customarily worn by the belles of the ton. Yes, that was it, she would commission Fanny to make something for her with the proviso that it be sufficiently demure for her to wear to church.
Her mind made up on that score, Harriet casually pointed to one of the figures in La Belle Assemblée and, holding out the tissue and satin in front of her again for a quick inspection, remarked, "Yes, I think I should like something like this in these materials." She drew on her gloves and headed toward the door.
"But, my lady, you have not settled on the trimmings!
Would you like a flounce of French lace at the hem of the skirt or a rouleau of satin entwined with pearls? Do you wish the sleeve to be slashed or decorated with knots of ribbon?" The modiste was aghast at her customer's cavalier attitude.
"Whatever you think best. I trust your taste implicitly. Just inform me when you wish to do a fitting. Thank you." And with that breezy dismissal of a process that absorbed the entire lives of most of her fashionable peers, Harriet departed, leaving Madame Celeste and her assistant to wonder aloud at a young woman who could order a very expensive ball gown without the blink of an eye and who could remain so uninvolved in its creation. 95
My Wayward Lady
by Evelyn Richardson
"However she is always agreeable and such a pretty thing too—never in the least demanding, not like some." Miss Milsop, the assistant, rolled her eyes in the direction of a stout red-faced woman swathed in purple who was berating another assistant to the verge of tears.
"Yes. But why she must always appear in that plain gown when we have made her at least one delightful carriage dress, I do not know. At least her bonnet was more the thing," the proprietress replied, little suspecting that Harriet had been so immersed in thought over the recent incident at Mrs. Lovington's that she had very nearly forgotten to exchange her Quaker bonnet for the more fashionable one she always carried in a bandbox.
Fortunately, Rose had caught her mistress at the last minute just as she was about to emerge from the carriage and enter the shop. "Oh, my lady, your bonnet!" Harriet had smiled ruefully. "Too much woolgathering. Thank you. Rose." And she had hastily bent over to reach into the bandbox, hoping to hide the telltale blush that had crept up into her cheeks. It was bad enough for Harriet to be aware that her thoughts were dwelling entirely too much on the mysterious Chalfont who had rescued her, but she was bound and determined that no one else, especially the sharp-eyed Rose, should think that anything was amiss.
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96
My Wayward Lady
by Evelyn Richardson
Chapter 10
Nor did the mysterious Chalfont fade from her thoughts as the days passed. Harriet kept telling herself that her continued preoccupation with him was the natural response of a person trying to establish the identity of someone whose name was familiar but whose face was not by attempting to recall the context in which she had first heard of Chalfont. However, she was forced to admit to herself that she spent far more time remembering the mixture of admiration and concern in his amber eyes than she did trying to remember the precise circumstances in which she had heard his name mentioned.
Much as she wished to discover the identity of the unknown gentleman who had come to figure so largely in her thoughts, Harriet deemed it prudent to avoid appearing at the Temple of Venus until she could be sure that it was entirely safe from further visits by Sir Neville. Consequently, she sent a note around to Mrs. Lovington informing her of her decision. The proprietress's reply was gracious enough, but left Harriet in no doubt that her presence would be sadly missed by the girls who had come to look forward to their weekly lessons. Harriet smiled as she read the reply. She too would miss their Tuesday morning meetings for she had come to feel very much a part of the lives of Mrs. Lovington's
Her mind made up on that score, Harriet casually pointed to one of the figures in La Belle Assemblée and, holding out the tissue and satin in front of her again for a quick inspection, remarked, "Yes, I think I should like something like this in these materials." She drew on her gloves and headed toward the door.
"But, my lady, you have not settled on the trimmings!
Would you like a flounce of French lace at the hem of the skirt or a rouleau of satin entwined with pearls? Do you wish the sleeve to be slashed or decorated with knots of ribbon?" The modiste was aghast at her customer's cavalier attitude.
"Whatever you think best. I trust your taste implicitly. Just inform me when you wish to do a fitting. Thank you." And with that breezy dismissal of a process that absorbed the entire lives of most of her fashionable peers, Harriet departed, leaving Madame Celeste and her assistant to wonder aloud at a young woman who could order a very expensive ball gown without the blink of an eye and who could remain so uninvolved in its creation. 95
My Wayward Lady
by Evelyn Richardson
"However she is always agreeable and such a pretty thing too—never in the least demanding, not like some." Miss Milsop, the assistant, rolled her eyes in the direction of a stout red-faced woman swathed in purple who was berating another assistant to the verge of tears.
"Yes. But why she must always appear in that plain gown when we have made her at least one delightful carriage dress, I do not know. At least her bonnet was more the thing," the proprietress replied, little suspecting that Harriet had been so immersed in thought over the recent incident at Mrs. Lovington's that she had very nearly forgotten to exchange her Quaker bonnet for the more fashionable one she always carried in a bandbox.
Fortunately, Rose had caught her mistress at the last minute just as she was about to emerge from the carriage and enter the shop. "Oh, my lady, your bonnet!" Harriet had smiled ruefully. "Too much woolgathering. Thank you. Rose." And she had hastily bent over to reach into the bandbox, hoping to hide the telltale blush that had crept up into her cheeks. It was bad enough for Harriet to be aware that her thoughts were dwelling entirely too much on the mysterious Chalfont who had rescued her, but she was bound and determined that no one else, especially the sharp-eyed Rose, should think that anything was amiss.
[Back to Table of Contents]
96
My Wayward Lady
by Evelyn Richardson
Chapter 10
Nor did the mysterious Chalfont fade from her thoughts as the days passed. Harriet kept telling herself that her continued preoccupation with him was the natural response of a person trying to establish the identity of someone whose name was familiar but whose face was not by attempting to recall the context in which she had first heard of Chalfont. However, she was forced to admit to herself that she spent far more time remembering the mixture of admiration and concern in his amber eyes than she did trying to remember the precise circumstances in which she had heard his name mentioned.
Much as she wished to discover the identity of the unknown gentleman who had come to figure so largely in her thoughts, Harriet deemed it prudent to avoid appearing at the Temple of Venus until she could be sure that it was entirely safe from further visits by Sir Neville. Consequently, she sent a note around to Mrs. Lovington informing her of her decision. The proprietress's reply was gracious enough, but left Harriet in no doubt that her presence would be sadly missed by the girls who had come to look forward to their weekly lessons. Harriet smiled as she read the reply. She too would miss their Tuesday morning meetings for she had come to feel very much a part of the lives of Mrs. Lovington's
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