The Indebted Earl by Erica Vetsch (love letters to the dead TXT) 📕

best pleased to have you calling. She goes to her clients, like I said.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, not exactly scowling, but not happy either.

Sophie knocked, and a youngish woman with curly blonde hair becomingly arranged opened the top half of the Dutch door a few inches.

“Yes?”

“Madam Stipple?”

“Yes.” The woman regarded Sophie, a wary look in her eyes. She glanced over Sophie’s shoulder to where Miles waited by the carriage.

“I’m Lady Rothwell. I’ve come to see about the purchase of some clothing for myself and my wards.” She held her arm out to where Penny, Thea, and Betsy waited.

“Oh, Lady Rothwell.” She put her hand to her throat. “I don’t usually … I mean, I had assumed if you needed something, I would bring it to Gateshead for you.” She kept hold of the half door.

“That’s very kind of you, and perhaps we will do so in the future, but as we’re here now, may we come inside?” What an odd way for a craftswoman to behave. “Time is of the essence, and we’d like to order new gowns for the assembly in just a few days.”

Madam Stipple stood still long enough that Sophie thought she might refuse, but eventually she stepped back and opened the lower half of the door.

The entire front room had been turned into a workroom with a cutting table, shelves of cloth, and baskets of buttons, hooks, and trim. A triple mirror stood in one corner, and a bowl of lavender buds scented the air. It looked ready for patrons. Why had she been so reluctant to let anyone in when she clearly served customers here?

“What an amazing inventory. You must have had quite a shop in London.” Sophie let her hand drift over a vivid bolt of red velvet. Imagine finding such a treasure trove in this little village.

Thea and Betsy pressed their noses against a glass case of ostrich feathers, ribbons, and jet beads, while Penny wandered to the rolls of duchesse satin and brocade.

It would be disloyal to Charles and present the wrong face to the village and to the girls for Sophie to continue wearing somber colors, so she had put away her grays and blacks. For this celebration she would choose something light and pretty.

Madam Stipple invited Sophie to have a seat in an overstuffed chair. “I have pattern books, if you would like to peruse them. I really wouldn’t mind visiting you at the manor.” She drew a pad of paper from a shelf beneath the cutting table. “I can jot down some ideas and bring samples for your approval?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Sophie had never felt so unwelcome in a retail shop. “Penny and I are looking for dresses for the assembly. Is there time to make two gowns with the dance so near?”

“As long as you don’t ask for anything too elaborate that will require much embellishing, and as long as you don’t mind them being delivered the day of the party, it should not be a problem.” She poised her pencil over the paper. “I have a couple of ladies I can call upon for help with the basic sewing.”

“That will be fine then. Once the gowns are completed, I have several other things that need making up.” She consulted her list.

Penny held up a length of teal brocade. “What do you think, Sophie?”

“While the color flatters you, the material is both too ornate and too heavy for a dancing dress. Look in the muslins along that wall. You may have anything white, pale pink, or light blue. Those are appropriate colors for a young girl at her first dance.”

Penny put the heavy fabric down, reluctance in every slow movement. To cheer her, Sophie said, “You may pick out several yards of ribbon to match the fabric you choose. Madam Stipple can trim the gown, and we can use the same ribbon to thread through your hair.”

And in a blink, all was right once more in Penny’s world.

“I wish I didn’t have to wear dresses,” Thea said. “I wish I could wear knee breeches like a boy. I could climb trees and run faster without skirts getting in the way.” She stirred a basket of buttons with her finger.

Though Madam Stipple and Penny were shocked, Sophie wasn’t surprised. There were times when she had wished the same when she was growing up. What would it feel like to wear breeches and stalk around in boots? Skirts did hamper a girl from time to time.

“Thea, I understand how you feel, but you must remember that God didn’t make a mistake when He made you female. If you continue to rue being born a girl, you’ll always be blaming God and letting that hold you back. You can and will do amazing things, and being a girl won’t stop you if you put your mind to it.”

“Can I be a sailor?” Thea asked. “Like the captain?”

Did Charles know the impression he’d made on the girls in such a short time? Betsy followed him everywhere, copying his movements and mannerisms, and if his bicorn wasn’t on his head, it was on hers.

And though Thea stated she wished she was a boy, her actions said that what she really wanted was to belong to someone, to be someone’s little girl. Someone safe, who wouldn’t abandon her.

“Perhaps not in the British navy, but there is nothing to stop you from learning to sail. And aren’t you blessed to have a naval captain who also owns a boat as your guardian? Ask him to teach you. I’m sure he’ll oblige.” And perhaps it would occupy his time until he received a new commission.

Betsy opened a polished wooden box about the size of a tea chest. “Pretty.”

Inside, in separate compartments, was a lovely selection of lace. Ivory, white, gold, black, pastels and bright colors. Several of the cards had French inscriptions.

Sophie picked up one spool of lace about four inches across. Where had she seen it before?

Madam Stipple hurried over