Page 54 of Mirrors of the Past

Chapter Twenty

1911

Laurie stood for a second in Elsie’s reception room, wondering what exactly was “ridiculous”. He had hoped, secretly, that Elsie might have delayed herself a little longer and that he and Viola might have been able to clear the air a little. He was rather tired and quite bored of this feud. And it didn’t seem that Viola would be out of his life quickly — for God’s sake, they had to walk a three-year-old up the aisle soon, one on each side of Marigold, he presumed. It would not be good if they could only stare straight ahead at the altar with fury on their countenances, or look anywhere but at each other.

Also, he wasn’t sure anymore whether he actually disliked her as much as he had initially thought. It had grown old and become a habit. Today would have been ideal to corner the woman and get a few things straight.

Ah, well. Instead, he found himself climbing Elsie’s winding townhouse staircase and walking through a door into her huge salon. It wasn’t a room he’d been inside often. He’d witnessed, for example, Marigold sliding around the polished floorboards in her stockinged feet one day, but largely he was used to staying downstairs.

At one end of the room, Elsie had yet another easel and a lot of painting equipment — sensible, really, as the big windows let in a wonderful amount of light and looked over the garden; at the other, Elsie was standing holding her arms out to them dressed in, what he assumed, was her wedding gown. A small, nervous woman stood nearby, a tape measure around her neck and a table beside her that was covered in fabric, pins, bobbins of thread . . . everything a person would need to concoct such a gown.

‘What do you think?’ Elsie asked delightedly. ‘I have the best seamstress in the world. She can disguise a multitude of sins with this dress — I just adore it. I shall be forever grateful to Lucile Ltd. And I shall make a particular point of telling Lady Duff-Gordon how much I recommend her designs and her staff.’

‘Ohhhhh!’ breathed Viola. ‘Elsie! That’s top-hole! It’s wunnerful.’ Viola addressed the last comment to the seamstress who blushed prettily and smiled.

‘It’s been a pleasure,’ the lady said. ‘My favourite job of the year.’

The dress was fairly modest, high-necked with those big puffy sleeves that were all the rage now, and absolutely covered in white lace — tons and tons of the stuff. The waist was quite high, with a thick, white satin ribbon tied around it, making a huge, fat bow at the back, trailing ribbons down to the hem. The hem was just above Elsie’s ankle and she wiggled her toes as she saw Laurie’s gaze travel downwards.

‘I was thinking my hair up and something Christmassy for my headdress and bouquet,’ she said. ‘And look! I can do this after the ceremony!’ Deftly, she untied the sash and the dress transformed into a loose, sheath-sort-of dress. ‘So I can breathe,’ she informed them cheerfully.

‘So you can hide what you haven’t told any of us yet,’ Laurie said, leaning over and whispering in her ear. ‘Hence the rush.’

Elsie just laughed, although she did colour slightly. ‘Oh, Laurie. You amuse me. Quite. Anyway. Do you like it? As I say, my designer has been the soul of discretion and most accommodating.’

As accommodating as your dress needs to be, thought Laurie wryly.

His sister turned slowly, giving them the benefit of the lace confection. The dress was also studded, Laurie could see now, with tiny crystals that caught the wintery light and would catch the candlelight in the church even more. ‘I think I’m going to get another layer of tulle on it as well, just to give it a bit more structure,’ she said thoughtfully, plucking at the end of the ribbon strung now between her hands. ‘Make it . . . puff . . . out a bit.’ She indicated the skirt. ‘In fact, maybe that puffy layer can be separate? So I can get rid of that as well as the sash afterwards.’

‘Oh, like an overskirt?’ said Viola. Laurie shot a look at her and saw that she was entranced. Her eyes were wide and excited, her hands clasped in front of her chin in an attitude more suited to Medora than Viola.

‘Exactly like an overskirt.’ Elsie nodded as if all that was decided, thank you very much, and smiled at them. ‘I’m going to wriggle out of this now.’ She nodded to a screen with another garment thrown over the top, and headed behind it. The seamstress followed her, and, after a few moments, Elsie re-emerged with a sort of wrapper dress on, belted around her middle, looking like her normal self and not some sort of fairytale princess. It had been a shock for Laurie to see her in white, to be honest — but the wrapper dress was black, as per usual for Elsie’s wardrobe.

‘Thank you so much,’ she told the seamstress, who was now swamped with armfuls of fabric but wore a huge smile on her face. ‘I’ll ring for someone to come and help you tidy up, then ask them to take you down for a cup of tea and a biscuit as a thank you before the hansom cab comes for you.’

‘Very good, Lady Elsie,’ replied the seamstress and bustled off to her table.

Elsie turned to Laurie and Viola. ‘Marigold is at Lily and Edwin’s with Nanny, and Louis is working, so it’s just us three. Could I tempt you into a hot cup of tea yourselves?’

‘Thank you, that would be wunnerful,’ said Viola.

‘I’m in no real hurry,’ said Laurie, and gestured for the women to go ahead of him. What he really wanted to say, though, was, ‘Elsie, why on earth did you bring us here together?’ Because he had the feeling that that excuse for the viewing of the dress was simply a ruse.

* * *

Once they were settled back in Elsie’s reception room, with Elsie sitting back in her chair, bare feet on the table as usual, Viola was desperate to ask why indeed Elsie had felt it fitting to bring both herself and Laurie to her house today, to see a dress which clearly wasn’t even finished.

But before she could ask, Laurie asked the question for her. But in a very subtle way, which she had to give him credit for.

‘El,’ he said. ‘A question, if I may.’

‘Oh, of course!’ replied Elsie.

‘I think I speak for Viola as well, when I ask — why us?’

‘Why you what?’ Elsie was overly innocent.

‘Why did you ask us to come and see your dress — for all of five minutes. We’ve trekked halfway across London in the snow, and, actually, I don’t really know why I did, or why you asked us?’ Laurie blinked, looking confused and — Viola hated to admit it — terribly attractive.