Page 33 of When She Was a Governess
“We’ll make do, miss,” Mrs. Fletcher said briskly, already spreading fabrics across Sophia’s narrow bed. “I’ve worked in tighter quarters than this, I assure you. Now, let’s have a look at you.”
She circled Sophia with a critical eye, studying her from every angle. Sophia fought the urge to fidget under the scrutiny.
“A lovely figure,” Mrs. Fletcher pronounced finally. “With your fair hair and those blue eyes, you’ll wear pastels beautifully, and jewel tones will bring out your complexion. Avoid anything too orange or yellow, they’ll wash you out entirely.”
“Avoid oranges and yellows completely? I have never given it much thought before now.”
“You must start,” Mrs. Fletcher said. “Everyone will be watching to see what you wear, how your hair is fixed, the flush of your cheeks.”
“Oh dear me. That sounds dreadful,” Sophia said.
Mrs. Bromley laughed softly. “Mrs. Fletcher has dressed half the ladies in Kent, Miss Ashford. You’re in excellent hands.”
“Indeed you are.” Mrs. Fletcher gestured to the bed, now covered in a rainbow of fabrics. “Now then, we’ll need to consider what you’ll require as Lady Montrose. Morningdresses, walking dresses, afternoon gowns, evening gowns, a riding habit. Do you ride?”
“I do not,” Sophia said. “I did as a child, but I haven’t for a long time.”
“No matter. We can address that later if needed.” Mrs. Fletcher moved to the fabrics, running her hand over them with obvious affection. “For now, we focus on the essentials. Day dresses in practical fabrics like muslins and light wools. At least six, I should think. Evening gowns in silk or satin, three at minimum. A pelisse and spencer for outdoors. A walking dress or two. Nightgowns, of course, and undergarments. Chemises, stays, petticoats, stockings.”
Sophia’s head was spinning. “That is quite a lot.”
“It’s barely the beginning of what a lady of your station requires,” Mrs. Fletcher said matter-of-factly. “But we must be realistic about what can be accomplished. Your wedding dress is my absolute priority—that I can have ready in time, though I’ll be working through the nights with my two assistants. I’ve brought two dresses with me today that are already made up. With alterations, they’ll fit you and you can wear them immediately. One for receiving the Duchess this afternoon, and another for the days before your wedding.”
“Do I really need so much?” Sophia asked.
“His lordship can afford the very best,” Mrs. Bromley said. “You’ll want clothing appropriate to your station when you make calls in London or attend society events.”
Society events. Sophia had been so focused on staying with Amelia that she hadn’t considered what being Lady Montrose would actually entail. Calls. Dinners. Perhaps even balls.
“But for now,” Mrs. Fletcher continued briskly, “we focus on what’s essential and what’s possible. The wedding dress and two altered gowns immediately. I’ll work on additional pieces asquickly as I can—perhaps have two or three more ready within a fortnight. The rest will follow.”
“I see.” Sophia took a breath, trying to calm her racing heart. “I’m grateful for whatever you can accomplish, Mrs. Fletcher. Truly.”
“Now, for the wedding dress.” Mrs. Fletcher pulled forward a bolt of ivory silk that seemed to shimmer in the morning light. “Given the time constraint, we’ll keep it simple. High waist, of course, long sleeves given the season. Perhaps some embroidery at the neckline? Or lace at the cuffs and hem?”
“I don’t know.” Sophia reached out to touch the silk, then pulled back, afraid of marking it with her fingers. “It’s beautiful. But the cost is extraordinary. I am not the queen of England, after all.”
“His lordship was very clear,” Mrs. Bromley interrupted gently. “He wants you to have the finest of everything, Miss Ashford.”
“But surely this is too much. Perhaps something less expensive?”
“You are marrying a lord,” Mrs. Fletcher said. “You’ll be Lady Montrose, mistress of this manor. You cannot present yourself in anything less than what’s appropriate to your station. It would reflect poorly on his lordship.”
On Henry. Sophia hadn’t thought of it that way. She’d been so focused on her own discomfort with the expense that she hadn’t considered how her appearance would reflect on him.
“I see,” she said. “Then I defer to your judgment. Both of you. I should hate to embarrass him.”
“My dear, you are beautiful in anything you wear,” Mrs. Fletcher said. “But it will give your husband pleasure to see you in finery.”
Mrs. Bromley’s expression softened. “Come, stand here by the window where the light is better. Mrs. Fletcher needs totake your measurements, and then we’ll discuss the styles and fabrics.”
For the next few minutes, Sophia stood and turned and lifted her arms while Mrs. Fletcher measured every conceivable part of her body, calling out numbers that Mrs. Bromley recorded in a small notebook. Then came the fabric selection—bolt after bolt spread before her while both women debated the merits of each.
“The rose muslin for a morning dress, I think,” Mrs. Bromley said, holding a length of soft pink fabric up to Sophia’s face. “See how it brings out the color in her cheeks?”
“Yes, and this pale blue for another.” Mrs. Fletcher added a bolt of sky-colored muslin to the growing pile. “With white embroidery at the hem. And this green here. It’s not too dark, just the right shade to complement her eyes.”
“What about this?” Mrs. Bromley held up a length of deep sapphire silk.
