Chapter 13 Kitty
When he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night.
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, ROMEO AND JULIET
Aunt Clarice refused to let Fredericka wear any of the gowns from the pathetic trunk she’d brought from home. Poor Freddy blushed and bit her lip as Aunt surveyed the meager offerings the day following my friend’s arrival.
“Dated. Too high-necked.” She sniffed and dismissed our maid Abigail, who’d held up each dress in turn. Seated near the fireplace, Aunt delivered her judgments with brisk finality. A white muslin evening gown was abandoned, regardless of the lace.
“My mother’s lace,” Fredericka protested.
“Good heavens,” Aunt muttered, brushing aside the gown. “It’s yellowed. No, that won’t do, and fixing just the trim won’t save it.”
Freddy’s eyes shone with unshed tears.
“Really, Aunt Clarice, she’s welcome to borrow my gowns until we visit the modiste, and I think Fredericka brought lovely dresses,” I interjected with a frown meant to quell Aunt’s frank speech.
“I should think not.” Aunt waved at the trunk. “We’ll purchase new ones. I’ve heard wonderful things about Madame Lanchester’s shop on Bond Street. We’ll leave right after breakfast, allowing plenty of time for social calls later in the afternoon.”
I could hardly argue with Aunt’s sudden burst of generosity, but Freddy squirmed in her chair.
“I haven’t the . . . I cannot afford to make purchases right now. I don’t need to attend every function. I’d be content to stay at the townhouse.”
“Nonsense,” Aunt declared. “What were your parents thinking, sending you off with such a meager wardrobe?”
“That’s enough, Aunt,” I cut in, noting how Freddy’s hands twisted in her lap. “You’ll wear us out with your plans before we’ve even begun.”
Ignoring my protest, Aunt swept from the room. “Come now, ladies! Do not dawdle. We’ve much to do!”
I waited beside Freddy until Aunt was out of hearing range.
“I’m truly sorry. Aunt Clarice means well,” I whispered.
Freddy stood, finally lifting her head. Her muted gray dress, with its high neckline and plain fichu, did nothing to flatter her complexion.
Aunt had been right—such somber attire hardly suited her youth or lively spirit.
At least she hadn’t succumbed to wearing a lace cap.
Still, the sight of my dear friend, so subdued after Aunt’s sharp comments on her wardrobe, filled me with sadness.
She lingered at the door, her fingers brushing the edge of the frame, as if reluctant to leave the safety of my room.
“It’s just . . . my father hasn’t any money, Kitty. Our situation is far worse than I initially let on.”
Her voice dropped, and I leaned closer, sensing the weight of her confession. “What do you mean?”
“We’ve lost nearly everything,” she admitted. “You know he invested heavily in the East India Company, but now the creditors are closing in. He had hoped the dividends would cover his debts, but it wasn’t enough. Father’s ships never did return.”
I frowned, the mention of the Company sparking a pang of unease. “But surely there’s still time to—”
“No,” she interrupted. “The estate was entailed, and furnishings sold to settle accounts. My father’s position as a baronet—what good is a title without means to sustain it?
” Her voice caught, and she turned her face away briefly before continuing.
“He’s taken a modest house in Bath in the hopes of finding work as a steward or agent for one of his wealthier acquaintances. ”
I placed a hand on hers, my heart aching for her. “Fredericka, surely not. A gentleman cannot work.”
She smiled faintly, though her eyes remained clouded with worry.
“I’ve tried to hide this news. Father wouldn’t want me to burden anyone, least of all you.
But the truth is, Kitty . . .” Her voice lowered, trembling.
“If things don’t improve, I may also have to seek a position myself—as a governess or companion. Why should I fear good, honest work?”
A sickening realization washed over me. This was not the sale of their beloved estate, followed by a leisurely move to Bath. This was something far harsher, and it had to do with Grandfather’s cherished East India Company.
“All the money is gone?”
Freddy nodded as she stepped into the hall. “Father was terrible at speculation. He thought investing in tea would be wise, but trouble arose with those lost ships.”
I reached out, clasping her hand, all my well-rehearsed comforts evaporating like the mist.
“So you see,” she whispered, her voice cracking, “I can hardly afford new gowns.” Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she hurriedly wiped them away before a startled cry escaped her.
I looked over my shoulder to find Edward standing in the hall, his habitual scowl in place.
“I must have forgotten a comb,” Fredericka murmured, managing a wobbly smile. Then she darted to her room before I could say anything more to console her—not that I knew what to offer, other than a hug.
I joined Edward. He hadn’t moved a muscle. Strange how as of late, he seemed to be at home more often than at Cambridge.
“Why is Freddy crying?” he demanded.
I hesitated to betray her confidence but reminded myself that Edward was her friend too. He would care. “Her family has faced . . . misfortune. A great deal of it.”
His frown deepened until his eyebrows formed a fearsome V. “How much misfortune?”
“It’s related to the East India Company,” I whispered.
He released a long, slow breath, his shoulders tightening as if bracing for an unseen weight. “So Aunt’s plan is to take you shopping? As if that will solve everything wrong with the world?”
“Edward, she’s lost nearly everything,” I replied, a note of pleading in my voice. “Don’t ruin our morning with your dark mood. Freddy is hurting, and she’s our friend. Our dearest friend in need of our support and care.”
Edward’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he averted his gaze. His fingers curled into fists at his sides before he finally spoke again.
“I hate the Company.”
The next day, as Aunt Clarice called for the carriage after breakfast, Edward appeared at my side, straightening his cravat with a mischievous look chasing away his former gloom.
“You’re joining us?” I asked, surprised. “Shouldn’t you be finishing your studies at Cambridge? Do you ever attend a single class?”
“Have no fear, Kit. I hardly sleep and finish what I must in the midnight hour. I will return. In the meantime . . .” His smile was mild, though he narrowed his eyes.
“I thought it best to accompany you ladies. London has a way of swallowing people whole, especially those who look as lovely as . . . well, as Freddy does today.” He darted a glance at her dated gown.
“And you, too, Sister. If I remember the last trip to the bookstore correctly, I had to keep an eye on you.”
Freddy flushed but said nothing, casting me a pleading look that suggested she felt as out of place as she’d feared.
I squeezed her hand, hoping to ease her nerves.
Aunt barely masked her surprise at Edward’s offer, but she patted his arm, noting it being fitting for a gentleman to join their party.
Sebastian had left for another meeting with Parliament regarding the East India Company policies, his absence surprisingly missed.
When we arrived at Madame Lanchester’s shop on Bond Street, its polished windows gleamed in the morning light, gowns draped across mannequins shimmering invitingly.
Madame Lanchester, an elegant older woman with piercing blue eyes and a powdered coif, greeted Aunt warmly before fixing a critical gaze on Fredericka.
“Oh yes, I see exactly what you need,” she declared, clapping her hands. “Miss Fredericka, you must try something livelier, perhaps a lavender with silver trim or the rose muslin? And a brighter shawl to add some cheer!”
Fredericka tensed, as though she’d been plunged into an icy bath. Aunt gestured for Madame Lanchester to bring a selection of fabrics, nodding with approval at each neutral or subdued choice the dressmaker suggested.
“Blue silk.” Madame held up a delicate swatch of fabric with an appraising gleam in her eyes. “This would bring out her complexion nicely.”
Fredericka fidgeted, her fingers twitching against the folds of her dress. “It’s very pretty.”
Aunt, seemingly oblivious to Fredericka’s discomfort, gestured toward another fabric—a vibrant rose satin. “And this for evening wear, perhaps paired with a deeper trim. Something to add a touch of elegance.”
Aunt meant well, and dear Freddy—who once told me to have the courage to refuse what I did not want—would now, in her reduced circumstances, accept whatever was offered without complaint.
Madame Lanchester nodded, producing a small sketch pad from her pocket. “I could design a high-waisted gown with short, puffed sleeves and a flowing skirt to flatter her figure,” she said, penciling graceful lines with practiced ease.
Freddy’s cheeks pinked as she glanced at the drawing. “It’s lovely,” she agreed, though her eyes darted toward a simpler fabric—a pale yellow muslin resting on the edge of the table.
“And for day wear,” Aunt continued, ignoring Freddy’s hesitation, “something light and practical. The muslin could suffice.”
Madame reached for the muslin and laid it alongside the other selections. “Certainly. A modest gown with clean lines and a gathered bodice would suit her beautifully.”
Freddy cast me a wary glance.
“Fredericka,” I said gently, stepping closer. “Do you have a preference? This is for you, after all.” If my friend had encouraged me to speak up to Grandfather, then I would not let her voice go unnoticed in this moment.
Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she looked ready to argue. Then, with a faint shake of her head, she grinned as if reading my mind. “I do so like blue.”