“I’m far too plain and obscure for gowns such as these,” Mari said.
“Is that how you see yourself?” Lady India shook her head. “Gracious, but you’ve a lot to learn about the world.”
“I haven’t.” Mari knew her place in the world. And she wasn’t meant for these gowns. “Where would I wear something like this?” she asked.
“Oh I don’t know,” said Lady India. “Swan about in it any old time. I never follow the dictates of fashion.”
Clearly. Mari glanced sideways at the masculine cut of her clothing. Was she wearing awaistcoat?
“I’ve never understood why females must garb themselves in fripperies and furbelows as if to draw the male gaze by sheer volume of ruffles and bows,” said Lady India.
It was no wonder she didn’t understand. Lady India would draw every gaze in every room, no matter what she wore.
“It’s very kind of you to outfit me so lavishly, I’m sure, but I simply can’t accept any of it.” Mari caught sight of a darling pair of ivory slippers trimmed with scarlet ribbons and rosettes.Merciful Heavens.She’d never seen such delicious shoes. They looked almost edible.
“I’m a thoroughly practical person who wears serviceable clothing,” she continued. “I’ll be knee-deep in mud following those children about. I couldn’t possibly...”
She tore her gaze away from a box marked with the name Madame Clotilde.
Even she had heard of Madame Clotilde, fabled dressmaker to the nobility.
What was in that box?
Fern caught the direction of her gaze and lifted the lid. “What a shame it would be to return this one,” she said, lifting a blue-and-white-striped poplin dress with long sleeves and a high, ruffled neckline. “It’s poplin, so it will wear well. And one could wear a nice apron over it. Very practical, aprons.”
Mari drifted toward the dress. Traced one of the blue stripes with her finger.
It did have a modest neckline.
“Poplinisrather serviceable,” she said.
“Ever so serviceable,” whispered Lady India in her ear, untying Mari’s dressing gown.
Before she could protest, Fern had fastened Mari’s stays around her chemise.
Lady India raised Mari’s arms while Fern slipped the striped gown over her head.
“I won’t... accept charity,” said Mari, her voice muffled by poplin.
“Stuff and nonsense. You can’t wear that old black rag every day for the rest of your life. You must look the part of governess to a duke, mustn’t you? It’s not your fault your trunk was stolen.”
Mari’s head emerged from the neckline and Fern began doing up the buttons in back.
What did she mean bylook the part? Did she know Mari wasn’t as superior as she was pretending to be?
But the lady’s eyes were earnest and her smile open and friendly.
“I see commanding natures run in the family,” Mari grumbled, to mask the sudden wave of gratitude flooding her heart.
It was like all the Christmastides she’d never had, all arriving at once.
Lady India’s kindness almost made her feel like crying. But that would be far too sentimental. “Why are you doing all of this?”
Lady India gave her an enigmatic smile. “I have my reasons.”
“Thank you,” Mari said. “It’s very generous of you.”
“Please don’t mind my brother, Miss Perkins,” Lady India continued. “He’s brusque and bearish at times, but his heart is the truest I know. Only give him time and you’ll see. I’ll leave Fern with you for a time, to see you settled and to make any further alterations.”