particular her friendship with the Marquise de
Pompadour. But today Madame seemed especially pleased to be asked
to outfit Emily.
"Such a fine figure and graceful carriage," Madame
said with heavily accented enthusiasm, as she circled Emily and
eyed her from head to foot.
As Madame tossed bolt after bolt of fabric on the
counter for inspection, the dowager had unfailingly voiced her
preference for the brightest colors and the boldest patterns.
Emily, however, stood her ground. She had agreed to accept the new
wardrobe, but she would not be bullied into colors that made her
look like a circus tent. She was firm in her selection of clear
blues and greens in fine cambrics or textured sarsnets. She had
also selected one simple printed India muslin. As she and her
employer perused the fashion plates in the latest issues of La
Belle Assemblée , the dowager was wont to select those dresses
with the most flounces, the most ruffles, and the most elaborate
trimming. Again, Emily stood firm. She had no desire to be thrust
upon the ton looking like a wedding cake. Ever conscious of
her position, she preferred the simplest styles.
"Here is a lovely confection," the dowager said as
she pointed to a hand-colored engraving of a very elaborate evening
full dress of pink satin trimmed at the bodice with swags of seed
pearls and with countless tiny ivory satin bows at regular
intervals along the long sleeves. "You would be just the thing in
this dress, my dear."
Emily studied the fashion plate and looked up to
catch Madame Dubois's wary eye. "I am sorry, my lady," she said to
the dowager, "but I think I would prefer something much simpler.
Like this, for example." She indicated a plate showing a soft green
half evening dress trimmed at the neck and waist with pink ribbon
embroidered with a green leaf pattern.
"Hmph!" the dowager snorted. "You may choose as you
like, my dear, although please remember that our purpose is to have
you appear fashionable during the height of the London Season."
" Mais, oui , my lady," Madame Dubois
interjected. "And this design," she said, pointing to the fashion
plate in Emily's hand, "is la dernier cri . In the right
fabric it will be stunning on Mademoiselle, accentuating her height
and graceful neck." She pulled out a length of pale green silk and
with a flourish swiftly draped it across a very startled Emily.
" Voilà ! See how it matches the green of her eyes."
Emily, amused at the Gallic enthusiasm of the
modiste, raised questioning brows to the dowager.
"It will do," the older woman snapped. "Proceed,
Madame."
Emily was then taken to a private room, where for
the next two hours she was subjected to endless poking, prodding,
measuring, and pinning. The dowager sat nearby, her brows furrowed
skeptically throughout the fitting. She was still opposed to the
simple styles Emily had selected.
"In my day," she said at one point, "we prided
ourselves on achieving the most elaborate styles. Why, our bodices
were literally covered with bows. I will never understand, Madame,
how we came to these simple vertical designs. And, Emily," she
scolded, "you disappoint me in your conservative selections."
Emily kept quiet, determined to maintain a simple,
albeit fashionable, appearance, in keeping with her position. She
had an unexpected ally in Madame Dubois.
"Ah, but Mademoiselle has excellent taste," she
crooned. "You are very wise not to be—how do you say?—a slave to
fashion. You must define your own style. Simple, uncluttered
elegance will serve you best. Fine fabric in a clean line is more
becoming to your height and bone structure. Follow my advice and
avoid all furbelows, fruit, or flowers. Jamais, jamais,
jamais ! Let the fabric speak for itself, n'est-ce
pas ?"
Emily was quite overwhelmed when they left the
modiste's, having ordered two morning dresses, two evening dresses,
a walking dress with matching spencer, a carriage dress, and a
pelisse. After much protestation Madame Dubois promised to
Pompadour. But today Madame seemed especially pleased to be asked
to outfit Emily.
"Such a fine figure and graceful carriage," Madame
said with heavily accented enthusiasm, as she circled Emily and
eyed her from head to foot.
As Madame tossed bolt after bolt of fabric on the
counter for inspection, the dowager had unfailingly voiced her
preference for the brightest colors and the boldest patterns.
Emily, however, stood her ground. She had agreed to accept the new
wardrobe, but she would not be bullied into colors that made her
look like a circus tent. She was firm in her selection of clear
blues and greens in fine cambrics or textured sarsnets. She had
also selected one simple printed India muslin. As she and her
employer perused the fashion plates in the latest issues of La
Belle Assemblée , the dowager was wont to select those dresses
with the most flounces, the most ruffles, and the most elaborate
trimming. Again, Emily stood firm. She had no desire to be thrust
upon the ton looking like a wedding cake. Ever conscious of
her position, she preferred the simplest styles.
"Here is a lovely confection," the dowager said as
she pointed to a hand-colored engraving of a very elaborate evening
full dress of pink satin trimmed at the bodice with swags of seed
pearls and with countless tiny ivory satin bows at regular
intervals along the long sleeves. "You would be just the thing in
this dress, my dear."
Emily studied the fashion plate and looked up to
catch Madame Dubois's wary eye. "I am sorry, my lady," she said to
the dowager, "but I think I would prefer something much simpler.
Like this, for example." She indicated a plate showing a soft green
half evening dress trimmed at the neck and waist with pink ribbon
embroidered with a green leaf pattern.
"Hmph!" the dowager snorted. "You may choose as you
like, my dear, although please remember that our purpose is to have
you appear fashionable during the height of the London Season."
" Mais, oui , my lady," Madame Dubois
interjected. "And this design," she said, pointing to the fashion
plate in Emily's hand, "is la dernier cri . In the right
fabric it will be stunning on Mademoiselle, accentuating her height
and graceful neck." She pulled out a length of pale green silk and
with a flourish swiftly draped it across a very startled Emily.
" Voilà ! See how it matches the green of her eyes."
Emily, amused at the Gallic enthusiasm of the
modiste, raised questioning brows to the dowager.
"It will do," the older woman snapped. "Proceed,
Madame."
Emily was then taken to a private room, where for
the next two hours she was subjected to endless poking, prodding,
measuring, and pinning. The dowager sat nearby, her brows furrowed
skeptically throughout the fitting. She was still opposed to the
simple styles Emily had selected.
"In my day," she said at one point, "we prided
ourselves on achieving the most elaborate styles. Why, our bodices
were literally covered with bows. I will never understand, Madame,
how we came to these simple vertical designs. And, Emily," she
scolded, "you disappoint me in your conservative selections."
Emily kept quiet, determined to maintain a simple,
albeit fashionable, appearance, in keeping with her position. She
had an unexpected ally in Madame Dubois.
"Ah, but Mademoiselle has excellent taste," she
crooned. "You are very wise not to be—how do you say?—a slave to
fashion. You must define your own style. Simple, uncluttered
elegance will serve you best. Fine fabric in a clean line is more
becoming to your height and bone structure. Follow my advice and
avoid all furbelows, fruit, or flowers. Jamais, jamais,
jamais ! Let the fabric speak for itself, n'est-ce
pas ?"
Emily was quite overwhelmed when they left the
modiste's, having ordered two morning dresses, two evening dresses,
a walking dress with matching spencer, a carriage dress, and a
pelisse. After much protestation Madame Dubois promised to
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