The Gown(92)

“More or less. When do you leave?”

“In a fortnight.” His eyes caught hers, and she was surprised by how apprehensive he seemed. “Perhaps I might come up to Toronto for a visit? Or you could visit me there?”

“I would love that. I haven’t been to New York in years.”

“Good,” he said, and his accompanying grin made her heart do a little somersault. “But back to the subject at hand—your interviewing Mimi.”

“You make it sound so certain. You’re sure she won’t be upset?”

“I’m sure. I can’t guarantee she’ll agree to speak with you on the record, but she won’t be angry if you ask. That I can promise.”

They had zabaglione and strawberries for dessert, and then he walked her back to the hotel. A longish walk, he warned her, but she didn’t care. It meant more time in his company. As they were crossing Tottenham Court Road he took hold of her hand, correctly sensing that she was about to walk into traffic yet again, but even after they were safely across the street he held on, and they continued like that, hand in hand, block after block.

He came into the hotel lobby with her and waited as she fetched her key, and then, since Dermot was at the desk, she led Daniel down the hall and around the corner to the bottom of the stairs.

“Sorry,” she explained. “It’s just that I didn’t feel like saying good night in front of an audience.”

“I feel the same way,” he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. And then he kissed her, his mouth fitting just so against hers, and it made her wonder if there was anything that Daniel Friedman didn’t do well.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he said, his words a whisper across her brow. “I want you to come and see me in New York. Or you can invite me to Toronto. Either way, I want to continue this conversation.”

“So do I.”

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Sightseeing?” She hadn’t meant for it to come out as a question.

“Would you like to meet up in the afternoon? Let me show you around a little more?”

Heather nodded, not trusting her voice.

“Good. I’ll come by at two o’clock. Fais des beaux rêves.”





Chapter Twenty-Five


Ann


November 19, 1947

The gown was complete.

It had come back to the embroidery workroom a week before, after it had gone to the palace and back for one last fitting, and Ann and Miriam had been given the task of re-embroidering the seams where they had been affected by such small changes as the seamstresses had made. It stood now on its mannequin in the sewing workroom next door, and everyone who worked at Hartnell had been filing past it all morning. Their expressions of mingled awe and pride only confirmed what Ann had known since she’d set her first stitch upon the gown weeks before: it was a triumph.

“Did you ever wonder if we’d manage it?” she asked Miss Duley.

“No. I knew you and the other girls would do us proud. That reminds me—did you remember to leave the edge of that last petal unstitched?”

“I did,” Ann said, smiling, for she knew what Miss Duley had in mind.

“Good. Ruthie? Ethel? Will one of you go down the hall and fetch the girls from the second workroom? We don’t have much time to spare, so tell them to leave off whatever they’re doing and hurry along.”

When everyone had assembled and fallen quiet, Miss Duley went to stand by the end of the train, still in its great frame although it had been complete since the night before. “Everyone here has worked her fingers to the bone over these past weeks. Everyone. And while only a few had a hand in making Her Royal Highness’s gown and train, you should all feel you can take credit for the great task we’re about to complete. That is why I asked Ann to leave one petal on the train unfinished. I want everyone who did not work on the gown or train to wash your hands, and when you are done queue up behind Ann. Very good. She will show you where to set your stitch—just one, as there are a fair number of you, and it’s only a small bit of petal that needs fixing to the tulle.”

One after the other they washed their hands and came forward and sat in the chair next to Ann, and she showed them the petal of the largest York rose at the bottom of the train. One after the other they set their single stitch, then ceded their place to the next woman in line. When they were done, Ann placed the final stitch, added two invisible anchoring stitches beneath the petal, and snipped the thread.

“There,” Miss Duley said. “That’s done, and if anyone ever asks if you worked on Princess Elizabeth’s wedding gown or train, you can say in all honesty that you did. Thank you, my dears.”

Now came the delicate task of removing the train from its frame. First they loosened the pegs that held it taut, just enough to make it possible to unpick the tacking stitches that held the tulle in place, then Ann and Miriam, working from the bottom and along opposite sides, set the edges of the train free. The raw edge of the tulle had been whipstitched with minute, near-invisible stitches before being stretched in the frame, and the tacking stitches had been set only a thread’s width away. If all went well, the train would come free without a single telltale mark on its gossamer fabric. Ruthie and Ethel followed behind, gathering the train as bridesmaids might do, keeping it well clear of the floor.