Because You're Mine (Capital Theatre #2)(27)

“Then let's get started.”

With the dressmaker's kindly bullying and Ruth's quiet efficiency, Madeline was divested of her bulky cotton undergarments and given a set of chemise and drawers that didn't even reach her knees. They were made of sheer, fine linen, so light that she had the feeling of not wearing anything. They were even slightly transparent, making Madeline blush as she stood before the mirror. If her mother had any idea what she was doing, she would have apoplexy.

Next came a set of stays, a ribbed silk garment that hooked up the front and laced up the back, drawing in her waist at least two inches. Madeline stared intently at her reflection. Was this indeed what men wanted, and would it make an impression on Mr. Scott? She could hardly wait to find out.

The first dress Madeline tried on was a soft yellow silk with a finely corded surface. Although the garment had been designed for a much taller woman, its simple style suited her. Madeline waited in barely contained excitement as Ruth fastened the concealed hooks at the back.

“Excellent,” Mrs. Bernard said, expertly taking up the loose material with a row of flashing pins. “It's difficult for most women to wear that shade of yellow, but it brings out the gold in your hair.”

The neckline was low and scooped, baring her throat and collarbone and revealing a hint of cle**age. The lines of the gown followed her cinched waist, making it seem impossibly small. Gleaming folds of yellow draped over her h*ps and legs, ending at the ground in a hem of deep pleats and simple scalloped work. “I look so different,” Madeline said breathlessly.

“You certainly do,” Mrs. Bernard replied. “It's a pity you can't afford extra trimmings for the gown, but perhaps that's for the best. A simple style lends a more sophisticated appearance.” She supervised the fittings of three more gowns: a brown velvet with long sleeves of banded velvet and lace, a blue twilled cashmere, and an ivory gown cut so low that Madeline doubted she could wear it in public. It was accompanied by an ivory scarf embroidered in pale blue, meant to be draped lightly over her elbows.

Realizing that Madeline had no appropriate shoes, Mrs. Bernard brought out a pair of velvet slippers with narrow ribbons that laced across the ankles. “They were too small for the client who ordered them,” she said, declining Madeline's offer of payment.

Declaring the afternoon to be a success, Mrs. Bernard promised Madeline that the new gowns would be ready in a matter of days, depending on when Ruth found time to work on them. Madeline thanked the two women effusively, unable to believe her good fortune.

“It is Nell Florence who should be thanked,” Mrs. Bernard told her. “She's a grand old woman. You were a clever girl to choose her as your mentor.”

“It had nothing to do with cleverness,” Madeline replied. “It was a stroke of luck. Now if I could have just a little more—”

“If you're referring to the man you wish to attract, there's no need for luck. Once he sees you in your new gowns, he'll jump to do your bidding.”

“I can't quite picture that,” Madeline said with a laugh, thinking of Logan Scott's commanding face, and she bid the dressmaker farewell.

Four

“One always hears the best gossip at the dressmaker's,” Mrs. Florence said reminiscently, after hearing Madeline describe her visit to Mrs. Bernard's. “It always seems to be brimming with news of scandal and intrigue. I daresay I was discussed in many a shop—women were always terrified that I would steal their husbands or paramours.”

“And did you?” Madeline couldn't help asking.

“Just one or two.”

Madeline smiled and investigated Mrs. Florence's sitting room. A scanty costume made of gauze and clasps of semiprecious stones had been framed and hung in the center of one wall. On either side of the costume were carved trunks fashioned in triangular shapes to fit in the corners. “What do you keep in here?” she asked.

“Mementos from my younger days.” Mrs. Florence rearranged herself on a chair upholstered in painted velvet and nibbled from a plate of sandwiches. “You may look inside, if you wish.”

Needing no further encouragement, Madeline knelt on the Aubusson carpet and turned the key of the first trunk. A stale aroma of lavender sachets wafted upward. Carefully Madeline removed a stack of clothing neatly packed in tissue.

“That was what I wore as Hippolita, in She Would and She Would Not,” Mrs. Florence said, as Madeline unwrapped a military costume, complete with knee breeches and a plumed hat. “I was always good in tomboy roles—I had a nice pair of legs.” She leaned forward with increasing interest and enjoyment. “And that was my Ophelia gown.”

Reverently Madeline held up a costume of filmy white and green, adorned with hundreds of tiny embroidered rosebuds. “You must have been stunning in this!”

“There's a matching hairpiece in one of those smaller boxes,” Mrs. Florence said.

Opening a leather case, Madeline discovered elaborate jewelry; gloves of lace, silk, and leather; faded shoes painted with flowered designs; and an array of fans. Mrs. Florence commented on many of the items, telling tales of her days in the theater while Madeline listened avidly.

However, when Madeline came to a small green-lacquered case, Mrs. Florence's smile vanished, and an expression of anxiety and sorrow appeared on her face. “Don't open that, child. It's private.”