Return to Sanditon - A Novella

~ Nine ~

A Modiste Shop, Bond Street

"Here we are, girls. Let me introduce to you my extraordinarily talented modiste, Madame Delphine," Lady Susan motioned for Charlotte and Alison to move forward.

"Ah, Bon, My Lady. C'est tres belle. Country maidens, non?" Madame Delphine spoke in a musical lilt that suited her dramatically dark looks. Ebony hair, immaculately coifed, complemented a slightly olive complexion and sparkling, obsidian eyes. She clapped her hands, alerting her two assistants that they were required to measure and pin their new clients.

"So, colours should be pastels and elegantly cut to enhance the youth and the lady's figures without giving too much away, non?" Madame continued, "Too much of your charms and ze men will be swarming like ze insects. Bleu and la péche and warm creams, I think."

"We shall need full wardrobes for each of the Misses Heywood, several day gowns and an evening gown each as soon as possible," Lady Susan announced, "Invitations are already arriving."

Charlotte was overwhelmed by Susan's generosity and attempted to reduce the order to a more modest amount, but Susan would not hear of it.

"You are my guests, and you shall be socialising with the very best of the ton. You must look the part and at all times be more finely dressed than certain other ladies of our acquaintance." Susan discreetly nodded to the door, just as a tinkling sound alerted staff of a new customer.

Charlotte held her breath as Mrs Campion entered the establishment. Her eye caught Charlotte's, and for a moment, she could see undisguised dislike. Charlotte promptly looked away before being hailed in a singsong, and quite obviously false, greeting.

"My goodness. Miss Heywood, what brings you to town? A village girl like you must be quite at sea in such a metropolis," Mrs Campion smiled sweetly, "Don't tell me – have you taken a position perhaps? Governess, companion? Oh, indeed, I can just imagine a girl of your talents devoting her life to the care of others."

Charlotte was saved from answering by the intervention of Lady Susan, who had gone unnoticed by Mrs Eliza Campion.

"Charlotte, dearest, what colour shall you chose for next week's dinner at Carlton House?" Susan embraced the cloying tone used by Eliza. "Oh, pardon me. Mrs Campion. How nice to see you again? You remember Miss Charlotte Heywood, of course? Miss Heywood and her sister are to be my guests in town for the coming season. I suspect they will take the ton by storm, having already won over the Prince Regent himself."

Eliza, colour rising in her otherwise pale face, was clearly wrong-footed. Smiling benignly, she gave her leave of them without so much as a farewell.

Charlotte, who had remained outwardly composed, found herself unspeakably unsettled. Would she ever become accustomed to the ways and words of the ton?