The Dressmaker (35 page)

“He’s not a blackmailer,” Tess said as calmly as she could.

“Will you stop defending him? We did nothing wrong. Sullivan and Purcell spoke for themselves. And Bonney is making us pay for his own scrupulous conscience.”

“I don’t believe he is.”

“I am saying that in the heightened—and heated—circumstances we’ve all been living in since that infernal ship went down, it’s easy to judge in black and white. Look at how the press has treated us.” Her eyes turned mournful. “Do you believe we’re evil people? That we did terrible things? Yes or no?”

“No,” Tess said heavily. “You are not evil. But sometimes—”

“Thank you, dear. I am deeply relieved.” Lucile’s mood changed quickly to bright exuberance. “I have an idea, a job for you that I’m hoping you’ll want to take on. During the show. I want you to be the face of this company. You will be my vendeuse! Who better than you? You know every gown in the show, and you can introduce them all by name. I was going to have you serve the tea and biscuits, but someone else can do that. This will get you an incredible amount of attention.”

Tess barely heard her. “I know how frightening it all was. What I can’t understand is fear so great that people would be pushed away.”

“Of course, that would be murder, my dear. So, what do you say?”

“To what?”

“My offer to make you my vendeuse. Aren’t you listening?”

“Oh my, that’s generous, but—”

“Then everything is settled. Now, let’s put all this behind us and move on.”

Before she could answer, a voice broke in.

“Tess.”

Elinor was in back of them both, leaning against a cutting table, hair piled fetchingly on her head, arms crossed. “Sorry to interrupt, but it seems like the right time. Shall you and I go pick up the table linens for the show? A little shopping would do us both some good. At least, it would do
me
good. I’m getting sick of hotel rooms and fabric and sewing machines.”

Tess glanced at Lucile. She had put her head down and was smoothing out the length of tulle she had cut, her red nails bright against the creamy gauze. There was no more to say. For the moment.

“All right,” Tess said.

Farley held the car door open as Elinor slipped in, and Tess followed, leaning back into the soft leather seat. A short while ago she had been awed by the magnificence of this smoothly running, polished machine, with its sumptuous upholstery. A short while ago? A lifetime ago.

“Herald Square, Farley,” Elinor instructed before collapsing back into the soft cushions and turning to Tess. “Good thing I was there,” she said without preamble. “You and Lucy were heading for a nasty little fracas. You know that, don’t you?”

“I’ve admired her from the first day we met, but not today. I don’t know what’s true, but I know Jim is not a liar.” The words were surprisingly easy to say. It was like that with Elinor.

“I know, but you need to understand her better.”

“Whenever I think I do, she manages a surprise.”

“I warned Lucy you weren’t going to remain meek and eager to sit at the feet of the goddess for very long.” Elinor laughed. “May I be totally frank with you?”

Tess nodded mutely.

“My sister’s world is shaky, and she doesn’t even know it. It’s not just this
Titanic
thing and all the bad publicity. It’s—God, I need a cigarette, and I’m sure I don’t have any.” She set to rummaging furiously
in her bag, and let out a cry of pleasure—she had found one slightly bent cigarette, compressed tobacco leaking out of one end. She lit it quickly. “What was I saying?”

“It’s more than the
Titanic
.”

“Yes, of course. You see, anyone who goes around in this day and age saying a woman’s knees are ugly is out of touch with fashion. Short skirts will come, there’s no doubt about it. And Lucy won’t stop sneering at them. My poor sister considers herself an irreplaceable brand, and she’s so wrong. All that lace and tulle—and actually
naming
her dresses, for heaven’s sake.”

“I wondered yesterday if she was afraid.”

“Maybe. You also felt that she treated you like a slave. Correct?”

Tess nodded, not trusting her voice.

“Well, you were right. You salvaged that wedding gown of hers, and you were given shabby treatment. So you’re angry. Am I right on that, too?”

“Yes.”

“I thought so. But don’t forget, she can teach you a lot about this business. You’re talented, and you know you have a future in it if you want. And I think you do want it.”

“I’m not going to deny it—of course, I do.”

“But you’re beginning to get restive, right?”

Tess turned away, staring out the window. “I’m sorry—I told you, I’m having trouble admiring her anymore.” And figuring out what was true, she added silently.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, you were never going to be one of her lapdogs. Please understand. She’s struggling, and she won’t face what’s happening. Look, clients are dropping out; Lucy thinks it’s all because of the negative publicity, but I’m not so sure. We had more cancellations yesterday; I’m trying to hold on to Mary Pickford, but she’s acting a bit vague. If Lucy’s show is a disaster here in New York, it will harm her dreadfully in Paris and London, and she isn’t prepared for that.” She reached for Tess’s hand. “Have some compassion, Tess. I know she has been ungrateful and critical of you. But she needs you.”

“How could she possibly need
me
?”

“Well, things get complicated.”

“I feel a great loyalty to her,” Tess said slowly. “But I fear she’s trying to make me into something I’m not. On the ship? She talked about cutting me into pieces, like a bolt of fabric, and putting the design together again in a different way.”

“And that troubles you?”

“It didn’t then. It does now.”

Elinor laughed. “Don’t you see, dear? She is your Pygmalion.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Never mind—it’s an old myth of sorts. Now, to another subject—how important is this sailor to you?”

The question caught her by surprise. “We are friends, or at least I thought we were,” she said, taken aback by her own reserve. It sounded stiff, uncaring, distant. It wasn’t enough. “And I don’t want anything bad to happen to him. He’s an honorable man.”

“Well, rest easy. Honorable men survive.” Elinor tapped sharply on the glass with a red polished fingernail. “Farley, drop us at Macy’s.” She turned brightly to Tess. “This is a wonderful store—you’ll like it. It’s owned by the Straus family, you know.”

Tess looked at her blankly.

“Mr. and Mrs. Isidor Straus, dear. They went down on the
Titanic
.”

When they returned several hours later, the car was filled with boxes of fine linen napkins and tablecloths. For Tess, the experience of wandering the huge store had been amazing. Acres and acres of space filled with clothes, dry goods; lively, laughing people promenading; clerks pulling wonderful garments out of storage rooms, young girls trying on gloves heaped up on counters; women in crisply cut, simple jackets and skirts, walking around, skirts flipping up to show their calves.…

“See what I mean?” Elinor said at one point, nodding toward a quite nicely turned-out matron trying on hats. “She’s no client of Lucile’s. Everything you see in this place is ready-to-wear. This is the future, not floating chiffon.”

In the flurry of unloading their packages, it took Tess a few minutes
before she caught sight of Pinky standing in front of Lucile’s building, looking as thrown-together as always, the same drooping bag swinging from her shoulders.

“They won’t let me up,” Pinky announced cheerfully, without preamble. “Lady Duff says she isn’t talking to reporters anymore.”

“Oh, she’s just busy,” Elinor replied airily, pushing open the door with her arms filled. “Come on up—you can talk to Tess.”

“You’re her spokesperson now?” Pinky asked, looking at Tess, eyes widening. Stranger things happened. One minute someone was on one side; the next, on the other. Expediency.

“Of course not,” Tess said quickly.

“No, no, she’s just the one who knows what’s going on to prepare for the show. You are here to write about that, aren’t you?”

They were already in the elevator. She had got this far, Pinky told herself. No use pretending. “You’re her sister, aren’t you?” she said to Elinor as the doors closed. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Pinky Wade, and I’m covering the
Titanic
hearings.”

“Ah, I see. Then you’re here to make my sister apoplectic. It isn’t a good idea at the moment.” The doors opened into the loft and Elinor stepped out, holding them open, and said in genial fashion, “Tess, just put your bundles on the table, then maybe you could escort Miss Wade downstairs again. Would you?”

Tess obeyed, but the elevator had already descended.

“Well, I guess this is the closest I get to the great designer’s secret haven,” Pinky said, peering around at the busy loft.

“Did you know what Jim was going to say in advance?”

“No. But I know it was hard for him.”

“Your story was the best.”

Pinky gave her a quick, grateful glance. “Glad you think so. Balancing things out isn’t easy, especially when I know what I really believe and which way I want a story to tip.”

“Is he all right?” Tess asked. It was a bit of a naked question, but it could be asked; she and Pinky were on the same side.

“I think so. But who wants to be called a liar? Sullivan and Purcell didn’t help themselves by contradicting each other. And I’m writing
tomorrow about the lawyers in the hearing room. Imagine, they’re from the firm that takes care of the Duff Gordons. Coincidence, huh?” Her eyes were still traveling around the room. “I think the Duff Gordons tried to fix the inquiry testimony. Can’t prove it yet, but I think they did.”

The elevator doors opened behind them, and they both stepped in. Pinky was rummaging in her bag. “Sorry, I didn’t get much sleep last night and I’m a mess, more than usual.” She pulled out a comb with some teeth missing and ran it randomly through her hair. “It’s like Jim said—people choose whatever they want to believe and declare it true, I guess. I need proof. Anyway, that’s what I’m working on. There’s more, and I’ll find it.”

“I want you to be wrong,” Tess said slowly. “But maybe you’re not.”

“Tess, you’re a real grown-up.”

Tess smiled at this. “You need a new comb,” she said. “And I’m glad you are back.”

Pinky looked at the implement distractedly. “Maybe that’s why I never look different.” She tossed it back into her bag; it was time to convey her most important message. “Jim wants to see you. Very much.”

“Then why didn’t he come before he left for Washington? He vanished without a word,” Tess said quickly. The sting of that had not eased.

“But he did try to see you,” Pinky replied. “He left a note at the hotel. You didn’t get it?”

“No, I didn’t.” So he had not forgotten her.

“You’re not angry with him for testifying?”

“For having the courage to go up there and say what he thought? No. How could I be?”

“You were a pretty good defender of Lady Duff, you know. He thinks you won’t want anything to do with him now.”

“I couldn’t feel that way,” Tess said. “I don’t want him hurt.”

“I think he’s coming off better than the other crew members. I’m positive the Duff Gordons had their big-shot lawyers coaching Sullivan. You’re kind of stuck in the middle, aren’t you?”

“It isn’t like that,” Tess said quickly.

“Will you see him when they let him come back to New York?”

“Yes, of course.” She hoped Pinky, with her sharp senses, hadn’t caught her instant of hesitation. For if she had there was no way to tell her the true reason for it. She turned away from the curiosity in Pinky’s eyes. “I have to go back up now.”

“Guess I won’t get invited,” Pinky said. Her eyes began to dance. “Unless I get assigned to cover the fashion show.”

Tess stepped out of the closing elevator, almost bumping into Lucile, who beckoned her into the office.

“I realize from what Elinor reports that I’m going to have to tell you, quite definitely, that I value you and want you to be happy here.” Lucile’s hands were folded in front of her, and her voice was matter-of-fact. “And that if I don’t mean it you will leave. Is that right?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Tess said, knowing that it was.

“You would give up your future here, and your apartment?”

“I would find another way to make my future, if I had to.”

“Ah, a spark of bravado, Tess? Depending on the circumstances, I suppose. But, I assure you, what I’m saying is true. I do value you, and I’m not out to damage your sailor, even though I think you can do much better.”

Imperious and conciliatory at the same time. They stared at each other, and Tess realized that her knees were still. A good sign.

“With one caveat.”

Tess waited.

“You must promise you will do nothing to damage
me
.”

“Of course,” Tess said.

“Well.” Lucile seemed somehow at a loss how to continue.

“I should get back to work,” Tess said gently, and turned to go.

“By the way, you’re too skinny. You aren’t in training to be a model, you know.”