Page 24 of The Gentlewoman Apprentice

“Resorting to flattery?” His smile was a wan contrast to his usual grin.

“Fawning is not in my nature. You must realize—or perhaps you do not—the pains I’ve gone through, humiliation even, to become a female apprentice.” The confession lay heavy, too personal, but she added in a whisper, “It was not easy to accept Lord Halverton’s help.”

He regarded her from beneath lowered brows with an intensity that made her skin prickle. She stilled, feeling as if she’d suddenly become visible to him. His throat bobbed, and he returned his attention to the gown. “As I said, you need more than a pattern when constructing a sacque. Technique is everything, and you’ve pulled your thread too tight.”

“That cannot be. I am vigilant with my tension.”

“Here.” He pointed to various places and pulled the fabric, showing how it buckled under slight pressure. The candles’ glow created a small, intimate space around them. Her shoulder brushed his as she watched his fingers move expertly over the cloth.

“These curved seams give shape and structure but are difficult to perfect. Pleat setting is subtle. It demands care and practice, else it appears lumpy, as here.” He met her gaze.

His manner was friendlier than she deserved. Looking at him, she lost her words. He cleared his throat and began folding her gown.

“Will you help me fix it?” she asked.

“It’s beyond repair. You must start anew.”

“Show me?” What began as a demand ended in a plea. She had tried to persuade him by demonstrating her skill, by lending him Grace, by ensuring Mrs. Gainsworth’s order was finished. Having confessed why she sought his instruction, she could beg. “Please?” Her voice broke over the word.

His eyes penetrated a barrier, or perhaps she had breached it herself by accosting him in the quiet of the night. Something was altered in his face, like loose thread drawn taut; he had never stared at her this way before, as if she were the most interesting thing in the world.

“I suppose we are all desperate for something,” he said.

She was more than desperate but hated him to know it. Everything depended on his willingness. She had left her home to apprentice under him, essentially given Samuel to Lord Halverton’s care, allowed Lord Halverton to help her. That had been the most difficult decision she’d faced, made in hopes of gaining an honest life for herself and Samuel. Her success would bring independence and a life absent of shame. If all that sacrifice was vain, it would not be her fault.

The quiet of the night pressed her to divulge more than she wanted. “I have a young brother in school in Gloucester. I must remain near him.”

“That is why your shop…” He tilted his head toward her home.

“Lord Halverton’s doing.” Dare she explain all? They rarely carried a true conversation. “He arranged it and explained afterward. I have no particular reason for being in Stroud. There are towns closer to my brother, but I had no choice. Believe me, the arrangement was not my doing.”

“Are you so much at the whim of Lord Halverton? Would you return to London, perhaps?”

Meg bristled. She could do as she pleased. The thought gave way to helplessness. She existed under Lord Halverton’s caprice, and even when she could support herself, she could not afford another shop. “I do not know what the future holds.” A startling thought followed. She did not wish to leave.

Life in Stroud, so different from London, was wholesome and promising. Fantasies of entertaining customers in her own, very real shop laced the fabric of her routine. Every woman who stopped for tea or peered into the shuttered windows represented a future—Mrs. Smith, Mrs. Bosket, Mrs. Gainsworth. These women did not want a tailor to fit their gowns. They deserved a gentlewoman dressmaker. The houses, shops, and alleys whispered of a lasting pattern she might help create. She ached with the wanting of it.

“I’ll do it,” he said.

Her heart throbbed in her throat. “You will… What are you saying?”

“I will teach you dressmaking.”

“Holding nothing back?”

“Nothing. All my knowledge is yours.”

The pounding in her throat swelled. She turned her back to him, afraid of his seeing her emotion.

“Goodnight, Miss Cooper.” Her name sounded new in his mouth. She heard him drop something on the worktable and his steps shuffle away.

She turned to watch him disappear into the darkness. Her key lay on the table. She snatched it and pressed it to her chest. Her life, her purpose, held so long in suspension shifted forward at last.

At the end of the following workday, Meg gathered a length of amethyst superfine wool and watched the other apprentices take their leave of Mr. Sloan. All that she’d hoped for stood before her.

“Arnold, stay a moment, would you?” Mr. Sloan asked the youngest apprentice. The door closed behind the others.

Arnold seemed thrilled at being chosen. The three of them made their way to the measuring room, where Meg undressed behind a screen to her most modest underclothes. She hesitated. Mr. Sloan measured women all day long, yet the idea of his measuring her seemed too intimate. She shook the thought and stood on the rug.