popular. And she didn’t remember him offering any advice about the velvet cloche like the one at the House of Price.
“I don’t know what to think. It’s eerie sometimes—remember when we first came and he showed us how to draw according to what a client described? He could whip out a design in nothing flat.”
“He is fast. Not too detail oriented, though.” Like the simple bead design on the copycat dress that lacked the intricacy of Soren’s creation. “Do you think it’s enough to mention to Mr. Fields?”
“It’s your job on the line.” Calvin raised his eyebrows. “You want me to come along?”
“Not this time.”
Nell retrieved her portfolio. She’d use it as a pretense to talk with her boss. With a prayer in her heart, she ran up the steps to the third-floor offices and asked Harjo if Mr. Fields was in.
“Last time I checked.” He nodded her in.
Mr. Fields squinted when she asked to have a word. “Come to throw yourself at my mercy?”
Words clogged Nell’s throat. She swallowed and gave a thin laugh. “If that would h-help. If what I’ve uncovered about the c-copied d-designs turns out to be wrong.”
“What? Have you added sleuthing to your list of invaluable skills? Seems to me you should be applying yourself to the honorable clients who’ve requested your services.”
“I have been doing that. P-please, hear me out.”
She laid bare her suspicions and her conversation with Calvin, the woman’s resemblance to Percy. She only stammered a few times, but enough that she knew her recent speech progress had been temporary.
Mr. Fields’s look was that of stone, his eyes narrowed. “Pure fantasy, I’m certain. And I’m appalled that you would accuse my top designer, the one whose opinion I value highly.”
“I didn’t say he wasn’t a good d-designer. Only that I think it b-bears looking into.”
“You’ve made your case. Now, skeedaddle. See if you can’t find something productive to do and quit wasting my time.”
“Yes, sir. And th-thank you.”
Her legs were as limp as linguine as she found her way out and scuttled past Harjo without a word. Please, let him believe me. Or at least do his own inquiries.
All she could do was trust that her prayers were heard.
* * *
Nell crossed her legs, jiggling the top one as she waited for Dr. Underwood. She reached for her tea, furnished as always by Lindy Williams, but it had already grown cold. It wasn’t like Dr. Underwood to keep her waiting, and just when Nell had given up on his coming, Lindy popped back in.
“So sorry for the wait. Dr. Underwood should be here in just a tick.” She perched on the arm of Dr. Underwood’s chair. “Have you had a good week?”
Lindy meant well, trying to engage her in conversation, but Nell evaded the question. An entire day had passed without a word from Mr. Fields, although Nell had little time to dwell on it with her numerous consultations. The design work would keep her busy all weekend and the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday as well. Lindy smiled, waiting for an answer.
“Not too bad. I’m curious, though. Do you observe Thanksgiving? I find it peculiar since it’s not one of our English traditions.”
“It did seem strange at first, but my husband’s family makes it quite the frolic with the bird and all. And I get an extra two days off to be with my wee ones.”
“I didn’t realize you had children.”
“Two little cherubs. My mum lives in the flat next door and watches after them. Like I said, it will be a merry time.” Lindy glanced at the clock. “I’ll run on now and check on Dr. Underwood.”
Moments later, Dr. Underwood came in, and without ado, he asked how she was.
“My stammering is better, at least when I’m with friends.”
“You’ve always related well to your peers then?”
“I’m not sure. I wasn’t around that many growing up. I had a g-governess at the manor, so the only time I was with other children was at the village
“I don’t know what to think. It’s eerie sometimes—remember when we first came and he showed us how to draw according to what a client described? He could whip out a design in nothing flat.”
“He is fast. Not too detail oriented, though.” Like the simple bead design on the copycat dress that lacked the intricacy of Soren’s creation. “Do you think it’s enough to mention to Mr. Fields?”
“It’s your job on the line.” Calvin raised his eyebrows. “You want me to come along?”
“Not this time.”
Nell retrieved her portfolio. She’d use it as a pretense to talk with her boss. With a prayer in her heart, she ran up the steps to the third-floor offices and asked Harjo if Mr. Fields was in.
“Last time I checked.” He nodded her in.
Mr. Fields squinted when she asked to have a word. “Come to throw yourself at my mercy?”
Words clogged Nell’s throat. She swallowed and gave a thin laugh. “If that would h-help. If what I’ve uncovered about the c-copied d-designs turns out to be wrong.”
“What? Have you added sleuthing to your list of invaluable skills? Seems to me you should be applying yourself to the honorable clients who’ve requested your services.”
“I have been doing that. P-please, hear me out.”
She laid bare her suspicions and her conversation with Calvin, the woman’s resemblance to Percy. She only stammered a few times, but enough that she knew her recent speech progress had been temporary.
Mr. Fields’s look was that of stone, his eyes narrowed. “Pure fantasy, I’m certain. And I’m appalled that you would accuse my top designer, the one whose opinion I value highly.”
“I didn’t say he wasn’t a good d-designer. Only that I think it b-bears looking into.”
“You’ve made your case. Now, skeedaddle. See if you can’t find something productive to do and quit wasting my time.”
“Yes, sir. And th-thank you.”
Her legs were as limp as linguine as she found her way out and scuttled past Harjo without a word. Please, let him believe me. Or at least do his own inquiries.
All she could do was trust that her prayers were heard.
* * *
Nell crossed her legs, jiggling the top one as she waited for Dr. Underwood. She reached for her tea, furnished as always by Lindy Williams, but it had already grown cold. It wasn’t like Dr. Underwood to keep her waiting, and just when Nell had given up on his coming, Lindy popped back in.
“So sorry for the wait. Dr. Underwood should be here in just a tick.” She perched on the arm of Dr. Underwood’s chair. “Have you had a good week?”
Lindy meant well, trying to engage her in conversation, but Nell evaded the question. An entire day had passed without a word from Mr. Fields, although Nell had little time to dwell on it with her numerous consultations. The design work would keep her busy all weekend and the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday as well. Lindy smiled, waiting for an answer.
“Not too bad. I’m curious, though. Do you observe Thanksgiving? I find it peculiar since it’s not one of our English traditions.”
“It did seem strange at first, but my husband’s family makes it quite the frolic with the bird and all. And I get an extra two days off to be with my wee ones.”
“I didn’t realize you had children.”
“Two little cherubs. My mum lives in the flat next door and watches after them. Like I said, it will be a merry time.” Lindy glanced at the clock. “I’ll run on now and check on Dr. Underwood.”
Moments later, Dr. Underwood came in, and without ado, he asked how she was.
“My stammering is better, at least when I’m with friends.”
“You’ve always related well to your peers then?”
“I’m not sure. I wasn’t around that many growing up. I had a g-governess at the manor, so the only time I was with other children was at the village
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