A Riddle Of Red & Black

2. A Matter Of Attire

The dressmakers' is a large, elegant premise in the centre of town, situated right besides the town hall and attracting all manner of wealthy customers, whom fritter away their money on unnecessary garments to impress their friends with. The whole idea of dress shopping seemed trivial and wasteful to me; surely the money would be better spent plastering the minute cracks in the dining room wall or rewarding the servants with a well deserved bonus but, of course, my mother thought otherwise. According to her, we absolutely must have new outfits for our dinner at Lord Stanley's.

"Emerald or violet?" my mother asked, holding up two, large (and, even worse) attention-grabbing garments for me to try on. I grimaced and my mother frowned, so I pretended to think.

"Emerald," I said quickly, eyeing the low neckline on the violet dress. She beamed and ordered the maids to lace me in the corset. I gasped as they tightened it to un-breathable proportions - how could I run or fight in this? Granted, I had to wait another couple of days until Horatio would receive the letter I sent him, detailing the 'Cow Shed' incident, and give me further instruction, but still. One must always be vigilant, especially when one was a spy, whose own mother was unaware of her job.

The whole event had unnerved me more than I'd like to admit. A total stranger had deduced my job, gender, hair colour and lack of relationships in a couple of minutes - a skill that I liked to think as mine, alone - and I knew, deep down, that I would be faced with this formidable opponent again. I had to be ready when I did. I could not let myself be as unprepared (and give as much away) as before.

"Oh, isn't that just lovely!" my mother exclaimed and I was dragged back into the present. She circled me, whilst I tried to fill my lungs up with air and straightened the skirts, "What do you think, Sarah Elizabeth, darling?"

The bright green gown did look rather nice, but where my mother saw a pretty, fetching green, I saw conspicuous. Where my mother saw slim waist, I saw restricted air and therefore running and escape capacity. Where my mother saw beautiful neckline for a pearl choker, I saw exposed areas for enemies to target.

And who said being a spy was a glamorous career?

"Lovely," I mumbled in echo of my mother's words. What she wanted to hear.

"Excellent! I'm sure Byrant will be most impressed! Oh, and Lord Stanley too!" she babbled and I let my mind wander as she struck up another monologue on Lord Stanley's status. I found myself noting the five-pointed rash on one of the maid's hands; a typical reaction to Ignacious Oak, which was a plant rumoured to promote fertility amongst women, wanting children. Of course, the rumours were not true but many were too desperate to care.

"Oh, hello Flora, darling, and is that Sarah Elizabeth?" a rich, feminine voice called as the bell above the door tinged in time with someone's arrival. I knew without looking who it was. Lorraine Mason, one of the richest women in town after her husband's untimely passing (although I did have my suspicions, as her grieving period seemed unusually short and resulted in a handsome sum of money for her), who incidentally would also be attending Lord Stanley's dinner party. My mother gasped and shoved me behind the dressing screen. God forbid anyone see me before the big reveal, I thought sarcastically! As I heard them exchange pleasantries, I let the maids unlace me and stepped gratefully into my plain, navy dress. I reappeared and greeted Lorraine gracefully.

"My, haven't you grown?! I suppose you do need a bit more meat on those bones but otherwise, you're becoming quite a nice young lady!"

Whilst she commented on my appearance, I proceeded to run my own internal analysis of her appearance.

Fact; the thicker-than-usual layer of makeup and odd shadows on her face, in contrast to her neck skin tone, suggested an outbreak of pimples brought on by her rich and unhealthy diet. Clearly the inherited fortune hadn't run out yet.

Fact; her dress today was an understated yellow, compared to her usual red. That meant she had male company last night as she did not seem to be on the look out for it, today, and she usually had an 'every-other-day' approach to the opposite gender.

Fact; the subtle 'lean back' in her posture and thinly veiled disgust still lurking in her expression told me that she was still as arrogant as ever. The gold chain that resembled one worn the mayor's wife betrayed her thoughts of self importance. She liked to think of herself as on par with them.

Conclusion; she hadn't changed one bit since I'd last seen her.

"Yes - anyway, me and Sarah Elizabeth must be heading home. So much to do. I expect we shall see you tomorrow night!"

"I cannot wait!" Lorraine announced and I forced a smile as my mother elbowed me in the ribs. She collected the garment the maids had rather helpfully packed into a small box and paid hastily. Lorraine watched, wordlessly.

They hurried out the shop. Her mother had left her gown in the dressmaker's care, as it required several alterations to fit her. It turned out that I had quite an average figure - a little on the flat side - and mine fitted perfectly already and as they stepped out into the bustling streets, I wrapped my shawl tighter. Winter was undoubtedly approaching.

"We shall certainly have to get you some elocution lessons," my mother grumbled as we passed the vegetable stand. The man, there, was someone I passed on a daily basis on my way to lessons and I waved over at him enthusiastically. His son was with him and they both responded with frantic waves back. I smiled.

"See! That is what I mean!", my mother huffed "We are not common people! We cannot associate with them as such!"

I did not say anything - it was easier to let my mother have her say - but when she glanced away, I rolled my eyes. My mother fancied herself as an esteemed member of the upper class even if we were not as ridiculously wealthy as them all. My father had a rigorous job away from home that meant we barely saw him once a year, but also meant we had a large stream of money always pouring into our lifestyles. It was a beneficial arrangement for all three of us, even if it had become increasingly obvious that neither my mother nor my father had been entirely faithful over the years. My mother hurried forward, desperate to get home and I trailed behind her reluctantly. I tossed a few friendly 'hellos' to the baker and his son, the grocery (who was missing several teeth), a couple of regular tradesmen I crossed whilst my mother 'harrumphed' in front at every exchange. Admittedly, I did say one too many than I usually did for the sole purpose of irritating her further but when the tips of her ears began to redden, I realized I had better be a little kinder.

We arrived home and I hurried upstairs to change into my normal clothes - a welcome change from the suffocating garments my mother insisted we wear on our outings. My mother retired back into her room and I knew she would not be out for a good few hours until the aroma of evening meal wafted upstairs and drew her out like a magnet. Rolling my eyes, I headed towards the front door and slipped on a shawl, from which a piece of paper slipped out. Alarmed, I scooped it up with lightning speed and carried on walking out the door.

Tip - Gaping at clandestine notes under the maids' noses tends to arouse suspicions, even if they are just hoping to garner the name of your lover.

Once out the house, I unrolled it in my palm and glanced down at it discretely. Without looking back up, I knew exactly when to put my left hand up to open the latch of the back gate, which led into the more private streets I preferred to frequent.

"2nd PB, now."

The handwriting, the wording was all familiar. I ripped it up into tiny, indistinguishable pieces and deposited them in random bins and litter piles on my route to the park. When I reached the park, I strolled casually down the main promenade, passing under the shady boughs of numerous tree. The park benches were largely free, save for a couple, occupied by solitary, young men and chattering women. But I was only interested in one person. I wandered up to the most ordinary, in-place, least attention grabbing one of them all with wispy, white hair peeping out beneath his bowler hat; a fact that told me his disguise was working perfectly. I took a seat on the other end of that particular bench and panted slightly; an excuse for my rest. I finally slowed my breathing. I shot the other figure a quick glance. 

"Good day, Horatio," I murmured in a low voice.