Chapter 20 #2
Mr. Bailey threw down his piece of charcoal and approached her chair. “Stand up. I need to rearrange your toga. You’ve left your underclothing on!” he added accusingly.
“Indeed, I have. I’d freeze to death without them!”
He glowered at her. “Your chemise will show above the sheet. Remove it forthwith.”
“I most certainly will not!” she retorted. “I can simply slip out of the sleeves and tuck them under the sheet when you have it arranged to your satisfaction.”
“This is quite intolerable!” he huffed. “What do you mean by being so stubborn? You must really think yourself something out of the common way,” he said sarcastically, “by giving me so much trouble!”
Effie cleared her throat meaningfully while Caroline glared back at him. “’Er man wouldn’t hold wiv her sitting there in the altogether for you. ’E’s a peer of the realm no less and ’olds shares in this place. You wouldn’t want to upset ’im, now, would you?”
A tap at the window interrupted them and they all turned to see a woman’s squinting face pressed up against the glass.
“It’s Vi at last!” Effie said with relief, rushing toward the door.
“Well,” commented Caroline. “Another possible model has appeared, so if I am not to your liking, you can simply replace me.” She shrugged a mostly bare shoulder, though she was aware of a distinct feeling of disappointment at the prospect.
Mr. Bailey scowled. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Ambrosia? But you shall not escape me that easily.”
“My name,” Caroline answered coolly, “is Caroline.”
“Henceforth you shall be nothing but Ambrosia as far as I am concerned. Come!” he said autocratically. “Let me re-drape that sheet. You have it all wrong.”
With businesslike fingers he pulled the sheet about, folding and pleating it until he had it arranged to his satisfaction.
Every so often he drew a pin from beneath one of his lapels and fixed the fabric in place, until finally he seemed to exhaust his supply.
“A pin!” he yelled, snapping his fingers.
“My kingdom for a simple dressmaker’s pin!
Gloriana?” he said swinging around. “Where are you?”
“’E means me,” Effie said, appearing arm in arm with her friend. “’E always calls me that after I sat for ’im and ’e painted me as the virgin queen.”
Her friend, an unimpressed-looking blonde, snorted. “Virgin queen? Chance would be a fine thing!”
“A pin! A pin!” Mr. Bailey seethed, wriggling his fingers.
“Well, I ain’t got one,” Effie admitted. “Not the kind of fing I carry around wiv me. ’Ow bout you, Vi?” she asked, turning to her friend.
Violet rolled her eyes but reached up to draw one of out of the little piece of netting that hung over the front of her hat and handed it over. “You the artist?” she asked curiously.
Mr. Bailey took the pin and fixed it into place. “Yes,” he replied shortly, then stood back to survey his work. He gave a nod of satisfaction. “Now kindly tidy away your unsightly undergarments. And summon your attendants,” he said. “I need to determine your pose.”
“Who’s she?” Vi asked in a rather loud aside as Caroline tucked her chemise and called for Remus and Romulus. Remus came running while naughty Romulus plunked himself down by the bar and started giving himself a meticulous wash.
Effie whispered in her friend’s ear. “Her?” Vi queried seemingly in disbelief. “Don’t seem the sort somehow.”
Caroline feigning deafness, patted her lap. Remus leaped up, purring so loudly it seemed to reverberate through the large room. “Perhaps you could add Romulus in later?” she suggested. “Remus is the one who actually resembles a leopard with his spots after all.”
Mr. Bailey grunted, removed his jacket and waistcoat and started scribbling with his charcoal. Once he was stripped to his voluminous shirt, he did look rather more artistic, Caroline thought, and less like a prosperous businessman.
“What am I ’sposed to do?” Violet asked in injured tones. “Stand ’ere twirling me thumbs?”
Mr. Bailey flung back his head. “Gloriana!” he bawled.
“Just take a seat, Vi, I’ll get you a cuppa,” Effie urged her. “’E won’t talk to you till he’s got a use for you. But he’d ’ave flat out told you to sling your hook if he didn’t have no use for you, so there’s that.”
Violet sniffed and flung her head, but she took a seat all the same. “I’d better get paid for my time, that’s all,” she muttered darkly as Effie disappeared off to the scullery.
The artist paid her no heed, and seeing he had no audience, Romulus abandoned his wash and meowed piteously for attention.
“Come here then, boy,” Caroline entreated him. He stood up and slinked over, to sit at her feet. When bored of this, he leaned up in a stretch, embedding his outstretched claws into her toga. “Romulus!” she scolded, and he opened his mouth at her, showing his teeth.
Remus whipped around on her lap and hissed at his brother, shooting out a paw to swipe at his face.
“Remus!” Romulus disentangled himself with a yowl and darted under Caroline’s sheet until all that was left showing was his twitching tail.
Remus circled on Caroline’s lap until he found a good spot and then settled smugly back down.
“They don’t usually fight,” she said apologetically.
“It’s like bein’ at the bleedin’ zoo in ’ere!” Violet complained.