of just a year or two ago is rising again. And the skirts on most of your morning and afternoon dresses are too narrow.”
“And what is to be done about narrow skirts? It isn’t as if they can be let out, can they?”
Caddy shook her head and helped Kate step into a plain linen petticoat. “The note Miss Buchanan sent over with the trunk said that if I was unable to match the fabrics or alter the gowns, new ones were to be made.”
Kate’s skin burned with embarrassment—and no little frustration—over the way her younger cousin was directing her life at the moment. “I see.”
Several starched and quilted petticoats later, Kate finally donned the first of many gowns under examination. With the new corset, the bodices of most of her gowns needed to be taken in. Yet most did not work with the addition of layers beneath.
She learned that her sleeves were all wrong—no one wore straight sleeves anymore. The rage was all for bell or pagoda sleeves, necessitating the undersleeves that covered her arms from wrist to just above the elbow. The shoulders rode too high, too close to her real shoulders. And the dinner dresses and ball gowns—why, the necklines were completely outdated. They should be rounded in front and covering just the tips of her shoulders, not coming to a point in the center and cut high enough on the shoulder to cover the straps of her old corset.
With each gown Kate donned and Caddy marked and pinned, the seamstress’s expression grew more grave. And Kate could understand why. With the new undergarments, none of her gowns fit her the way they should.
Finally, Caddy, who had been ripping out the hem of Kate’s brown traveling dress to try to make it long enough to cover the bottoms of the petticoats, sat back with a sigh. She pushed up to her feet, gave Kate’s figure a long look in the mirror, then met her gaze.
“I have an idea. Take this off, and I’ll be back in a moment.”
The dress buttoned down the front, so it proved easy enough to remove—though she did so with caution, since she had no desire to be stuck with any of the pins now glittering throughout the fabric.
Caddy returned with an armload of fabric in a blue-and-gray pattern. “I was making this for someone else, but when she saw the fabric, she decided she did not like it and chose something more colorful.” She held up the dress.
Kate’s breath caught in her throat. The blue print on a light gray organdy fabric was just the type of palette she liked—and the types of colors she’d been afraid her cousins would not allow her to continue wearing.
Caddy helped her into the dress. The pleats of the bodice fanned from her waist up and over her shoulders—making her waist appear even smaller, and giving a demure slope to her shoulders. The double-tiered bell sleeves dropped away dramatically from her elbows, with blue-and-gray silk fringe emphasizing the width of them. The demure check pattern of the bodice gave way to an intricate block-printed floral motif in the double-tiered skirt. White undersleeves and a lace collar finished the look.
The dress fit as if made for Kate. “Oh, Caddy . . . it’s exquisite.”
“It’s a wool organdy, so it will serve you for much of the year.” Caddy fluffed the skirt over the petticoats, then stepped aside to admire her handiwork. “Thankfully, I had not yet gotten around to hemming the bottom, so with a narrow hem, it will be perfect for your height. If you like it, it is yours. I cannot imagine anyone doing it better justice than you.”
Kate eyed herself critically in the mirror. With her hair swooped back at the sides into a cascade of curls in the back, a more feminine shape to her figure, and a beautifully made gown, a new sense of confidence filled her—something she hadn’t felt in a long time.
The woman looking back at her in the mirror, with her blue eyes and oval face, would be able to capture the attention of any man she set her sights on. This was Katharine
“And what is to be done about narrow skirts? It isn’t as if they can be let out, can they?”
Caddy shook her head and helped Kate step into a plain linen petticoat. “The note Miss Buchanan sent over with the trunk said that if I was unable to match the fabrics or alter the gowns, new ones were to be made.”
Kate’s skin burned with embarrassment—and no little frustration—over the way her younger cousin was directing her life at the moment. “I see.”
Several starched and quilted petticoats later, Kate finally donned the first of many gowns under examination. With the new corset, the bodices of most of her gowns needed to be taken in. Yet most did not work with the addition of layers beneath.
She learned that her sleeves were all wrong—no one wore straight sleeves anymore. The rage was all for bell or pagoda sleeves, necessitating the undersleeves that covered her arms from wrist to just above the elbow. The shoulders rode too high, too close to her real shoulders. And the dinner dresses and ball gowns—why, the necklines were completely outdated. They should be rounded in front and covering just the tips of her shoulders, not coming to a point in the center and cut high enough on the shoulder to cover the straps of her old corset.
With each gown Kate donned and Caddy marked and pinned, the seamstress’s expression grew more grave. And Kate could understand why. With the new undergarments, none of her gowns fit her the way they should.
Finally, Caddy, who had been ripping out the hem of Kate’s brown traveling dress to try to make it long enough to cover the bottoms of the petticoats, sat back with a sigh. She pushed up to her feet, gave Kate’s figure a long look in the mirror, then met her gaze.
“I have an idea. Take this off, and I’ll be back in a moment.”
The dress buttoned down the front, so it proved easy enough to remove—though she did so with caution, since she had no desire to be stuck with any of the pins now glittering throughout the fabric.
Caddy returned with an armload of fabric in a blue-and-gray pattern. “I was making this for someone else, but when she saw the fabric, she decided she did not like it and chose something more colorful.” She held up the dress.
Kate’s breath caught in her throat. The blue print on a light gray organdy fabric was just the type of palette she liked—and the types of colors she’d been afraid her cousins would not allow her to continue wearing.
Caddy helped her into the dress. The pleats of the bodice fanned from her waist up and over her shoulders—making her waist appear even smaller, and giving a demure slope to her shoulders. The double-tiered bell sleeves dropped away dramatically from her elbows, with blue-and-gray silk fringe emphasizing the width of them. The demure check pattern of the bodice gave way to an intricate block-printed floral motif in the double-tiered skirt. White undersleeves and a lace collar finished the look.
The dress fit as if made for Kate. “Oh, Caddy . . . it’s exquisite.”
“It’s a wool organdy, so it will serve you for much of the year.” Caddy fluffed the skirt over the petticoats, then stepped aside to admire her handiwork. “Thankfully, I had not yet gotten around to hemming the bottom, so with a narrow hem, it will be perfect for your height. If you like it, it is yours. I cannot imagine anyone doing it better justice than you.”
Kate eyed herself critically in the mirror. With her hair swooped back at the sides into a cascade of curls in the back, a more feminine shape to her figure, and a beautifully made gown, a new sense of confidence filled her—something she hadn’t felt in a long time.
The woman looking back at her in the mirror, with her blue eyes and oval face, would be able to capture the attention of any man she set her sights on. This was Katharine
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