“No. She thought London needed an authentic French modiste to help the women keep ahead of the rest in their dress.”
Harriet nodded. “She must be extremely popular and in demand.”
“Yes, she is. Sometimes one must wait months to get in to see her,” Daphne replied. “In fact, I don’t believe she’s taking on new clients.”
The carriage began to slow down. Harriet looked outside to see if it was traffic or if they were arriving at the modiste’s shop. She didn’t have an idea of where the modiste was located so she couldn’t be sure.
“We’ve arrived,” Daphne announced. She reached across to Harriet and placed her hand on top of Harriet’s. “Harriet, I know this is all new to you and with what your mother did you’ve got to be a little overwhelmed. Try not to be too quiet. Engage inconversation and let your likes and dislikes be known to Mrs. DuBois. This is your day. You’re in charge of what you want. Not your mother. She isn’t here.”
“You’re right. I need to make a better effort, and I’ll try.”
Daphne patted Hariet’s hand and let go of it. “I know you’re shy, but that’s something we’ll see if we can work on. I want you to walk away from today’s experience feeling accomplished and proud of what you’ve selected.”
The door opened and one of the footmen dropped the steps and waited for them to exit. Harriet waited for Daphne to descend the steps before joining her. The same footman followed them, bringing the gowns they had brought for possible alterations.
They walked into the shop. The first thing Harriet noticed was how neat it was. A table with the latest fashion plates. Bolts and bolts of fabric lined the wall in neat rows. She imagined they were in some sort of order. Color for sure. After that she wasn’t sure. Type of fabric, perhaps? She’d never noticed any sort of order at the modiste her mother used. How the woman who owned the shop knew where things were, she had no idea.
“Your Grace, welcome,” a very French accented voice said from out of nowhere. “Your message said you needed gowns for the upcoming season. For the duke’s cousin?”
“Yes. Mrs. DuBois, may I present Harriet. Harriet, this is Mrs. DuBois,” Daphne said, introducing the two.
“Very nice to meet you, Mrs. DuBois,” Harriet replied.
“You’ve had your first season I understand?” Mrs. DuBois asked.
“Yes, and it was a disaster,” Harriet said, shaking her head.
“It couldn’t have been that bad. You’re a beautiful young lady.”
“We brought two of the dresses she wore last season. Of the gowns from then, there were only two we felt might be able to be repurposed,” Daphne said.
“Let’s start with those. I believe I saw them brought in.”
The dressmaker led them to an area in the back where fittings and alterations happened. As they walked into the space, the first thing the trio noticed was the two dresses hanging up. Mrs. DuBois rushed over to the pair and shook her head. “You wore these?” she exclaimed.
“Yes. They were of my mother’s choosing,” Harriet replied softly.
“Is there any hope for either of them?” Daphne inquired.
“No. There is far too much that has to be removed first. It would be time consuming and costly. I don’t get a fondness from Lady Harriet to spend the time and money. I do have a couple of dresses already made that would be perfect for her complexion.”
“Why don’t we start with those first?” Harriet said.
“That was what I was going to suggest. Afterwards, I’ll show you some fashion plates I thought you might like and would look good on you.”
Mrs. DuBois clapped her hands and two women appeared, one carrying a soft-pink gown and the other had ahold of a periwinkle dress. “What do you think of these?”
“They’re lovely,” Harriet replied.
“Why don’t you take off your dress, and we’ll slip one of these on. First, however, I need your measurements.”
Harriet did as requested and stood perfectly still as a young woman named Vivian took a tape and measured everywhere while Mrs. DuBois wrote them down in a notebook she carried. Once she was finished, Vivian helped her into the periwinkle dress and had her walk in front of a mirror and see what she thought. Harriet gasped as she stared at her reflection. It wasamazing the difference that a well-made dress could make her look.
“I assume that gasp meant you approve?” Mrs. DuBois laughed.
“Oh my, yes! Words cannot describe how much I like it,” Harriet replied.
Mrs. DuBois turned to Daphne. “Your Grace, what do you think?”
