more at our next card party.’
‘Which will make Lord Markham even more suspicious,’ said Mrs Wilby bitterly. ‘I have a mind not to take tea with anyone tomorrow. I shall write and tell them all I have been laid low with a fever.’
‘No, no, dear Aunt, let them all come. ‘Pon reflection, I think you are quite right. Nothing could be more respectable than the guests you have invited. Lord Markham is most likely to be bored to death and will beat a speedy retreat!’
It was a cold, clear afternoon, but a biting wind made Susannah glad she had ordered her carriage to take her and Kate to Henrietta Street. They drew up on the gentle curve of the street outside one of the elegant three-storey houses, where only the array of fabrics displayed in the window gave an indication that this was not a private residence. A young woman in a plain dark gown opened the door to them.
‘Good day to you, Mabel. Is Odesse upstairs?’
‘Good day, Miss Prentess, Mrs Logan. Yes, Madame Odesse is in the showroom with Mrs Anstruther.’
‘And how is little James?’ murmured Susannah as she followed the girl up the stairs.
‘Oh, he is doing very well, miss, putting on weight just as he should, and sleeping through the night now.’ Mabel cast her a quick, shy smile. ‘It is so good to have him close, where I can keep an eye on him.’
They had reached the landing and Mabel showed them into the large reception room, where a dark-haired woman wearing a plain but exquisitely sewn round gown was talking with a formidable matron in a Pomona-green redingote and matching turban, assuring madame in a lilting foreign accent that her new gown would be completed tout de suite.
She looked up as her new visitors came in, but Susannah waved her hand.
‘No, no, madame, please continue serving Mrs Anstruther. We are happy to browse amongst these new fabrics.’ Her smile included the matron, who quickly looked away.
‘Thank you, I have finished here.’ Mrs Anstruther hastily pulled on her gloves and headed for the door. ‘If you will have the new gown delivered to me this afternoon, madame …’
She hurried out and Madame Odesse shut the door carefully behind her.
‘Miss Prentess, Mrs Logan, how good of you to call. Will you not be seated?’
Susannah noted with a smile that all trace of the vague European accent had disappeared from the modiste’s tone.
‘This continuing cold weather has made it necessary for me to order a new redingote, and I have persuaded Mrs Logan it is time she bought a new gown. We have brought with us a length of silk especially for the purpose.’ Susannah smiled. ‘I trust everything goes well here?’
‘Very well, thank you, we have made some changes.’ Odesse paused. ‘Would you like to come and see?’
‘We would indeed!’
She took them back down the stairs and through a door on the ground floor. The room was alive with quiet chatter, which stopped as they went in. Four young women were present, sitting near the large window. Each one was engaged in sewing the swathe of material spread over her knees, while a nearby table was covered in a confusion of brightly coloured material and threads. Madame Odesse waved an expressive hand
‘This is now our sewing room.’
Susannah smiled at the young ladies but hastily begged them not to get up or stop their work. She was acquainted with them all and knew that each one had a baby to look after. The absence of cribs and crying was noticeable.
‘Where are the children?’ she asked.
‘We take it in turns now to stay in the nursery with the babes,’ offered one of the girls in a shy voice. She added, indicating the cloud of pale-blue woollen fabric on her lap, ‘I am sewing the final seam of your walking dress now, Miss Prentess.’
‘My girls find they prefer to work away from the babies,’ added the modiste. ‘We have six seamstresses living here now, and Mabel, of course, who is proving herself a valuable assistant to me. Two of my girls stay in the nursery while the others get on with the sewing.’
‘And the lace-makers?’ asked Kate. ‘How do they go on?’
‘Very well.’ Madame Odesse’s dark eyes twinkled. ‘The fashion for extensive trimming on gowns could not have come at a better time. Demand is growing for our exclusive lace, and I hope they will be able to train up a few more girls soon.’
‘And have you room for more seamstresses?’
‘Certainly,’ agreed Odesse. ‘If we keep getting new customers then I shall have work for them, too.’
She led them down another flight of stairs to the nursery, where two young women were looking after the babies in a large, comfortably warm room. Susannah and Kate spent some time in the nursery before making their way back upstairs, Susannah declaring herself very satisfied with the arrangements.
‘It appears to be working out very well,’ she remarked, when they were once again in the reception room. ‘The children are content and their mothers seem happy.’
The modiste took her hands and pressed them, saying earnestly, ‘We all appreciate your giving us this chance to keep our babies and earn a living, Miss Prentess.’
‘I am glad to do it, and the gowns you have made for me are very much admired, Olive—I mean Odesse,’ Susannah corrected herself hastily. ‘I beg your pardon!’
The seamstress laughed and shook her head.
‘I would not have you beg my pardon for anything. When I consider what might have happened, to all of us….’ There was a moment’s uneasy silence before she shook off her reflective mood and said brightly, ‘The new apricot silk you ordered arrived this morning, and I know just the design I would like to make for you …’
An hour later the ladies were on their way back to Royal Crescent, a number of packages on the seat beside them and the prospect of more new gowns to follow.
‘I must say, I never thought charity would be so pleasurable,’ declared Kate, smiling. ‘Your idea of setting the girls up in their own establishment was a very good one, Susannah.’
‘I merely made use of Olive’s talent for sewing. She has such a shrewd eye for design, too.’
‘But it is unlikely she would have succeeded alone, and with a young baby to support.’ Kate reached out and squeezed her arm. ‘You should be very proud of yourself, my dear.’
‘I am very proud of my ladies,’ replied Susannah. ‘I have merely provided the means. It is their hard work that is making it such a success.’
‘If only the starched matrons of Bath knew that their gowns were being made by unmarried mothers they might not be so keen to patronise Odesse.’
‘I do not think they care who makes their clothes as long as they are fashionable and a good price,’ retorted Susannah. ‘Florence House, however, is a different matter. News of that establishment will scandalise the sober matrons, so I hope we can keep it a secret, at least until I
