What Happens in Piccadilly - Chasity Bowlin Page 0,26
have a few things just because they are pretty and fun. Don’t you think?”
Callie bit back a smile. “I’m glad we’re in agreement. I’d planned to do so anyway.”
He laughed. “Of course, you did. It dawns on me, Miss St. James, that we’ve never discussed the specific terms of your salary.”
“You’ll get a bill, my lord,” she said. “Let us hope you are still feeling so generous then. Come along, girls. We have much to do.”
Ushering Claudia and Charlotte into one of the more fashionable shops located in the Burlington Arcade, Callie prepared herself for the worst. She fully anticipated that the modiste would be unkind, high in the instep, and very much affronted by having to wait on a mere governess. Luckily, she was pleasantly surprised by the woman who greeted them, a Madame de Beauchamps. The woman looked at Callie with curiosity.
“My dear, you are very familiar to me. Have we met? Perhaps I have dressed you before?” Madame de Beauchamps asked.
“Oh, hardly. I’m a governess to these young ladies… they are wards of their uncle, the Earl of Montgomery. They have only recently arrived in England and, sadly, their Spanish wardrobes are hardly up to snuff for our chilly winters,” Callie said with all the friendliness she could muster.
Madame de Beauchamps looked from Claudia to Charlotte. “My goodness! What pretty young girls. It will be like dressing dolls! Come, I have some fabrics. Soft and very warm… if we are lucky enough to see snow this year, you will be able to play in it all day long.”
The girls followed Madame de Beauchamps toward a large room filled to overflowing with fabric samples and fashion plates. Several books of fashion plates were placed before them and Callie began looking through them to find sturdy but pretty day dresses for the girls along with a few prettier frocks.
“Can I have a dress for my doll that matches my own?” Charlotte asked.
“Silly,” Claudia scolded in a way that sounded very parental, “she makes dresses for ladies and not for dolls!”
“Nonsense,” Madame de Beauchamps said. “I have made many dresses for dolls. When I was a little girl, that is how I learned to sew… to make pretty things. I took fabric scraps and made dresses for my own doll, though I do not think she was as pretty as yours.”
“She’s new. My uncle gave her to me,” Charlotte said with a shy smile.
Callie bit back a smile of her own. Of course, he had. He’d seen a little girl without a doll and he’d given her one because that’s what kind men did. “Did you get a doll, Claudia?” Callie asked her.
“I did. She’s very pretty. I leave her at home though so she doesn’t get dirty or get her face all cracked,” Claudia said, sparing a warning glance at her younger sister.
“I’m careful,” Charlotte insisted, stamping her little foot.
“Girls, Madame de Beauchamps is very busy and she does not need us taking up more of her valuable time by arguing. Now, I’ve picked out some patterns here that I think you might like. Take a look at them and tell me what you think,” Callie said.
Charlotte ran over to her, barreling into Callie’s side. She looked at the fashion plates and grinned. “They’re pretty!” The word came out “pwetty” as she’d once more tucked her thumb into her mouth. It was utterly charming.
“I like them,” Claudia agreed but with much greater reservation. She bit her lip worriedly and added, “Is it too much? We’ve never had so many dresses! If we get too many, he’ll be angry!”
“You’ve never lived in a house with an earl. I think we might be erring on the side of caution and ordering too little, but you all are growing quickly so it’s probably just as well,” Callie said as she rose from the settee, selections in hand. She turned to find Madame de Beauchamps staring at her again.
“Forgive me, but I really do feel as if I know you… that I have seen you somewhere before,” the modiste insisted.
“I am a governess, Madame de Beauchamps. I could hardly afford to patronize your shop and even if I could, in my line of work, it would be terribly impractical.”
“Work…” Madame de Beauchamps murmured. “Yes. It was something to do with work. I think—it’s terribly indelicate and I mean no offense at all in asking, but I must ask, Miss, did you have a mother or sister who was in the theater? I worked