Page 23 of My Dark Duke

Mrs Delacroix ambled from the room in search of poor Hilda, one of her many seamstresses. She was rumoured to have twenty girls working for her, in a warehouse in Spitalfields, and delivered exquisite gowns at speeds few others could offer.

“I’m not certain I require anything immediately,” Lillian whispered to Polly, once Mrs Delacroix had left the room.

“What if His Grace takes a fancy to the idea of taking you to the theatre, or Vauxhall Gardens?” Polly answered, with a shrug. “You’ll stick out like a sore thumb, mixing with the ton in your usual clothes.”

“Do you think he will wish to take me to such places?” she whispered back, suddenly filled with nerves. “What if someone recognises me?”

Polly frowned, then cast a shrewd glance at the seamstresses pinning Lillian’s dress.

“We’ll discuss this later,” she decided; keen ears were listening.

A young woman - most likely Hilda - appeared a few minutes later, with several gowns draped over her arm. When the other two girls had finished their measuring, Hilda and Polly assisted Lillian with fitting them on.

“They’re rather simple,” Polly commented, as Lillian surveyed herself in the mirror.

“The young lady they were designed for was to make her come-out,” Hilda replied, a little primly. “Such ladies do not require much adornment.”

“I am quite taken by them,” Lillian interjected, as she eyed up her reflection. She wore an evening gown of white muslin, with a pastel pink, silk overlay. It was trimmed with lace at the neck and sleeves and had matching lace flounces at its hem.

“If you are taken by them, then we shall take them,” Polly answered, before turning to Hilda. “Have Mrs Delacroix add them to the account. Leave the walking dress, Miss Smith shall wear that home.”

“Yes, miss,” Hilda nodded, before scurrying out the door to add the garments to the bill.

Polly assisted Lillian into a merino-wool walking dress, clucking in disapproval as she noted how badly her old boots looked in contrast to the new material.

“Next stop, Harding and Howell,” Polly stated firmly. “You are in desperate need of accessories.”

Polly bundled Lillian into her shawl, then out the door to the waiting gig.

“Pall Mall,” she instructed Michael, who sat in the driver’s seat.

As the vehicle trundled into the busy London traffic, Polly turned to Lillian with a frown.

“What’s all this about you not wishing to be seen out and about with His Grace? Most women would give their left eye to be in your place.”

Lillian waited a moment before replying, desperate to think of an answer which wasn’t“I am afraid that I’ll be identified as a murderess.”

“I was brought up with the expectation I would one day marry,” she answered, exhaling slowly. “I did not expect to become anyone’s mistress; I am afraid that I will be judged a fallen woman.”

Polly gave a hoot of laughter, much to Lillian’s annoyance. Her upset must have shown, for the older woman apologised.

“Forgive me,” she said, clearing her throat, “I was just amused by the idea that you are afraid you will be judged for assuming a position that most women would trade their mother for.”

“So you keep saying,” Lillian answered, a little petulantly. “I am afraid that country-folk do not hold the same aspirations as those from the city. What if word was to get back to someone I know, at home?”

“They would most likely envy you,” Polly answered, but upon seeing the worry which remained on Lillian’s face, she relented. “If you’re nervous of being recognised, we might visit a milliner; a few hats and headdresses with a lace veil over would conceal most of your face and project an air of mystery.”

“Won’t people think me strange?” Lillian wondered.

“This is London, my dear,” Polly replied, with another amused chuckle. “Ladies go out with half an ostrich on their heads, no one shall look twice at a scrap of lace.”

With that settled, Polly and Mary spent the rest of the afternoon happily perusing the many floors of Harding, Howell, and Company - a grand store on Pall Mall. The store was divided by glass partitions into four departments: furs and fans; haberdashery; jewelry, ornaments and perfumes, and a milliner.

Polly, whose taste ran towards the theatrical, picked out several headpieces for Lillian, as well as several pairs of gloves, some stays, and material for petticoats. After that, they visited the cobbler next door for kidskin boots and ballroom slippers.

After what felt like hours, they returned to their gig, heavily laden with boxes and tied paper parcels, their feet aching.

“I hope His Grace won’t be upset, when he sees how much I have purchased,” Lillian said, as they set off for home.

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