The morning had brought a new challenge to the crew on the docks. For the first time they had heaved a load onto one of the new mechanical lorries. Dan was surprised at how little it held, compared to a standard draught wagon. He figured it was less than half the load. He was amazed by all the noise and smoke it created, huffing and chugging into the back lot and scarring all the horses. One teamster nearly had a runaway on his hands as the two horses closest to the truck reared in terror. It took six men to calm them. The driver wore goggles and heavy gauntlets, a costume that looked entirely too ephemeral for the gang on the docks but John Alton, the driver, pleaded that his master, Lord Knowles had insisted he wear them. He’d declared they were ‘a signature of the latest transport for a new century.’
Danny was sweeping up the last of the straw packing left from a wooden crate of a porcelain tea service that Mrs. Jameson had just unpacked and had placed on a shelf behind the glass counter. He looked up briefly just as two young women entered the store. He stopped instantly and without risking a breath and starred at them directly, the broom handle welded to his hands. One of the two, the redhead turned and glanced briefly toward him and for a second he thought she’d smiled, barely. Danny froze in his tracks and stared down to the floor forcing every muscle to continue to sweep. Carrying a small box of ribbon, Dorothy Jameson sauntered up behind him and whispered, “Finish that up quickly and go about your business.” She placed the box on the counter and approached the two girls with a casual smile, “Good morning ladies. May I be of some assistance?”
Even though there was not a speck of dust within ten feet of where he stood Danny continued to sweep on. He lifted his eyes for a brief glimpse of the conversation to his right and inhaled more details of the pair. They were very pretty, tall and thin. The brunette wore blue and the redhead, yellow. She had large green eyes and had a smattering of freckles on the tip of her nose. She turned toward him and his eyes darted back to the safety of the floorboards. He knew from their accents they were working class, probably in-service. They were pleasant and bright. They carried no airs and were very polite to Mrs. Jameson, addressing her by name. He could tell that she appreciated their manners. No surprise since she had easily recognized the redhead, Miss Quayle from the church choir.
He had just bent down to retrieve his pail and dustpan when he heard a soft tapping on the front window. “Hey, Danny Boy,” Phil called peeking around the frame and holding up a small canvass bag, “let’s go eat.” Dan stood and tried in vain to cover Mrs. Jameson’s view, he jerked his head twice to the left and whispered, “Gimme two minutes,” but it was already too late. Mrs. Jameson marched up and spoke directly to him in a hushed but very controlled voice. Her stare was enough to stop a loaded wagon dead in its tracks. “Please take that out and tell your friend to disappear immediately,” she then wheeled effortlessly and whisked back to her customers who both glanced at him with easy smiles. In an instant Danny was striding past the two girls toward the back door. As he passed he wheeled to steal one final glance directly into the soft green eyes of his lovely redhead. She blushed slightly and again offered a hint of a smile, this time it was unmistaken. He grinned and disappeared behind the door.
* * *
Lady Barbara’s Fitting
They had arrived at Ellen Aldridge’s Dress Shoppe at twelve thirty, precisely on schedule. Lady Barbara immediately dismissed Smith until three when she would move along to her flower club meeting across town. Precisely on cue Mrs. Aldridge was waiting at the front door to receive her and escort her to the private fitting room. As they traveled up the stairs she explained to her client that the alterations to both gowns were completed as she had directed and she was confident of her ladyship’s approval.
Smith of course was delighted for the early relief. Once his mistress was safely ensconced inside he quickly re-embarked and as Lady Knowles had witnessed through the tiny upstairs window had immediately set the horses trotting toward high street in town. With any luck he would be at the bar with his mates within the half hour.
The location of the shop itself was a matter of great convenience for Barbara’s agenda. It was set just at the edge of town in a refurbished private home, a former parsonage for the dank old church that had burnt down several years ago. When the much larger new church was relocated to an ideal plot one block behind the high street, the parsonage had become redundant and was acquired by Mr. Aldridge for a song. At his passing, his young widow had set about renovating the dowdy old house and converting it to her new commercial interest. Although isolated from the main commercial centre of town, its quiet segregation had proven to be its greatest value. It became a very welcome locale for her upper class clientele who sought relief from any direct contact with those beneath them. In a very short time Ellen Aldridge had established a very exclusive business. Her services were reserved almost entirely for wealthy women of significant status. She understood and provided for all of their special requirements, often providing services that would seem well beyond the attentions of a simple dress shop. Her staff was appropriately demure and deliberately chosen for their attention to detail and most importantly, for their absolute discretion.
Fifty minutes after her arrival, Captain Richards arrived at the rear entrance. He handed the reins of his horse to an elderly valet, who walked it quietly to the privacy of a small barn tucked neatly beneath a large chestnut tree fifty yards away from the house. Richards eased through the door and paused to smile to an attractive woman who was seated at a small desk in the corner. She blushed and nodded politely saying, “You’re expected sir,” and pointed him toward the rear stairs, a route that was already well known to him. He nodded and without a word stepped across the room toward the staircase. The clerk’s gaze followed him discretely as he left. She cleared her throat and smiled, “Now that is a handsome man!”
He double stepped up the carpeted stairs, turned the corner and gently tapped at first door on the left. Mrs. Aldridge opened it herself murmured a polite, “Good afternoon, sir,” she turned and waived the two seamstresses out. She then bowed politely and immediately followed them closing the door softly behind her.
“Jeremy Richards, you’re late again,” Barbara pouted as she stepped toward him.
“And you look ravishing,” he smiled.
She paused, smiled and twirled demurely to allow him to absorb the full picture.
“Do you like it?” she teased.
“I do indeed. You’re quite breathtaking in white. I think all those fussy French faggots must have imagined you when they designed it.”
“But it’s not quite white, Darling, it’s ivory.”
“Whatever. You’d look just as stunning in an old laundry bag. You are by far the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”
She smiled again and widened her eyes to inhale all of him. He was three inches taller, the perfect height for her, coy green eyes, a perfectly coiffed flush of thick brown hair celebrated with a masterstroke of the thin moustache of a military champion. She reconfirmed that he was, as always, beautifully turned out in an elegant brown tweed jacket, green silk ascot, gray jodhpurs and sparkling chestnut riding boots. She had long ago conveniently ignored the fact that he was six years her junior and that his reputation as swordsman had much more to do with his success in the boudoir than on the field of honour. She paused, expanded her smile and stretched forward to embrace him.
“Oh Jeremy, you are such a rogue. You always know exactly what to say to me. I shall always love you for that.”
“I’ll tell you a little secret though, Darling,” he whispered into her left ear.
She said nothing and pulled the back of his neck closer to feel his breath along her throat.
“I like what’s in that dress a great deal more,” he whispered.