The Dressmaker (5 page)

“I hear your little maid took a tumble on the deck today,” Cosmo said as he and Lucile prepared for bed after dinner. “Caused a dreadful mess. Some sailor came to her rescue?”

Lucile shrugged. “Yes, ridiculous. But I rather like her.”

“May I ask why?”

“I don’t know if you would understand.”

“Try me.”

“It isn’t important. Maybe there’s something there, maybe nothing.”

“You haven’t pushed her wearing a cap.”

“She’s terrible as a maid. I don’t know why I should bother.”

“So you’re applying that famous costuming eye of yours to a new blank canvas?”

“My dear Cosmo, she jumps to do my bidding, whatever it is. If the cost of that is forgetting a servant’s cap, that’s fine with me.”

“Something’s going on in your head. To be continued, I presume.” He yawned, hoisting himself into bed, his silk pajamas making a swooshing sound as he slid between silk sheets. “When you’re ready, of course.”

Lucile said nothing, leaning closer to the mirror above the vanity, dabbing cold cream onto her lips, removing her crimson lipstick with a steady hand.

“Tess, find my gold silk in that jumble and press it for dinner, please.” Lucile pointed to one of her larger trunks when Tess reported for duty the next morning. “You can do that without scorching it, I trust?”

“I would never harm your gowns, Madame,” Tess answered, flushing. She opened the lid of the trunk and gently began pulling out the clothes—the shimmering, beautiful fabrics that filled the massive trunk in Stateroom A-20. She plunged her hands in deeper, shivering at the light silky touch of the fabrics. How could she describe it? They were the consistency of foaming cream. Fabrics she had never seen—delicate as cobwebs, silvery, gold, some as blue as the deepest water, all artfully twisted and looped and draped. This was heaven!

“You seem a bit overcome,” Lucile said, amused.

“They look so floaty and simple. But the structure is wonderful.”

“I make them to mold to a moving body. You can see that, can you?”

“Oh, yes.”

“So your mother taught you to sew?”

Tess nodded, and spoke proudly. “We worked hard together, cutting, piecing, sewing.”

“What did you make?”

“A shirt for a landowner, a dress for a wedding. A child’s christening gown. All things.”

“Quite admirable. But it didn’t free her, did it?”

“There were many babies.”

“Ah, the universal trap. And how did you avoid it?”

“We were excited about a seamstress job in Cherbourg; we had friends there. Mother wanted me to escape the village boys.” And her father had known all along it was a servant job; she was sure of it.

Lucile smiled, and, tentatively, Tess smiled back.

“A smart woman, your mother.”

“I promised her when I got my chance I would make the best of it.” She was setting up the iron now, testing it. Not too hot; this was familiar work. The gold gown caressed her fingers, slipping gently onto the board.

“And that’s what you’re doing now.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Madame.”

“Yes, Madame.” Remember this, she warned herself silently. Truly, if Lady Duff Gordon wanted to be called Your Highness, she would happily do so.

Lucile gazed at her thoughtfully. “My dear, here is lesson number one for using opportunity: waste no time on false humility. Tell the world about your achievements; don’t wait for someone else to do it. Did you know I was the first designer to use live models for fashion shows?”

“No, Madame,” Tess replied. The gown was done. Carefully, she hung it on a silk-covered hanger, a bit dazzled by Lucile’s relaxed, almost confiding tone.

“Well, now you do,” Lucile said. “You gain confidence by doing what no one else has done. Or what no one else wants to do.”

Tess couldn’t help it; the words slipped out. “Like dropping teapots?”

Lucile laughed. “I think you and I will get along fine. Now I’d like you to write a letter for me so I can check out your penmanship.”

“It’s very good,” Tess said with a cautious smile.

“Good girl. You’ve absorbed today’s lesson.”

By noon, Tess was free to seek out the fresh air of the deck. A fine morning all around. She found herself making a mental report to her Mother: I got past yesterday’s disaster, Mother, and Madame and I are actually
talking
. Surely that’s a positive sign. Her reverie was interrupted by shouts from the boys playing tag on the deck and the girls giggling nearby, jumping rope.

“Miss?”

Startled, she realized that a sad-faced man in a rumpled black suit was addressing her. Holding each of his hands was a small, wiggling boy.

“My son, here”—he pushed forward one child—“has something to say to you. Edmond, speak up.”

The child looked at Tess with imploring eyes.
“Je suis désolé
,
”
he whispered.

“My sons don’t speak English,” the man said apologetically. “But Edmond knows his ball was what made you stumble yesterday, and he is sorry. His favorite toy, his spinning top, was lost over the side of the ship and he was trying something new. You do speak French, I hope?”

Tess nodded, touched by his courteous formality. This was Mr. Hoffman, someone had said. A widower with two small boys. He kept to himself but was devoted to his children.

“Ce n’est pas grave
,
”
she said to the child, and saw the look of relief in his eyes. Edmond smiled at her as his brother wrapped himself around his father’s pants leg, peeking at her. Mr. Hoffman nodded approvingly, and seemed at a loss for what to say next. “Edmond and Michel, they are usually good boys,” he said. “Again, please, we are sorry.” And then he turned on his heel, the children hurrying at his side, vanishing into the ship.

Teatime, again.

“The tea isn’t quite hot enough, Tess.” Madame’s voice held a touch of testiness. “And the cake is dry.”

Tess instantly reached for the cup. “I’ll get that fixed right now,” she said.

“Also, tell the kitchen crew to send out some fresh cakes.”

“Yes, Madame.”

“And if there aren’t any, what will you do?”

Tess hardly missed a beat. “Bake them myself,” she said.

Lucile smiled. “That’s the spirit. Forget the tea. Let’s walk the promenade.”

“I see you watching me, Tess,” she said casually as they strolled. “What do you see?”

Tess flushed. “You seem regal sometimes.”

Lucile laughed and started to respond, but abruptly stopped walking. Advancing toward them was a small group of chattering men and women, all focused on a small, slender brunette in their midst, a striking young woman wearing a casually cut shirtwaist of white linen and a bright-red jersey skirt that swung briskly back and forth. On her head was a small cloche hat. People turned and stared, some whispering.

“What is
she
doing on this ship?” Lucile muttered.

“Who is she?” Tess asked as they walked by. She did not miss the frozen smiles the two women exchanged.

“Another one of those milliners who design ridiculous costumes and think they know couture. She’s trying to get attention for something she calls sportswear, which is just slapping together mismatched outfits like the one she was wearing.” Lucile was walking more rapidly now, heading back to her stateroom. Tess rushed to keep up.

Lucile pushed open the stateroom door, letting it slam against the wall, startling Cosmo, who had been sitting peacefully in a chair, smoking his pipe.

“That woman upstart from Manchester who steals my ideas is on the ship,” she said.

“No need to get upset,” Cosmo replied. “She hasn’t even a crown at her disposal to open a shop. She’s no competition—”

“No competition? She’s working this crowd for all the attention and contacts she can get. Just like that other upstart, the one they call Chanel.” Lucile pulled off her bracelet and threw it onto the dressing table, barely missing the mirror. The diamonds hit with a clatter that made Tess wince.

Cosmo remained calm. He took a long puff on his pipe. “Lucy, you are top quality,” he said. “You are
the
Lady Duff Gordon, and everyone on this ship knows no other designer can touch you. Now calm down.”

Only then did Lucile seem to remember Tess’s presence. “Sorry for this peek behind the veil, my dear,” she said. “Even the regal can get blindsided. There are always people out to get you in my business, something you might as well learn now as later. I’ve fought for what I have—” She glanced at Cosmo. “With the support of my dear husband, of course.”

“My wife, as usual, is being a bit flamboyant,” he said evenly. “Really, dear, you are much too agitated.”

It was as if they were exchanging familiar lines, like actors in a play, and Tess was their audience.

“Of course. I’m a successful woman, with everything I’ve ever wanted. And I intend it to stay that way.”

“Nicely said.” Cosmo put his pipe down in the ashtray. “Now I’m going to check and see if we are at the captain’s table tonight. That would please you, I’m sure.”

Lucile gave him a bright smile. “Lovely, dear.”

The tense atmosphere in the room was easing, and Tess felt that she could breathe again. She stood silently as Cosmo smiled in that serene, detached way of his, pecked his wife on the cheek, picked up his glasses, and left the room.

“You have to humor them, you know.” Lucile sighed lightly as the door closed. “Men can be boring, but they are necessary. One needs to learn to work around them. Don’t you think so?”

There was no casual answer, not with the gap between their stations. Tess stayed quiet.

Lucile walked over to the dressing table, picked up her bracelet, and casually tossed it into her jewelry box. “You didn’t answer me,” she said.

“I wouldn’t know, Madame,” Tess finally said.

“Why not? Are you saying you’ve had no experience with men?”

“Not much.”

“Oh, come now, Tess. What about those village boys your mother warned you away from?” Lucile was opening a gold compact filled with powder, and Tess could see her hand shaking slightly.

“I’m sorry about the other designer,” she said. “Surely she’s no threat to you.”