Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Mrs. Wickerton had never actually bothered Ellie in a real sense, despite being a busybody and far too curious and bold for someone her age.
She had always treated Ellie well and given her respect as the mistress of Fenmore in her intended’s absence.
She had always informed her of the gossip surrounding her in the village, even if she was seeking validation or contradiction of rumors.
She always claimed to be praying for Ellie, though what exactly she was praying for, she did not specify.
So why she felt the need to make certain Ellie had a dress for dancing while visiting Carraway, why she decided that a day visit to Carraway to see the farms would not suffice, and why she was making it very clear that Ellie would have to suffer the indignities of formal trussing up and behavior, Ellie could not say.
What had she ever done to deserve such punishment? It was most unjust and actually bruised Ellie's feelings towards the woman.
There would be no sentimental feelings for someone capable of this sort of betrayal after this.
But in Ellie’s heart of hearts, she would confess to being just the smallest bit pleased to have a reason to purchase a new gown. Not because she needed one for Carraway, but because she wanted West to see her in one.
That was a new desire. So new, so foreign, that she did not know how to cope with it. And it had been so long since she had had a new gown that she was no longer sure what was in fashion, what suited her, what suited the occasion, or how much time it would take for such a gown to be made up.
But that was her errand today in Fencrest, despite the fact that the word of her visit to the modiste—a first in three years—would spread like wildfire, possibly extending her name into scandalous waters.
So long as she kept the fact that she wanted this for West and not for Carraway a secret, the scandal should not grow.
After all, Mrs. Beale could possibly invite eligible gentlemen to visit Carraway at the same time, or to the supper party, and would it not serve for her to look her very best for that occasion? She was, after all, unattached herself.
Yes, that was what she would focus on publicly.
After all, it was not a lie. She would need somewhere to go, someone to provide her security, something to look forward to. If she could impress Mrs. Beale, she might help her with those connections and that future she sought.
Fenmore would become nothing more than a dream, though it would break her heart to admit that.
West would become a memory. A delicious, maddening, flutter-inducing memory, who had given her a glimpse of what a marriage could be if she could find someone willing to put up with her true self. Her true nature.
Her uncompromising side.
It was not likely, of course, that other gentlemen would be as accommodating as West where her interests were concerned, which was why she had opted for a distant man previously.
The odds of another man like West crossing her path as well as being interested in her in a matrimonial sense were slim indeed.
No one else needed to know that, though. They only needed to believe that Ellie wanted a new dress for that purpose.
Looking down at her skirts now, a faded but sturdy calico, she sighed and shook her head. She would be taking her very best dresses with her to Carraway in a few days, but it still might not be enough to impress Mrs. Beale. Ellie was simply not the sort of woman that other women were impressed by.
Fashion had never been a particularly worthy expense for her in the last few years. The dances at the assembly rooms were an occasion to get out her one good ballgown, but anyone with discerning eyes would see the faded appliqués and worn spots, the aging lace.
It would not be good enough for Carraway.
And though she was leaving Fenmore eventually, though it would not actually help her personally to connect with Mrs. Beale, though her interest in farming would likely be stamped out one of these days, she needed to make the sort of lasting impression at Carraway that would reflect well upon West and Fenmore.
She had not brought the estate this far to only bring it this far.
Firming up her resolve, Ellie strode for the modiste shop, ignoring how her bonnet ribbons seemed to be choking her. Lack of use would keep ribbons stiff no matter how old they were, and this stiff but pretty bonnet had not been used in quite some time.
The bell above the door of the shop tinkled almost ominously as she pushed it open, and the Tucker girl behind the desk gasped at the sight of her.
“Miss Ellie!” she shrieked, rounding the desk to take her hands.
“I have never, never, seen you in here! Are you going to purchase something or do you need to speak to someone?”
Ellie laughed at the question, so perfect in its asking and so telling of her attention the last few years. “I am here for a gown, Anna. Do you think Mrs. Heyer might have something she could make up for me in a couple of days?”
Anna Tucker, bright and all of seventeen, gaped like a much younger girl, her mouth moving slightly as though trying to form words, but unable to manage the thing.
Ellie bit her lip, averting her eyes pointedly before looking back in anticipation of an answer. “Well?”
That seemed to break the spell, and suddenly Anna was shrieking again.
“Yes! Yes, she can, we have partially and ready-made pieces all the time, and you have a fairly standard figure so there should not be too much adjustment needed. AH!” She whirled and all but bellowed, “Mrs. Heyer! Miss Ellie wants a gown!”
Something crashed in the back and Ellie closed her eyes in a mixture of embarrassment and horror at the fuss and folderol unfurling before her.
It was a good thing she was not wearing her field boots today, or the pair of them might have fainted from shock.
Mrs. Heyer, possibly forty years of age but no more, hurried forward, her pale hair slightly astray from her plaited chignon, her cheeks flushed as she panted in her haste. “Miss Ellie! Wh-what sort of gown can we help you with?”
Oh, she was going to regret this . . .
“A ball gown or evening gown,” Ellie murmured in the smallest voice that would carry.
Mrs. Heyer and Anna gasped a high-pitched, dramatic sound, their eyes round, their fists clutched before their mouths.
“But not a whole new one,” Ellie insisted before they could say more. “Something that only needs additions or enhancements. I only have three days.”
Mrs. Heyer nodded frantically. “What, erm, color gown were you thinking, Miss Ellie?”
Color. She could decide a color. That was simple enough.
She exhaled slowly. “Do you happen to have something in a paler blue?”
“Yes!” she whimper-shrieked, clutching Anna’s arm. “I have a satin Grecian gown pieced together in the back just waiting for the perfect wearer and additions! Anna! Bring her back!” With that, she whirled in a flash of skirts and measuring tape, bustling back and nearly knocking over a mannequin.
Ellie watched her go with trepidation and some outright concern, which meant she had no resistance to offer when Anna took her arm in a surprisingly firm grip and prodded her to follow.
Before she could do more than blink, her bonnet and coat were removed, her shoes taken off, and fingers were working at the buttons of her dress.
She could hear the chattering of eager voices, but it was unclear at the moment if those voices were directed at her or not.
No one seemed to be attempting to get her attention, which she presumed they would do if she was not responding to them in a timely fashion.
Her voice was not needed for all of this fuss, it seemed.
“Oh yes! I won’t even have to alter it for you, Miss Ellie! Just look at how the blue alone lights up your complexion!” Mrs. Heyer gushed, shaking her a little.
Ellie forced herself to focus, looking into the mirror with more attention.
When she did, her mouth fell open.
The gown did not just fit her. It fit her perfectly.
Every curve she had, subtle though they were, was perfectly encased in this gown.
She looked taller than she was with the long skirts, something she had not had in years, due to the lack of practicality at Fenmore.
She hadn’t been flashing her ankles, of course, but she had hemmed gowns to not drag on the floor and to allow her shoes room to function.
The neckline of this gown was in no way daring, but it was exceptionally flattering.
She had not known necklines could be flattering rather than functional.
The sleeves were tiny, which she actually liked rather than judged.
It was almost as though they were decorative rather than structural.
And this was the gown before it had anything decorating it. Just a structured base that she already loved.
Mrs. Heyer was grinning and nodding, then clapping her hands. “Right! I have a silver crepe de chine that I want to layer over this, parting in the center from the waistline down. I will stop it a few inches from the hem of the blue, then add a ribbon of it at the hem over the blue.”
Anna gasped and squealed at the prospect, while Ellie was trying to picture the garment as described.
She was failing.
Mrs. Heyer ran off to get the fabric mentioned, then returned and began demonstrating the layering of the crepe over the blue and what it might look like.
Then Ellie could see what the woman was envisioning, and it was stunning. The gown would be taken from a bolder blue to something more subtle and ethereal, something better matched to her eyes, and the flowing nature of the crepe softened the edges of the blue satin markedly.
It was going to be lovely.