Read Online Candice Hern by The Regency Rakes Trilogy - Free Book Online
Authors: The Regency Rakes Trilogy
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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 Bartholomew baby. 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 have everything ready in ten days. She also happened to have a simple evening half dress already made up for
"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 Bartholomew baby. 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 have everything ready in ten days. She also happened to have a simple evening half dress already made up for
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