A Lady Never Tells(60)
“I wasn’t trying to win her over,” Mary protested.
“I know. So does Vivian. That’s why she likes you. Now, let’s choose between these two sprig muslins, Lily, and we must leave. There’s a great deal left to be done.”
They soon discovered that Charlotte was not exaggerating. When it came to shopping, their affable cousin was all business, and she ushered them from store to store, buying a mind-boggling array of products. They visited a glover, a shoemaker, a hosier, a plumassier (a diversion made for Lady Vivian, who wished to find a certain feather for retrimming one of her bonnets), and a milliner. They bought fans; they bought reticules; they bought buttons, handkerchiefs, lace, and ribbons. Having always worn stockings they knitted themselves, the Bascombes were elated to find ones made entirely by machine. Mary bought several pairs of cotton stockings, and she could not resist a pair or two of silk hose with cotton feet. But she could not bring herself to go so far as Lily and purchase a pair of silk stockings with embroidery at the ankles, meant to be worn with an evening gown. Rose bought a beautifully knitted shawl and derived almost as much pleasure from paying for it herself as she did from possessing it. And Lily, when they passed Hatchard’s, had to go in and get a book. Mary, watching as Lily found not one but two novels she could not live without, reflected that Lily’s money was perhaps not destined to last an entire month.#p#分页标题#e#
Still, Charlotte informed them, their labors were not done. Their last visit was to be to a mantua maker. When Camellia protested that they had just bought a wealth of fabrics for the seamstress to make up into dresses, Charlotte simply shook her head.
“Those were but day dresses. You must have an evening gown or two. Even in the country, one dresses for dinner.”
There was some discussion between Vivian and Charlotte as to which modiste to see, for Vivian, it seemed, relied entirely on the skills of Madame Arceneaux, but Charlotte, who frequented several mantua makers, held that Mademoiselle Ruelle, while not as exquisite in her taste perhaps, turned out a dress in a shorter time.
In the end it was Vivian who won the day, saying flatly, “Trust me, Charlotte, Madame Arceneaux will have the dresses done on time. The prospect of making eight evening gowns, with the bills to be paid by someone as punctual as Lord Stewkesbury, would make her finish them in half the days.”
So they went to Madame Arceneaux’s shop, a small but elegant establishment on Oxford Street. Madame herself came sweeping out of the rear of the shop to greet Lady Vivian, and when she heard what was required of her, she set her assistants hopping with a few snaps of her fingers. The girls were whisked away to once again be poked, prodded, and measured, but any weariness or annoyance was swept away when they sat down with Charlotte, Vivian, and the modiste herself to look through books of drawings of possible dresses. It was, the Bascombes agreed, annoying that they could not choose anything but white, for all were drawn to the sea greens and pale yellows favored by Charlotte or the more vivid emeralds and royal blues that Vivian fancied. However, they were soon immersed in discussions of fabrics, overskirts, necklines, fichus, lace trim, and the like, and the sameness of color was quite forgotten.
By the time they were through, each girl had managed to choose two new evening gowns, and Madame Arceneaux was positively beaming with delight—not least because Lady Vivian, while waiting, had discovered that she could not live without a gold-and-white—striped gossamer evening dress with a stomacher front and a blue jaconet muslin morning dress ornamented by long sleeves en bouffants, while Charlotte had become equally enamored of a pelisse in brown levantine silk. All returned to Stewkesbury House well pleased with their day.
Unfortunately, the Bascombes had no sooner bid good-bye to their new friends and gone inside than their spirits were lowered by the earl, who stepped out into the hall and said, “Ah, there you are. Glad you’ve returned. Come in and meet your new companion.”
The girls exchanged a look, but followed him obediently into the drawing room. “Allow me to introduce you to Miss Dalrymple,” the earl went on with what Mary thought was far too much satisfaction. “She has agreed to accompany you to Willowmere and instruct you for the next few weeks.”
He turned toward the woman sitting on the sofa. She was square and dour, with dark brown hair pulled into a severe knot atop her head and thick dark eyebrows that ran straight across her forehead, almost meeting in the middle and giving her the look of a perpetual frown.
After spending a half hour in the woman’s company, Mary decided that perhaps the look was less a result of Miss Dalrymple’s unfortunate brow than of her cheerless personality. During that same period of time, Miss Dalrymple corrected the posture of each of the sisters at least once, reproved Camellia for her unrefined language, and held forth on the superiority of the British female to that of any other country. By the time she departed, Mary was wondering how she would keep her sisters from rebelling. Indeed, she thought that she might be inclined to lead the revolution.