the civilized world to spend an afternoon, Lady Elizabeth Whitmoreland didn’t know where it was. Oh, she supposed torture or war would be worse in an objective sort of way, but wasn’t being poked and prodded and endlessly measured its own sort of torture?
While she’d never enjoyed going to the modiste, these days it was particularly excruciating because she had an entire wardrobe to procure. Ballgowns and day dresses and shifts and stockings and stays and hats and reticules and ribbons. All the accoutrements for a young lady about to make her debut. And all a lot of silly nonsense if you asked Eliza. How many day dresses did one person need? Certainly not a round dozen, which was how many Mama had ordered for her. And those were in addition to the dresses she’d ordered for Jessa. Why, Justin’s house would be overrun with day dresses. And if the day dresses seemed excessive, the number of ballgowns on order was ludicrous.
Meanwhile, Jessa flitted about the shop crooning over ribbons and stroking silks as if her wildest dreams were coming true. Eliza steadfastly detested being fussed over. And the modiste’s shop was as fussy as fussy got. Nothing made her more impatient than standing on a short wooden stool while Mama and Jessica and the modiste debated whether pink or violet was a more fetching color for a piece of trim around the bottom of a gown. First, Eliza preferred green. Not violet and certainly not pink. Green was a sensible color. Not overly romantic or fancy. The color of trees and shrubs and practical, useful things. To date, she’d only ever been allowed one green gown, and she was already scheming for ways to wear it every day.
Speaking of schemes, Eliza had tried a variety of them to extricate herself from the endless trips to the modiste, the most convincing—in her humble opinion—being that Jessa was her identical twin and couldn’t they just make two of everything using Jessa as the model? Instead of being hailed as the obvious genius that it was, however, the idea had merely made Mama raise her eyebrow in that frightening manner that meant she was quite through with Eliza’s mischief-making. It made Jessica blink at her sadly and say, “Oh, Eliza, don’t you want to pick out all the lovely bits?”
She did not, in fact, want to pick out all the lovely bits, or any of the bits for that matter, but given the state of Mama’s eyebrow, Eliza had resigned herself to come along. The only thing worse than being poked at was trying to dodge the question for the hundredth time when Mama asked her when she intended to choose a lady’s maid for the Season.
Eliza had no intention of hiring a lady’s maid. Why would she intentionally make it someone’s profession to pick at her, poke at her, drape her in fabrics and jewels and yank at her hair? No, thank you. She detested having her hair up. It only served to make one’s neck cold. But Mama refused to listen to such sensible arguments. Regardless, Eliza intended to stay exactly as she’d always been, sans lady’s maid. She’d lived to the age of eighteen without a maid, and she would continue to do so. Jessa could have a maid and enjoy the experience. Eliza would prefer to find a quiet spot and read.
Which is precisely why she found herself hiding behind a row of fabric swaths when Jessica greeted Lady Henrietta Hazelton and her mother, who had apparently entered the shop.
After the niceties were exchanged, including much talk about how lovely the Hazeltons’ Twelfth Night Ball the previous night had been, Lady Hazelton said, “Yes, well, after we finish here, we’re off to the employment agency. Henrietta requires a new lady’s maid.”
“Does she?” Mama replied, obvious interest in her voice. “So does my Eliza. I’ve half a mind to send her with you.”
Elizabeth winced and scrunched down further behind the swaths, hoping Mama didn’t notice her.
“Why are you looking for a new maid, Henrietta?” Jessica asked in her bright, friendly voice.
“I had to dismiss my previous maid last night, during the party, actually,” Henrietta replied, disgust in her tone.
“Really!” exclaimed Mama. “That’s awful.”
“What happened?” Jessica prodded.
Eliza shook her head. Leave it to Jessica to prod.
“The most egregious thing,” Henrietta continued. “I discovered she’d stolen a diamond earbob from me.”
“Oh, my goodness!” Jessica exclaimed.
“Yes,” Henrietta continued, “and when I went to confront her, I found she’d stolen a gown and slippers too. Turns out, she sneaked down to the ball and pretended to be a guest. Can you imagine?”
“No!” came Mama’s horrified voice.
“Yes,” Lady Hazelton replied in an equally horrified tone. “Such a shame. She seemed like a nice young lady when we hired her.” She let out a long, loud sigh. “It’s so difficult to find good help.”
“Yes, well, best of luck,” Mama said as the two other women left the store.
“Don’t let your sister hear that story,” Mama said to Jessica when she thought they were alone. “She’ll use it to argue with me about not hiring a maid.”
Eliza had to smile at that. Her mother was perfectly correct. But she didn’t wait to hear whether Mama said more. Instead, Eliza slipped away from the swaths to follow Henrietta and her mother out of the shop. The two other ladies were about to climb back into their waiting coach when Eliza stopped them.
“Oh, Henrietta,” she called, clasping her white-gloved hands together in front of her.
Henrietta turned. “Yes?”
Eliza hurried toward her, tossing a glance behind her to ensure Mama and Jessica were still in the shop. “I, er, I wanted to ask…that is to say…would you mind terribly telling me…what is your maid’s name?”
“My maid?” Henrietta repeated, frowning. “The one I sacked?”
“Yes.” Eliza nodded, feeling like a fool, but entirely determined to see this through. “I overheard the story you told Mama and Jessica inside.” She might be awkward, but she was also convinced she already knew the answer and wanted to ensure she was correct. There was no other way around it than to ask Henrietta directly.
Henrietta’s eyes narrowed. Suspicion covered her long features. “Why do you want to know?”
