Chapter 4 #2
“Mrs. Gainsworth is here.” Miss Cooper twisted her hands.
“I draped the fabric and pinned what I could. She is waiting for you.” She remained where she was, hands clasped, hope bright in her cheeks.
It was time to disabuse her of the notion that she would proceed with Mrs. Gainsworth’s gown.
He almost hated doing it, but the gown must be perfect, and Miss Cooper’s skill did not extend that far.
“Thank you for alerting me, Miss Cooper. I will take care of cutting and sewing the gown.”
“With my help.”
“Alone. You may trim it, of course.”
“But you promised—”
“—no such thing.” Peter stood close to Miss Cooper, who stepped closer still.
If her manner was meant to intimidate, it failed. Thoughts of a much different kind flooded his brain. Her lips were full and quite alluring in her anger. She continued to speak, but he wasn’t following.
“I’m sorry. What did you say?”
She threw her hands into the air, then leaned toward him. Not a wise move, for now her amber, infuriated eyes lay available for his further distraction. Her presence brought enough disruption without his acknowledging her loveliness.
“Mrs. Gainsworth asked that I assist you.”
“And you have. Thank you for your work with the embroidery this week, but I will take it from here, and when she next arrives, you will inform me.” He walked away.
She stomped her foot, which tempted him to glance at her fiery anger. He had saved himself from one source of difficulty and resigned himself to another, for Miss Cooper was trouble no matter what he did.
He entered the measuring room. “Good afternoon, Jane. Or do you wish me to call you Mrs. Gainsworth?”
“Jane, of course. We are friends, though I have moved up in the world.” She preened at her reflection.
“Yes, though you slight me as a tailor.”
“Do not be offended. I simply believe dressmaking belongs to women.”
Peter hoped she did not spread that belief. “Let me look at Miss Cooper’s work.”
“Where is she?”
“Miss Cooper? She has other work to attend to.”
“I prefer she remain with us.”
He measured women every day, a scientific methodical practice that never took his imagination where it should not go.
“Why?” he asked.
“She is to be my dressmaker, so I wish to help her along.” Mrs. Gainsworth must have seen something in Peter’s face, for she added, “Never fear. If you do well, the livery for my servants will aways be yours.”
His insides sagged. Servants typically received two suits of livery each year—not an insubstantial request—but the gown was worth as much as one fleet livery.
A year’s worth of Mrs. Gainsworth’s wardrobe, besides being a far more interesting commission, valued far higher.
Still, he could not refuse the direct request and left to fetch Miss Cooper.
“Mrs. Gainsworth asks for your company.”
She looked up at him, gold eyes flashing in a ray of light, her mouth pressing into a small smile. “I will be pleased to join you.” She stood and lifted her pert chin. “You seem unaware of how overtaxed you are, Mr. Sloan. If you permit, I could help a great deal.”
Heaven spare him that curse. She could not understand the pressures that weighed upon him, and he did not want a reminder of everything he did poorly. “It would not be fair to the other apprentices.”
She scoffed. “That is mere excuse. You would all benefit from my assistance.”
The smugness. No matter that she had a point. He smiled and stepped into the challenge. “You could do better?”
Her chin lifted. “I could. For starters—”
He put up his hand.
“Why don’t you teach me?” Her tone had lost its edge. When he didn’t respond, she said, “You are easy with your smiles but never say what you think.” She spun on her heel and entered the measuring room.
No one questioned her competence. Miss Cooper had found additional needlewomen who finished embroidering Mrs. Gainsworth’s silk in record time, attesting to her ability to procure extra hands and motivate them.
But the guild forcefully opposed any meaningful instruction, and he felt a grudging obligation to respect their wishes.
The guild snubbed him at times, but without them he never would have been able to keep his father’s tailoring business alive.
That was another place where his duties held him bound.
He must take care of what the elder Mr. Sloan could not. Sloan Tailoring mustn’t fail.
He might empathize more with Miss Cooper’s feelings at being scorned by the guild, take her on as a true apprentice to spite them, if not for the recurring vision of her shop.
The image of it, opened for business and flooded with female customers, dampened his good will.
She would poach clients like Mrs. Gainsworth on whom he relied to build upon the efforts of his forefathers.
“Are you alright, sir?” Arnold, holding a hot iron in each hand, addressed him.
Peter found himself motionless in the middle of the workroom and forced a laugh. “Excuse me. Lost in thought.” He found Mrs. Gainsworth standing on a block with her arms spread as Miss Cooper pinned the loose fabric into sleeves. He released a tight breath.
“…above the elbow with a train of double ruffles,” said Mrs. Gainsworth. “Or do you think a pleated cuff would be better?”
“Decide quickly, else there will be no sleeves at all,” Peter said.
Miss Cooper turned a narrowed eye upon him. “Nay, Mr. Sloan. We must ensure Mrs. Gainsworth receives the gown she desires, down to the last detail.”
She was cunning, but could she do the work?
He stepped close enough to examine how she’d arranged the sleeves.
Better than expected, but the lay required adjusting.
He might retreat and allow these women to make a mess of silk that cost more than Peter earned in a month.
But he required the payment and must prove he deserved Mrs. Gainsworth’s patronage.
He swallowed the sourness that crept into his mouth and addressed Miss Cooper with the first words of instruction he’d ever directed at her. “The pleats at her back should fall without bending over her panniers. You must pin them at an angle.”
“Show me.” Miss Cooper stepped back and gestured to the gown, her face open, eyes sharp and hungry. Her excitement made a fourth presence in the room and forced Peter to acknowledge his desire to instruct her, to witness her capabilities. He shoved the inclination away.
“May I?” he asked Mrs. Gainsworth before attempting to square the silk.
Under Miss Cooper’s scrutiny his fingers forgot what they knew, requiring him to start over.
And then his apprentice was beside him, her skirts pressing against his leg, her hands brushing his as she inserted a pin into the fold he created.
Peter focused on the nap of the silk, its fine weave and cool touch, refusing to be unsettled by Miss Cooper’s proximity. Together, they worked until the silk flowed from shoulder to floor in a smooth, cascading line. Job complete, Miss Cooper stepped away, and Peter took a full breath.
He rotated Mrs. Gainsworth to examine each place Miss Cooper had tacked the fabric before he arrived. After settling two stray pins, he searched in vain for additional mistakes but found none. He laughed to himself. Her skill astonished him.
“Well done,” he told Miss Cooper. “You have good instincts.”
Miss Cooper’s grin landed somewhere beneath his ribs, her pleasure at the compliment becoming his own. She took up a pair of scissors and swiveled toward Mrs. Gainsworth, evidently set on making the first cuts, which often happened during such a fitting.
Then she paused, fingering the scissors like a child holding the reins of a giant horse. She surely recognized the silk was more suitable for court than a small fête, how untrained she was to attempt shearing such finery.