The coach rolled on, tall stone buildings lining the street,and then stopped.
“Come on,” the countess called her with a hint of impatience as they stepped out onto the street.
They walked to a building with a stone-dressed facade and big windows displaying cloth and dresses. Bernadette drew in a breath, feeling nervous. The place had its name emblazoned on the display window and the glass panel in the door in gold-decorated writing, and she felt her hands tingle nervously. She hated fancy shops like this one.
“Good afternoon!” a woman a few years Bernadette’s senior greeted as they walked through the door. She had big glasses and a big, friendly smile, her auburn hair in a soft bun. “How may I help you?”
“We wish to purchase silks for a ballgown and a wedding,” the countess told her briskly.
Bernadette’s ability to defy the countess went only so far, and she stood back, wordless, as the modiste brought out different rolls of silk, holding them up for the countess to inspect.
“Yes. Yes. This one will do,” the countess murmured. “Bernadette, come and hold this against your face, please.”
Bernadette tensed at being commanded, but hurried to the long table where the modiste had unrolled a roll of silk for the countess to look over.
The silk she’d picked was dark blue and figured with apattern of flowers in the same dark blue. Bernadette stared at it. It was like water, or the sky when night falls. It was bold and showy and just a few days ago, she’d have been terrified at the thought of wearing it. Standing in the shop, she found that she could consider it more reasonably. It wasn’t really something she would normally wear—she preferred paler colors. She glanced about, seeing a roll of lilac silk. That was more her style.
“I think the blue would suit well,” the countess declared before Bernadette had a chance to say anything. “I think we’ll...” She turned to the modiste, about to instruct her further.
“Wait,” Bernadette interrupted. “Let me see it.”
“Why! I...” The countess began, her tone offended, but the modiste interrupted before she could get further.
“Of course! Please come this way. There’s a looking glass right here on the wall. You can see what you think of how it suits you.”
Bernadette thanked her quietly, then held the fabric up to her face. Her reflection looked back considerately. Her eyes looked huge and wide when she held the blue fabric close, their greenish tone emphasized by the dark, intense silk. She drew in a breath. She had never seen herself look so striking.
“I find it pleasing,” she said quietly.
She felt the countess stiffen, as though expressing her own opinion was tantamount to treason. But there was little she could say and the modiste beamed.
“Well, then! I shall cut the necessary lengths. The style?” she asked. Bernadette, about to suggest something, caught the countess staring at her and felt withered by her look. The woman’s eyes were hard and cold and dared her to argue.
She followed the two women to a table in the front of the shop, where some copies of theLadies’ Gazettewere arranged. The countess pointed to the illustration on one of the covers.
“We would like a style like that,” she said firmly. She looked at Bernadette again, as if daring her to contradict her. Bernadette drew in a breath. She would feel uncomfortable in a dress like that—it had a low, square neckline and brief puff-sleeves and she didn’t feel as though she was confident enough to wear it.
“I...”
“That one,” the countess said insistently, fixing the modiste with a hard look. “It’s the most stylish one out of these pictures.” She waved a hand at the copies of the magazine. Bernadette glanced at the covers. The one the countess chose was one of the recent editions of the magazine. She felt sure that was all that had influenced her choice.
“Of course, my lady!” The modiste beamed. “I will have it made up for you.”
Bernadette swallowed hard. She wanted to object, but she felt worn down. Defying people was something she’d never done before, and she didn’t like it.
“And now for the other one,” the countess instructed themodiste firmly. “We want something in ivory silk, with perhaps some lace trim...”
Bernadette said nothing, her stomach churning with nerves and anger. Was it not bad enough, she wanted to shout, that she and Lord Blackburne barely knew each other? Did the countess have to choose her dress for the event?
She barely had the energy to nod when the countess thrust a page into her face.
“This one. It will be very modish.”
“Yes,” Bernadette murmured. She felt lightheaded after such a tense morning.
They walked to the door. As they reached it, the countess paused and Bernadette frowned, wondering why. She looked through the glass-fronted door and spotted two women outside in the street. The countess opened the door and beamed at them both.
“Lady Alverton! Lady Emily! Why! What a delight to see you.” She turned to Bernadette. “This is Miss Rowland.”
