Having helped her older sisters choose the fabric and styles of their wedding gowns, Katherine knew to expect some measure of chaos when she stepped into the seamstress’s shop on Bond Street. The shop front consisted of a modest display of no more than three dresses—a walking dress, a ball gown, and a delicate nightdress—positioned between peculiar wardrobes with thin tiered shelves. Some of those shelves were pulled out to display the rich, colorful bolts of fabric or lavish scraps of lace contained within.
Mrs. Burwick strode into the shop with her shoulders thrust back, the hem of her woolen gown wet with the slush on the well-travelled street. Her heels clicked against the slick wood, echoing in the small shop’s interior. The curtain to the back of the shop, where women were fitted for their dresses, rustled, and a middle-aged woman’s salt-and-pepper hair peeked out. She released a gusty sigh as she spotted her customers.
“Oh, my heart. For a moment, I thought… What a calamity!”
Katherine exchanged a look of trepidation with Pru. Usually, the brides were far more overbearing than their seamstresses.
The woman, with bowed shoulders that approached five feet tall at best, laid a hand on her brow as if fighting a fever. “Can you believe? I only received word a moment ago.” She fanned herself with a news rag.
Katherine couldn’t believe that a woman whose face turned that pronounced a shade of purple hadn’t yet fallen to the floor in a dead faint. Perhaps she ought to have brought Emma to the occasion. The touch of a dog’s cold nose worked better than smelling salts to revive a swooning woman.
A young girl who stood an inch or two taller than the seamstress and who shared many of her features scurried out of the back room to latch onto her arm. “Auntie, you must sit down.” The girl tucked stray black strands escaping her bun behind her ear as she spared a glance for the shop’s customers. “She’s had a terrible shock this morning. Please forgive her. How may I help?”
A frown entered Mrs. Burwick’s voice as she hazarded a question. “A terrible shock? Oh dear. My daughter is set to be married within the month.”
Pru groaned under her breath. “Wishful thinking, Mama,” she muttered.
Katherine was likely the only woman who heard. She glanced at her friend, noting the high color in Pru’s cheeks. Although Pru had accepted Lord Annandale’s proposal, she had done so with the understanding that they had a long engagement. Pru loved Annandale, but she wasn’t in as much of a hurry as her mother for the wedding to take place.
“Do I need to seek the arrangements to have a wedding trousseau made elsewhere? I’m certain we passed a shop along the way that seemed reputable…”
The seamstress’s niece leaped to reassure Mrs. Burwick before the shop lost a customer. “Certainly not, madam. We are perfectly capable of outfitting your daughter to advantage. My aunt has only recently received news that a longtime customer has died, and it’s shocked her greatly.”
“Lady Rochford was so young,” the seamstress murmured. The crumple of the news rag in her clenched fists was louder than her voice, but Katherine’s hearing sharpened at the name. The seamstress leaned against the wall, shaking her head. “She was set to come in this morning with her stepdaughter to have her gowns let out. When they missed their appointment, I never thought…” Her voice wavered, and she pressed her fist against her mouth.
As the woman’s niece herded her behind the curtain once more, promising to attend to the customers herself, Katherine frowned. At the very least, Susanna hadn’t been mistaken about Lady Rochford’s pregnancy. If she was letting out her gowns, she anticipated that she would be getting thicker.
When the young woman returned, bearing a smile, she turned her attention to Mrs. Burwick. “Now, which of these beautiful young ladies is the bride?”
“I am,” Pru said, taking a small step forward. Katherine had never seen her so timid. Usually she wasn’t afraid to have an opinion.
The seamstress’s assistant eyed Pru then turned her gaze to Mrs. Burwick once more. “You’ll make a lovely bride, just you wait and see. I’ll fix you right up. Are we hoping for a wedding gown or the entire trousseau?”
“The entire trousseau. And I’ve some ideas on the cut,” Mrs. Burwick answered firmly.
Her eyes wide, Pru gave Katherine a pointed glance.
Right. She had a job to do. Thrusting her shoulders back, Katherine stepped forward to take charge of the situation and save Pru from the misery of her mother’s fashion choices.
By the time they exited the shop, Katherine was emotionally wrung out. Even her sisters had not been as stubborn and difficult to deal with as Mrs. Burwick. From the way the woman had carried on, she might have been arranging her own wedding, not that of her daughter, whose tastes differed greatly.
With measurements taken and fabrics and patterns chosen, they left Mrs. Burwick to instruct as to the delivery. Katherine took Pru by the arm and towed her from the shop for a breath of fresh air.
Pru looked as worn as Katherine felt. “Are you unwell?”
Although she rubbed the crease in her forehead, it did little to ease her pinched expression. “This entire affair promotes being unwell.”
“You love Lord Annandale, don’t you?” Katherine was certain that she did.
In fact, she became more certain as color flushed Pru’s cheeks. “You know I do. But with the way Mama talks, everyone will think I’m marrying him for his title.”
“Have you told him that you love him?” Katherine asked.
Pru nodded. “Of course.”
“And he loves you.”
Her color deepened to scarlet, and she ducked her head, coy. “I wouldn’t be marrying him if he didn’t.”
“Then who cares what everyone thinks? He knows you don’t care a whit for his title.”
Her words teased a smile out of her friend. Pru mumbled something that sounded near to You’re right, but a passing carriage drowned out the sound as snow sloshed away from the tall wheels. Katherine took a step closer to the shop to preserve her skirts.
“Are you ready to beard the lion?” Katherine teased, gesturing to the shop.
Pru laughed and nodded. “I suppose I have to face her eventually. Best to make sure she hasn’t added something hideous to my trousseau.”
Smiling, Katherine steeled herself to interfere once more should Pru think it was needed. For all that Mrs. Burwick had applauded Katherine’s efforts in arranging the match between Pru and Lord Annandale, her gratitude only stretched so far. If Katherine negated her wishes one more time, she might find herself uninvited to the wedding. Not that Pru would allow that to carry on for long.
As she glanced down the street, Katherine caught sight of a familiar figure stepping out of the neighboring milliner’s shop while donning her gloves. Elizabeth Verne exuded the same air of practicality as she had during the crisis at Lady Dalhousie’s ice ball. Her hair was tucked neatly under her hood, her fur-lined pelisse fastened to the chin to ward away the chill as she took her bearings. As she met Katherine’s gaze, she smiled.
“Katherine, dear!”
“Elizabeth,” she greeted just as warmly. She beckoned the young woman closer. “So good to see you!”
Pru smiled, too, though her expression was a bit tight. “From yesterday, yes?” she muttered under her breath. Had Katherine introduced them properly in the chaos? She couldn’t recall.
She did so now. “Elizabeth, are you acquainted with Prudence Burwick? Pru, I met Elizabeth Verne last night.”
“Miss Burwick, it’s wonderful to be introduced to you properly.”
“And you,” Pru said.
Elizabeth turned to Katherine. “How is Lady Bath? She mentioned as I was with her last night that you and she had attended the ball together.”
Katherine nodded. Fortunately, she had insisted upon taking her own carriage, which allowed her to deposit Lord Bath and his grandmother at their London townhouse before she saw Pru safely home.
Her smile turning brittle, Katherine answered, “As well as can be expected after such a shock. Lady Bath is heartier than most give her credit for.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I guessed that from the moment I saw her. You don’t grow to be her age and do so much for your town without developing a spine of steel. Why, I heard she even commissioned a unique attraction for the town square in Bath and is working tirelessly to bring more interest to the town. She is quite a gem.”
“Indeed, she is,” Katherine agreed.
Elizabeth sounded as though she admired the old woman, a good sign. Once again, the notion ignited to match Elizabeth with Lord Bath. She was sensible, pretty, gracious. And she seemed to enjoy Grandma Bath’s company. She might be the perfect match.
However, Katherine couldn’t broach the subject in the middle of the street. She needed a more private location to gain Elizabeth’s confidence first. Not that many women would object to being matched with a marquess, but Lord Bath was a bit eccentric. His heart was in the right place, even if he happened to make decisions that Katherine, for one, did not agree with. However, he was always kind and friendly, and he cared immensely for his tenants in Bath.
“We’re just finishing here,” Katherine said. “Would you care to join us for a glass of elder wine to combat the cold?”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth answered as she glanced over her shoulder. “I’m afraid I’m not alone… oh, there she is. Katherine, have you met Dorothy Fairchild?”
Please, let it be any other Fairchild…
However, fate was not nearly so kind. Mrs. Fairchild strode from the milliner’s shop with purpose in her step. Although she was far shorter than Katherine, she held herself with her head held so high it was as if she hoped to outstrip her in height as well as matches made. The rival matchmaker joined them with alacrity, but she didn’t seem at all pleased at the notion.
“We’ve met,” Mrs. Fairchild said, her words clipped. “Lady Katherine, what a delight to see you.”
She didn’t sound delighted in the least.
“Allow me to tender my congratulations once more on the fabulous match you made this September in Bath,” Katherine said, her voice saccharine.
Mrs. Fairchild drew herself up proudly. “And you,” she answered, nodding to Pru. “I see you’ve met my newest client, Miss Verne?”
Tarnation! Katherine’s dreams of matching Elizabeth with Lord Bath shriveled and winked out. Mrs. Fairchild would certainly drip poison in her client’s ear the moment they were out of sight.
As if to prove the thought, the older woman tucked away a strand of her auburn hair beneath her hood and asked innocently, “Who is your newest client? Or do you intend to see one all the way to the altar before taking another? I hear that might be quite a while.”
Pru bristled. “Katherine and I are friends, I’ll have you know.”
Mrs. Fairchild pretended not to hear. She turned to her charge, whose forehead crinkled with worry as she looked around the group.
“Elizabeth, I’m afraid we’re late for a meeting with your mother. We really can’t tarry.”
The young woman hazarded a smile at Katherine, but it disappeared in a flash. “So nice to see you again, Lady Katherine.”
Confound it! Mrs. Fairchild seemed to have her hooks well into Elizabeth. How would Katherine ever find a way to pair Elizabeth with Lord Bath? It was impossible. Not without prying her away from Mrs. Fairchild for an evening or more, and then she might be seen as stealing a client.
Well, that would earn Katherine no favors from Mrs. Fairchild, that was for certain. Perhaps it was just as well that Katherine had a far more important matter upon which to focus her thoughts. She had a woman’s murder to solve.