the tea things, he tried to give her a wink, but she was looking in the other direction.
“You have the advantage of us, miss,” he observed, taking off his gloves and holding his hands to the fire. “You at least have heard my sister and I bickering enough to know our given names. But we know nothing of you, other than that you are a rather direct shop owner. Are you a Siddons, then?”
“I am Nan Siddons,” she replied, graciously enough, as she set the tea table before them.
Nan. He’d vaguely heard Nan mentioned in passing around Kellridge. Always her name, it seemed, was coupled with work.
“I am Jane Reed, and this is my brother, John.” Jane stepped in gracefully, taking over the flow of conversation as she assisted Nan with serving the tea.
John watched his sister, working with Nan so easily, talking to her as though they were old friends. Jane had never responded this effortlessly to strangers before. Jane was as quiet as a church mouse, bookish and given to playing endlessly on her violin. Her impending debut—once they were out of mourning, of course—was the cause of much consternation in their home. Yet here, in the comfort of the Siddons Sisters Millinery Shop, she was holding her own quite well.
He accepted his teacup from Nan with a nod of thanks. This sudden change in his sister’s demeanor gave him pause. Perhaps Nan was the right person for this job after all. Not just for one bonnet, but for every agonizing step in preparing his sister for her London debut. Her calming nature, along with her candid manner, made her quite a good candidate as his partner in this venture thus far.
Much as he turned to his friend Paul Holmes for assistance in wrestling with his father’s vast estate, could he turn to Nan Siddons for assistance in transforming his shy, reluctant sister into a diamond of the first water?
He eyed her over the rim of his teacup. The color in her cheeks rose, and she twitched in her chair, moving so that he could only see her in profile.
“Let us discuss the matter of your bonnets,” she said to Jane in a brisk tone. “What, do you feel, is lacking in the bonnet you have now?”
“Nothing, really.” Jane cast a reproachful look at John. “My brother feels I should be more fashionably dressed. I don’t feel it’s right, since I am in mourning.”
“You dressed plainly before Father died,” John scoffed. This was a familiar, and tender, point of contention between them. “When our mourning period ends and you go to London for your debut, you simply must dress as a young lady of your station should. No more unadorned gowns and simple hats. If I have to rise to the occasion, taking over as man of the family, so should you rise to the occasion of being a typical well-bred young lady.”
“Whether it’s fair or not, people judge a woman by what she wears,” Nan put in quietly. “Here, in Tansley, a young lady can dress in basic, practical attire. In fact, my shop caters to the women of the village. My hats and bonnets are sturdy, rather than elegant, because I want them to last a long time. But in London, you will be compared to other young women, and if you look shabby, it could reflect badly on your family.”
“It would reflect badly on me as head of the family,” John added pointedly. Nan understood his position, even if his sister did not, and for that he was ridiculously grateful.
“So the intent of dressing you well, or at least to a certain outside standard, would have two purposes. First, and most important, to make you feel more comfortable in your role as debutante.” Nan took a sip of her tea. “Second, to assure your place in society as you try to find a husband.”
Jane made a tiny groaning sound. John sighed. This was further than he’d ever been able to get. Normally by now, Jane would’ve fled. A tiny ray of hope shone into his soul. Nan Siddons could help him. Perhaps, if he could convince her to come, this one aspect of his new role would be a success. He might be a scoundrel, and he flirted with atheism, but all the same, he could do well at one thing in his life. It would be good not to be a bitter disgrace to his parents’ memories.
But could Nan produce the kind of fashionable clothes that a London debut would require? He studied her once more. She was neat and something in her demeanor was attractive enough, but she would never be called stylish. He looked around the room, peering at the bonnets in various stages of creation. These were, as she indicated, sturdy and practical. Not at all suitable for, say, a ride along Rotten Row.
“I don’t mean to be impertinent,” he began, and both Nan and Jane shot him disbelieving glares. “But how can we be certain that you can create a fashionable bonnet?”
Nan squared her jaw and set her teacup down with a defiant clink. “Let me show you my sketches.”
She leaped gracefully from her chair and bustled over to a wicker basket, pulling out sheet after sheet of foolscap. “My sisters and I started our business making bonnets and hats to order for The Honorable Miss Elizabeth Glaspell and her friends.” She held out a sheaf of papers, and he accepted them. “These are my sketches. I worked with the gowns Miss Glaspell already owned, creating bespoke bonnets that matched perfectly, as though they had been crafted at the same time.”
John nodded slowly, perusing the sketches. As he finished looking at each sheet of paper, he handed it over to his sister. Assessing her work from the male perspective, the hats and bonnets looked stylish enough. The women of his acquaintance would not be ashamed to be seen in them. Judging by Jane’s smile, she was satisfied with Miss Siddons’s skill, as well.
Jane’s smile was the first real sign that his sister was beginning to thaw a trifle when it came to choosing any garment that might show her off on the Marriage Mart. Jane was slow to accept change, however. If he insisted on more than just a single bonnet today, she would likely dig in her heels and vow to stay at their country home as a spinster forever.
“Very well,” he began, casting the rest of the sketches aside. “You may make one bonnet for my sister. Something to go with the gown she has on. If that works well, we may have other commissions for you. But I want to see your handiwork first. After all, these are mere sketches. I’d like to see the finished, fashionable result.” What he proposed was true, after all, and if he made it sound as if he was unsure of Miss Siddons’s talent, Jane might well jump to her defense.
“I’ll create a sketch this evening,” Miss Siddons replied with a snap, two red spots appearing on her cheeks. “I think Miss Reed’s dress is perfectly suited to mourning, and I shall look forward to creating something to bring out her natural beauty.”
John grinned. He couldn’t resist. Miss Siddons was just walking that line between trying to get a difficult customer’s business while maintaining her dignity. She was doing a smashing job of it, too. He touched Jane’s arm. “Come, Jane. We’ll leave Miss Siddons to it, then.”
Jane cast an apologetic look at Miss Siddons and rose. “I am certain it will be more than lovely. Thank you for your time.” She shook her head at her brother, pursing her lips.
“We’ll come back for the sketch later,” John added. “I assume you can have it done in one evening?”
“You assume correctly, Mr. Reed.” Miss Siddons gave a defiant lift to her chin.
His admiration for her restraint and her confidence surged, but he gave no outward sign of it. He trusted few people, and admired fewer still. So often, he had seen the reality of human nature—its pettiness and its greed. The people he kept company with in London were perfect examples of this, but they were all good for a laugh. Laughter
