“Put the ribbons on the shelf on the back wall here,” she said. “The notions can go in the workroom.”
Mrs. Ingram carried out the sack of notions while Rosamund looked around the shop. She had spent all of yesterday afternoon here, after leaving Mr. Radnor. Early this morning, she and Mrs. Ingram had returned to wait for a wagon that was bringing a bed and some furniture for the first story. For hours now, they had been readying the shop as best they could.
Because she would be out of the country for a week or two, Mrs. Ingram would now have to take command. Rosamund wanted to leave her with as little work as possible.
Some bonnets already decorated the window, high on their metal stands. A temporary sign on the door announced the location of Jameson’s Millinery, and a sign maker had arrived an hour ago for the commission of installing a proper one. Rosamund had strewn some ribbons around those bonnets, and a few silk flowers, so they didn’t look too lonely. Already she had spied some women peering in.
That heartened her, and confirmed her belief that making good use of a street-level window would benefit her. She had decided, however, to also take the front chamber up above for the shop, to have it available for anyone who did not want to be served down here.
Another wagon stopped outside.
“Hopefully, it is the hat forms and the buckram,” Mrs. Ingram said as she came out to the front room. “No point in showing those plates if we don’t have the materials to make the hats.”
Two men came in the door, burdened with clumsy rolls and boxes. Mrs. Ingram directed them to the workroom in back.
“Once the Monday deliveries come, we should be in fine shape,” she said approvingly while she watched the men disappear.
“With you here, I’m sure we will be.”
“You make sure to keep an eye out while in Paris. Don’t forget to make some drawings. Whatever they do there, we can do here.”
“I’ll stare rudely so I get all the details.”
She looked down at her apron and the old dress beneath it. Both showed signs of the dusting and washing she had done today. She eyed Mrs. Ingram’s dress, even older than her own. She would have a few new ones made for her. If Mrs. Ingram was going to greet patrons in a Mayfair shop, she needed better garments.
The men left, taking their wagon away. Rosamund set some caps in the window too, so any curious eyes had more to view. She unfurled an ostrich feather in front of it all. While she did that, a carriage pulled up on Oxford Street. She opened the shop door as Minerva stepped out and came toward her.
“I wrote that I would call on you tomorrow,” Rosamund said.
“You also wrote that you could not do it today because of duties here, so I decided to visit and see your shop, if you will allow it.”
“Of course, although it is not nearly finished.”
Minerva’s stride slowed as she neared. Her gaze went to Rosamund’s cheek. So did Rosamund’s fingertips. She had used some paint this morning, but the sun shone brightly and the “salve” barely helped.
“The rogue,” Minerva said before embracing her. “Now, show me and tell me everything about it.”
Rosamund introduced her to Mrs. Ingram, then gave her a tour. They ended it in the back workroom. Minerva looked over the materials and notions.
“Someday you must allow me to watch you create a masterpiece,” she said. “I am envious of anyone with artistic sensibilities.” She turned to face Rosamund. “You wrote that you needed my professional services again. How can I assist you?”
“Come with me.” Rosamund led Minerva out of the shop, then up the stairs to the first story. She took her guest to the apartment in back that had been arranged for Mrs. Ingram to use. She invited Minerva to sit at the small table set near a back window.
“You told me that Charles lives in Paris. Do you know exactly where?”
Minerva opened her reticule. “I suspected you might want that information if you have engaged me again. I do know where he resides. Here is the street and number.” She handed over a folded paper. “Have you decided to write to him?”
Rosamund fingered the paper. Just holding it made her heart quicken. “I have decided to make a journey to Paris. I intend to call on him while I am there.”
“How fortunate of you, to visit that city. Perhaps when you arrive in Paris, you should write to him first, and not surprise him unawares.”
She looked up from the paper, into Minerva’s eyes. “Do you think it a mistake to do this?”
“I spend many hours finding past friends or lovers, or lost family members. The reunions that ensue do not always unfold the way my patrons envisioned. Time changes people. Are you traveling alone?”
Would time have changed Charles very much? Might he have forgotten about her? Her heart refused to believe it. Theirs had not been a common love, but one of astonishing depth.
“I will be making the journey independently, but Mr. Radnor is also going at the same time. He will be available to provide help if I need it, and I will be available to sign documents if he needs that.”
Minerva’s eyebrows rose a fraction . “Is your maid Jenny accompanying you?”
“I asked her to help Mrs. Ingram here, and she has agreed to. I expect I can hire a maid at the hotel. Mr. Radnor recommended the Hotelle Le Meurice. Do you know it?”
“It will certainly do. I will send you the names of a few others tomorrow. Chase and I visited there last autumn, and I will also jot down directions to some shops you may want to visit, and send along some letters of introduction to
