A Fallen Woman. Nancy Carson

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СКАЧАТЬ glad it’s you to serve us, Harriet. We’ve called to choose some stuff for new dresses for a certain very lucky person’s wedding.’ She turned to Marigold for confirmation.

      Marigold duly nodded and smiled; she was the less self-assured of the two girls, lacking formal education, and generally took her lead from Aurelia in matters of commerce and couture. Marigold had just celebrated her twenty-first birthday.

      ‘I hope you mean for my wedding,’ Harriet suggested with a twinkle in her eye.

      ‘Why? Is there some other we don’t yet know about?’

      ‘I’m not aware of any.’ She gave a self-conscious laugh. ‘At least, not among my circle of friends.’

      ‘So what lovely materials do you have in stock?’ Aurelia bubbled; she was out of that house which depressed her so much, and had shed temporarily its burden of oppression for the brief time she was away from it. ‘Time’s running short and we have to get new dresses run up at Mrs Palethorpe’s. We reckoned that if we could decide on some stuff today we could take it directly to her and save time.’

      ‘I happen to know that Mrs Palethorpe is rather busy, though, Aurelia,’ Harriet remarked apologetically. ‘I’m sure you can guess she’s making mine and all the bridesmaids’ dresses too. They should all be finished by Friday, though. She’s the best dressmaker for miles, so it’s no wonder she’s so busy.’

      ‘That’s why we want her to make our dresses, Harriet – because she’s the best.’

      Harriet smiled her innocently crooked smile. ‘Indeed. So what colours do you fancy?’

      ‘I thought blue,’ Aurelia answered. ‘Silk or satin. Blue for Marigold too, I think.’ She looked at Marigold for confirmation, for they had tentatively discussed the options earlier.

      ‘A different blue to Aurelia’s, though,’ Marigold answered in a small, almost apologetic voice. ‘I’d hate folk to think I was copying her.’

      ‘Blue is a good colour for both of you. It will contrast the lovely dark hair you both have, and bring out the colour of your eyes.’

      After Harriet had shown them materials in an abundance of blues, but with the girls prevaricating, she had a flash of inspiration. As a slave to exclusivity, she had been withholding a bolt of material for her own use first, but she did not want to lose the custom of these girls just for the vain fancy of being the first woman to be seen in this beautiful new fabric. Therefore, she decided to offer it.

      ‘I’ve just remembered…we have a lovely iris-coloured silk, new in…’ Harriet swept out of the door at the rear and into the storeroom, returning with a rustle of skirts and the said bolt of silk, which she dropped on the counter. At sight of it, Aurelia’s eyes lit up.

      ‘Oh, I say, I do like that.’ She ran her fingers sensually over its smooth surface. ‘What do you think, Marigold?’

      ‘It’d suit you down to the ground and no two ways, Aurelia.’

      Aurelia mused over this latest offering but said, ‘Maybe you should have this stuff, Marigold.’

      ‘No, you must have it if you like it,’ Marigold responded unselfishly. ‘I think I fancy something paler anyway.’

      ‘Then how about that pastel blue satin?’ Harriet suggested, pointing towards a particular roll of cloth they had both considered suitable. ‘It’s very good quality, and I’m sure Algie would admire you greatly in that.’

      Marigold smiled to herself at the prospect as Harriet dutifully extracted the bolt from the pile. She tried to picture it made up into a suitable dress to wear at a late summer wedding. ‘Yes, I reckon it’ll do nicely,’ she agreed, not wishing to prolong the exercise of choosing.

      ‘How is Clarence?’ Aurelia enquired, looking up and butting in conversationally. ‘Is he getting nervous as the big day approaches?’

      ‘A little more than I am, I do believe,’ Harriet replied, unravelling the roll further so as to lay and measure a length of the pastel blue satin across the well-worn counter. ‘Mind you, he’s had lots to take his mind off it, getting our house ready.’

      ‘So you’re not going to live with his father and mother?’

      ‘Perish the thought,’ the bride-to-be answered, rolling her eyes. ‘At that surgery? Among all those poor sick folks that continually turn up for evil-smelling potions?’

      The two customers were laughing at Harriet’s derision when they heard a commotion of tin buckets clanging together from the yard at the rear of the shop; the maid was evidently on a mission of sorts from the living quarters upstairs. Eventually, the rear door of the shop opened and Priss, Harriet’s older sister, appeared.

      ‘Oh, I thought I’d seen you two heading this way when I looked out of our front room window upstairs,’ she said, making no reference to the noise outside for fear of drawing unnecessary attention to the minor calamity in the household’s censored sanitation arrangements. ‘How are you both?’

      ‘We’re well, thank you,’ Aurelia said pertly. ‘We’re after stuff for dresses for the wedding. We were just talking about the bridegroom.’

      ‘Clarence? Oh, I suspect poor Clarence is a little daunted by it all, Aurelia,’ Priss suggested. ‘I feel quite sorry for him. After all, not only will he come out of it with a mother-in-law, but six sisters-in-law as well. I think the awful truth is just dawning on him.’

      ‘I rather think you’re wasting your sympathy there, dear sister,’ Harriet pronounced.

      ‘Me? I doubt it. The poor chap won’t stand a chance.’

      ‘As long as he takes notice only of me, and not the aforementioned mother-in-law and six sisters-in-law, he’ll pass muster.’

      ‘Naturally,’ Priss said in a confiding manner, addressing the two pretty customers, ‘she’ll order the poor chap about something scandalous, and expect him to obey all her bidding.’

      ‘Which will only be to his benefit,’ Harriet replied. ‘Anyway, I shall be subtle about it, and do it in such a way as he always thinks everything is his idea.’

      ‘Which makes you too clever by half.’

      ‘Well, at least I’ve been clever enough to bag myself a husband.’

      ‘You make it sound as if he’s a pheasant that you’ve shot down.’

      ‘Oh, but that’s exactly what I have done, our Priss – with Cupid’s arrows.’

      Aurelia and Marigold chuckled at their good-natured banter, and even Priss allowed herself one of her lop-sided smiles.

      ‘Ain’t you a-courting yet, Priss,’ Marigold enquired.

      Priss opened her mouth to speak, but Harriet beat her to it. ‘Oh, she’s had her eye on the curate for too long now to give up hope of ever bagging him. She’s getting rather set in her ways as well. It’s either the curate or eternal spinsterdom, but I fancy it’ll be the latter, eh, Priss?’

      ‘Either way it could amount to the same thing in effect,’ СКАЧАТЬ