“Girls, I’m stepping out for luncheon. I expect you’ll keep everything orderly until I return at two o’clock. Is that understood?”
“Yes’m.” Margaret bowed her head.
Mrs. Cunningham looked at Hanna, her cold eyes appraising Hanna’s face. “If I hear of any trouble, you’ll both be out of a job.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Hanna answered.
With a curt nod, Mrs. Cunningham picked up her full skirt and walked in that clipped way she had, as if astride a trotting horse.
Margaret smiled. “She looks like a big-bottomed buffoon with that bustle.”
Hanna giggled. “It isn’t kind to say such things.”
“She isn’t a kind person,” Margaret said, smirking.
Hanna eyed the clock on the wall. It was noon.
“Shall we have tea?” Margaret asked, a glint in her eye.
Hanna looked at the gold-rimmed teacup and felt her mind return once again to Lucas’s summer-blue eyes. Margaret clinked a spoon against the saucer, puncturing Hanna’s daydream.
Hanna bit her lip. “Perhaps we can take a little tea, but not the cream and sugar. Mrs. Cunningham will notice if there is less than before.”
Margaret shook her head. “Oh, but Hanna, that’s the whole fun of it! Can you even remember the taste of sugar? Real white sugar?”
Hanna’s mouth watered. It had been so long since she’d had any.
Before Margaret could pick up the teapot, the shop door jingled. Hanna straightened her posture. In strolled two society women, gowns tiered like layer cake trailing behind them. One had an upturned nose, like a pug dog, and tight blond curls. Her dark-eyed brunette friend appeared more handsome, with a face of sharp angles.
The pug-nosed woman sniffed. “My name is Miss Delia Heathcoate. I’m here to pick up my evening gown.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Margaret said.
The brunette laughed. “Ma’am? Delia, you’re not yet married.”
Miss Delia glared at Margaret. “It’s Miss Heathcoate, as I stated.”
Margaret reddened. “Apologies, miss.”
“And I’m Miss Juliet Livingston,” the brunette said, cooling herself with a beautiful floral fan in the overheated shop. “Please find my gown as well.”
Margaret paused. “What colors are they?”
Miss Delia frowned. “We gave you our names.”
Margaret froze, wide-eyed.
The thought seemed to dawn on Miss Delia as she laughed derisively. “You can’t read, can you?”
Margaret’s face fell.
“Go on,” Hanna whispered to Margaret. “I’ll come in a minute.”
With a nod, Margaret darted to the back room to search for the dresses, while Hanna walked to Mrs. Cunningham’s office to locate the receipt book.
The brunette giggled. “Even though you aren’t quite a ma’am yet, you shan’t be single for long. You’ve got your eye on Robert, haven’t you?”
Miss Delia smiled as if she had a secret. “Perhaps.”
“Yet there are other fine men in that family. Lucas is quite the gentleman.”
Hanna stopped and held her breath.
Both women erupted into laughter.
“Oh, Jules, stop. It’s not polite to suggest I should fancy both cousins. I can’t help having multiple suitors.”
“I saw the dark, mysterious way he was looking at you at the Governor’s Ball. Robert would be my choice.”
Hanna fiddled with a loose thread on the pocket of her dirndl. Surely Lucas hadn’t taken a liking to the awful blonde. She’d been unkind to Margaret.
As Hanna picked up the receipt book, she heard Miss Delia giggle.
“Lucas has asked to meet me tonight at seven in front of Lotta’s Fountain. He’s purchased tickets for us to see Lotta Crabtree perform. But Viscount Theodore Wharton is in town, and I intend to make quite an impression on him.”
“Delia!” Juliet cried. “Will you not send a calling card to let Lucas know you’ve canceled?”
Hanna covered her mouth, her ears attuned to every word.
“Indeed not,” Delia said. “Mother and I are seeking the best possible husband. I ought to be a baroness, not the wife of a lowly real-estate man. We’re attending a private party tonight at Fanny Reynolds’s mansion, and I shall look irresistible.”
“But Lucas shall be waiting for you,” Juliet said.
“He’s so dull.” Delia cackled. “Waiting will suit him.”
With the receipt book in hand, Hanna met Margaret in the back room. Margaret’s cheeks had flushed from the encounter. “Cows, the both of them.”
“Yes,” Hanna said, slamming the book on the table. How could such a horrible woman leave Lucas waiting, after he’d gone to the trouble of purchasing tickets to the theater? And to see the most famous actress in America, no less!
“Are you all right?” Margaret asked.
Hanna shook her head. “I will explain later. Have you found the dresses?”
“I couldn’t. I’m sorry.”
Hanna sorted through the frocks on the clothing rack, pushing them aside until she lifted a pink silk brocade gown with Miss Juliet’s name written on the tag and a green velvet evening gown that belonged to Miss Delia. Margaret helped her carry the dresses, holding the folds of fabric aloft so they wouldn’t touch the ground.
“Here you are,” Hanna said, laying the gowns flat on the countertop.
“Is that the dress you wore to the Regatta Ball?” Juliet asked, wrinkling her nose. “What a darling cap sleeve.”
Delia’s expression darkened. “What?”
Juliet shook her head. “Nothing at all, only it’s not the newest from Paris. The three-quarter-length sleeve is a la mode again.”
Flaring her nostrils, Delia glared at Hanna. “Take it away.”
Hanna froze. “But, miss, it’s been mended and . . .”
“You heard me,” Delia said. “It’s a rag and I don’t want it.”
Margaret gaped at Hanna. To give away such a fine dress? It was unthinkable.
“Miss,” Hanna said, steadying her voice. “Mr. Heathcoate has paid in advance.”
“Are you deaf?” Delia said, speaking more loudly than necessary. “I don’t care if Father paid for it. Dispose of it now.”
Juliet raised her eyebrows and picked up her pink dress. “Come, Delia, don’t work yourself into a tizzy.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Delia said, opening a pearl-handled fan with a flick of her wrist. “You see, Jules, I’m buying a new dress this very instant. Come along. We shall see what’s just arrived from Paris. We’re going to Lord & Taylor.”
Miss Delia tossed her blond curls and walked with purpose. Miss Juliet followed behind her, carrying the garment bag. The bell tinkled and a burst of cold air charged through the door before it closed. Hanna stared at the green dress in front of her, touching the soft velvet. The jet-black buttons on the bodice were as smooth and round as stones.
“It’s gorgeous,” Margaret said.
“But what are we to do with it?” Hanna asked.
“We’ll decide later. Let’s have our tea.”
After helping herself to the cream and sugar, Margaret carried over a tray laden with two steaming mugs.
A shiver of pleasure ran through Hanna as she placed her lips on the rim of Mrs. Cunningham’s porcelain teacup. How scandalous! Warming her from the inside, the first sip of Hanna’s tea held hints of cloves and spices mixed with a creamy sweetness. A woman with Mrs. Cunningham’s erect posture walked past the shop, and Hanna nearly dropped her saucer. Once the woman’s face became visible, Hanna’s shoulders relaxed. The lady on the street bore no resemblance to their supervisor.
Margaret set down her teacup and twisted her ring. Glinting in the light, the silver band encircled two hands holding a heart, topped with a crown.
Margaret caught Hanna looking. “It’s me gran’s wedding ring.”
“Do you miss her?” Hanna asked.
Margaret’s eyes g
listened with tears. “Aye. She’s the kindest person you’ll ever meet.”
Hanna reached for Margaret’s hand, knowing nothing she could say would bring comfort. Margaret would never see her grandmother again. Nor would Hanna see her Oma, who had wept when Hanna boarded the ship for America, waving good-bye for the last time. Only the elderly and frail were left behind. No one returned from America. And letters from home were not the same as a warm laugh or a cup of tea shared on a cold day.
“She’s got no one to care for her,” Margaret said, wiping away a tear. “She’s all by herself, in a drafty old cottage in County Cork. She’ll die alone.”
Hanna remembered disembarking the ship, her legs shaky. There were those unfortunate people who didn’t pass inspection. Families separated in America and asked to reboard the very ship that had taken them here. She’d seen women in babushkas crying out as they clutched at their grandchildren. It was her first sign that America was no glittering land of promise.
“Your gran loves you,” Hanna said, squeezing Margaret’s hand. “You did what you had to. She is better in Ireland. It is the only home she knows.”
Margaret looked at the ring on her finger. “Gran gave me this before we boarded the ship. It’s the most special thing in the world to me. I’ll never take it off, Hanna. No matter how hungry I am.”
“These hands here,” Hanna asked, touching the silver. “What does it mean?”
Margaret smiled, allowing Hanna to inspect the design. “The hands represent friendship, the heart love, and the crown loyalty. It’s called a claddagh ring.”
“That is lovely,” Hanna said, smiling at her friend.
Margaret stared at her finger, a look of sadness passing over her face. Hanna swallowed. Was Margaret thinking again of her grandmother, or of a boy she wished to marry? If Margaret had a sweetheart, surely she would say something. Margaret loved to gossip, chattering like a little sparrow in the springtime.
The shop door jingled and Hanna set down her teacup. She and Margaret both stood to attention, their skirts obscuring the tea set behind them. Hanna’s breathing eased when she realized their visitor was only a small boy. Soot covered his face, and he wore a tattered cap.
“Shoo!” Margaret said, bending down. “You best be out of here before I tell your mother. We haven’t got money. This is not a shop for grubby boys.”
In his outstretched hand he held a folded piece of paper.
Hanna took the note from him. “Who gave you this?”
He grinned, revealing two missing teeth. “A man in a big hat gave me a silver dime. He said I ought’a find the two pretty shopgirls.”
Margaret’s eyes widened. Unfolding the piece of paper, Hanna’s hands trembled. The penmanship was neat, written in black ink.
Dear Hanna and Margaret,
I’m terribly sorry I haven’t been able to stop by the shop for a visit. I hope that you both arrived home safely. Please know that while I may not seem to understand your struggles, your conversation has remained with me. I will do what I can to reform the current labor laws, by advocating against them, so that your siblings shall not work too hard, and that you may spend more time with your families. Wishing you all the best.
Lucas
“What does it say?” Margaret asked, tugging the paper from Hanna’s hands. Margaret’s brow wrinkled. “Oh, bloody hell. Why would I even try to make sense of it?” She turned to the boy. “You said the man had a hat? What kind of hat? Was he a handsome man?”
The boy shrugged. “It was a rich man’s hat, shiny and black. How am I to know if he’s handsome?”
Margaret giggled. “Well, I suppose you’re right. Be off now.”
He pushed open the shop door and scurried down the cobblestone street.
Margaret fixed her eyes on Hanna’s. “Who is it from?”
“From Lucas. I do not understand all of the words, but he says he hopes our siblings shall not work as hard as we do, and that he remembers our conversation. He wishes us well. It is very kind.”
Margaret sighed. “What a man, I tell you.”
Tightening her hand around the paper until it crinkled, Hanna’s brow furrowed. “Lucas invited Miss Delia to the theater with him tonight, to see Lotta Crabtree.”
“Lotta Crabtree?” Margaret said. “He invited that awful blonde? The lucky wench! How I would love to see Lotta sing and dance.”
Hanna sighed, placing Lucas’s letter on the countertop. “But Miss Delia is not going. And worse yet, she is not sending a messenger to tell Lucas of her cancellation. He shall be waiting for her at Lotta’s Fountain at seven, only to feel the fool.”
Margaret clasped Hanna’s hands in hers. “Hanna, listen to me. You must go tell him. Lucas ought to know. No woman should treat him like that.”
“Yes,” Hanna said. “You’re right.”
Margaret’s eyes twinkled, looking at Miss Delia’s green velvet gown, lying in a crumpled heap beside her. “I’ve got an idea.”
“Oh no,” Hanna said, recognizing Margaret’s mischievous look. “You’re not suggesting that I pretend to be Miss Delia. Are you?”
“Not quite,” Margaret said. “But when Lucas sees you so pretty like, and hears what a cow that woman is, he’ll see the true kindness of your nature. And it would be an awful shame to waste those tickets, would it not?”
Hanna pictured Hans’s and Katja’s rosy little faces, the way their eyes lit up when she returned home. “It’s a completely foolish thing to do, as it could go terribly awry. And who would mind the children for me?”
Margaret put her hands on her hips. “I can mind the children. I’ll pick the wee ones up from Frau Kruger’s if you tell me where she lives. I’ll mind them until you come back, which, if you’re successful, won’t be ’til late.”
Hanna shook her head. “I can’t.”
“Yes you can,” Margaret pleaded. “Show him you’re a kind, decent, respectable person.” She smiled. “And wearing that dress, he’d be blind not to see it.”
Walking down Market Street toward Lotta’s Fountain, Hanna could scarcely breathe, for her corset had been pulled so tight. Somehow she’d allowed Margaret to talk her into not only taking Miss Delia’s dress, but also into borrowing the necessary undergarments from another customer. Hanna’s cheeks burned, as if the mark of a charlatan were stamped upon her.
Hanna and Margaret had hidden the clothing in a laundry bag, which they took out back and set down next to the rubbish bin. At the end of her shift, Hanna picked up the bag and walked with Margaret to the back entrance of the Palace Hotel. In the maids’ quarters, Margaret helped her into the hoopskirt and whalebone corset and buttoned all fifty tiny black buttons of the sumptuous green velvet dress.
“I’ll never be able to lace so tight,” Margaret said as she unraveled Hanna’s plaits and pinned the mass of dark hair atop Hanna’s head, letting a few curls hang loose.
Only Hanna’s boots, hidden beneath the heavy folds of velvet, were the very same she wore each day. Hopefully no one would notice the scuffed toes and holes in the soles. How very strange to feel men in fine hats looking at her, not as a poor immigrant, but as a woman of society. Ladies, too, regarded her as if she were one of them. Hanna pressed her hand against her chest. Her bosom swelled from the low-cut bodice, drawing many sets of eyes toward her. This lovely dress was quite different from the high-necked day frocks many women wore to do their daily shopping.
When she reached Lotta’s Fountain, Hanna looked about for Lucas. Women talked in hushed tones behind their gloved hands as they waited to greet friends or lovers. Trailing her fingers along the bronze monument, Hanna spotted him standing to the side. Lucas held his pocket watch in his hand, frowning.
Hanna flattened herself against the lion’s head, immediately regretting her decision to intervene. Perhaps Lucas would believe Miss Delia took ill, and he would soon be on his way. But when Hanna snuck another glimpse, the nervous look on his face tugged at her heartstrings. Taking a deep breath, she strod
e toward Lucas.
He looked up, his eyes widening as he recognized her. “Hanna. I did not expect to see you here. Have you come to meet someone?” His gaze passed over her body. “You’re a vision. That dress . . . Green truly becomes you.”
“Thank you,” Hanna said, bowing her head. “I received your note today. It was very kind. Margaret thanks you as well.”
“Good,” Lucas said. “With Father’s influence in the Senate, I hope to pass new legislation. Though it isn’t an easy thing to do.”
Looking again at his watch, Lucas smiled. “I fear my date for the evening is fashionably late.” He sighed. “This is my mother’s doing. She’s trying to thrust me upon every eligible socialite in San Francisco. To be honest, they bore me to tears.”
Hanna swallowed. “Your date is not coming.”
“Excuse me?” Lucas asked, wrapping his gloved hand around the silver head of his cane. “And how have you come to know this information?”
“Miss Delia stopped by the shop today. I overheard her conversation.” Hanna paused, looking into Lucas’s eyes. “She is attending a private party tonight, to catch the eye of a viscount. Forgive me. I realize it is not my place to tell you this. But I thought you should know her true nature.”
Lucas’s brows drew together, and Hanna feared she had upset him. But then he broke into a dimpled grin, and a laugh escaped his mouth. “You’re joking.”
Hanna shook her head. “I’m afraid not. I came to tell you, because I believe you deserve someone far better.”
The blue of Lucas’s eyes seemed to burn with intensity. “So you haven’t come here tonight to meet someone? You’ve only come here to tell me this so that I would not be left waiting?”
Hanna’s cheeks tingled. “Yes. Again, please forgive me if it was too forward. I will be on my way now.”
As Hanna turned to leave, she could feel Lucas watching her. Perhaps it had been wrong to surprise him. Had she embarrassed him?
“Hanna, wait!”
Turning around, Hanna looked at Lucas, who strode toward her in his black suit. He rubbed his jaw, as if troubled by an inner conflict.
“I want to thank you. Your honesty is admirable. And Delia Heathcoate is nothing more than an obnoxious social climber, spoiled by her father’s money.”
The Dressmaker's Dowry Page 7
