At first Cecily contented herself with watching the shop windows they passed along the Esplanade. The merchants had decorated for Christmas a month earlier, and their displays were a sight to behold.
Glistening snowflakes and stars hung from silver strings, while sparkling colored balls slowly twisted on invisible threads. Toy soldiers in bright red coats marched across one window, jostling for space among stuffed bears and dolls in pretty lace gowns. Another one harbored a dozen snowmen holding lengths of silks and satins, while behind them wide-brimmed hats covered in baubles and ribbons hung from the branches of a leafless tree.
Soon, however, too much bumping and rattling over the frozen streets took its toll, and by the time they reached Caroline Blanchard’s cottage Cecily felt as if her neck were trapped in a vise.
She winced as Samuel helped her down from the carriage, and tried to stretch her back while they waited for Miss Blanchard to answer the door.
The seamstress greeted them with a rather stiff smile, as if she wasn’t used to stretching her lips. She ushered them into the sitting room, which seemed to have been overtaken by numerous dogs and cats. She had to push two of the cats off armchairs before offering them to her guests.
Cecily’s hesitance must have been noted, since Caroline was quick to apologize. Shooing the rest of the animals from the room, she murmured, “Please excuse the disorder. I occasionally pick up stray animals and try to find them a good home.” She looked hopefully at Cecily. “I don’t suppose…?”
“Thank you, no,” Cecily said hurriedly. “Animals are not allowed in the country club.”
“The cats are good mousers.” Caroline picked up a ginger striped cat and cradled it in her arms. “This one is very good at catching mice and killing them.”
Cecily shuddered. “I’m sure it is, but no, thank you all the same.”
“I think that’s very commendable, what you’re doing with the strays,” Samuel assured the seamstress, much to Cecily’s surprise. Her stable manager wasn’t usually so forthcoming with strangers.
Caroline seemed unaffected by the compliment, however, and barely acknowledged him. In fact, she seemed discomforted by his presence and kept her distance.
With her auburn hair and creamy skin, she would have been a comely young woman were it not for her constant squinting, which Cecily attributed to a problem with the young woman’s eyesight.
Even so, Samuel seemed quite taken with her, and put himself out to be at his most charming.
Since her stable manager rarely showed interest in female acquaintances, at least when in her company, Cecily found his behavior rather intriguing.
When Miss Blanchard grudgingly offered to bring a tray of tea and scones, Samuel leapt to his feet and insisted on carrying the tray for her. Although she thanked him, she seemed none too pleased by the gesture, though Samuel appeared not to notice.
Well aware of Pansy’s passion for the young man, Cecily began to feel somewhat concerned. It seemed as though her stable manager wasn’t quite as committed as Pansy would like.
She felt relieved when Miss Blanchard invited her to retire to another room where she could be measured for the alterations. Leaving Samuel huddled by the fire, Cecily picked up her gown and followed the slender Caroline down the hallway.
The seamstress led her into a room where several ball gowns hung from the picture rail. One in particular caught her eye-a marvelous creation of shot silk, in shades of maroon and black. Gleaming silver beads traced an intricate pattern down the bodice, and the neckline was trimmed in black lace. It was quite the most spectacular gown Cecily had ever seen.
“That gown is breathtaking,” she said, as Caroline prepared to leave.
The seamstress nodded. “It’s an original from Paris. Unfortunately it had a torn hem and was quite difficult to repair.”
“I imagine it was, though I have no doubt you managed it.” Cecily laid her gown on a chair. “Pauline tells me your needlework is quite extraordinary.”
“Ms. Richards is very kind.” Caroline opened the door. “I’ll leave you to change into your gown,” she said, and quietly closed the door behind her.
Left alone, Cecily took a moment to look around. The small parlor, with its poky little fireplace, tiny windows, and low ceiling, felt oppressive. An unpleasant odor reminded her of something, but she couldn’t quite place it. Maybe it was the kitchen, late at night, when Mrs. Chubb burned chicken bones in the stove. The ashes did wonders for the rose garden in the spring, but the smell was atrocious. This smell, however, was more likely the dogs’ wet fur, no doubt heated after running around in the snow.
A rather unusual sculpture graced the wall over the fireplace. It looked like a wooden wagon wheel, with brightly colored jewels in the shape of cats studding the rim where the spokes met. Captivated by the whimsical design, Cecily smiled as she moved over to another wall.
Several portraits hung there, and she moved closer to study them. Almost all of them were of cats or dogs, though one of them showed a fine-looking horse standing proudly in a field, head held high. A lover of horses herself, Cecily admired the picture for a moment or two before hurriedly donning the ball gown.
Caroline entered just as Cecily finished buttoning the bodice. Gazing at the ivory silk folds trimmed with coffee-colored lace, the seamstress murmured, “It’s a lovely gown.”
“Thank you. It does need a tuck or two taken out, though, as you can see.”
Caroline frowned. “Maybe a smidgen at the waist, and the bodice does appear to be a little tight. I can let out the side seams to correct that.”
“Thank goodness.” Cecily patted the skirt. “I love the gown and I really don’t have time to order another. I seem to have grown in all the wrong places this last year.”
“Unfortunately age has a way of doing that to us.”
Cecily raised an eyebrow, but refrained from commenting. Someone as young as Caroline Blanchard had no idea what it was to battle the changes the years wrought on a woman.
After the young woman had taken the measurements she needed, Cecily was once more left alone to change clothes. Fully dressed again, she made her way back to the living room, where Samuel was engaged in a somewhat one-sided conversation with the seamstress.
Seated across from him, the young woman’s cheeks were flushed, though her expression when Cecily entered was more of relief than interest in Samuel’s opinions.
Samuel, on the other hand, looked disappointed as he rose to his feet.
Cecily smiled at Caroline. “We must be on our way. I have another call to make before returning to the Pennyfoot.”
“Oh, of course.” She got up and led them to the door. “I will have your gown ready in a few days.”
Samuel glanced at Cecily. “I can come by and pick up the gown for you, m’m.”
Cecily hesitated, reluctant to foster what appeared to be a budding attraction for her stable manager. Then, deciding it was none of her business, and Pansy would simply have to fend for herself, she said lightly, “We shall see. Thank you, Miss Blanchard. Good day to you.”
Samuel failed to comment as he handed her back into the carriage, and Cecily wisely held her tongue as well. If the young man was smitten with the seamstress, so be it. Though judging from what she had seen, Caroline Blanchard did not seem eager to reciprocate. If that were so, Samuel was doomed for disillusionment.
She soon forgot about the problem, however, as they neared the house where Jimmy Taylor’s family lived.
The cottage was in darkness, the windows shrouded with green velvet curtains. The woman who answered the door looked as if she hadn’t slept in quite a while. Her white face was drawn, with deep lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth. She wore a plain black frock, with a black lace cap over her graying curls.
Cecily felt a surge of sympathy for the woman, and quickly apologized for intruding. “I didn’t know your son very well,” she said, after Samuel had introduced them, “but he delivered almost daily to the Pennyfoot Country Club. I wanted to pay my respects and say how dreadfully sorry I am for your loss.”
“Very kind of you, I’m sure,” Mrs. Taylor murmured. “Won’t you come in?”
Following the woman into the sitting room, Cecily saw a large portrait of the young lad on the mantelpiece, bordered by a fluttering candle on either side. He looked happy in the picture, smiling broadly to show a row of uneven teeth.
She paused in front of it, shaking her head. “Such a dreadful thing to happen to one so young.”
“He didn’t deserve to die that way,” Mrs. Taylor said, her voice breaking.
“No, indeed.” Cecily seated herself on a worn sofa, while Samuel chose to hover near the door, one anxious eye
