A Love Made to Measure

by Eliza Emmett

He shied away from her, mumbling a salutation and taking refuge by a tall window. Of course Adele, knowing him as she did, would not let his mood go unnoticed or uncommented. He should have known that better than anyone.

  She brought her hands to her hips. “What in the world is the matter with you? You look different. And hardly a hello to your sister?”

  “Of course, Addy. Where are my manners?” He came close to her and placed a light kiss on her cheek before retreating to the window.

  “Oh my! Since when have there been manners between us, the pair of tomboys always looking for tomfoolery? The day our sibling lives are ruled by manners will be a sad, sad one. I will not stand for it. Come here at once!”

  “Here I am, sister,” he quipped and brought his heels together despite his current low mood. “We are thick as thieves, are we not? I do not know what would have been of my childhood without you.”

  They were just one year apart, Grant being the elder. They had always been together as kids, they hardly ever quarreled, and Grant was forever ready to protect her, to make sure she was safe and happy.

  He owed her an explanation, however difficult it was to get it out.

  “Addy, can I trust you with some rather important facts?”

  She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

  Permission given, he proceeded to enlighten her. First, he had met a woman, their mother’s dressmaker. Secondly, he architected a plan to get to know her better. Thirdly, a few days after making her acquaintance, he delivered the news that their family was throwing her business out into the street. And finally, he was completely in awe of and in love with her.

  Addy gasped. Then she clapped her hands and took a twirl. Grant thought her spontaneity made her look like a girl despite her already being the mother of two children of her own.

  “Grant! I had lost all hope that it would happen to you. She must be something quite special. I can’t wait to meet her. I will treat her like a sister. We will walk arm in arm, and go shopping, and have tea, and—”

  “Addy, you seem to be ignoring the third fact altogether. I have just told her the shop she calls home doesn’t have walls around it anymore. If I were the last man in the world, I would still not stand a chance.”

  Adele looped her arm through Grant’s, and they walked about the heavily brocaded room. “We will sort it out. We always have, you and me together. If this woman is your destiny, neither she nor you can escape the connection. You wait and see.” She held his face between her hands. “Oh! I’m so happy, brother. Life is finally smiling at you.” And with that she took him to the sitting room for some tea. “Now tell me all about her.”

  ****

  Grant stuck his head into the kitchen. He rehearsed his most charming smile, the one he had given for as long as he could remember, especially when he wanted something like cakes and sweets.

  “Cook Myrtle, can I prepare dinner with you?”

  “I beg your pardon, Lord Galavyin?”

  “I would like to cook dinner with you. I mean—I would like to learn more about it. Cooking, that is. Dinner, more specially. Later we can move to breakfast. So far, I can peel potatoes, dice onions, and then boil them together. Is that useful?”

  “Well, if you want to eat bland potatoes and soggy onions, then yes, my lord, that would be helpful.”

  “What if I wanted to eat something that was not bland?”

  “Then maybe we should start by using those peeled potatoes to make something tasty, now shouldn’t we?”

  “I suppose…”

  She gave him a knife for skinning the potatoes and brought a frying pan to her work area. She then put a couple of onions by him and instructed him on her chopping technique. “When you are done with that, we will brown the onions in some butter and then add the potatoes, some spices, and salt. What do you think, my lord?”

  “It sounds perfect.”

  “Now what else would you like to eat with your potatoes? Would you like fish? How about mackerel?”

  “I’m hungry already.”

  They prepared the two dishes. He took her instructions seriously, not without noticing the puzzled look on her face, which in time he decided to address.

  “I had a chance of cooking for others recently, Cook. It was an experience I will never forget, so I wanted to learn more. You have such an important job. I’m sorry if I never acknowledged it before. And thank you, for all you do. Your food is…special. It tastes like home. Or rather, home wouldn’t be home without your food.”

  She was smiling at him. “You can come to my kitchen if you want to learn. But perhaps we shouldn’t tell your mother. She won’t be very ’appy. As a matter of fact, I reckon she will be furious.”

  “How long have you known me, Cook?”

  “All your life, sir. I remember when you were very young and very picky with your food, and you didn’t want to eat anything, especially if you were ’aving a good time playing with your toys or running outside. But I could always change your mind with a good plate of bacon, eggs, and my ’omemade bread.”

  “It’s a fond memory, both the taste and the smell of that food. It’s probably the reason why to this day, I can’t resist any of those ingredients. But I know how hard it is to make my mother happy, and I appreciate what you do and how difficult it all must be. All the requests for guests, for example. Every little instruction. I have the privilege of being able not to worry too much about what she thinks or says. I understand it is not the same for you. Just know I am here.”

  He might have been mistaken, but he thought her eyes filled with tears. He hoped they were tears of relief. He wondered if she would make the excuse of the onions, but she did not.

  “Let me also tell you that I intend to prepare a special meal for two in the future, so I’ll need your help with that.”

  They went back to cooking. Grant thought he and Myrtle were having a really great time. They had now arranged a tray of cheeses and fruit, and he was getting ready to work on some seasonal vegetables when the unmistakable voice of his mother interrupted his plans.

  “Could I ask what the meaning of this is?”

  He noticed Myrtle’s face turn tomato red, and that she used her hands to grab onto her work station as if afraid to fall. He felt an urgent need to protect her. She had done nothing wrong. Neither had he. But Myrtle had the most to lose, and he had just promised her that everything was going to be fine.

  “This?” He tried to sound casual. “Dinner, what else?”

  “Grant, why are you disturbing the work of Cook? What business could you possibly have in the kitchen?”

  “Dinner, as I have just explained. You are having butter potatoes, grilled mackerel, cheese, fruit, seasonal vegetables, jellies, and bread. I think we did well. Notice the delicious aroma.”

  And without waiting for her reply, he carried trays into the mansion’s dining room, where the table was already set. Lady Galavyin followed him in. He set the serving dish with steaming potatoes in the center of the table, and the jellies next to her plate.

  “I don’t recognize you anymore. Your behavior was already puzzling to me in so many ways. And now this. Cooking. Isn’t Cook’s food good enough for you anymore?”

  “Quite the opposite. It is so good that I want to learn from her. I knew about potatoes already. Peeling is my specialty. Today I learned about fish. Fascinating.”

  “How did you know about potatoes?”

  “I had occasion to peel and boil them.”

  “You’re not making any sense. When does a gentleman have a chance to peel vegetables?”

  At this point, one of the maids entered the room with another tray and placed the adorned long dish with the mackerel next to the potatoes.

  “Mother, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. There’s something about cooking that really whets one’s appetite. Must be the smells. Or the sampling. Can we eat please?”

  They ate mostly in silence. He could tell she wa
s fuming because of the way she pursed her lips while chewing and because, while most people avoided eye contact when upset, she sought it out. Yet, it was hard for Grant not to chuckle. Who’d have thought he would prepare fish for his mother? And who’d have thought she’d pretend it was nothing special while at the same time taking a second serving and a sizeable portion of buttered potatoes?

  Chapter Six

  Cora was used to paying customers a visit after their dresses had been delivered and tried on. It was an unusual way to do business, but, as far as she was concerned, she was a unique tailoress. Her reputation was enough for her to be welcome in houses otherwise inaccessible to someone of her station. The desire to continue to sport the latest fashions and be the envy of their peers at balls and at the opera made women agreeable to not only tolerating her presence, but more than that, eagerly anticipating her arrival.

  Having grown accustomed to such privilege, Cora found it reasonable to visit Lady Galavyin, to ascertain that the dress was to her taste, and to discover more about the uncle who was throwing a solid business onto the street without the courtesy of even a brief explanation.

  She arrived at the stunning London home of the Galavyin clan after a short but uncomfortable walk. She hadn’t really been able to collect her thoughts or enjoy the beautiful gardens on the way there. The primulas and silver bells on display failed to produce in her the simple bliss they had so many times before.

  It was an elegant house: white, with perfectly proportional columns at the entrance and a tea rose second floor with large molded windows. Cora offered her beautifully designed card by way of introduction. Soon she found herself waiting for the lady of the house in a polished powder-blue morning room adorned with fabrics as rich as the ones she coveted when she made her striking dresses.

  She fitted right into the environment. Having the capacity to create beautiful clothes meant she too was always styled in high fashion. Today, her dramatic butter-yellow dress, trimmed with delicate ivory lace, offset the dark hair that cascaded in curls over her shoulders. She had to confess her pleasure when, walking by a large mirror, she caught a glimpse of her profile.

  Cora anticipated having to wait so she came prepared with a book. It was obvious that someone like Lady Galavyin would assert her superiority by delaying her arrival. At least a maid offered some tea, which she drank while watching the garden outside the window with the same dispassion she had reserved for nature in the park. In time, the swooshing of an elegant taffeta skirt announced its wearer’s arrival.

  Cora stood up. She might not have money, but she knew how to act in polite society.

  “Lady Galavyin.” She conceded to an almost imperceptible bowing of her head. “I expect you are well?”

  “Well indeed. Thank you. Please sit and enjoy your tea. Allow me to congratulate you on the evening gown. It is without doubt a work of exquisite dressmaking.” Lady Galavyin poured herself some tea and dropped a splash of milk in her cup.

  “I am very glad you like it. I take it no adjustments are necessary?”

  “None whatsoever. Your eye for detail is only matched by your flawless stitches.” Lady Galavyin sat at the edge of the elegant armchair and crossed her hands full of rings on her lap. She was a tall woman with a graceful, long neck and tight lips that revealed what Cora perceived to be her usually rigid state of mind and a penchant for stern judgements. “I shall be wearing my gown soon, now that the Season is about to start. I am sure it will make heads turn.”

  “You are too kind, Lady Galavyin.” Cora steadied the fine china cup so that it would not clatter.

  “Miss Larsen. I have been accused of many things in my day, but being kind is not among them. The praise is well deserved.”

  “Thank you.”

  An uncomfortable quiet followed. Cora filled it by sipping her tea. Then she spoke, trying to control her voice and sound more reasoned than she felt.

  “Lady Galavyin, please forgive my candor, but I was hoping you could perhaps clarify something else for me.”

  “Yes, Miss Larsen.” She turned her head slightly, as if to hear better.

  “I would be surprised if you knew, but it seems the baron’s brother, Mr. George Galavyin, is the proprietor of the estate where my shop is located. It also seems he has other plans for the establishment for he has asked me to vacate the premises shortly. Have you any idea of his motives? Your son, Lord Grant Galavyin, was kind enough to inform me of his plans.”

  “My dear Miss Larsen, I am sure you can imagine I do not concern myself with these boring affairs that men are so quick to fret about. George is always planning one scheme or another, but I could not say what it is this time. I’m certain a successful woman of business like you will find a new place for your shop in no time. Perhaps even try something bold? I hear Bath and Reading are full of activity these days. You know how people say every cloud has a silver lining. Perhaps it’s a good time for a move of bigger proportions? Bath offers so many more modest but still profitable social activities. And Reading? There’s virtue in arriving first at mostly unexplored territory. Now if you excuse me, Miss Larsen, I have a previous engagement. I’m sure you understand.”

  Lady Galavyin rose in one decisive motion, forcing Cora to do the same.

  “Thank you for calling. It was good of you to personally make sure the dress was everything I hoped for. You can rest assured it is. Goodbye, Miss Larsen.”

  Cora had no choice but to smile, bow, and head for the door.

  Had Lady Galavyin actually suggested that she leave town? Upset and bewildered at being ushered out of the house of a customer and potentially out of a city she loved, Cora wondered if she would, in her nervousness, be able to find the door. As she exited, she considered going back in for clarification, but she knew she would only risk further humiliation. Leave London? How preposterous! These unnerving thoughts distracted her so much that she almost collided with another woman who was trying to make her way into the house. She was a beautiful creature, with a benevolent smile, and ash-blond hair braided and coiffed into a side bun. Cora only just managed to stop herself right before the collision.

  “I am so terribly sorry! Are you all right?”

  “Oh, it was nothing. Hardly a scare at all.” The other woman patted her dress, clearing it of any invisible dust the jolt might have deposited on the fabric. “I see you were just leaving. You must be a friend of the family. Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?”

  “Cora Larsen, Miss…?”

  The other woman’s eyes widened, if only for an instant. Then she found a smile and regained her composure but not before repeating, “Cora Larsen? You are Cora Larsen?”

  Cora just grinned. It was satisfying to receive recognition, but it was slightly unnerving too. One shouldn’t be too proud of one’s accomplishments.

  “And it’s…it’s Mrs., actually. Mrs. Crofford. Adele. Addy, really. I’m Lady Galavyin’s daughter. Grant’s sister. How do you do?”

  “I do beg your pardon. I should have been more careful.”

  “It was nothing, Miss Larsen. Oh, your dress is so beautiful. Of course it is. What am I saying? You are Cora Larsen. If you should be so kind, I would love for you to come back in for some refreshments with me. I would very much like to visit you and talk about an opera gown. And somehow, I have a feeling that we will become great friends. I just know it.” The woman beamed widely, her eyes sparking and her hands clasped in front of her. And despite many reservations, Cora found herself going back into the home where potential embarrassment and humiliation lurked in every corner.

  Chapter Seven

  When they got back inside, Addy took Cora to the same morning room she had just vacated. Cora felt a chill ripple down her spine, as if her upset over the interaction with Lady Galavyin had created a ghostly force that was still floating by. The woman had been so dismissive, had acted in such a superior fashion, that Cora had felt uncharacteristically uncomfortable about her own lower standing. Bath or Reading! What was th
e meaning of that? She was discomfited, and it was a feeling that disgusted her. Most of the time she was proud of the life she had made for herself and of her honest upbringing.

  It was as if the atmosphere of the whole house had changed the moment Lady Galavyin pronounced those words. Cora almost saw clouds of frigid mist escape her mouth as she breathed heavily. But now, in the presence of Addy, the room had a very different mood—blameless and inviting. It was brighter too, and less intimidating, and much more pleasant to be in.

  “Miss Larsen, please sit. We will have some tea and partake of a light luncheon given the lateness of the morning.”

  Cora did not want more tea. She had spent the morning trying to make it through a cup of tea and a veil of doubts. But Addy was so lovely and kind that Cora didn’t have the courage to outright decline the invitation.

  “Oh, no. Please. I wouldn’t want to impose on your time…” She tried to excuse herself instead.

  “It is no imposition. I am happy you are here. So very happy indeed. Your dresses are the object of envy in the best halls in town. I really hoped to meet you. I dream of a dress too.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Crofford. I would be pleased to sew a gown for you. You would only need to have your measurements taken. Now as for color—”

  Cora was interrupted by the arrival of no other than Addy’s brother. Addy smiled at him, as if she could not think of a better idea than have him join them. In turn, Cora stood up all of a sudden, as if her chair was on fire.

  Lord Galavyin looked handsome as ever, even if somewhat self-conscious, and Cora tried to control in vain the flush rising in her cheeks and the heat creeping up her neck. He looked dark and troubled too.

  “Please continue. I didn’t mean to interrupt. Having heard that you were here, I just thought to ascertain that you were well. Please, stay.”

  Cora tried to be courteous, but in truth, she was also mad at him. His family was the source of all her troubles. “Thank you, sir. I am quite well. Thank you for your…your concern.” She looked down but her eyes, rebelling and acquiring free will, insisted on looking up at his sculpted chin and well-drawn brow.