Page 55

“Pick whatever you want to spruce up your gown,” Benedict offered.

“You mean –” Lizzie’s eyes grew wide as she gazed down at the trimmings in seeming confusion. She made no move to choose anything.

“If you don’t like anything on display here, there’s plenty of others about,” he gestured.

The stallholder’s ears pricked up at this. “I’m sure there must be something to take the lady’s fancy!” she started up, hurrying to their side. “What about this lovely bit of lace here? Would set you off a treat, that would!”

“Well – I – er,” Lizzie shot a helpless look at him. “I don’t know. I don’t think frills and furbelows really suit me. I am not in the first flush of youth and –”

“Nonsense!” the other woman interjected. “Got to make the most of what you’ve got, ain’t you? Why, you’re naught but a girl!”

Lizzie gazed at her despairingly. “I’m five and twenty,” she corrected her. “And have never been one for ornamentation.”

“Don’t knock it till you try it, love!” the other responded, looking at Lizzie’s severe gown. “A touch of something ain’t gonna do you up like a dog’s dinner, is it? You let the gentleman treat you to something pretty! Would do you some good, put a bit of color in those cheeks!”

Lizzie allowed herself to agree that some of the silk ribbon work was very pretty. “Well, perhaps something like this for the bodice or neckline,” she agreed, pointing tentatively toward some pink rosette arrangements. “My best gown is of a seafoam green taffeta.”

“The very thing!” the woman cried approvingly. “And if I might suggest a matching one for your hair arrangement?” Lizzie seemed much struck by this suggestion and the stallholder drew out a box drawer of silk flowers in the manner of a magician revealing a rabbit.

“Oh, they are very pretty! But surely these ones must be more expensive?” Lizzie hesitated.

“I’m sure my pockets can stretch to a few silk flowers,” Benedict interrupted. “You can have whatever you like.”

“There now! He couldn’t say handsomer than that, could he?” the stallholder enthused. By the time Lizzie had managed to extricate herself from that lady’s clutches, she had bought a quantity of lace and embroidered tulle as well as needle, thread, and pins for she had no needlework box as hers had been left behind.

“I don’t know if I will even have time to sew all of this onto the dress for this evening,” Lizzie confessed as they walked away. “I only hope I have not wasted your money, Benedict.” Her fingers squeezed his arm, and she clutched fitfully at the paper bags in her other hand as though for reassurance.

“If you don’t manage it for this evening, you can always use it another time,” he shrugged. “Really you need a couple of new gowns, but we don’t have much room in the wagon.”

“Oh no!” Lizzie protested. “I’ve scarcely worn that taffeta above a dozen times. There’s plenty more wear to be had from it, and besides, I have my enamel brooch to wear and my tortoiseshell hair comb that you redeemed for me from the pawn brokers.”

“One day, my Lizzie,” he found himself saying. “I will buy you a diamond brooch to rival the one that light-fingered reverend pilfered.”

She stared at him speechlessly a moment, but before she could speak, they were interrupted. A redhead was hailing them enthusiastically from nearby. “Lizzie!” She beckoned them to where she was stood lolling next to a jellied eel stall. “Over here!”

“It’s Niamh,” Lizzie explained in an undertone. At Benedict’s blank look, she added, “The – er – tattooed contortionist from Wonderous Females.”

“Oh? Why is she calling you over?”

“I think she wants to introduce me to her man,” Lizzie said. “That must be his stall, she told me about it.”

Benedict looked at her pointedly. “You tell her about me?”

“Of course!”

He dropped his voice. “You tell her I’m your man, Lizzie?”

“I told her you were my husband,” she responded, primming up her mouth. “I am not entirely sure that Niamh and Colin are – well – married. At least, she does not wear a ring.” She glanced down at her own, and Benedict noticed again what a cheap bit of brass it was. He needed to get her a better one. “Shall we go and say hello?” She was already tugging at his arm. Casting his eyes upward, Benedict allowed himself to be towed in her wake.

14

Lizzie was jittery all afternoon. Niamh kept teasing her that she and Colin were going to turn up at The Fiddlers Green to see her in all her finery.

“We won’t really!” Niamh laughed at Lizzie’s red face. “My old man wouldn’t spend two shillings on an evening’s entertainment, more’s the pity,” she sighed. “We been together too long for that. You make the most of it while you can, darlin’.”

They were tidying away while Ada disappeared behind the screens to dress, Connie bustling behind carrying her stays and looking wearied. Small wonder, Lizzie thought, as Connie had been parading up and down the tent all day, entreating people to come in and view the wonders within.

“There she goes to cinch La Wurtzel into her corset,” commented Niamh sotto voce.