with the attachment and had to allow Lottie to do the work. She knew there was no way for a woman of means to dress herself in such a gown. And now, to be dressed by another …
Lottie emerged from under the train, her hair falling this way and that across her face. “There,” she said as she blew a strand away with a puff of air. “Now come to the mirror and behold the lady.”
They moved to the full-length mirror in the corner. Dora gasped at the sight. “It’s so lovely. I feel like a princess.” Dora found it hard to take her eyes off her reflection and stood taller, her chin raised in a regal pose. She felt oddly important.
“Ah, but the look is not yet complete.” Lottie rushed to her jewelry box and returned with a necklace. She clasped it around Dora’s neck. “Citrine and Bohemian topaz. Father gave these to me on my seventeenth birthday.”
“I know,” Dora said. She touched the stones warily as if they were the crown jewels. “They are stun—” Dora noticed Lottie staring into space. “What’s wrong?”
Lottie blinked. “You know.”
“Pardon me?”
“You know about Father giving me the necklace on my seventeenth birthday.”
Dora didn’t understand. “Of course. I was there. As I was present for your thirteenth, your fourteenth, and fifteenth and—”
“Every birthday since I was twelve.”
“Yes.”
“And every Christmas.”
“Yes.”
“And Easter.”
Dora didn’t understand the direction of the questioning.
Lottie took her hands. “Don’t you see? You know all about me. You’ve witnessed every moment of my life.”
“Not every moment.” Dora thought of the balls, the teas and parties—occasions where she’d been left at home.
“Everything that has occurred in our household has been under your scrutiny.”
“I would not call it scrutiny, but yes, I’ve been here.” Dora still didn’t understand Lottie’s point.
“So coming to America with me … it’s perfect.”
Once again Dora peered at her image in the mirror. The dress, the jewels … much of being a lady lay in the trappings.
But not all. Far from all.
“I don’t know how to make conversation with your set. And though I’ve observed the etiquette, looking and doing aren’t the same thing. The only education I’ve had is sitting in when your governess taught you and helping you with your lessons.”
“You may be undereducated, but you are far from stupid, Dora. And your speech patterns reveal little of your roots.”
Dora would agree. The advantage of living with the Gleasons from such an impressionable age is that in many ways she’d become one of them. And unlike Lottie, Dora could name all the counties in England and could list its monarchs back to William the Conqueror. Not that any of this information was useful, but she was proud just the same.
Lottie retrieved a cloisonné comb and tried to place it in Dora’s hair. “With just a few lessons, I could teach you all you need to know about being a lady.”
“Just like that?”
Lottie bit her lip—which meant the transition would not be “just like that.”
“What you must remember,” Lottie said, “is the first rule of being a lady.”
“Which is?”
“You must be polite, prompt, pretty, and proper.”
Dora could be polite and prompt, but the rest … “What if I make a fool of myself? What if people guess that I’m not really a lady but—”
“Remember the lady’s second rule.”
“What’s that?”
“Smile. A smile is the best defense against offense.”
Unfortunately, Dora feared her offenses would be too numerous to defend in any manner, smiling or not.
“Dora!” Barney’s face lit up at the sight of her. He quickly wiped his hands upon a bloody apron. “You rarely come to the village. I ain’t complaining, but—”
“I need to talk to you.” She glanced at the others in the butcher shop and recognized a few. There would be talk, of that she could be certain. But she had no choice.
Barney
Lottie emerged from under the train, her hair falling this way and that across her face. “There,” she said as she blew a strand away with a puff of air. “Now come to the mirror and behold the lady.”
They moved to the full-length mirror in the corner. Dora gasped at the sight. “It’s so lovely. I feel like a princess.” Dora found it hard to take her eyes off her reflection and stood taller, her chin raised in a regal pose. She felt oddly important.
“Ah, but the look is not yet complete.” Lottie rushed to her jewelry box and returned with a necklace. She clasped it around Dora’s neck. “Citrine and Bohemian topaz. Father gave these to me on my seventeenth birthday.”
“I know,” Dora said. She touched the stones warily as if they were the crown jewels. “They are stun—” Dora noticed Lottie staring into space. “What’s wrong?”
Lottie blinked. “You know.”
“Pardon me?”
“You know about Father giving me the necklace on my seventeenth birthday.”
Dora didn’t understand. “Of course. I was there. As I was present for your thirteenth, your fourteenth, and fifteenth and—”
“Every birthday since I was twelve.”
“Yes.”
“And every Christmas.”
“Yes.”
“And Easter.”
Dora didn’t understand the direction of the questioning.
Lottie took her hands. “Don’t you see? You know all about me. You’ve witnessed every moment of my life.”
“Not every moment.” Dora thought of the balls, the teas and parties—occasions where she’d been left at home.
“Everything that has occurred in our household has been under your scrutiny.”
“I would not call it scrutiny, but yes, I’ve been here.” Dora still didn’t understand Lottie’s point.
“So coming to America with me … it’s perfect.”
Once again Dora peered at her image in the mirror. The dress, the jewels … much of being a lady lay in the trappings.
But not all. Far from all.
“I don’t know how to make conversation with your set. And though I’ve observed the etiquette, looking and doing aren’t the same thing. The only education I’ve had is sitting in when your governess taught you and helping you with your lessons.”
“You may be undereducated, but you are far from stupid, Dora. And your speech patterns reveal little of your roots.”
Dora would agree. The advantage of living with the Gleasons from such an impressionable age is that in many ways she’d become one of them. And unlike Lottie, Dora could name all the counties in England and could list its monarchs back to William the Conqueror. Not that any of this information was useful, but she was proud just the same.
Lottie retrieved a cloisonné comb and tried to place it in Dora’s hair. “With just a few lessons, I could teach you all you need to know about being a lady.”
“Just like that?”
Lottie bit her lip—which meant the transition would not be “just like that.”
“What you must remember,” Lottie said, “is the first rule of being a lady.”
“Which is?”
“You must be polite, prompt, pretty, and proper.”
Dora could be polite and prompt, but the rest … “What if I make a fool of myself? What if people guess that I’m not really a lady but—”
“Remember the lady’s second rule.”
“What’s that?”
“Smile. A smile is the best defense against offense.”
Unfortunately, Dora feared her offenses would be too numerous to defend in any manner, smiling or not.
“Dora!” Barney’s face lit up at the sight of her. He quickly wiped his hands upon a bloody apron. “You rarely come to the village. I ain’t complaining, but—”
“I need to talk to you.” She glanced at the others in the butcher shop and recognized a few. There would be talk, of that she could be certain. But she had no choice.
Barney
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