"Early date! We worked on this scheme for three months before we told George we were coming to London to find you a husband." Waving a letter underneath Juliana's nose she nearly shouted, "Now he is not coming!"
"The plan. Why didn't you say so in the first place?" she replied quickly, snatching the letter from her aunt's fingers.
"What other plan could I be speaking about? Are we not here for the sole purpose of luring your brother from his chores?"
From the interested look on Sophia's face Juliana feared the wrong suspicion might be taking root in her fertile mind. Forcing a light laugh Juliana read George's sprawled writing. "He says that he is still coming and will only be a few days delayed." Glancing at her aunt, Juliana shrugged. "I see no need for concern." Allowing the sheet of paper to drift to Sophia's lap, Juliana rose from the sofa absently smoothing out the folds of her skirt.
"I felt sure you would be upset," Sophia said indignantly, then stopped, looking up at her with sudden understanding. "Does this mean you have changed your mind?"
Smiling ruefully, Juliana realized that Dominic had done what she had feared: caused her to stray from her purpose. But only briefly. As soon as she accomplished her admittedly unworthy goal, she would turn her back on him and continue with her plan to set her brother on the road to acquiring some town bronze and find for herself a comfortable widower so that when George did finally marry, he would not need to be concerned about his widowed sister.
"Yes," she said, lifting her chin with determination. "I believe, for the moment there is no hurry in finding my widower. We will simply enjoy the Season." Thankful to have decided at last what strategy she would follow, Juliana moved toward the parlor door only to be brought up short by her aunt.
"By the way, Smithers has arranged for us to visit Madame Bretin's on Bond Street tomorrow. Shall we still keep the appointment?"
"Of course. It is essential to my plan," Juliana sniffed before marching out of the room.
The instant the door clicked shut behind her, Sophia fell back upon the pillows, her delighted laughter filling the room. "At last! And now, Juliana my love, I can carry out my plan for you!"
Chapter 5
Smithers had outdone himself. When Sophia and Juliana arrived in Bond Street, Madame Bretin's shop was shuttered and a small card reading "By Appointment Only" was affixed to the door. Madame herself ushered them in with much ceremony, stating that she was delighted to be entirely at their service and able to devote herself to their special needs.
Juliana was slightly taken aback by this ingratiating behavior, but Sophia seemed to take it as their due. So Juliana unconcernedly moved to the tables laden with materials in every color of the rainbow and searched the shelves stacked with bolts of sheer muslins, linens, and batistes. Madame Bretin, much to Juliana's dismay, peered at her intently, watching her every movement as she seemingly assessed her figure. Finally, as if satisfied, Madame whirled briskly, urging them to the back of the shop, down a short hallway into a large room hung completely about with tall mirrors.
Bringing out a chair, she motioned Sophia to sit down. She turned to Juliana and without preamble asked her to remove her dress for the measurements. Juliana looked at her aunt for guidance, but Sophia smiled complacently and nodded her head in encouragement.
The couturiere was most exacting with her tape while she kept up a steady flow of compliments concerning Juliana's trim waist, full bosom, and long line of leg for one as petite as she.
Flushing with embarrassment, Juliana met the amused eyes of her aunt in the mirror, then quickly glanced away, biting her lip. She might have been so undignified as to chuckle at Madame's fulsome compliments if the modiste hadn't suddenly straightened from measuring Juliana's hips to peer intently into her eyes.
"A light spring green in silk for afternoon wear. A must!"
Fascinated, Juliana stood and watched Madame Bretin hold up swatches of materials in various colors against her skin, discarding some and exclaiming over others. She had to admit the couturiere's sense of color was outstanding. When Madame unfurled a bolt of French turquoise silk to drape about Juliana's body, she knew she had found exactly what she had envisioned for Charlotte's come-out ball.
Sophia settled into her chair, satisfied at last that her goal to establish Juliana in the ton, and find the right man for her, was well on the way to being achieved. No man, duke or earl, would be able to resist Juliana when she appeared in all this finery.
Silks so fine they could be pulled through a wedding ring, rich brocades, soft velvets, muslins, voiles, and heavy satins piled up at her feet.
"We are fortunate that dreadful war is over. These are the finest fabrics in all of Europe," Madame Bretin insisted.
Morning dresses, walking costumes, riding habits, and ball gowns were decided upon. Juliana was slightly overwhelmed by the volume of costumes Sophia felt was necessary. By the time they had chosen ribbons, jets and beads for adornment, and examined the laces for trims, she had already lost count of her purchases and her head was spinning.
Finally, Juliana objected that one more evening gown of blue velvet trimmed with a wide satin collar was unnecessary, but Madame Bretin clucked and brushed her protests aside. Then she buttoned Juliana back into her old brown merino, which suddenly seemed very drab. With a determined look on her face, Madame Bretin turned to Sophia.
"If you will but change places with your niece, we shall begin with you now, Mrs. Thatcher."
Sophia rose leisurely, carefully removing the pins from her hat and placed it in Madame's outstretched hands before stepping in front of the mirrors. She studied herself briefly and smiled, the dimple hovering beside her mouth. "Yes, madame, I believe it is time to start on me."
Exactly ten days later Madame Bretin's messengers delivered box upon box to Wentworth House. Claire, a trusted finisher, accompanied the order to make any last minute adjustments. Sophia and Juliana had Smithers bring two standing mirrors to the small reception room on the third floor and spent a delightful afternoon rediscovering their many purchases. They exclaimed with pleasure again and again after trying on all their new finery.
Claire was needed only for a loose button because Madame had achieved her reputation by precision work. Each confection was almost a work of art, fitted perfectly to the figure and crafted with exquisitely set, fine stitches. The pièce de résistance, though, was Juliana's turquoise silk ball gown. A delicate shade that complimented her eyes, deepening them to azure; it was a color that would stand out against the pastels and whites of the debutantes at Charlotte Grenville's come out. Juliana swept a deep curtsy and peeped up into the mirror to find her aunt watching in delight.
"This gown should find you a widower or two, my love."
"Why Aunt," she began in reproving tones, only to catch sight of her breasts straining against the low décolletage of the gown. In a more sober tone she continued, "This gown will attract every rake in London. Claire, we must raise the bodice."
"Oh, no! Madame Bretin would have my head!" Claire was adamant. "No! No! Do not touch it! The gown is most becoming as it is. Why all the great ladies cut their gowns like this. Some even more daringly."
"Leave be, Juliana, dear. We wouldn't want to cost Claire her position. You'll just have to be careful not to curtsy quite so deeply." Sophia waved her hand dismissively and Claire left quickly, relieved that Madame's creation would remain untouched.
On the night of Charlotte Grenville's ball, Smithers ushered Monsieur Henri out of Juliana's boudoir, but before he closed the doors he permitted himself the very faintest of smiles. "If I may so, ma'am, both you and Mrs. Thatcher are in quite good looks this evening."
"Thank you," Juliana said softly, watching his reflection in her mirror. Sophia came and stood behind her, surveying the Frenchman's work. He had cut Juliana's thick, silky curls so that they were a riot of ringlets framing her heart-shaped face and causing her green eyes to look enormous. Twining turquoise ribbons in and out through the curls, Monsieur Henri had arranged her shorter hair into an elegant coiffure.
Now when she looked into the glass she did not see the Juliana Grenville who had left Wentworth Park such a short time ago, but the creation of London's finest modiste and hairdresser. This new Juliana had even been so bold, she had darkened her eyelashes. She found she rather liked the exotic creature staring back at her. Smiling, she caught her aunt's gaze.