The Summerfield Bride

by C. G Oster

  “I will convey the message,” he said with his typical reserve. The remaining staff at Wallisford were still highly displeased that one of their former numbers was associating with one of the family, or it could also be that she had been instrumental in the identification of Lady Wallisford as the culprit in the murder of Nora Sands. Either way, they were very reserved with her.

  “Bring it over here,” she heard Lady Pettifer’s crisp tone directing the man. “That’s it, thank you. Dory,” she said brightly. “Such a pleasure to hear from you. Are you coming to visit?”

  “Hello, Lady Pettifer. I have no such plans right this moment, but I thought I would call you and inform you—”

  “No, place the biscuits over there. Yes, perfect. Sorry, what were you saying?”

  “Captain Ridley proposed,” Dory spat out before Lady Pettifer was distracted again by Mr. Holmes’ shortcomings.

  “What? You don’t say. Congratulations. I am not in the least surprised. He always had a soft spot for you.” It had certainly been a surprise to Dory, but Lady Pettifer often did see things that Dory didn’t. Had it truly not been a surprise?

  “I am still getting used to the idea. Of course I am so very happy. First day back, he proposed to me.”

  “He must have been thinking to do so for quite a while. War does tend to put one’s thinking into perspective. A man of pre-eminently good taste. Good for him.”

  “Is there any news of Vivian?” Dory asked.

  “No, not yet,” Lady Pettifer said quietly. “But the Minister of Defense has stated there is no report of his death at this point, and the man believes that is encouraging. It is still chaos over there, apparently. The Australians are going in.”

  “I see. I’m sure he’s alright,” Dory said. Vivian was too uncompromising to die.

  “But we must get you a wedding dress,” Lady Pettifer said.

  “That’s not necessary. I was simply going to wear my blue dress.” She’d ended up with some very nice dresses during her time in the South of France, and the blue one would do perfectly as a wedding dress. Besides, it was near impossible to get dress material of any kind, let alone finer fabrics.

  “No, that won’t do at all. I insist. It would be my pleasure to get you a dress. Consider it a wedding present. Besides, a wedding would be the perfect distraction from the worry.”

  How could Dory argue with that? “Then it would be a delight.”

  “Excellent. I will make some calls,” Lady Pettifer said, her brightness back. “Then I will send the car for you. We still don’t have a driver, but I am sure I’ll manage to find someone. With all the men returning, it shouldn’t be hard to hire one sooner or later. I should set Cedric on the task. Where are you?”

  “I’m in Swanley with mother.”

  “So you’re not driving those dreadful coal boats?”

  “Not anymore. I was dismissed.”

  “Good. Not a suitable job, especially for a bride. I will be in touch. Very exciting news. I am so happy for you.”

  “Thank you,” Dory said, blushing even as no one could see her. “As I said, it still hasn’t quite sunken in.”

  “I was hoping you might come down to the South of France with me at some point, but I suppose you will have other things to worry about now.”

  Dory didn’t know what to say. It was true. As a married woman, she could hardly serve as a lady’s companion in another country. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

  They finished the call and hung up. Replacing the receiver, Dory drew breath and exhaled. It was a skill they had all learnt, taking the bad and putting it to side while they focused on the cheerful. Vivian was the worry that preyed on all their minds. Uncertainty was always hard, but Dory wasn’t convinced when people said that knowing was better than living with uncertainty. Hope was still hope.

  Stepping out of the booth, she faced the calm village green where the trees had full canopies and the village store was open. People still brought in their ration books, and Dory needed to go through the palaver of registering for this one.

  Provisions were even less than they had been. Their rations had been cut, but it wasn’t so bad at home as her mother had a thriving kitchen garden. Whether Lady Pettifer would be able to find material for a wedding dress, Dory was afraid to hazard a guess. But if anyone could, it would probably be Lady Pettifer.

  It would be nice to get married in a proper wedding dress. When she’d imagined her future, she had always seen herself in a white, rather than in a decent, but worn blue dress. All her clothes were worn. Everything had had to be used to its full potential.

  She was planning on going to London on the weekend, to spend time with Ridley. They hadn’t set a date yet, but with a dress coming, there might be timelines related to it that they needed to consider. She couldn’t wait to tell him how generous Lady Pettifer was being. And if her wedding would serve as a distraction while they awaited news about Vivian, she was glad.

  Slowly, she wandered down the street to her mother’s house. Her brother had just returned, so the house was in uproar with both herself and her brother being back. It was strange not having a job to rush off to in the mornings. It had been a very long time since she’d had the opportunity to wander Swanley aimlessly.

  Her plan had been to search for a job, but perhaps it was something she needed to discuss with Ridley. There was, after all, a wedding to plan. Where would they have it? Here in Swanley? Ridley wasn’t particularly devout as far as she’d seen. He may not wish for more than a simple exchange of vows at the Registry office. Lady Pettifer would offer a spectacular day at Wallisford Hall, but Dory was sure that wouldn’t be to either her or Ridley’s tastes—as kind as the offer would be.

  These things they would have to discuss on the weekend. Her mother was beside herself with the news. As of yet, she hadn’t even met Captain Ridley, but she knew of the man. Dory had told her about how they had met investigating the murder of Nora Sands, and how they had kept in contact since.

  A good, respectable life as a policeman’s wife, her mother had said, very pleased. The gossip had already spread across the entire village and congratulations came whenever she came across anyone. Perhaps the church here would be the best option. It was more intimate, and everyone she had grown up with could attend.

  Being from London, Ridley didn’t have the same sense of community, but there might be people he wished to have at his wedding. She didn’t know. In some ways, she didn’t know him all that well, even if he had been present in her mind and her heart for quite a while. She knew his thoughts and what he valued, and those were the important things.

  And now a beautiful dress. She couldn’t wait to tell her mother. Perhaps she should invite Vera and Betsy, but she had lost touch with them since they had stopped manning the searchlight together. All had been called their separate ways. Betsy to a munitions factory and Vera had been sewing upholstery for aircraft. Neither were needed now, so perhaps they were both unemployed like she was.

  Chapter 4

  AS QUICK AS SHE COULD, Dory flew down the Victoria Station steps, searching for Lady Pettifer’s car. It wouldn’t be hard to spot around this part of London. Such fancy vehicles were not all that common, but hopefully Lady Pettifer was here as she’d said she would be. It was still hard to drive around London, as so many streets had yet to be cleared of rubble.

  But she saw the sleek brown and black car waiting on the other side of the street. Dory waved and navigated the traffic to reach it, seeing Lady Pettifer sitting in the back, and Livinia in the driver’s seat, looking very out of place. Well, that was unexpected. Lady Pettifer had said it was difficult to find someone to drive.

  “Get in,” Livinia called from the rolled down window. “This awful man is trying to shoo me away. I am in half a mind to get out and have a stern word with him.” No matter what, Livinia was always convinced whatever it was she wanted was perfectly reasonable.

  Dory got in the back with Lady Pettifer and kissed the elderly
lady on the cheeks as Livinia drove off. Being a passenger in a car Livina drove was still not a comfortable experience.

  “I hear you’re getting married,” Livinia said and lit a cigarette with a golden lighter. “That awful policeman.” Livinia had never been a great fan of Ridley, particularly after bringing her mother’s deeds to light. A war, however, seemed to have put the scandal firmly in the past. Although Dory wasn’t sure if Livinia still suffered from the consequences of it.

  “Captain Ridley.”

  “Captain now, is he? And prepared to make a decent woman out of you.” Livinia was studying her through the mirror. Dory had no idea what she was searching for. “Marylebone it is. That’s what you said, wasn’t it?” she said, turning her attention to Lady Pettifer.

  “Yes, Harry Harlowe’s Atelier.”

  “Old Harry survived the war, it seems. No one wanted a temperamental old prick like him.”

  “Livinia!” Lady Pettifer chided. “Harry is perfectly lovely, and no one could make a better wedding dress than him.”

  “It’s true,” Livinia conceded. “He does make the most divine dresses.”

  Dory was starting to wonder what she had agreed to, also hoping he wouldn’t make her something too avant-garde. Ridley would probably not like a dress that was too spectacular. But Livinia had very good taste in clothes, so Dory felt she should just have faith.

  The streets were lively and everyone seemed to be out and about. The end of the war had renewed people’s willingness to clear rubble and clean shops. Shop keepers were probably hoping the end of the war signified that goods would start flowing again and they would have wares to sell. Everything seemed to come from America at the moment. Their entire industrial sector was still fully operational, as opposed to anywhere here in Europe. It would take more than a few weeks to get that up and running, if they even had any raw material to process. Over time, though, things would return to normal. Dory couldn’t wait.

  The damage grew less as they moved further north and west and they eventually pulled over in front of a store with fine wooden lattice above the windows and Atelier Harry Harlowe written in gold. A beautiful dress stood in the window and Dory stared at it for a moment. It had been an age since she had seen such a dress.

  “We won’t get this done if you spend all day gawking,” Livinia said. “Shall we?”

  Livinia hadn’t lost her terseness. The bitter edge in her voice had lessened over time, but she wasn’t polite. Not that she really was to anyone. It simply wasn’t in her nature, even if she knew all the rules of etiquette which Dory didn’t. It was a confidence that allowed her to skirt close to downright rudeness, and to cross over it whenever she felt like it.

  A bell chimed as they walked in, and it was like walking into another world, with soft carpet and bright colors. Satins and silks everywhere Dory looked.

  “Lady Pettifer,” a man dressed in a well-tailored suit said, coming with hands reaching forward. Dark glossy hair, finely combed. His skin was quite brown as if he’d been enjoying the sunshine. “Such a pleasure. I was so pleased to receive your call last week. And Livinia, my muse as always.”

  Livinia made a gratified shrug and kissed him on the cheek. “Harry, darling.”

  “Now, who is this divine creature?” Harry asked, taking Dory’s hands. “Is this our bride?”

  “Miss Dorothy,” Lady Pettifer said.

  The man was studying her with an experienced eye. What he saw and what he looked for, Dory had no idea.

  “I think we can make you look marvelous,” he finally said. “Come.” He led them to another room in the back, a larger room. The shop was surprisingly large, not fully revealing itself from the street. Materials were stored along the walls and fine, gilded furniture was organized in groups. He led them to a sofa with a marble table, a sofa and two chairs. “Let me propose a style. Please sit. Tea anyone? I would offer champagne, but supplies have dwindled, I’m afraid.” He snapped his fingers at a girl who waited and she disappeared through a door.

  At the wall, he pulled down a book and started flipping through it. Finding what he wanted, he bundled it up and walked over. “I think this style would suit your waistline,” he said and placed the book down. “Wider sash and lace coming down the neckline.”

  “Lace,” Livinia stated. “Can you find lace?”

  “It is repurposed,” Harry said carefully. “In hard times, it is not so hard to find fine materials as you should think, but it is repurposed.”

  Livinia grimaced.

  People were selling him old dresses, Dory realized.

  “The sash I have in mind, is material that is sixty years old,” Harry said. “A little more ivory, but I think it will look very nice. Accents the waist.”

  Dory tried to imagine the wide sash he spoke of. The dress in the picture was beautiful. It had a dreamy quality to it. “That sounds very nice.”

  Giggling was heard and their attention drew away.

  “Is that Annabelle Shoreham?” Livinia asked. “It is.”

  “She is here with Cornelia Vellsted,” Harry said. “I believe you know them?”

  “Yes, from school. Excuse me,” Livinia said. “I must say hello.”

  A group of girls walked in and over to another sofa group in front of a mirror, where one was considering her reflection.

  “Livinia!” one of them said and they all fell into conversation.

  “Shall we continue?” Lady Pettifer suggested.

  Dory stared at the picture in the book, trying to imagine herself in such a dress. It wasn’t ostentatious, but it was very beautiful—more than she had ever expected. It really was too much of a gift, but Dory knew Lady Pettifer would not be argued with on this point, so there was no point trying.

  “The dress in this material,” he said and put a swatch on the table. It was quite a sturdy material, in a white that wasn’t starkly white. It did have an ivory tone. It had a muted sheen in waves, but wasn’t shiny like a satin or silk. The other material, was a darker ivory and very shiny. “This is a sash?” Dory asked.

  “Yes, like this,” he said and folded it to place it along her waist. “With a waist like this, I think the skirt needs to be full length. Else it will look cut off. A little bit dramatic, but not too much. What do you think?”

  “I think I would make a good choice in trusting your judgment,” she said and the answer pleased him.

  “Then we shall take some measurements, but first, we must have some tea.” Just as he said it, the girl was bringing a silver tray to place down on the table between them. “If nothing else, we must pride ourselves on our hospitality.”

  “You have always known how to be hospitable,” Lady Pettifer said. “And I think it will be a very handsome gown.”

  It was a little different from the shorter, knee length skirt and sharp tailoring that was the fashion, but Dory couldn’t stop staring at the dress. It was outside of current fashion, but she didn’t mind. It certainly had a flare of drama, and on her wedding day, she wanted to look beautiful rather than conformist.

  The girl poured tea into fine bone china cups and handed them out.

  “Unfortunately, the biscuits are dreadful. I don’t recommend them,” Harry warned.

  Livinia was laughing with the group of girls, chatting animatedly. It had been a while since Dory had seen her so engaged. This was her society and it seemed they no longer held her mother’s scandal against her. Then again, Dory knew that she didn’t have the skills to read the undercurrents amongst Livinia’s friends. The truth was that they were so very different. How most of them had spent the war, she didn’t dare wonder.

  Chapter 5

  A WOMAN WITH A TIGHT, unsmiling face was taking her measurements as Dory stood on a small pedestal in front of a large gilt mirror in a room next to the salon, where Lady Pettifer was. It wasn’t disapproval in the woman’s face as such, mere detached professionalism. Dory concluded it was simply part of the woman’s personality. Had to be in her late forties and the
re were no laugh lines by her mouth or eyes. This was not a woman who laughed.

  To pass the time, Dory wondered about this woman and the other girls who were coming and going. The bride amongst Livinia’s friends had a dress to try on. This was a fitting of her dress, apparently, rather than the start of the process as it was for Dory.

  This was perhaps normal for them, but it was not how Dory typically had her clothes made. Working as Lady Pettifer’s companion for a few years, Dory had learned simply to accept being in places where she didn’t belong. If she did not worry about not belonging, she found others also worried about it less. It was simply a fact and there was no point dwelling on it. That didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy an experience different from her own. Working for Lady Pettifer had made her life richer, adding textures and nuances that others didn’t perhaps see. She would never regret her time spent in Lady Pettifer’s company, or the friendship that had developed. Even the more hesitant friendship with Livinia—which, in reality, was more grudging acceptance.

  Then she thought about Ridley. Would he like the dress? Would he think she looked dreamy as well? She hoped so. She wanted his breath to catch when he saw her in this dress. Even now, she couldn’t quite imagine it, but it was like a distant present that would be more precious to her than she could ever imagine.

  A scream startled her and the woman crouching down by her legs stuck her with something sharp, which startled Dory further. “Deepest apologies,” the woman said distractedly.

  The air had a heaviness and it crept into the room like a cloying cold. Something was wrong. There was that cloying, indescribable feeling of dread in the air. There was silence, then another scream.

  Harry came running in from the other room, a look of panic of his face. “It can be fixed, I assure you,” he called and wandered into the adjoining room. The girls followed. They all stood, looking confused as one of the assistants came stumbling out, her eyes wide and her fingers to her mouth. No, that expression wasn’t to do with the dress. Something much worse. Dory felt it in her gut.