“We shall not, of course, ignore fashion altogether. You need not fear that. We shall reinterpret it to do you credit. Here.” Madame picked up a sketchpad and pencil. “I shall show you what I mean.”
Once again, she talked as she worked, explaining the impact of long vertical lines, how some fabrics draped better when cut on the bias, how undergarments that were correctly fitted were the cornerstone of both comfort and good looks.
Walking gowns, riding habits, evening gowns, morning dresses, coats of various lengths, all came flowing off her pencil, page after page of them.
“Unfussy, but superbly well cut,” she instructed. “Your current costume is almost correct, though I would not have chosen that shade of red, and I suggest we remove the bow, and replace the broad trim with a narrower one. Thus.” Another sketch, this time quite clearly Livy herself.
“And a turban cap or toque rather than a bonnet,” she said, finishing the head with a few strokes.
“You have made me pretty.” It came out as an accusation, though Livy was intrigued rather than irritated.
“Not pretty, exactly,” Madame said, thoughtfully. “Beautiful, rather. Pretty is largely a matter of fashion, and the fashion is currently for dark-haired dolls like your sister. You have something better than dark hair, which will fade to white in time. You have good bones. You will be beautiful into old age.”
That was nonsense. Wasn’t it? Madame wanted to sell her dresses, of course. “I shall happily settle for being presentable, Madame Beauvillier,” she said.
“You do not believe me.” Madame put down her pencil and smiled. “It does not matter. I shall dress you, and others will see your beauty. Perhaps, then, you will believe.”
Without warning, she clapped her hands together. Livy only just kept herself from flinching. A servant bustled into the room so quickly that she must have been hovering outside the door.
“Serve tea, Mary. Tell Doris I shall need her in… shall we say forty-five minutes? Miss Wintergreen, we shall take tea while you choose designs and fabrics for your initial order. Then one of my ladies will take your measurements.”
That wasn’t quite the end of it. Aunt Ginny joined them to see what had been decided, and declared herself pleased. “We have made a very good start today,” she declared, as she gathered up the other four girls and swept them all towards the door. “Come along, darlings. We have earned a visit to Gunter’s!”
“I am delighted with Aunt Ginny’s modiste,” Cilla whispered to Livy. I cannot wait to show you my new gowns. Are you happy with yours?”
“She is going to dress me in colors I like, and leave off all the fussy trims,” Livy said, unsure how else to explain Madame’s astounding approach. Beautiful? Livy? No, Madame Beauvillier was exaggerating. But Livy was hopeful that she would not have to blush for her gowns.
“I think I shall look acceptable in her garments,” she answered.
