James fell silent, but his uneasiness and anger simmered. I was touched that he cared so much for my safety—I had come to care greatly for him.
Thus it was that when Thursday came and I left for my day out, Cynthia met me around the corner in South Audley Street. She hailed a hansom, which took us to Miss Townsend’s home, where I was to be transformed.
15
I’d visited Miss Townsend’s Mayfair home before, a tall town house on Upper Brook Street, not far from Lady Covington’s mansion.
Miss Townsend’s quiet butler admitted us, and a maid led us upstairs to a lavish bedchamber and attached sitting room that took up the entire floor. Bobby was there, resting in an armchair near the fireplace with her feet on an ottoman, but she banged down her boots and rose as Cynthia and I entered.
A gown rested on a chaise, a plum-colored creation lined with darker purple braid and lace. Its fabric was sateen, which was cotton with a satin sheen, good for walking about gardens. The gown caught the light as Miss Townsend held it up to me.
“I have a friend about your build,” she said. “A few alterations will be needed, I’m certain, but I actually can wield a needle.”
“As can I,” Cynthia said. “Taught before I had the wits to protest.”
I was positioned in the middle of the room, well away from the windows, while the three ladies remade me. Off came my worn brown frock, petticoats, and stockings, until I stood bare legged in my corset cover and pantalets, my skin prickling with cold and embarrassment.
“This too.” Miss Townsend tugged the sleeve of the corset cover.
“What on earth for?” I asked in alarm. “No one will see it. I certainly hope not anyway.”
“The manner in which a gown lies betrays what’s under it,” Miss Townsend explained. “When I learned to paint human skin, I first studied the muscle and bone beneath. We are many layered.”
“I would like a few layers to remain between myself and the world, thank you.” I rubbed my cold arms. “I refuse to part with the corset itself; I will tell you this at once.”
Miss Townsend sent me a patient smile. “Your corset should be fine. Although I did have my corset maker do one up for you. Yours to keep should you decide to wear it.”
Bobby let out a laugh. “Give in at once, Mrs. H. Judith will have her way, and she’ll kill you with kindness until she gets it.”
Miss Townsend, ignoring her, opened a box on a nearby chair. Inside, nestled in tissue, lay an ivory-colored corset with panels of silk moiré, thin shoulder straps, and silken white lacings.
“I’d dirty that the moment I put it on.” The words came out of my mouth in a whisper, and I reached a finger to the smooth fabric. My own corset was made of practical stiff cotton, the shafts that held the boning much mended.
“You could keep it for special occasions,” Miss Townsend said. “I agree it is not practical for work. I have an old one myself for my outdoor painting sessions.”
“Or you could shuck it entirely, Judith.” Bobby resumed her chair and sent Miss Townsend a pointed look. “The skirts too.”
“I have not yet taken to Bobby’s and Cynthia’s enjoyment of male dress,” Miss Townsend said, her smile in place. “If women’s things are designed correctly, they are not as restricting as they could be.”
“One has to have a pile of cash and a trustworthy dressmaker for that,” Cynthia said. She had worn her coat and trousers for this outing, and she lounged on a chair, legs over its arm, as though to prove the ease of the garments.
“Shall you try this corset, Mrs. Holloway?” Miss Townsend touched the new one with a light fingertip.
I heaved a sigh. “Very well. But I will change behind a screen.”
“Use my bedchamber. The doors roll shut.” She lifted the corset box and carried it into the bedroom beyond, laying everything on the bed. “I have new stockings in the box as well. Emerge when you are finished. If you have trouble with the lacings, I’m certain Cynthia will assist you.”
“Be happy to,” Cynthia said with no signs of moving.
Miss Townsend left me alone, pulling the double pocket doors closed behind her.
I had no idea what I was doing standing in an elegantly simple bedchamber in Mayfair, laying aside my sensible work clothing for the garments of an upper-class lady. I’d been born within hearing of Bow Bells—the bells of St. Mary-le-Bow, in Cheapside. In fact, my mother had been living in Bow Lane, not far from the back of the church. I was Cockney to the bone, and I always would be. Daniel was the same—a boy of the London streets would never be a gentleman, no matter how much he pretended to be.
Setting aside these philosophical musings, I unlaced my corset—I could do this myself from long practice, enough to wriggle out of it—and quickly donned the new one over my chemise. At least Miss Townsend hadn’t insisted I relinquish that.
I would have to have Cynthia’s assistance, I realized. I’d never manage on my own. Before I called her in, I slid on the stockings, gauzy silk that was like rainwater on my flesh. I tied the garters, also provided, and held the corset to me while I peeked out and beckoned Cynthia in.
Cynthia good-naturedly laced and tied the corset—not too tightly. She then helped me with the corset cover, a sweet, light shirt of silk that reached to my waist.
“Bit of a shame to hide these,” I remarked, touching the corset cover. “They’re the most beautiful things I’ve ever worn.”
“Judith has taste,” Cynthia agreed. “Now then, ready for the outer layers?”
“Let me put on my shoes. I would hate to ruin these lovely stockings.” The stockings were so light I barely noticed I had them on.
“Oh yes, Judith found you these.” Cynthia lifted a box from the dressing table. Inside lay a pair of high-heeled boots of soft white leather.
It was a pleasure to don the shoes, which supplely cupped each foot. They fit suspiciously well.
“How did she know what size to obtain?” I asked in amazement.
Cynthia cleared her throat. “I might have slipped into your chamber and stolen your spare pair of shoes. Miss Townsend took them to a cobbler and had this pair made to order. I put your shoes back as soon as he’d taken the measurements.”
I hadn’t noticed them missing, but then I was usually too exhausted when I went to bed to check all my belongings. I kept my extra shoes in a box on a shelf.
“Daniel only asked me to do this on Tuesday evening. How did Miss Townsend have them made so quickly?”
Cynthia hesitated. “Well, truth to tell, I nicked ’em a bit before this. Wanted to surprise you. As a gift.”