Page 26
With a great heave, the boot came free, sending Evaline toppling backward into the copper tub with a resounding clang.
“Oh, heavens!” Harriet cried, covering her mouth. “Evaline, are you well?”
Evaline sat in the tub, hair askew, an expression of calm resignation on her face.
“Remind me again why we have no lady’s maid to do for us?”
Harriet sank onto the bench, laughing until tears welled in her eyes.
“Because I am a fool. A complete and utter fool.” Then she grew sober. “But mostly, because I must make sure it is a woman whom Bertram Hargreaves cannot persuade to spy on me. My father is a snake, but he can be most compelling when he wishes to be, and there is no inducement he will not employ to get what he wants.”
“Then we shall struggle on doing for each other. I, of course, am in no position to make demands when you have done so much for me, but I hate to see you frustrated with my novice skills,” Evaline replied, lifting the dark blue walking gown from the rack. It was simple but elegant, with a high neck, long sleeves, and modest embroidery at the cuffs.
Harriet turned around to regard her friend. “You are a valued friend, Evaline. Having you as a guest helps me just as much as it helps you. You need not feel timid about making demands.”
Evaline smiled, returning to her side. “Thank you … for everything.”
Harriet reached out, wrapping her arms around her guest’s delicate frame. “You are most welcome. I am pleased to offer you my address on a prestigious street and access to my motley crew of servants for what they are worth. It is not right that your late husband’s family is withholding your stipend.”
“My solicitors assure me it will be resolved soon, but you bought me much-needed time to sort it out.”
“Not at all. I hope you will remain in residence even then. I need the company, and this house is far too large for one lonely widow. Your funds will stretch further without the cost of high rent and a full staff.”
Evaline rested her head with quiet affection against Harriet’s shoulder, being inches shorter.
“Thank you.”
Her voice was unsteady, and Harriet had to discreetly lift a hand to swipe at her own dampened eyes. Stepping back, Harriet turned around again to finish the torture of changing. Next came the petticoats, two lighter layers more suited for the walking gown until it was time for the gown itself.
“Arms up,” Evaline instructed.
“We shall see if I survive this round.”
The gown proved uncooperative, catching first on Harriet’s elbows, then refusing to slide over the structured stays.
“It is stuck again!” Harriet’s voice emerged muffled from under the fabric. “I swear this dress despises me.”
“Lower your arms a little. No! slowly!”
With a final, ungraceful tug, the gown settled into place.
“I feel like a trussed goose.”
“A very fashionable goose,” Evaline said, adjusting the sleeves. “Now, for the fastenings.”
Harriet balanced herself on the bench as Evaline worked the back closures.
“Honestly, Evaline. Why must gowns fasten in the back? It is as though fashion is deliberately cruel.”
“It is to ensure you need a maid,” Evaline replied. “Keeps the classes in order.”
“Hah! The classes. I would trade my title for one competent lady’s maid right now.”
“You say that, but you would not part with your jewelry collection.”
“You wound me, madam.”
Harriet had wanted to look her best for Sebastian and had hoped to see his admiring glances while she had the chance. No one had ever made her feel as important as he had.
