cutting table, sliding her shears into a deep pocket in her apron. Kate guessed the woman to be about her own age.
“I am so sorry to keep you waiting. Miss Dearing, I presume? I am Cadence Bainbridge”
Kate nodded. “It was no bother to wait. You have a lovely shop, Miss Bainbridge.”
“Oh, please, call me Caddy—everyone does.” She looked around the room with a critical eye, as if seeing only tasks needing doing rather than the wonder of fabrics in every color nature provided. “My shop girl is away visiting family.” She sighed, then turned a smile on Kate again. “But no matter. Shall we retire to the back room to get started, Miss Dearing?”
At Kate’s nod, Caddy Bainbridge turned over a wooden plaque hanging in the window of the front door so the word Shut showed to the street. She withdrew a key from another pocket and locked the door. “Now we shan’t be disturbed. Follow me, please.” She led the way to her workroom in the back where three young apprentices worked diligently on various projects.
After Kate declined tea or other refreshments, Caddy had her strip to her chemise and drawers—insisting on the removal of even Kate’s corset so she could get her true measurements.
Caddy moved around with an economy and speed Kate wished all dressmakers possessed. Even though a coal brazier glowed red in the corner of the room, Kate’s skin crawled with the chill creeping into the room by the time Caddy finished measuring her.
“You are very nearly perfectly proportioned,” Caddy declared, making a final notation in her book. “I was not certain when you came in—but now I realize your corset was doing you no favors.” She crossed to one of the many chests of drawers lining one wall of the room. She set her book and pencil atop it and opened the middle drawer.
The corset she withdrew was similar to the ones Kate owned, looking to be of white cotton; however, it appeared a different shape—and it had no straps to go over her shoulders.
Holding the front of it in place so Miss Bainbridge could lace it in the back, Kate could feel the differences. Rather than ending just below her waist, the front came to a point that almost reached the juncture of her legs. At the sides, the waist nipped in severely before flaring out over her hips.
“Blow out all your breath.” Caddy caught Kate’s eye in the full-length mirror, a determined glint in her eyes.
Kate took in a deep breath, then released it in a rush and held it while the seamstress pulled the laces as tight as she could.
Kate’s ribs protested the pressure of the new shape, and she wasn’t certain she liked the additional tightness around her hips and lower abdomen. She closed her eyes and prayed for Caddy to be finished tugging and pulling on the strings soon.
“Now . . . breathe.”
Breathe? Kate’s chest and stomach felt so constricted she wasn’t certain air would be allowed in. But by taking in slow, shallow breaths, she managed to right herself before dizziness could overwhelm her.
Opening her eyes, she saw herself in the mirror—and gasped. She set her hands to her newly defined waist, shocked at how much smaller it looked. Surely that was worth the pain she now experienced, wasn’t it? Her stepmother had always told her how much men prized women with small waists; thus the need for corsets. Would this help her gain a husband?
“Now, let us see what we can do about your gowns.” Caddy crossed to Kate’s trunk and opened it so the lid rested against the wall.
“What is wrong with them, really?”
She watched Caddy debate between giving an honest answer or a flattering one. Thankfully, she opted for honesty. “Most of your gowns seem to be several years out of date. You may have noticed that rounded waistlines are no longer popular. The style is now for the dropped point—though with the advent of ever fuller and wider skirts necessitating more and more petticoats and crinolines underneath, the deeply dropped waist
“I am so sorry to keep you waiting. Miss Dearing, I presume? I am Cadence Bainbridge”
Kate nodded. “It was no bother to wait. You have a lovely shop, Miss Bainbridge.”
“Oh, please, call me Caddy—everyone does.” She looked around the room with a critical eye, as if seeing only tasks needing doing rather than the wonder of fabrics in every color nature provided. “My shop girl is away visiting family.” She sighed, then turned a smile on Kate again. “But no matter. Shall we retire to the back room to get started, Miss Dearing?”
At Kate’s nod, Caddy Bainbridge turned over a wooden plaque hanging in the window of the front door so the word Shut showed to the street. She withdrew a key from another pocket and locked the door. “Now we shan’t be disturbed. Follow me, please.” She led the way to her workroom in the back where three young apprentices worked diligently on various projects.
After Kate declined tea or other refreshments, Caddy had her strip to her chemise and drawers—insisting on the removal of even Kate’s corset so she could get her true measurements.
Caddy moved around with an economy and speed Kate wished all dressmakers possessed. Even though a coal brazier glowed red in the corner of the room, Kate’s skin crawled with the chill creeping into the room by the time Caddy finished measuring her.
“You are very nearly perfectly proportioned,” Caddy declared, making a final notation in her book. “I was not certain when you came in—but now I realize your corset was doing you no favors.” She crossed to one of the many chests of drawers lining one wall of the room. She set her book and pencil atop it and opened the middle drawer.
The corset she withdrew was similar to the ones Kate owned, looking to be of white cotton; however, it appeared a different shape—and it had no straps to go over her shoulders.
Holding the front of it in place so Miss Bainbridge could lace it in the back, Kate could feel the differences. Rather than ending just below her waist, the front came to a point that almost reached the juncture of her legs. At the sides, the waist nipped in severely before flaring out over her hips.
“Blow out all your breath.” Caddy caught Kate’s eye in the full-length mirror, a determined glint in her eyes.
Kate took in a deep breath, then released it in a rush and held it while the seamstress pulled the laces as tight as she could.
Kate’s ribs protested the pressure of the new shape, and she wasn’t certain she liked the additional tightness around her hips and lower abdomen. She closed her eyes and prayed for Caddy to be finished tugging and pulling on the strings soon.
“Now . . . breathe.”
Breathe? Kate’s chest and stomach felt so constricted she wasn’t certain air would be allowed in. But by taking in slow, shallow breaths, she managed to right herself before dizziness could overwhelm her.
Opening her eyes, she saw herself in the mirror—and gasped. She set her hands to her newly defined waist, shocked at how much smaller it looked. Surely that was worth the pain she now experienced, wasn’t it? Her stepmother had always told her how much men prized women with small waists; thus the need for corsets. Would this help her gain a husband?
“Now, let us see what we can do about your gowns.” Caddy crossed to Kate’s trunk and opened it so the lid rested against the wall.
“What is wrong with them, really?”
She watched Caddy debate between giving an honest answer or a flattering one. Thankfully, she opted for honesty. “Most of your gowns seem to be several years out of date. You may have noticed that rounded waistlines are no longer popular. The style is now for the dropped point—though with the advent of ever fuller and wider skirts necessitating more and more petticoats and crinolines underneath, the deeply dropped waist
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