Page 1 of The Duchess’ Modiste

Chapter 1

Chloe

Buckinghamshire, 1815

“Ow! You’d think by now I’d learn the needle goes into the silk, not into my hand,” Chloe said wryly to the ladies around her, as she shook her fingers, knocking off the silver thimble she had been using. The ladies all giggled and Chloe pulled the needle back out of her finger and returned it to the silk.

“Do you think she will like it?” one of the seamstresses asked as she caught the skirt of the gown Chloe was working on and spread it out, exposing the way the gossamer-thin lace fell delicately over silk embroidered with roses.

“Like it? I’m hoping she will love it! Not just like it.” Chloe laughed as she stood and held the gown up, looking around the room as she did so.

The other seamstresses that had gathered in the room of the Duke of Suffolk’s home all turned their heads in Chloe’s direction.

Chloe was in her element. Since her closest friend, Maeve, had married the Duke of Suffolk, Chloe had relished her new opportunities in life. She stayed with Maeve most weeks and constantly designed new dresses for her. Seamstress to a duchess certainly had its allure, but it was designing for her friend that Chloe loved so much.

Now . . . I am ready for the next challenge.

“What do we all think?” Chloe held up the gown in front of her. “Rather than imagining me wearing such a gown, think of someone much, much taller. Not to mention rather more beautiful! Oh yes and imagine a duchess wearing it.” Once more Chloe’s words brought laughter to the group.

Two of the other seamstresses put down their thimbles and thread, coming to observe the gown, whilst the third sat back, admiring from her seated position.

“Rosaline?” Chloe asked, directing her attention to the third seamstress. She was aware they all looked her way. As she was the head seamstress, they all eagerly listened to her with due attention. “What do you think?”

“I think you have outdone yourself, Chloe.” Rosaline clasped her hands together with glee, making the red curly hair that was escaping her updo dance around her face. “To think of a duchess wearing a gown we have made? Oh! The mere thought gives me tingles.”

“I know what you mean.” Chloe sighed as she laid the gown down on the nearest table, the better to examine her work.

Maeve had only just become a duchess. She had married the Duke when he was the Marquess of Lestenmeer. Recently, the Marquess’ father had passed away, making him the new Duke and Maeve a Duchess. A period of mourning had come and passed. Though Maeve had said repeatedly that her husband was fine, Chloe could see the quiet moments where the grief weighed upon the new Duke well enough. He would often reach for Maeve’s hand and clutch her fingers, saying nothing at all with his jaw fixed in place.

“Well, if Maeve likes it, she is to wear it at the ball next week, where they will be introduced as Duke and Duchess of Suffolk to the ton,” Chloe said excitedly. Finding a missing stitch in the hem, she hurried to pick up another needle and thread, fixing the stitch. In her hurry, she tangled her arms with the tape measure that she had hung loosely around her neck. “I pray it will suit the occasion.”

Chloe sighed with satisfaction as her eyes flitted over the gown. It was a truly beautiful dress, and despite her wish to be modest, she was secretly very proud of her accomplishment.

The skirt was made of white silk and embroidered with delicate pink roses. The whole look was softened by the thin lace draped over the top. The bodice itself was thickened with more lace and ivory white silk, hemmed with white pearls, and short-capped sleeves.

Well, perhaps I can accept I can produce something of beauty after all!

The thought stirred a desire within Chloe. Whilst she loved designing gowns for Maeve and seeing them worn, Chloe couldn’t help wanting something a little more. It had been that way since she was a young girl, when she had first picked up a needle and thread and asked her father if he had any spare linens that she could use to make something new. She could still remember his risen eyebrows of surprise, before his lip had curled into a smile and he had run to fetch her some linens.

Perhaps my dream is possible, after all.

“I can’t help dreaming of what it could be like to attend such a ball myself,” one of the seamstresses said as she stopped at Chloe’s side. This was Elizabeth. A rather plump girl, with rounded cheeks. She had one of the finest smiles Chloe had ever seen. “Imagine me at a ball? Ha! Rubbing shoulders with the ton? What would my ma say?”

“She’d probably warn you to watch out for the gentlemen you meet,” Chloe said with wit as she finished her work on the hem. “Gentlemen are not always as gentlemanly as they should be.” The girls laughed once again, but Chloe was aware of Rosaline moving to her feet and coming to stand on Chloe’s other side.

“Are you not excited to attend, Chloe?” Rosaline asked. “I would love to attend such an event, and you of course have the fortune to go as the daughter of a Baron. I can’t help imagining what it would be like to dance at a ball, with some fine gentleman . . .” Rosaline was soon off in a world of her own.

Chloe smiled as she lifted her eyes from the gown and watched Rosaline begin to dance from side to side, as if with some imaginary partner. On Chloe’s other side, Elizabeth and Marianne laughed along with Rosaline. It wasn’t long before Marianne was attempting to copy Rosaline’s dancing, in the hope of improving her skills.

“The mere thought of a dance at a ball is thrilling!” Rosaline gushed once again, spinning round to face Chloe as Marianne copied her.

“You expect rather a lot of a gentleman’s skills in dancing, in my opinion,” Chloe said with a smile and lifted the gown again. There were a few loose threads she needed to clean up along the neckline of the gown. She laid it down once more and pulled out a small pair of scissors for the task.

“You speak as if all the gentlemen you have danced with have stepped on your feet,” Rosaline laughed with her words.

“Or fallen over,” Elizabeth offered an alternative as she moved to Chloe’s side and held out her hand to take the loose threads.

Their words conjured an image in Chloe’s mind. She thought of one man she had danced with before. With his clumsiness, he had often stepped on her feet. At one point, he had nearly fallen over and taken her with him, yet the mere thought of it brought such a smile to her lips, and she had to chew them to stop herself from looking ridiculous.

---