Tearing at the Seams

[L]

Daphne breathed a sigh of relief as she spied the familiar black band proclaiming MODISTE. Though it was the month of December, and a chilly one at that, she could feel sweat beading at her temples from the short walk. Her dress really was that tight. She had not intended to let the situation go this far, but she and Simon had agreed to keep their secret quiet from all, until it could be kept a secret no longer. Now, Lady Whistledown be damned, she was going to get herself a dress that fit. And if that meant that she would have to tell her family precipitously to outfox the gossip hound, then so be it.

She stepped confidently onto the stair and pushed open the door, the tinkle of the bell adding a light-hearted note to the otherwise dreary day. Oh how her sides and back ached. She resisted the urge to place her hands anywhere, lest some prying eye or another spot her. She would not be able to hide her happy news much longer, but neither did she intended to cheat herself or her family out of a single moment of privacy. At least she was almost over her sickness. In all the times that she had been to the shop, never once had there been a vase of heavily scented flowers, yet even the smallest of odors had been enough to send her over the edge in her early days. Jokingly, she had told Simon that it must mean a boy, for everyone knew that boys were trouble right from the start.

Smiling at the memory, she stood in the parlor waiting for Madame Delacroix, that wonderful artiste of scissor, cloth, and stitch, to appear.

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[lennie3]

Genevieve heard the bell above the door ring as someone entered the shop, working idly on the hem of the Cowper girl's newest frock. She may not have particularly liked Miss Cowper, however she did like her wish to obtain a new gown for every event she needed to attend during the season; she wasn't nice, but she was good for business. As far as Genevieve was concerned the young women could act however they pleased as long as she received pay for her work, purchsing these fine fabrics was most definitely not cheap! But, this was no time to allow anyone to wait for her and completing the final stitch Genevieve put down her work and stood, brushing off her skirts before making her way into the parlor.

The polite smile on her lips grew warmer at sight of the young woman standing there, Daphne Bridgerton, no Basset, the young woman who appeared to be growing into married life and the duties of her position as Duchess of Hastings well enough for Whistledown to not yet have much to say. Genevieve was sure no one else would notice, but a professional eye noted details and her gaze fell upon seems not laying quite as they should, a curve and glow to young Daphne.

"Your Grace," Genevieve greeted her warmly, "what can I do for you, chérie?"

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[L]

"Madame Delacroix, good afternoon!"

It was a sentiment readily expressed. She had always enjoyed coming to this shop, whether in the company of her mother or simply just herself and Rose. Madame Delacroix had a way of making her feel entirely at ease in her own body, even when others compared her to ungainly storks and the like. She eyed the direction from which the woman had entered, mulling her words for a moment. It would not do to have others overhear their conversation.

"Might we speak privately? I have a matter of some... delicacy that needs fixing."

With any luck, she had spoken softly enough that whatever other customers were in the shop would not have overheard. And she knew there were other customers; she could hear voices from the back, talking over some nonsense or other. She was well out of it, she thought, for she had little patience for the gossip of the ton or many of its insipid participants. Cressida Cowper and her mother sprang to mind. Mayhap she was being overcautious, but better to be slightly coy than to have the wrong ears catch wind of her meaning.

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[lennie3]

Protecting the secrets her clients wanted to keep from each other, and sometimes their husbands as well, was important to Genevieve. So when Daphne lowered her voice into a soft tone, her voice only just above a whisper Genevieve knew exactly how delicate she would need to handle the situation. With a warm smileon her lips she ushered Daphne further into the shop, "If speaking privately is what you require, then privately we shall speak," Genevieve insisted, guiding her to a couple of seats, "please, have a seat and I will be right back with you."

Genevieve returned to the front of the shop, it took her a few minutes and far more compliments to ensure the shop emptied of people. Escorting a young lady and her lady's maid out of the shop with a polite smile and promise to ensure her new gown would be ready by the following weekend. The brunette exhaled deeply, turning the lock on the door before returning to the back.

While Genevieve cherished all of her customers a duchess held a slightly larger edge towards many other ladies of the ton. It carried a little bit more weight, not to mention while she had been Daphne Bridgerton the young woman sitting before her had been nothing but gracious and polite, so if she required a little bit of privacy and Genevieve had had to more or less kick a few women out that was not the end of the world. Besides, dressing a duchess would make up for any tiffs she may have just caused. So smiling warmly at Daphne she asked, "what can I do for you?"

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[L]

They were alone, she and the tailoress. Good.

She opened her mouth to speak and coughed, the words catching in her throat. This was difficult, oh so very, very difficult. Simon knew, obviously. And Rose. And Mrs. Coulson. But she was about to break their circle for the first time, and her mind was screaming at her told hold on to her privacy. Even for just a moment longer. Even as her actual body screamed to be let free.

“I am in need of a dress.”

She doffed her pelisse, revealing the full swell of her bosom, the taut fabric around her blossoming middle.

“In fact, I am in need of several dresses, as you might imagine.”

It was almost comical that she had been able to hide it thus far. To say that her gown was ill-fitting was understating the problem maximally. Fortunately — or unfortunately, she was still unable to decide — Simon had held his tongue rather than voice any remarks about her appearance. It had been Rose who had begun suggesting alterations in her costume, and that had been well before Daphne had reached her current problem. She held her tongue while she waited for the woman’s reply. It was a large task to ask of one person and entire reasonable that Madame Delacroix would be unable, or unwilling, to undertake it. Daphne would understand.

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[lennie3]

Genevieve sat back, she watched with a kind smile as Daphne struggled with her words and it was easy to see the youth in the woman sitting before her. Their society had a way of thinking of women as suddenly grown the moment they married, they never considered it might take some time for girls to grow into their roles as wives, as women and caretakers of a household. She was sure their mothers prepared them best they could but it seemed cruel to assume preparation without real practice, tossed out in the world without their mama, would be all they needed.

At Daphne's words she offered a smile, "I see," she hummed, the smile warming further as the genuine reason for her visit to the shop was revealed. She smiled at the sight of her swelling middle, the bump was barely noticeable and yet Genevieve could see how the fabric tensed around her. "I believe first of all congratulations are in order," she smiled warmly.

"Now I believe we need to do something about those dresses," she said, standing up to fetch her measuring tape, she had old measurements of Daphne Bridgerton written down somewhere but those would hardly be a match for Daphne Basset in this state, "first off I will need some measurements and then if you would please choose a few fabrics and we'll make sure you can be comfortable while expecting."

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[L]

A gusty sigh of relief flew from Daphne’s lips. The modiste would see her problems solved in a most efficient manner indeed.

“Thank you, Madame Delacroix. As you might imagine, this must be kept completely private. The Duke and I will be making an announcement in due time, but we especially do not intend to make it in this manner.” She stopped to think, then added, “It is not that I believe your confidences to be compromised, but only that I seek to stress the delicacy of this task yet again.”

Standing, she put one hand to the small of her back, the other brushing her skirts lightly to remove any wrinkles or creases that might have formed during their brief moments of conversation. Now that she no longer had to conceal anything, it felt oh so good to relieve some of the pressure that had built up in her body.

“I am afraid that I sent my maid away on another errand. Should you require me to disrobe to my corset for your measurements, I shall take a longer than normal period of time."

She glanced over at the arrangement of fabrics hanging neatly on display racks. The Hastings colors were red and silver, with her husband always favoring the former over the latter. She had never owned a purely red dress, the Bridgerton family choosing to favor its color of blue or idyllic pastels over bolder choices. This situation had given her the opportunity to make additions to her palette. Perhaps she would do so. Perhaps Madame Delacroix would also assist her by making several new nightdresses as well. One could do a great many things with a little imagination.

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[lennie3]

"I assure you, no one will hear a word from me," Genevieve smiled warmly, like Daphne she was well aware of the talk which took place in London, and like Daphne Genevieve knew how much women tended to talk when they visited her shop, taking offense to her concern was of no use. The last thing anyone would ever want was a woman like Portia Featherington spread such news around the ton, if Lady Featherington knew something soon everyone did.

"This is a joyous event of your lives and something a wife and husband should have the chance to tell the world," she meant it. The joy on Daphne's features over the development was quite obvious, and it seemed far too cruel anyone would think to take away her opportunity to share it with the world in her own time.

But Genevieve could at the very least ensure she would be far more comfortable in gowns which fit her growing form. Pregnancy was not state which needed the aid of becoming more uncomfortable through the assistance of tight clothing. "Did you have a number of items in mind you were interested in today?" The brunette asked, offering Dapne a smile as the young Duchess lamented over the dismissal of her maid for the day to take care of other errands, again rather understandable, time in London had to be limited with the duties she now had in her new role not only as a wife and expecting mother.

Genevieve nodded her understanding, "should you allow me to assist you I'm sure we can manage without her?" she offered, measuring tape over her shoulder. She guided Daphne towards the platform, "if you would please step over here, Your Grace."

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[L]

Madame Delacroix had never given Daphne cause to doubt her trust, but still it felt good to hear the woman aver that her faith was not misplaced. Too often Daphne had felt the fool for her innocence. She alighted onto the platform, taking care to step over her hems lest she trip. Though her body had only recently begun to change its shape, she still felt slightly ungainly, as though her balance had shifted and she had not yet regained it. Truly, carrying one’s first child was a most enlightening experience, and she only hoped that the lessons she learned would stick and be carried forward when she did this again. If Simon and fate were amenable, of course.

“I did rather hope to purchase several dresses to accommodate the current and future gaps in my wardrobe.” She said, turning her head sidelong to address the modiste. “Along with a few items of a more… intimate nature.” She blushed as she spoke the words aloud.

She should well have been over her discomfort at such subjects, given her current situation but, alas, she was her mother’s daughter. She suspected that the woman who so brusquely and professionally spoke to her had heard such things time and time again. But she was not a confidante, not in any way that would allow Daphne to feel comfortable divulging private details. Details far more scandalous than those pertaining to the existence of a very much wanted pregnancy.

“I should be so very grateful for your assistance.” Curse her own silliness for not thinking of a more easily removed gown. She had at least a couple that would have sufficed, their ties reachable by her own hands.

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[lennie3]

As a young girl Daphne Bridgerton had always been polite, easy to work with, sure she had squirmed impatiently at times like most little girls did as Genevieve attempted to adjust the hem of their dress. But Genevieve had seen girls who acted far worse than the Bridgerton girls had, not even little Hyacinth who always seemed to have a mischievous plan in mind was particularly difficult. Though then again, the threat of being pricked by needles did seem to be reason enough for most to remain as still as possible.

But now Daphne had grown into a woman, one who had married and was starting her own family, a fact which became more evident now that her petticoat was off and she had stepped onto the platform. Genevieve immediately begun taking her measurements, jotting them down with a piece of charcoal as she went along.

"Of course," Genevieve hummed, repleacing Daphne's hands at unlacing her dress, removing what was necessary for Genevieve to get the woman's correct measurements. She would create a few gowns which could easily be let out as Daphne's stomach continued to grow, "I assume your maid is capable of sowing? If I create a few gowns which can be let out for when the time comes, will she manage?"

In a sense she was pleased Daphne was requiring her to create more than simply just one or two gowns for now. The young duchess would need more dresses than that to get her through her pregnancy. But Genevieve assumed there was a modiste closer to Clyvedon than herself, and Daphne's willingness to use one of the precious days she now had to spend in London to ensure she secured what she needed from Genevieve felt like a good stamp of approval towards her business.

"We will ensure you have all you need for this wonderful time, Your Grace," Genevieve smiled warmly, "in fact I have recently received the most wonderful lace, I believe it would look very beautiful against your complexion."

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[L]

They were back on neutral ground, discussing fabric and sewing and all manner of things decided not related to the thoughts occupying Daphne’s mind. It was a good thing, too, that Madame Delacroix’s hands were so efficient. They further distanced the pair from a vision of Simon’s hands doing nearly the same thing to the dress. In fact, Daphne would have sworn that it was those exact actions that had started the series of events which had deposited her onto this platform. Oh, how the world spun in a circle.

“Rose is quite skilled with a needle, more than making up for my own deficiencies at the craft.” She chuckled, remembering how several of her siblings likened her work to battlefields. Or pictures even less enticing. Even her own mother, kind woman that she was, could barely form the word ‘passable’ when she viewed the embroideries.

“And lace sounds lovely! Perhaps in small trims on one or two more formal dresses? I am not one for heavily bedecked frocks normally, and especially not at such a time as this.” That the modiste would pay her such attentions gave her no small amount of elation. She knew that she had not grown very much yet, but already she felt slightly frumpy, like a spinster aunt to be shuttled into a corner and ignored. And Simon would enjoy the trim. She would make sure of it.

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[lennie3]

Genevieve had spent her childhood and adult life much the same, developing her skill and building her name in an industry where being noticed by the right person could change everything. She had been fortunate, she knew that, to have been able to build the shop she now owned, curate the group of clients who were as loyal as Daphne was proving to be. Taking the young duchess's measurements and discussing suitable fabric options which would not only work well for the condition Daphne was now in but also be a good fit for her post in society.

"Wonderful," Genevieve nodded approvingly, "Rose should be able to take a few of these dresses out for you when needed if I design them in such a way to allow it, it will save you the trouble of finding yourself in a pinch with nothing to wear." She knew not many women would choose to wear the dresses they purchased more than once. It was a decision Genevieve herself had benefited from many times. But, in such an everchanging and delicate state which Daphne was finding herself having the safety of a gown to fall back on seemed practical, and sometimes practical trumped all other things.

She nodded, "a lace trim sounds like a most perfect addition, your Grace," Genevieve hummed in agreement, none of the Bridgerton women seemed to favour the heavily embellished frocks, and it seemed even in marriage Daphne was staying true to enhancing her own beauty. "At a time like this there is no need for heavy embellishment, not when a woman such as yourself is absolutely glowing."

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[L]

“Glowing? I hardly think so.” Daphne giggled slightly at the thought, “You have a most wonderful eye, and I thank you for the compliment.”

The idea that she could possibly be even slightly resplendent when every morning she was made aware of exactly how untrue a statement it could be. Or it might have been the meager sunlight bouncing off of her skin as it hit the tiny beads of sweat that constantly seemed to gather these days, leaving her in a constant state of slight dewiness. Honestly, if Mama – or any other woman for that matter – had told her about the things that came along with bearing a child, she might have thought twice about wishing so hard for one. Or not. It would be so wonderful to see a little one running around, a perfect mix of her and the wonder that was her husband. She could only hope that the child would take after Simon in every way imaginable, male or female. Particularly when it came to sums. She was a disaster, as she was reminded every time Mrs. Coulson asked her to look over accounts for stores or even simple guest numbers for a party.

“It is one of the most wonderful things of marriage: the ability to remove oneself from the societal eye. I have never been one for over-embellishment, unlike a… certain family. And now I have the freedom to do exactly as I like.”

Not to mention the fact that gowns without jewels or extensive patterning were more easily removed and less likely to snag on furniture. A bonus when one enjoyed vigorous activities in an interesting collection of places. But the modiste was not to know that.

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