The Tailor's Girl

by Fiona McIntosh

  _______________

  ‘You’re quite sure?’ Edie asked.

  ‘It’s one minute past. And it’s drizzling, Eden. She’s coming, I promise.’

  ‘Oh, I hope so. I asked around about Miss Aubrey-Finch. Serious socialite, Mads. Parents fantastically wealthy . . . old, old money with French connections, apparently.’

  ‘Well, I have to say she sounded delightful on the telephone. Ah, here she comes. That’s her getting out of the car on the other side of the street.’ She flapped at her friend. ‘Go out the back, Eden. You need to make an entrance.’

  ‘What?’

  Madeleine hissed and shooed her away.

  Edie couldn’t see but had to listen to the gentle tinkle of the door being swung open and a woman’s voice calling: ‘Bye, Lex. Thanks again, darling,’ and then two women laughing about scurrying in from the drizzle. What happened to summer? Edie wondered. Disappeared in a blink and now it was October already. She hoped Mrs Miller would be able to get Tommy out to the park . . .

  ‘Miss Aubrey-Finch?’ she heard Madeleine say.

  ‘Yes, but do please call me Penelope. You must be Madeleine. Enchanté.’

  ‘Enchanté,’ Madeleine replied. ‘And . . . Miss Wynter, I believe?’

  ‘Charlotte. But call me Charlie, because everyone else does.’

  ‘I shall call you Charlotte because it’s a beautiful name, like its owner,’ Madeleine said and Edie grinned behind the scene. ‘Let me take your coats, ladies. Was that your fiancé, Penelope?’

  ‘Yes. Alex drove us up to London yesterday and was far too gallant to let his favourite girls get wet this morning so he gave us his black brolly. I’ll put it here, shall I?’

  ‘I like him already.’ Madeleine smiled. ‘Let me take that umbrella and I shall call Miss Valentine. Can I get you anything?’

  Eden straightened her dress as she heard the women politely decline, explaining that the man called Alex had also treated them to a slap-up breakfast that morning. She took a deep breath. She’d been very daring today, dressing in a masculine way, which she knew would challenge the notion of a designer for a giggling bride and her maid. The box-cut coat in navy wool and matching tailored skirt was a neat, simple autumn suit with its only embellishment the crimson tussah silk lining that flashed if she took her jacket off. It was how she’d styled it that might catch the most attention.

  Madeleine arrived and nodded at her. ‘Ready to do battle?’

  ‘Get dressed into the new gown! We might as well go for broke.’

  They hugged and parted, Madeleine already tearing off her wraparound skirt, while Eden lifted her shoulders and walked briskly into her salon.

  ‘Miss Aubrey-Finch and Miss Wynter, how lovely to see you and welcome to Valentine’s.’

  Both women audibly gasped.

  Eden had anticipated it and felt immediate relief. She’d already won them. ‘Is something wrong?’ she asked.

  ‘No, not at all,’ said the blonde with the dazzling smile who stood to greet her and who must surely be Penelope. ‘Your tie . . . it’s . . . amazing! Please call me Penelope.’

  ‘Thank you. This will be all the rage shortly. I thought I’d lead the charge.’

  ‘It’s wonderful! The colour is . . . dangerous.’

  Eden grinned. ‘Well, in the depths of a British winter – which is surely coming at us faster than we’d all hoped – there is nothing so cheering as a splash of bright colour on a woman, don’t you agree?’

  ‘I do. Oh, you’re a woman after my own heart, Miss Valentine. This is Charlotte, my bridesmaid.’

  ‘And I’m Eden,’ she said, for the first time embracing her full name for the power Madeleine always maintained it held. ‘I can see from how you’re dressed, Penelope, that I have little to suggest to you about enhancing your own beauty. I think you understand your body and you dress it with elegance.’

  The blonde woman glanced at her friend in pleasure. ‘Thank you. That means a great deal coming from you.’

  ‘A bridal gown is arguably the most important, potentially the most expensive, often the most public, gown a woman may ever wear. Some women need more guidance about what might suit them best. I don’t think you do, so I shall just let you tell me what you see yourself wearing. I gather it’s a spring wedding?’

  ‘End of April, yes,’ Penelope began. ‘But I don’t want to go white. Ivory is my first inclination but I’m not sure it suits my hair colour. I was thinking a richer cream tone. Silk and lace, of course.’ She shrugged. ‘Which girl doesn’t want that on her wedding day? As for styling, I’d rather hear what you think will grab just the right attention.’

  From listening to Penelope, Edie already knew that her light ecru signature gown was going to be perfect on Miss Aubrey-Finch. She called for Madeleine and even Edie felt as though her heart stilled a moment when her friend glided out in her newest creation, which floated off her tall frame effortlessly.

  Edie stole a glance at Penelope and noticed her client’s mouth was open, her gaze wide and shining with awe. Yes indeed, this was the gown for Penelope Aubrey-Finch and the one that would put Valentine’s on every new debutante’s list of must-have labels.

  ‘Oh, Eden, it’s a dream,’ Penelope whispered.

  ‘Is it your dream?’ she asked.

  Penelope nodded. ‘I don’t even want to see anything else. It’s better than the one you did for Nicola.’

  Eden had to agree. ‘I’m glad you think so. I would hazard that every bride you see next spring and summer will be in short sleeves, which came into vogue this year. But I think a bride should always hold on to a little modesty . . . it’s far more seductive anyway to hint at the skin, rather than show it.’

  The four women shared a knowing laugh.

  ‘Now, let me show you on Madeleine how I think we can dress it for your big day.’

  The next half-hour was spent in selecting the right veil and train. Edie teased at the froth of palest coffee-coloured silken netting that now formed a veil. Madeleine made a stunning bride and they could both see that their client was in raptures over the whole look. ‘I think plain is important,’ Edie continued. ‘Your beauty is enough, Penelope. You wear the dress . . . don’t let it wear you. So we must make sure that you shine through, and if we have too much . . . um . . . embellishment, it adds noise rather than elegance. If we keep it simple, then this veil will appear as a “glow” around you.’

  Penelope nodded. She was yet to disagree with anything Edie had advised.

  ‘Now, looking at the train, I thought we could have a little fun here. I was thinking about using a silk charmeuse in the same ecru toning so that it remains light, but not too floaty, and it won’t drag on the wedding carpet when you’re walking up the aisle. To add a little more weight and a bit of whimsy, we could line it with gold tissue silk and decorate with pearls.’ She looked at her clients. ‘Charlotte, with your colouring, the softest of greens or mauves would do the bride justice and the spring flowers for a bouquet would complement. Mother of the bride in dusky pink, mother of the groom in silver grey, or vice versa. Think spring flowers and don’t be afraid of a —’ she searched for a word, ‘punch of bright colour, like a fuchsia or vermilion.’

  ‘Going-away outfit?’ Charlotte said, looking completely caught up in the excitement.

  ‘Oh, a suit, of course . . . perhaps a matching coat and cape for spring. And I would suggest a cool colour. Pale blue or violet, to match your eyes, Penelope.’

  The two visitors sighed. ‘Well, Valentine’s is hired, Eden. Please write out an order for everything we’ve discussed, including my mother, six bridesmaids, two flower girls and a page boy, if you could dress him too.’

  Edie resisted the urge to glance at Madeleine or let go of the howl of joy that was bursting in her chest. ‘Of course,’ she said, studiously professional. ‘I shall do that today for you.’

  ‘Alex won’t be able to resist me in this.’

  ‘Why should he resist you?’ Edie qu
eried in a lightly arched tone, meant to amuse.

  ‘Well, it’s no longer a secret that I’ve been crazy for my fiancé since we were children,’ she said, glancing at Charlie.

  ‘Really? That’s charming.’

  Penelope shrugged. ‘I had made up my mind privately that if Lex didn’t come back from the war, then I was never going to marry anyone. There’s never been anyone else for me but Lex Wynter.’

  ‘Well, he did come home and he did ask you, so he clearly loves you too,’ Edie replied but she saw doubt in Penelope’s eyes.

  ‘Charlotte is probably getting married in the next twelve months too, aren’t you, darling?’ Penelope hurried to shift subjects, or so it felt to Edie. ‘I think you can count on another Wynter wedding party too.’

  ‘Absolutely!’ Charlie gushed. ‘I’ll let the dust settle on Pen and Alex’s big day so maybe a late summer/early autumn wedding.’

  Edie squeezed Charlotte’s hand. ‘That’s lovely news. And of course I would be delighted to design you a bridal gown to make your father very proud to walk you down the aisle.’

  Charlotte faltered. ‘Er, my father has passed away.’

  ‘Oh, forgive me,’ Edie said, looking stricken, understanding how the young woman must feel. ‘My father died not long after I was married. I’m sorry,’ she said, laying a cool hand on Charlie’s arm.

  ‘You weren’t to know,’ Pen assured. ‘It was very sad to lose Uncle Thomas when we did, just as Alex was coming back into our lives.’

  Edie nodded, not sure what to say, feeling embarrassed by her slip.

  ‘Oh, did you mention to Eden about the wardrobe for Europe?’ Penelope interjected, looking at Madeleine.

  Edie nodded. ‘Yes, she did, but only vaguely. I’ll have a series of sketches and fabric swatches for you to look at when you come in for your first fitting. I’ll work on a spring wardrobe for Europe. Whereabouts are you planning to visit?’

  ‘Lex is whisking me off to Paris and then we shall take the train across Europe to Istanbul.’

  Edie gasped. ‘That was always my dream, Penelope! My husband and I talked about making that trip.’ She remembered a shared bath when Sunday bells were ringing in the local church.

  ‘Well, I shall think of you as I sip my first champagne on the Orient Express out of Paris.’

  ‘Actually, I’d love you to raise your glass to me in Venice as well. Tom and I wanted to rail between Paris and Venice together.’

  ‘Tom?’ Charlotte joined in. ‘Thomas was my father’s name. Granny called him Tom sometimes, though.’

  Penelope stood and kissed Edie’s cheek. ‘Venice it is, I promise. And I shall kiss Alex as I think of you and Tom.’

  23

  Edie moved to the back of the salon and watched Madeleine show their new clients to the door, saw Penelope wave towards a fine car across the street. She squinted from the back of the salon to glimpse the man at the wheel who had so captured her client’s heart from childhood. His arm waved back at Pen but his face was in the shadows of the car and then two buses rumbled up to block her view.

  When they finally hauled away, Madeleine was standing in front of her. ‘Now we break out the champagne, non?’

  Edie sighed and hugged her friend. ‘Thank you. You were marvellous!’

  ‘Miss Aubrey-Finch had no other intention but commissioning Valentine’s.’

  ‘True. What a lovely person she is. So desperately in love too.’

  ‘I always think it’s a little frightening to love someone so much; didn’t you hear the note of danger in her expression?’

  ‘I admit I did.’

  ‘Well, it’s none of our business but I hope Mr Wynter loves her as much as she does him.’

  Edie remembered the doubt in Penelope’s eyes and felt sadness for her . . . and a sense of kinship. She’d always privately worried that her love for Tom was overwhelming, that one day she may lose him. And she had.

  Her mind began to wander to the image of the man waving at Penelope, perhaps unaware of his fiancée’s desperate need to love him and be loved . . . or perhaps he wasn’t. She hadn’t realised she’d become so thoughtful.

  ‘Where did you go, then?’ Madeleine asked.

  ‘Sorry. I was thinking about the coincidence that Penelope’s father-in-law was called Thomas.’

  ‘Common enough name in England, I’ve discovered. Like Henri or Pierre in France. Anyway, I don’t believe in coincidence.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘I believe in fate and the mystery of life. Coincidence is meaningless. It’s a cynic’s explanation when fate pushes you towards something.’

  Edie giggled. ‘Well, fate is definitely pushing us towards our official opening. And now we can face it with confidence, Mads. Two high-profile clients on our books and a lot of work ahead of us. By the way, you can hire that girl Monique. She can start after Christmas.’

  ‘Excellent.’

  ‘We’re going to need her to assist you out the back as you’ll be doing several changes for each client from now on, and I think we have to look at hiring a full-time staff member to help me with appointments and act as a go-between with clients and help with ordering fabrics. I’ll put a sign in our window.’

  The door opened and both women smiled to see Ben Levi.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Edie asked.

  ‘I had an appointment in Mayfair. Just stopped by to see if you’d have time for a coffee . . . er, if you’d thought about what we discussed over dinner.’

  Edie refused to look at Madeleine, who she suspected was wearing an expression of intrigue.

  ‘Er, well . . .’

  ‘No more appointments today, Eden,’ Madeleine said, only a hint of dryness in her tone.

  ‘Come on – just a coffee,’ Ben urged.

  ‘Why not?’ Edie relented, feeling cornered. ‘I can’t be long, though. We have lots on. We’ve just taken on a huge bridal job and another in the wings!’

  ‘Excellent,’ he said but without much enthusiasm. ‘Grab your coat.’

  Outside, she frowned. ‘You didn’t seem very happy for me.’

  ‘Didn’t I? Forgive me. I have a lot on my mind, work-wise.’

  ‘Well, if you’re so busy, why are you here, taking me out in the middle of the morning when we both have work to attend to?’

  ‘Because I wanted to see you; I want to see you every day, Edie.’

  She felt embarrassed for her harsh tone. ‘Sorry, Ben. It’s just this is a big event for me after what happened with the designs.’

  ‘Yes, and it was insensitive of me not to show more pleasure for you. I am very happy. Who’s the client?’

  She cut him a look of mock horror. ‘Shame on you. I don’t ask you who your clients are, Benjamin Levi. Bridal designs and their clients are one of the most guarded secrets in society.’ She grinned but it was short-lived. Her expression clouded again. ‘Which makes the theft of my designs all the more sinister.’

  ‘Theft is a harsh word. You probably misplaced them, Edie, and they fell into the wrong hands.’

  ‘I did not misplace them. They were all together on the same day – the very day we were last out for a meal.’

  ‘I know, I know. We’ve been through it,’ he said.

  ‘How would you feel if you lost an important file to a rival lawyer?’

  ‘I’d be mortified.’

  ‘That’s putting it lightly.’

  ‘It’s not the same, Edie.’

  ‘Oh, Ben, don’t. You’re making me furious all over again. I’m not finding you supportive about my business and it flies in the face of everything you promised.’

  ‘Oh, please let’s not argue about this. What’s done is done. I . . . I wanted to talk about our future.’

  Edie ignored him as she glanced across the street. ‘I’m going back to that dining room and I’m going to speak with the cloakroom girl. It had to be her. I shall speak to the manager if I have to.’

  She was shocked to feel Ben grab her arm
, holding it tightly enough to notice the burn of his grip through her coat.

  ‘You’ll make a complete fool of yourself, Edie.’

  She glared at him, wrenching her wrist from his hold.

  ‘What’s done is done. You can’t turn time back, even if you could prove the theft, which I know you can’t.’ He sighed. ‘Edie, darling. As your legal advisor I feel obliged to tell you that it will be your word against hers, and you have absolutely no proof . . .’

  ‘What? She was the only one who had access to it.’

  ‘But there was more than one cloakroom girl and any number of other staff with access. Sarah may have gone on a break. Anyone might have taken a fancy to your portfolio and decided to lift a few of the designs . . . realised they were more than just simple sketches and —’

  ‘And what? Knew exactly who to sell them on to? My direct rival?’

  ‘Well, how would Sarah know who to approach?’

  ‘I don’t know, Ben!’

  ‘Well, until you do, I suggest you keep your accusations to yourself.’

  Edie shook her head at the warning in his glance. ‘Whoever did this set me back. It nearly stopped me in my tracks, Ben, but I’m fighting again.’

  ‘Good for you,’ he murmured and she heard the lack of sincerity.

  The anger had burned away and Edie felt the cold nipping at her face. ‘Why aren’t you happy for me?’

  ‘I am. But you could make me a lot happier if you’d answer my proposition, Edie.’

  She stared at him and in that instant ran out of the strength to fight one of her most ardent supporters. ‘All right, Ben,’ she said, sounding suddenly wearied. ‘You start the paperwork that makes me a free woman, and I’ll give serious consideration to your proposal.’

  She smiled faintly at the laughter that came back into his expression, hiding her reservation and a horrible, fresh new thought that had occurred.

  ‘I will make you so happy,’ he promised.

  She nodded. ‘Forgive me but I feel suddenly very cold and a headache is nagging. I won’t have that coffee after all. I’ll probably go home early and have the afternoon with Tommy.’