Harlequin Historical: February 2022--Box Set 1 of 2 by Liz Tyner

Author:Liz Tyner
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2021-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

Like a leaf caught up in a gale, Daisy was pulled from one side of the dressmaker’s studio to the other, while her mother and Madame Blanchard unwound rolls of silk, tulle and satin, draped them over Daisy’s shoulder and stood back to discuss whether the colour highlighted her eyes, flattered her skin tone, was too daring or not daring enough.

Eventually, after discarding a mounting pile of fabric her mother selected a pale lemon silk, and Daisy breathed out a sigh of relief. Finally, it was over. But no. Still draped in the lemon cloth, various laces were wound around her neck, discarded and replaced with alternative styles of lace, all of which appeared exactly the same to Daisy.

Once Madame Blanchard and her mother had agreed on the lace, chiffon was discussed in minute detail before a suitable fabric for the train was decided upon. Daisy was then dragged over to the wooden shelves lining the cluttered studio and a selection of sashes was tied around her middle, and an animated discussion ensued on which type would best emphasise Daisy’s slender waist and highlight the curve of her hips.

In amongst all this mayhem, the dressmaker’s assistant attempted to take Daisy’s measurements. Tape measures were rapidly run across her shoulders, from shoulder to waist, waist to ground, and each measurement listed in the assistant’s book. When she took Daisy’s waist measurement, she stopped and turned to her employer, confusion in her eyes.

‘What is it, Madeline?’ Madame Blanchard asked in an accent Daisy doubted was genuinely French.

‘My lady is not wearing a corset,’ Madeline whispered, trying and failing to keep the shock out of her voice.

Dismay briefly crossed the dressmaker’s face before she smiled politely. ‘What size waist do you ’ave when you are suitably—I mean, when you are wearing your undergarments?’ she asked Daisy.

‘I don’t wear a corset and I won’t be wearing one to the ball.’ Daisy was making enough concessions to her mother already. She would not go completely against the principles of the Rational Dress Society and bind herself up in one of those hideous garments of chafing whale bone, restricting laces and overly starched linen.

The dressmaker looked at her mother, who sighed but nodded. ‘I’m afraid Lady Daisy doesn’t believe in wearing a corset.’

A frown briefly flitted across the dressmaker’s face, but she signalled to the assistant to continue taking measurements.

‘And yet, she still ’as a fashionably small waist,’ Madame Blanchard observed, looking at the measurements in the assistant’s book.

‘She rides a bicycle,’ her mother explained, causing Madame Blanchard’s arched eyebrows to rise momentarily.

‘All that exercise affects the shape of a woman’s body,’ her mother continued. ‘Luckily no one at the ball will be able to see her legs, which are rather too muscular for a young lady. When she wears her riding bloomers you can see her calves through her stockings and my, oh my, they look like the legs of a dairy maid!’

‘Riding bloomers?’ Madame Blanchard gasped before remembering herself and smiling politely.

‘Yes, riding bloomers.

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