Ch 3 The Dress Shop
"I hope Papa George does not come home for a long time.” Sara and Becky sat in the main hall, surrounded by countless packages.
The day had begun innocently enough, with Becky suggesting an outing to the dress shop, her favorite place.
The dress shop was a haven of refinement and elegance. Rows of mannequins in elegant dresses stood watch over racks of silks, satins, and velvets stretched along the walls. The gas lamps cast a golden glow over the bustling attendants, each one vying for Sara’s attention. Boris had been left at home, and Sara felt lost without his comforting presence. Attendants swarmed her after she gave her name. She had even heard a little gasp. It felt as if a thousand eyes were upon her.
“Miss, Miss! What color would you like?” one attendants called, holding up a shimmering bolt of fabric.
“Would you prefer it in this one? Or this?” another asked, presenting two equally stunning choices.
Sara stood frozen, overwhelmed by the flurry of activity and the eager faces surrounding her. Their polite smiles barely masked the desperation in their eyes. Sara could only imagine what they had whispered when she arrived, what they had probably been told. “Very deep pockets,” someone would have said.
“We need to make a sale,” seemed written on their faces. Sara imagined their children’s disappointment, waiting at the door when they returned home to see what their mothers had brought home to eat. “Sorry babies, no sales today.”
Sara was close to tears, memories of the cold and lack she had endured rising unbidden. The room seemed too bright, too loud, too much.
“Most young ladies nowadays have a fine walking suit and a feathered hat,” one saleswoman began, her tone lilting with persuasion.
Becky, sensing Sara’s struggle, lifted her hand to interrupt. “Miss Sara—”
The attendants fell silent, bracing themselves for the worst, a lost sale.
“—will take two,” Becky finished firmly once she had their attention, “of everything.”
The shopkeepers exchanged stunned glances, their surprise quickly turning into smiles of delight. The head saleswoman organized the younger girls into teams by category, and soon Sara was seated in a corner with a book while Becky held up fabrics and discussed stitching, colors, and weights with the store staff. Becky had wanted to put Sara’s feet up in a stool, but Sara protested. “I am feeling much better, Becky,” she smiled at her friend. “Are you sure I need all this?”
“Mr. Carrisford wishes you to look your best,” Becky replied, sure that Sara’s dear Papa George would agree.
Hours later, Sara and Becky stumbled into the drawing room, a small army of shop staff trailing them with a mountain of parcels. More packages were still en route. They collapsed into the overstuffed chairs near the fireplace, their breaths coming in quick gasps.
Becky stared at the pile of boxes, her eyes wide. “A thousand pounds, Miss,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. She covered her face with her hands, peeking out between her fingers as if to make sure it was real. “A thousand pounds,” she repeated, gasping.
Sara blinked at her, equally stunned. “And two carriages,” Becky added, her voice cracking slightly, “full of parcels. Tea Gowns!
“Evening Gowns!”
“Gloves!”
“Parasols!”
“Elegant footwear made of leather, fastened with buttons.” Becky’s dazed expression was rapturous. Her voice lowered to a whisper of joy and wonder. “Feathered hats.
“And two tailored walking suits!!” Sara’s face fell and she clutched her shawl. “Becky, I have done something else. I have not spent only 1000 pounds.” She shifted nervously in her chair. “I, I bought something else as we were leaving.”
“Miss?” Becky
“I asked,” Sara sat down next to Becky, rather stunned as well. “I asked Madam Blewberry to create a second wardrobe with two of everything I got in your colors, and your size, for you. There will be more carriages coming!”
They sat there for a moment, perfectly still, not looking at each other.
“2000 pounds,” Becky whispered.
“Tea Gowns.” Sara whispered back.
“Evening Gowns.”
“Gloves.”
“Parasols.”
“Elegant footwear made of leather, fastened with buttons and feathered hats.” Sara repeated in a whisper what Becky had earlier shouted with joy.
“Two,” Becky’s voice caught. “Two walking suits. I thought only of you, Miss Sara. Ev’ry stitch strong like you. Took such care with them designs, I did. I—”
Becky fell silent and Sara finally looked over at her friend. When she saw Becky’s dazed expression and found her friend entirely speechless, a slow smile spread across Sara’s face. She reached for Becky’s hand and their eyes met, a world of understanding and fear in that shared gaze.
“Miss?”
Sara waited for her to speak.
“We may-” Becky squirmed, “We may have too many parasols.”
Their grim expressions melted into smiles, apprehensive at first, then ear to ear. Within moments, peals of laughter filled the room, ringing out as they clutched their sides, tears streaming down their faces.
Upstairs, Mr. Carrisford, who was already home but hadn’t told Sarah yet, turned from the window where he had been watching the commotion below. Mrs. Large had popped by for a visit and was fussing over his attire for a meeting. She paused as she saw the faintest hint of a smile on his face.
“She’s going to be okay,” he said softly.
“Yes.” Mrs. Large smoothed his cravat with a satisfied nod. “Yes, she is.”
From that day forward, there was a marked change in Sara. Little did anyone know that when she faced a trying situation regarding her new wealth, she would remind herself, “You are the girl who spent two thousand pounds. You can do this too,” then she would add, “with Becky’s help.”
Becky had become Sara’s quiet strength, her “secret weapon,” as she would later call her. Becky had seen the depths of Sara’s suffering, and she was determined that Sara would now live the life she deserved.
Becky had a knack for coaxing Sara to leave the house. When Sara needed a push, Becky would say, “Miss, I’ve never had a lemon ice before.” And of course, Sara would go. She could never resist doing something for Becky’s sake.
Mr. Carrisford left again without telling Sara. He was working on a rather large surprise and needed just a few more days to pull everything together. He popped an envelope on her desk and went back out into the rain. Later, he would regret that choice, but on that afternoon, nothing but joy was on his mind. He whistles a little as he got into the carriage with Ram Dass.
"Will she be all right a little longer, do you think?"
"Missee Sahib has your entire staff. She will be well until you return."
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