A cheerful bell announced their entrance. Almost at once, they were greeted by a short, plump woman with black hair streaked with gray and a kind smile.
“Bonjour,” she said, her voice warm and welcoming and undeniably French. “How can I be of assistance?”
“We have been invited to the Countess of Beresford’s ball,” Evie said with thinly veiled excitement. “And we are in need of the appropriate attire.”
The dressmaker blinked in confusion. “But is zee ball not tomorrow?”
“Exactly,” Evie said solemnly.
“We’ve hardly any money and little to trade.” As this was their seventh stop, Joanna saw no reason to beat around the bush. “But we would be appreciative of anything you might have that we could use. A dress that was returned, or didn’t fit, perhaps. We’re not picky.”
The dressmaker placed her hands on her rounded hips and sniffed. “Clients do notreturndresses to Mademoiselle Claudette.”
Evie elbowed Joanna sharply in the ribs. “You’ve insulted her!” she hissed. “Clients do not return dresses to Mademoiselle Claudette.”
Joanna resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “I heard her. Iamstanding right next to you.”
“Well, go stand over there,” she said, pointing across the tiny shop. “Let me handle this.”
With no desire to argue, Joanna did as she was told. Absently running her fingers along the edge of a wooden mannequin, she waited while Evie and Mademoiselle Claudette spoke in low, quick tones. There was an audible gasp, a torrent of French, and Joanna turned just in time to see the dressmaker clap both hands to her cheeks.
“I have zee perfect gowns for you and your sister!” she announced. “Zey were commissioned by the Earl of Tremont for his wife, but zey were meant for greater things.”
“I’m sorry,” Joanna began with a reproachful look at Evie, “but we don’t have that sort of money. I wish we did—”
“Tra la la,” Mademoiselle Claudette scoffed. “I should be zee one paying you! Do not move a muscle. I’ll be right back to take your measurements. If I work through zee night, the gowns shall be ready in time. You will be zee talk of zeeton!”
“What did you do?” Joanna demanded as soon as the dressmaker had disappeared behind a heavy velvet curtain. “We couldn’t buy a potato sack if we wanted, let alone dresses that are intended for a countess!”
Evie shrugged. “I simply told her who you are and promised to tell anyone who asks that our gowns were designed by Mademoiselle Claudette.”
“What do you mean, you told her who I am?” Joanna asked suspiciously. “Why would she care about a penniless American?”
“But you’re not a penniless American, are you?” Evie wandered over to a shelf stuffed with bolts of fabric and removed a small swatch of violet silk. “You’re the daughter of the Marquess of Dorchester.”
Joanna paled. “You didn’t tell that to the dressmaker, did you?”
“Why wouldn’t I? It’s the truth.” Evie held the silk to her face. “Does this pair with my complexion, or wash me out?”
“Evelyn.”
“Oh, don’t be upset with me. We needed the gowns, and we weren’t about to be given them by asking nicely. We’ve lost so much, Jo. Our parents. Our home. Mother’s ring.” Lowering the fabric, Evie gave it a fond pat before she returned it to the shelf. “Maybe this is the world’s way of repaying us. Of giving us something back after all that we’ve gone through. Thatyou’vegone through.”
Her sister did have a point.
Theyhadbeen through a lot. More than Joanna would ever wish upon anyone else. Surely two dresses and a ball weren’t too much to ask for in return. Still, she felt a flicker of discomfort at using her father—a father she’d never met—as currency.
“Just…do not do it again, all right?” she said.
“Fine,” Evie sighed.
Mademoiselle Claudette returned, armed with a cloth measuring tape draped around her neck and a dozen pins held between her lips. One at a time, she ordered the sisters onto a wooden dais where she measured, poked, and prodded until Joanna was on the verge of leaping into the first rowboat she could find and paddling back to America. At long last, the dressmaker nodded in satisfaction and tucked her measuring tape between her breasts.
“Zee gowns will be ready tomorrow. Come in zee morning for a final fitting.”
“Another one?” Joanna groaned.
“We cannot wait,” Evie beamed as she put on her hat and knotted the strings beneath her chin. “Thank you, Mademoiselle. What an honor to be dressed by the finestmodistein all of London.”
