on Green Street. Lord Winsmere was all that was kind. And Bella, of course, was Bella. Georgiana was overwhelmed by their kindness. But not so overwhelmed that she would consent to Bella’s buying her new gowns.
“If I must have new gowns to go about and become known, then of course I’ll pay for them.” Her calm statement had caused Bella to look at her in concern.
“But, my dear Georgie, gowns, you know…well, they’re not all that…I mean to say…” The garrulous Bella had flustered to a halt.
The drift of her thoughts had reached Georgiana. “Oh! Did you think I have no money?”
Bella’s eyes widened. “Well, I thought you might not be exactly flush, what with your trip and expecting your uncle to be there to help at the end of it.”
Georgiana smiled affectionately. They had thought her a pauper but had still wanted to help. She knew enough of the world to appreciate such sentiments. “Not a bit of it. My father left me reasonably well to do—or at least, that’s how my Italian solicitors described it. I don’t know what exactly that means, but I have funds deposited here on which I may draw.”
To her relief, Lord Winsmere had insisted on accompanying her to the bank her father had patronised. She had little doubt it was his lordship’s standing that had resulted in such prompt and polite service. There had been no difficulty in establishing her bona fides through papers she had carried from Italy.
While waiting for the carriage to stop rocking, Georgiana glanced at Bella’s profile. They had taken to each other as if each were the sister the other had never had. “Only two gowns, mind.”
Bella turned, her eyes narrowing. “Two day gowns and an evening gown.” She stared uncompromisingly at Georgiana.
With a wry grimace, Georgiana acquiesced. “All right. And an evening gown. But nothing too elaborate,” she added, as the groom opened the door.
Together they entered the discreet establishment of Fancon. A woman dressed in severe black glided forward to greet them. Her black hair was pulled back and, it appeared to Georgiana, forcibly restrained in a tight bun. Black eyes, like gimlets, sharp and shuttered, assessed her. This, she soon learned, was the great Fancon herself. Imbued with suitable awe, Georgiana noted a certain restraint in the woman’s manner and was careful to give no cause for offence.
Half an hour passed in the most pleasant of occupations. Fancon had numerous gowns to choose from. Georgiana tried on a great many. There were fabrics, too, which could be fashioned to any style she wished. Georgiana found Bella’s interest infectious. And she could not resist the temptation to indulge in Fancon’s elegant creations. However, true to her word, she chose only two day dresses, one in softest lilac, the other a deep mauve. Both suited her well, their high waists outlining her youthful figure. She feared that Fancon would be irritated by her meagre order, particularly after the woman had been so insistent she try on such a great number of gowns. Yet nothing but the most complete equanimity showed on the modiste’s stern face.
Much discussion went into the creation of an evening gown. The styles which favoured her were easy enough to decide. Yet there was nothing suitable made up.
“Your colouring, Miss Hartley, is less pale than the norm. It is no matter. We will decide on the fabric, and I will have my seamstresses work up the gown by tomorrow.” With a calm wave of her hand, Fancon summoned her underlings. They brought bolts of fine cloth, in mauves and lilacs. While Georgiana stood, wreathed in fabric, Bella and Fancon studied her critically. Georgiana, too, watched proceedings in the mirror.
“It must show you off to your greatest advantage,” declared Bella.
Georgiana seriously doubted that companions were chosen for the picture they made in the ballroom.
Fancon turned and murmured a command. A minute later, a fresh selection of materials arrived. Sea-green gauze, spangled and shimmering, was draped around Georgiana. The assistant stood back, and Georgiana raised her eyes to the mirror. She gasped. Was the slim, slender mermaid she saw there really herself? The green brought out the lights in her hair and eyes, and emphasised the creaminess of her skin. She stood and stared. Then, slowly, she shook her head sadly.
“Not yet. I’m still in mourning, remember?”
Another murmur from Fancon saw a deep topaz silk replace the sea-green gauze. Again, Georgiana stared. This time she looked almost as worldly as Bella. The silk added an air of allure, of mystery. She looked…enticing. But again she refused.
Apparently resigned to using the purplish hues, Fancon next produced a pale amethyst silk. Georgiana regarded it critically. The colour suited her well enough, making her appear soft and feminine. But the amethyst simply did not do for her what the previous two shades had. In this, she simply looked passably pretty. She turned and looked longingly at the topaz and the sea-green, lying discarded beside her. Still, she couldn’t allow herself to be distracted from her purpose. Doubtless ladies who needed companions would approve of the amethyst silk.
“Yes. I’ll take this fabric. And the pattern we agreed on.”
Georgiana turned in time to catch the look that passed between Bella and Fancon. It was a look that bespoke an understanding, but she got no further clue to assist in its interpretation.
While they waited for the two day dresses to be packed, Georgiana reflected that Madame Fancon had not seemed anywhere near as dragon-like as Bella had led her to believe.
Settled in the barouche, with Fancon’s boxes on the opposite seat, Bella leant forward and spoke to her coachman. “Once around the park for luck. Then back to Green Street.”
The carriage moved off. Georgiana sat quietly, wondering a little at the revelations of the sumptuous sea-green and topaz silks. Could she really appear like that? Her? Little Georgiana?
Bella also sat quietly, smugly satisfied with the outcome of her scheming. She had been to see Fancon the day before, while Arthur had taken Georgiana to see her banker. The modiste knew her well; she was, after all, one of her best customers. Fancon had been most helpful, particularly after she had let fall the information that a certain peer was most desirous that Georgiana should be well presented, and hence money was no option. Dominic could hardly take exception to that. Bella grinned. She had little doubt Fancon would guess who the gentleman was. Who other than her brother would be likely to leave a young girl in her care?
“Bella, there’s been some mistake. We have six boxes instead of two.”
Georgiana’s words reclaimed Bella’s attention. She turned and found Georgiana frowning at the offending extra boxes. “No, no,” said Bella. “It’s all right. I bought some gowns, too. I couldn’t resist after seeing you in them, and we’re much of a size.” All of which, Bella told her conscience, was perfectly true.
Georgiana raised her brows but said no more.
Bella returned to her absent-minded contemplation of the pavements. Undoubtedly she’d have to argue hard and fast to get Georgiana to accept the gowns she had bought. But none of them were in colours she, so much darker of hair and fairer of skin, could wear. The sea-green gauze and topaz silk would look hideous on her. They were to be delivered tomorrow, along with the amethyst silk. Surely Georgie would see what a waste it would be simply to throw them away?
As the barouche turned into the park, Bella sat up straighter. She looked across at Georgiana, sitting quietly beside her. Demure she might look, but Georgiana Hartley had
