The Modiste Mishap by Erica Ridley

Author:Erica Ridley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Erica Ridley

CHAPTER 10

Sybil alighted from a hackney carriage several buildings down from Mlle. LaChapelle’s shop, not out of any desire for stealth, but because twin rows of hackney carriages crowded the tree-lined road.

This corner of Cheapside was not usually as busy a shopping district as the expensive section of Cavendish Square, where Mme. Blanchet’s shop was located. Then again, at four-thirty in the afternoon, most of Madame’s aristocratic clientele would be promenading in Hyde Park to show off their latest acquisitions in fine couture.

Sybil had removed Mlle. LaChapelle’s red ribbon and white lace from her gown this morning. The trimmings were now in her hand, tucked safely into their brown paper parcel.

It was as good an excuse as any to visit Mlle. LaChapelle—not that Sybil had ever required an excuse before. After she confronted the modiste today, however, she doubted she would be welcomed again. This was her last opportunity to enter the shop and peer about as a friend rather than a foe. But she had to try to resolve the situation without ruining any of Mlle. LaChapelle’s clients.

If indeed there was any room for Sybil inside!

The shop overflowed with women of all ages. They spilled out of the main door and onto the pavement, every one of them wearing big smiles… and simple day dresses of about the same quality and age as the one Sybil was wearing.

Like her, these were women who had little to begin with. Many were here to hand over pennies they could ill afford to lose in the hopes of improving their lot.

“Mlle. LaChapelle is the next best thing to Mme. Blanchet,” one of the young women in the queue gushed to her friend. “Her style is indistinguishable.”

Humph.

“She’s better than Blanchet,” an older woman put in, her eyes glinting with satisfaction. “She’s for us.”

The happy chatter turned to murmurs of discontent as Sybil edged through the waiting throng and into the shop.

“Pardon me,” Sybil murmured as she threaded a path through. “I’m not part of the queue.”

Nonetheless, several scuffed boots “accidentally” trod upon her toes, and more than one sharp elbow found its way into her ribs as she passed.

Inside the shop, Mlle. LaChapelle held court in the center of a sea of fawning future clients, each of them eager to beat the others to the armful of identical dresses draped over LaChapelle’s arm.

She held one up to the light. “This is the exact design worn last night at a soirée hosted by no less than Lord and Lady Vanewright!”

“Oooh,” cooed the women in unison, despite clearly already being privy to that bit of gossip. The dress’s high pedigree and low price were the reason all of them were here.

This was not a crowd likely to receive invitations from a viscount and viscountess. But if they could look the part, they could stand out from the rest. Appropriately attired young women attained a higher class of suitor… and might achieve the dream of one day belonging to the glittering world of the ton.

The leap in status would be worth any price.

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