Page 88 of The Duke Who Loved a Widow
“Arabella,” came Emma’s voice below the great hall. “The Duchess of Wyndale says we can go and look at her gown and meet her French dress designer. There is apparently a huge collection of fashion plates.”
“Of course,” said Arabella, knowing she had no interest in seeing this gown.
The duchess’ seamstress had set up a studio in a small parlour and her ball gown was hanging on display. Arabella gasped at the wondrous golden creation, which sparkled with radiant crystals. It truly was a work of art.
She smiled and complimented Madame on her artisanal skill. Emma was poring over the fashion plates in great excitement. “Look here, the neckline and sleeves are different this season. And I love this bronze colour in silk.”
They were interrupted by a cry of alarm and footsteps rushing towards them.
Henry? Not again? thought Arabella
Mrs Slater and Mrs Cribbage appeared. “I’m so sorry, Your Ladyship,” began Mrs Cribbage. I don’t know how it happened,” she continued.
“Bella,” she vaguely heard Emma call out in alarm as the room began to spin around her, and she reached out for something to hold.
She heard Elinor’s voice as if it came from a great distance away. “Arabella,” and a gentle tapping on her cheeks, followed by the wafting scent of smelling salts.
She opened her eyes to see Elinor waving her vinaigrette of salts close to her nose. She lifted her head and began to wriggle her fingers.
“Did I swoon?” Arabella asked. “I never swoon.” Then, a look of terrified panic as she asked, “Henry? I remember …”
“Hush, Henry is upstairs with Nanny,” Elinor reassured her. “Here, let Emma and I help you up to a chair. We were worried you’d banged your head when you fainted to the floor.”
She heard another voice issuing commands as the dowager joined them. “Open the window; let’s get some air in here. Dorcas, run and get some tea and take it to my morning room.”
“Can you manage to walk?” the dowager asked Arabella, who nodded.
Once settled on a chaise longue in the morning room, Arabella wished they would all stop making such a fuss. “I’m perfectly fine,” she reassured them. She looked curiously at the dowager, Elinor, and Emma. “If not Henry, then what on earth was the matter?”
Elinor spoke. “It’s probably easiest to show you, and it is not a catastrophe. No one is hurt,” she said reassuringly.
Dorcas entered the room, followed closely by Mrs Cribbage, who still seemed highly agitated. “I only left the room to take a dish of tea with Cook in the kitchen. I’ve no idea how it could have happened,” came her distressed voice.
“Someone destroyed your dress,” said Emma. “They went into the room where Mrs Cribbage had laid out our gowns ready for the final fitting and ripped it up the front with a sharp knife.”
Arabella stared at her beautiful ball gown and took it in her hands, feeling the gossamer fine material soft against her hands. She had loved the green print with those tiny golden threads. Now rent almost in two, with the material frayed and bunched around what looked like a vicious knife cut.
How could someone destroy something so beautiful? My lovely gown, she thought wistfully.
“Mrs Cribbage, I’m so sorry. It would have been a truly delightful gown to wear at a ball. All that hard work,” Arabella said, her own feelings at the destruction of her dress put aside as she recognized how terrible this must be for the seamstress.
“That doesn’t matter. But what will you wear now?” Mrs Cribbage said, and Arabella caught the glance Mrs Cribbage’s eyes made towards the glorious golden gown hanging ready for the duchess.
“I’ve perfectly serviceable gowns at Horton Hall. I’m sure we can send across for something,” Arabella replied trying to comfort her.
The dowager duchess stepped forward. “I have a suggestion,” she said with quiet confidence. “Madame, have you completed your work for the duchess? You have, that’s excellent news.” She then looked towards Mrs Cribbage. “Could your seamstresses come and work here today?” the dowager asked her, and Mrs Cribbage nodded.
The dowager looked around the room. “Preparations for the ball are well in hand, so we have a dress to make. If those of us who can sew work together, then I believe Lady Arabella will have a gown for the ball. Mrs Cribbage, you can go in the gig back to your shop and collect your seamstresses and any cloth or supplies we might need.”
“I don’t have enough of that same material left to make another dress, ma’am,” Mrs Cribbage told the dowager. “And the matching headdress was ruined, too. It looks like red wine was poured all over it. It’s a wonder all the dresses didn’t get splashed.”
“Oh, this was very specifically aimed at Lady Farrington, and I believe I know who did this, but I can’t prove it,” muttered Elinor.
“I suspect I know too,” added the dowager. “However, what’s needed now is for us to make that dress.” She took the shreds of the ruined gown in her hands. I believe we can reuse the sleeves and some of the back panel. I have a gown very similar in colour, and we can use that too.”
Mrs Cribbage left to collect supplies, and Madame began removing the damaged fabric and unpicking the sleeves.
“I believe we can make this work,” declared the dowager, as she brought in a gown in a similar cloth.
