Passion Wears Pearls (2 page)

London
January 1860

“Pinch your cheeks, foolish girl! You look like you’re about to faint!” Madame Claremont snapped open the shop window’s drapes with a crisp efficiency that betrayed her terrible temper. “We’ve few enough appointments today without you scaring my customers into thinking I employ sickly girls!”

Eleanor Beckett dutifully pinched her cheeks and then quickly moved to help rearrange the displays for the day. Madame Claremont’s dress shop was perched on the edge of Mayfair in London, and while it was fashionable enough to keep a few wealthy clients on the books, Madame Claremont was forever bemoaning the terrors of living on the brink of financial ruin. Times were difficult for shopkeepers, especially during the winter months when most of the elite London residents had returned to their country homes to escape the soot and disease of the city.

All four shop girls bustled around the room to begin preparing for their first appointments, and Eleanor kept her
gaze lowered from her employer’s face as she set out a new embroidered woolen cape. She had only earned her position six months before, and lived in fear of her imminent dismissal. But meager wages and endless hours over sewing tables were far more appealing than the icy-cold streets of London.

Madame Claremont sniffed her disapproval as she stood behind Eleanor. “And where is the red velvet evening dress? I wanted to have it out so that Mrs. Carlisle could see it when she comes in! That woman has a penchant for red and won’t blink at any price I set!”

“It isn’t ready, madame,” Eleanor said softly, turning to face the consequences.

“Why ever not?”

“You told me to set it aside and finish Mrs. Belle’s traveling dress. I stayed up all night to complete the hem work. She’s picking it up this afternoon and I was sure you’d be pleased.”

Except that Madame Claremont, who was really Mrs. Emmaline Smith of Cheapside, didn’t look pleased at all. “I never told you to abandon that velvet dress! And don’t you stand there like a superior little snit and think to inform me that I didn’t expect you to manage your hours and energies and finish
all
your work in good time! I pay you honest wages for an honest effort.
Not
to play the clairvoyant and pretend to know my business!”

“Yes, madame.” Eleanor took a steadying breath, hating the choking quiet that came over the shop as the other girls silently watched to see if she’d survive the morning’s storms. “Perhaps, I could work on it in between appointments until Mrs. Carlisle arrives later? It is far enough along to make a good impression and I can work on the finishing to—”

“You’ll finish it by the time she comes through that doorway, or by God, you’ll buy that dress yourself in lost wages!”

“Madame!” Eleanor gasped. “I can’t possibly afford the—”

The slap came hard across her cheek, effectively ending
Eleanor’s protest. Madame Claremont’s color improved as she stepped back as calmly as if she’d swatted a fly. “If you finish the dress, then Mrs. Carlisle will be the one to pay for it. And then you and I will put this unpleasant matter behind us. You will learn to deliver things to me when I ask, and I won’t have to remind you of the consequences of your defiant attitude. Am I understood?”

It took all of her self-discipline not to reach up to touch the stinging ache on her cheek. Slowly, she nodded, miserable fury stinging like nettles inside her chest to match her injuries.
How am I here? Fallen so far that a woman like this has power over me and I’m going to nod and swallow injustice like a bitter tonic and tell myself how lucky I am not to be out in the cold.

Oh, God.

“Understood, madame.” She curtsied and turned to retreat back to the fabric room, fighting fury and humiliation. She was so hungry her hands were shaking, and worse, there’d be no remedy for a few hours yet. If she was pale, it had everything to do with the long weeks of sleepless nights and sparse meals that Mrs. Smith’s generosity afforded her.

A tiny room was let to her by Madame Claremont’s sister, and the rent deducted weekly from her pay. To make her finances even more tenuous, she’d discovered that Madame Claremont was quick to take out what she called “penalties” for infractions, real or perceived, in the shop.

I won’t cry. I won’t let her make me cry. I am a woman grown, and twenty-three is too old to allow it.
The only consolation that kept her going was that the work was deemed respectable for a woman in her position. And respectability was the one thing she’d sworn she would never relinquish. No matter how dire her situation had become.

She closed her eyes and leaned for a moment against the shelves of fabric, determined to banish her emotions, ignore the complaints of her body and the terror of failure.
What would Father have said? Something about how a true lady never complains but wins her way through gentle
resolve … or other words a bit more lofty he’d memorized from a book on social graces.

She opened her eyes and squared her shoulders. Every second lost to self-pity was not going to be recovered. Eleanor accepted that the red velvet dress was simply the dragon she would have to slay to prove to her employer that she could hold her own. Mrs. Carlisle’s appointment was at five fifteen so the impossible would just have to be managed. And in the meantime, there was dear Mrs. Lawson coming with her eldest daughter for a wedding consultation at ten.

She began to wrestle with some of the rolls of fabric, trying to pull the samples she thought might please her first customer.

“She’s all thorns and thistles today, ain’t she?” Maggie whispered as she came up to get her own fabrics and offer her coworker a bit of sympathy. Maggie was all of seventeen but had the grounded wisdom of a woman several times her years. “Don’t mind her.”

“I can’t seem to do anything right!”

“ ’Course not! She’s been off you from the start and there’s nothing to be done about it.”

“She’ll dismiss me, then, for certain!”

“Never! She’s so thrilled to have yer proper little ways mincing about the customers and making her look all high and mighty! Why, already her business has improved, and I’m not guessin’ it’s her insistence that horsehair petticoats will never go out of fashion!”

Eleanor put her hand to her lips to keep from laughing. Maggie was the only one of the other girls who’d warmed a bit to Eleanor’s presence and demonstrated more than mere civility. From generally lower-middle-class families, the girls in the shop had eyed her with wary suspicion when she’d come to Madame Claremont’s doorstep clutching her references. It was as if they had sensed that Eleanor was not necessarily one of their own. They’d accused her of taking on airs and holding herself above them with her reserved
habits and precise manners. “You mustn’t say such things, Margaret.”

Miss Maggie Beecham shrugged cheerfully. “I’ll say what I like, if it’s true.”

Eleanor shook her head and rebalanced a blue-striped gabardine on top of her pile. “I wish I had your confidence. I need this position too badly to be flippant, but I appreciate your sentiments. I only wish I knew how to make a better go of it. I’m working as hard as I can, and even so, I’m falling short each week.”

Maggie’s cheer evaporated as she nodded in sympathy. “It’s a tangle, miss.”

“I am as careful as a miser with every penny. I overheard one of the other girls talking about side work, but I cannot imagine how there can be more hours in the day!”

“You’ve only been here a few months, and you haven’t seen the way of it, yet. But with your pretty looks and fine manners, there’s no telling how—”

“Miss Beckett! Time is money, and when Mrs. Lawson and her daughter come, I want that first dressing room completely ready. If you have time for idle chatter, perhaps you can afford a few less shillings in your pocket at the end of the week.”

“No, Madame Claremont. I shall see to it immediately.” The bolts of weighted fabrics and silks were heavy enough to make her shoulders burn, but she wrestled them down the narrow hallway as gracefully as she could. The first dressing room was cheery enough, and Eleanor was glad to have the use of it since it had a small coal stove in the corner to fend off the wintry chill of January in London. Areas of the shop were always kept warmed for their customers’ comforts during fittings, and it hadn’t taken her long to learn the advantages of where to go to banish the numbness in her fingers.

Within minutes she had the bolts arranged attractively on a side table and all her fashion plates were preselected and in a good order to allow the young Miss Lawson to
choose her trousseau for her spring wedding. She had risked one ivory satin and a stunning peach organza, just in case. Mrs. Lawson had already decreed that the wedding gown would come from Paris, and Eleanor didn’t wish to argue against it. But it never hurt to let a young lady change her mind if she wanted to. …

Especially if it meant Madame Claremont might add a little money to my wages instead of constantly taking some away.

“Miss Beckett! What a pleasure to see you again!” Mrs. Lawson greeted her from the dressing room’s doorway, ignoring the custom of waiting to be escorted into the shop’s interior rooms. “You remember my daughter, Claudia?”

“Of course! Miss Lawson, thank you for gracing our showroom.” Eleanor reached out to take her hand, genuinely happy to see the pair. “But have you come early? Or was I just caught daydreaming?”

Mrs. Lawson laughed. “We are early because Claudia cannot stop talking about preparing for the wedding, and undoubtedly, I am just as eager to see her happy!”

“Ah, Mrs. Lawson!” Madame Claremont came up behind them. “How rude of Miss Beckett to force you to wander back here alone!”

“Not at all! I knew we were several minutes ahead of our appointment and it is not exactly a labyrinth, is it?” Mrs. Lawson waved her hand in the air, carelessly dismissing the subtle accusation that she’d somehow trespassed. “I am an intrepid woman, madame, but perhaps you could offer me a cup of tea?”

Madame Claremont sputtered for just a moment before recovering her composure and remembering the promised business that Mrs. Lawson represented. “I’ll have Bridgette bring you a tray.”

Eleanor knew she’d pay for having witnessed Madame Claremont’s comeuppance, but there was nothing she could do at the moment. “Miss Lawson, would you care to take a seat and look at a few sketches? I selected these with you in mind.”

Claudia smiled, meekly taking both the offered seat and the fashion book. Plump and pretty, Miss Claudia Lawson was a shy creature with a mild disposition. Like a quiet foil for her mother’s saucy wit and temperament, she was the living embodiment of a content and dutiful daughter. “Thank you, Miss Beckett.”

Mrs. Lawson walked over to the table of fabrics, removing her gloves to finger the organza. Eleanor watched her out of the corner of her eye, praying she hadn’t been too bold as Madame Claremont also noticed the unexpected choices.

Madame Claremont clasped her hands together. “A mistake, Mrs. Lawson! I specifically told Miss Beckett—”

“It’s beautiful,” Mrs. Lawson said quietly, her attention arrested completely by the shimmer and weight of the silk organza in her hands. “It’s almost gold, isn’t it? But in the light, then you can see that it’s more peach. I am quite enamored, madame.” She lifted the bolt and brought it to her daughter, settling down next to her on the sofa. “Isn’t it divine, Claudia? Wouldn’t it make a lovely wedding dress?”

Claudia brightened immediately. “I love it! But surely it’s too grand for …”

“Nothing is too grand for you, dearest.” Mrs. Lawson gave her daughter’s hands a caring squeeze, then turned back to the business at hand to address Madame Claremont. “Can you manage a wedding dress, along with the travel clothes and day dresses we had planned?”

“Of course, Mrs. Lawson! I have the very latest designs for you to choose from, and we can deliver everything she needs as promptly as she requires!” Madame Claremont said, openly excited at the order. “I’ll leave Miss Beckett with you for a few minutes while I gather some bridal samples for you to view.”

She left and Eleanor did her best not to openly sigh in relief. “Shall we see the peach organza next to your skin, Miss Lawson? If you stand there, I can hold it up and you can see yourself in the mirror and better imagine how it will look.”

Claudia stood eagerly, and then colored nicely when Eleanor draped the fabric over her shoulder and lightly around her waist.

“See? The color suits your skin and makes your hair look even more golden,” Eleanor said. “You are so lucky to have such beautiful blond hair, Miss Lawson.”

“Hair like an angel, her father says!” Mrs. Lawson sighed from her perch on the sofa. “His gilded girl. …”

“I like your hair better,” Claudia countered, eyeing the strands of Eleanor’s bright copper hair that had escaped to frame her face.

Eleanor blushed furiously, tugging on the lace caplet to hide her unruly curls. She disliked her garish red hair and had grown up with all the jokes about being a ginger top or a firecracker. “You couldn’t.” She smiled and tried to deflect her customer’s attention with humor. “Not if you were the one to try to brush it into submission!”

Standing next to Claudia, their reflections couldn’t have shown two more different young women. Where Claudia was petite, Eleanor was a good deal taller. Claudia was like a peach confection, with her pale blue eyes and blond curls. But Eleanor felt like a wraith behind her, wearing her dark plain work dress with jet buttons and black trim. Her figure was balanced and firm, but not voluptuous to lend itself easily to the desired hourglass effect of fashions. She was envious of Miss Lawson’s petite beauty and respectable coloring. Eleanor was naturally pale, her face angular and lean with what her mother had once called “wild green” eyes.
She said I was a changeling from some forest fairy who thought it a grand jest to leave a red-haired child on their doorstep. And it somehow made me mind my hair less and daydream about doing magic to escape the nursery and acquire more sweets.

Eleanor lifted the organza and then added some of the satin for effect, determined to steer the conversation toward firmer ground. “You must tell me about your fiancé, Miss Lawson.”