Chapter Ten
Sandrine was quite nervous as she opened her salon bright and early the next day. She was doubly careful that every display was straight, every fold of every gown perfect.
‘It must be a duchess, at least, who is coming!’ Jane whispered to another vendeuse.
‘No, a queen, I am sure!’
Sandrine had to laugh. She had been acting rather wildly, fluttering around here and there, putting out a hat then taking it back, smoothing a skirt over and over.
‘The bride is sister to a French comte, and engaged to a diplomat, so our designs could be seen all over the Continent. She is also an old friend of mine.’
She remembered Francoise d’Alency and her sister, Catherine.
Francoise had been so merry, so elfin and prankish, and Catherine so dignified and lovely.
Sandrine wondered what Francoise could be like now, what she wanted from her married life.
Sandrine had helped so many brides navigate the first steps of a new life, had hoped her gowns, her advice, could hold them up, give them faith in themselves.
Maybe she could do the same for Francoise.
But what would Alain’s sister think of her now? What had Alain told his family about her?
Sandrine studied the salon, realising that no amount of tidying would steady her nerves now. She’d just tweaked a display of sunset-coloured silk scarves when the little silver bells at the door rang out merrily.
She turned, a careful smile on her lips. Alain stood there, silhouetted by the sunlight outside, his hair tumbling into those same dark curls, a young lady on his arm. She gazed around, wide-eyed with curiosity, and Sandrine had a moment to study her.
Sometimes she was so busy, so occupied with the business and with Marie, the time since she’d had her brief life with Alain seemed not so long ago. Then sometimes it felt an eternity away, and she wasn’t sure she hadn’t imagined it all.
Now, looking at Francoise d’Alency, she remembered well the young girl who had fluttered so excitedly through Sandrine’s wedding breakfast, her bright curls flying, her laughter so loud and free. A part of that world Sandrine had wanted for herself.
But this was a lady who stood before her now.
Tall, graceful, those red-gold waves smoothed beneath a little velvet hat.
She wore a walking dress and spencer of aqua-blue velvet trimmed with darker blue ribbon, fashionable but not the best colour for her.
Sandrine could see right away that a clear greenish-blue would bring out the merry glow in her eyes, the gold in her hair.
The latest narrow skirt style from France would also show her slim figure to perfection.
Those were things Sandrine dealt with every day, her expertise, her business. Helping women look and feel their best so they could conquer their lives was what she lived for. But she’d never done it for her own sister-in-law before.
Her sister-in-law. Alain’s sister! When Francoise turned to look at her, Sandrine almost fell back a step. The same changeable dark grey-blue eyes as Alain, as Marie.
She forced herself to keep smiling, and came forward with her hand outstretched. ‘Mademoiselle d’Alency! How lovely to see you again. How you have changed!’
Francoise dropped a little curtsey, strangely uncertain. As if she was struck by the same shyness as Sandrine when faced with the past. ‘And you hardly look different at all, Mademoiselle Jau—er—Madame la Comtesse.’ She glanced up at Alain. ‘It is amazing.’
‘Please, do call me Sandrine,’ she said slowly. Each word felt like a careful tiptoe-step. ‘Come, let me show you the salon. Alain tells me you are soon to be married, and need a fine gown and trousseau.’
Francoise suddenly beamed. ‘Yes! He is with the Foreign Service, in Paris at the moment, which is why I am stuck here with my no-fun brother.’ She nudged Alain’s shoulder, and they grinned at each other, making Sandrine’s heart ache.
‘Oh, Mademoiselle Jau—Sandrine! He is so very handsome, so smart and kind. I am very fortunate indeed. Yet…’ She glanced at the gown on the mannequin near by, biting her lip wistfully.
‘Yet what, Francoise?’ Sandrine asked.
‘He has a brilliant future ahead, everyone says so. I fear I might let him down, not learn to be a proper partner to him. I’ve lived so quietly, with my mother and then my sister. You know that Catherine married a vicar? Can you fathom it?’
Sandrine smiled. ‘I had heard, yes. I hope she is very happy.’
‘Oh, she is, but she is so dull now, with all her children and her parish visits and her ladies’ reading group! She has no advice on current fashion for me.’
‘Well, you have come to the right place. We help ladies with just such advice every day,’ Sandrine reassured her.
‘Let me show you a few of our samples, and you can tell me what appeals to you.’ She gestured to her vendeuses, hovering in the background, watching them curiously.
‘Jane, if you could see that the comte has a comfortable chair and a glass of wine for a time?’
They all rushed forward eagerly to surround Alain. The ladies always had adored him, and Sandrine saw nothing had changed! They bore him off to a chair, chattering as he cast an imploring look over their heads. Francoise didn’t even look at him; no one was rescuing him.
Was that how Danielle Aurac had once been? Maybe still was. Sandrine could not bear to think of that now.
‘I was so fascinated to find out the famous madame was really you!’ Francoise said, twirling a little with the pale pink gown held against her. ‘Everyone said your list was far too long, and I would never be able to order a gown in time.’
‘We do have a great many loyal patrons.’
‘I can see why.’ She reached out to reverently touch a velvet cloak. ‘These are so astounding.’
What on earth could Francoise think of her brother’s strange marriage? ‘Mademoiselle d’Alency…’
‘Francoise!’
‘Francoise.’ Sandrine took a deep breath. ‘You must think it so strange that I came to be here in Bath.’
Francoise tilted her head to study Sandrine. ‘Living apart from my brother, you mean?’
‘Yes.’
She frowned, and carefully laid aside the gown.
‘I adore Alain. But even I knew, when I was just a girl, that he would be no easy proposition to live with in an everyday way. He was too headstrong, too—well, a bit self-centred. And his friends, Henri-Robert and Louis—eek. So wild! Both are now married men with lots of children and grown rather stout, naturellement.’ She glanced around the gleaming shop.
‘You had to be free to create this wondrous space, I can tell. It is so very special. But Alain has changed. He is not that careless young rake at all any more, I promise you that. His travels, the things he has seen and learned—how could he help but be different? To have grown?’
Sandrine slowly nodded. She had also seen glimpses of that in him, in his new, careful way of speaking, the solemn look in his eyes.
Francoise caught up a velvet tippet of rich amethyst-purple and spun around again. ‘Ooh-la-la! I do adore this. It’s your very own design?’
‘Yes, one of my favourites. You see the way the collar is here? It can be worn over a wedding gown on a chilly day as you walk from the church. Like so.’ She spun it over her shoulders, suddenly remembering her own wedding day, the wild hopes she’d had then.
‘I love it.’ Francoise slipped behind the mannequin to study how she might look in the jonquil-yellow dinner gown. ‘This is so daring! Just look at this hemline. Yet I fear I could never look right in it. Not like a diplomat’s sophisticated wife should.’
‘Of course you can! This style was meant for a lively, spirited sort of young bride. And any gown is mainly about the attitude of the lady who wears it. It is like her armour, her disguise. Her way of showing the world who she wishes to be.’ Sandrine took the satin gown from the mannequin and held it up to Francoise, adjusting the neckline.
‘This colour, this pearly sheen, is perfect for your hair, for your skin tone. It makes you glow, see? Like a—a goddess of the sunrise sky! You can dominate a room without a word said. Just stand there, glance about to meet everyone’s eye, and they are yours. ’
Francoise laughed in delight. ‘It is a costume! In my own play.’
‘Exactement. The world is your own theatre, and you can be anyone you like.’ Sandrine reached for a spool of beaded lace and draped it over the shoulder of the gown.
‘I can help you become a great lady of fashion, to have people adore and look up to you. To teach you to tell your very own story with clothes.’
Francoise glanced at her, suddenly serious. ‘As you do, Sandrine?’
‘As we all do. Or can. Look at your brother.’ She gestured at Alain, who was laughing and entertaining the salesgirls now, making them giggle and ply him with cakes. ‘His story says he is careless right now.’
Francoise studied him thoughtfully. ‘I see what you mean. He wants to say he is careless. But I know—I think you and I both know—he is not at all.’ She suddenly took Sandrine’s hand in hers.
‘I shall never wish to pry into your life, Sandrine. I just want to say we have all missed you very much. Alain has changed so much, he really has.’
Sandrine thought of the beautiful Danielle, of how much he was sure he had loved her then. ‘Francoise…’
‘Please, do not give up on him. On us. I need your advice so much! And so does Alain, though he might not admit it yet.’
Sandrine smiled at her, a wave of tenderness washing over her, much as it did when she looked at Marie. ‘It will be my pleasure to help you however I can, Francoise. I understand your first step is that you require a wedding gown?’
‘Oh, yes!’ Francoise cried. Her eyes shone with delight. ‘Something unlike anything else, something that will astonish everyone when they see me in it.’
‘Well, that is my speciality. Come, let’s look at some fashion papers and you can tell me what you envision.’