The Gown(44)

She came hurrying toward them now, a neat and efficient figure in her white coat and ruthlessly pinned-back hair.

“Good morning, Miss Duley,” she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Wonderful news, isn’t it?”

“Simply wonderful,” Miss Duley agreed. “Mr. Hartnell came by just now to tell the girls in my workroom, and to ask us to get started on some samples for HM and HRH. Of course I’m certain he showed you the designs before anyone else. What do you think?”

“Perfect. Quite, quite perfect. And it will suit the princess to a T.”

“Indeed it will. He’s asked us to do up half a dozen samples of the most important motifs, but I gather the Lullingstone satin isn’t yet ready. Is there any chance we might prevail upon you? But only if you aren’t busy with anything else. I know you’re run off your feet most days.”

“Don’t I know it! But you’ve come at the perfect time. I do have some lovely duchesse satin, heavy but not too unwieldy. I’d say it’s a fair match for the stuff you’ll end up using. What did he say as regards color? Bright white? Or something softer?”

“Softer, I should think, so there’s some contrast with the backing fabric. For that, I was thinking a really fine silk tulle. I thought we’d do up the samples as if they were for the train. It will give a better effect, don’t you agree?”

“I do, indeed I do. How much will you need?”

“Say a yard and a half of the tulle? And a yard of the satin? If that’s not too much to ask.”

“Not at all. Let me just fetch them now.”

When Miss Louie returned with the bolts of fabric, not more than a minute or two later, she first came to the counter so Miss Duley might look them over.

“What do you think? Will these do?” she asked, unrolling the satin and tulle with brisk efficiency.

“They’re exactly what I had in mind. What would we do without you, Miss Louie?”

“I expect you’d all muddle along, but it’s kind of you to say so.”

Back at the table, Miss Louie lined up the satin with the edge of the table, whisked out a pair of gleaming shears from the depths of her coat pocket, and cut the satin, then the tulle, with the precision of a surgeon. After folding the fabric in neat squares, she returned to the counter and handed the bundle to Ann.

After a final round of thanks and well-wishes, Ann and Miss Duley returned to the workroom. Ethel and Ruthie had taken charge of the society bride’s bodice, while Miriam, never one to be idle, had gathered fresh needles, spools of cotton and silk thread, and the stretcher bars and pegged side laths of an empty frame.

“Very good, Miriam,” Miss Duley said approvingly. “If you could stretch the tulle for us—this piece is fifty-four inches wide, so you’ll have room for three samples across, with plenty of room to finish the edges. Then thirty-six inches as far as depth, I think. Ann, if you could start by cutting out the appliqué pieces? Once you’ve arranged them on the backing, let me have a look.”

Ann fetched half a dozen sheets of onionskin from a box on the side table, then went to a window at the far end of the room. Taking up Mr. Hartnell’s sketch of the largest of the York roses, she held it against the window, overlaid it with the onionskin, and carefully traced over the petals.

She repeated the exercise for all the motifs, save the jasmine and ears of wheat, which would be created through beadwork alone. One by one, she cut out the shapes from the onionskin and set the pattern pieces on the sketch. Fearful that a whiff of air might throw them into disarray, she weighted down the wisps of paper with a handful of buttons from the odds-and-sods jar.

Moving to one of the side tables, she dusted it thoroughly and then, when she was certain it was spotless, spread out the satin. Had it been a less delicate or light-colored fabric, she’d have marked the perimeter of the pattern pieces with a prick-and-pounce method: first perforating the pattern’s edges with a needle, then rubbing through a scant amount of powdered charcoal. The satin was so tightly woven, though, that the needle marks alone would be enough to guide her.

Ann set the first pattern piece on the satin, picked up the needle, its blunt end set in a cork to make it easier to hold, and began to mark the edge of the petal shape. She cut out the petal with her very best scissors, just the one piece to begin, and decided to experiment a little before she went any further.

Like most satin, it was the very devil to work with, for it managed to be slippery and quite stiff at the same time. It didn’t take well to finger-pressing, but there was no way to baste under the edges without leaving marks. She would just have to turn under the edges as she went and hope they didn’t fray too badly.

With that settled, she returned to the satin and cut out petals large and small, star flowers and heart-shaped smilax leaves, and as she finished each one she set it on its matching sketch. There were more than two dozen pieces when she’d finished, all needing to be appliquéd with invisible stitches onto the stretched tulle. Only then could the embroidery proper begin.

She looked at the clock; it was almost half twelve. She must have worked through morning break.

Miss Duley, noticing that Ann had paused in her work, came over to the table. “I’m sorry, my dear. I didn’t notice you and Miriam hadn’t gone down with the others until they were on their way back. You may have an extra quarter hour now to make up for it.”