An Evening Visit

[Selena Ash]

The melodic tinkle of the shop's bell signals a new customer - or in this case, a returning one.

A young woman, herself no older than sixteen, entered with a gentleman attendant. Salomeishly appealing but clear of any permissive modern wisdoms, the girl's huge dark eyes darted around the foyer excitedly. She had the look of a sheltered thing, raised in finery and unused to such freedoms. By the nature of the dress you'd pin her as upper aristocracy. But then, it was a very fine dress.

"Isn't it so that I told you," she breathed. "Open earlier than nightfall alone!" The girl immediately turned sheepish eyes to her escort. "I do thank you for bringing me later than perhaps desired. I heard tale Miss Audley will only be seen after nightfall." The girl's voice lowered in clandestine tone. "I hear she deigns no sun to tarnish her complexion, lest she become freckled. What say you to that?"

Her escort made a well-meaning sound.

"I know!" was the girl's hushed squeal. By her complexion, she'd never had to worry about sunlight herself. Alabaster pale, her skin contrasted absurdly against the tumble of mahogany hair that peeked out artfully beneath her evening bonnet. The ringlets themselves were poorly defined; they smacked more of natural than formed, and might otherwise hang in inky waves. "But it is evening and, course, I hope... Oh, do you think they heard the bell?"

[Jacob Swainswick]

"Good evening, Miss."

The young man inclined his head in greeting, stepping into the foyer. "Welcome to the Silver Thimble." His smile of greeting reached his eyes; cheerful, but not frivolous. "Jacob Swainswick, assistant to Miss Audley. How may I be of service this evening?"

Her manservant was well-attired, befitting one of status. As for the young lady herself, she was a remarkable creature - with the vivacity of youth, by her tone - and, if the stitch of that French seam was any indicator, a repeat customer; although he did not recall seeing such a piece named in the ledgers.

[Selena Ash]

"Good evening Mister Swainswick," greeted the attendant, while the girl ducked in shy appropriateness. "This may seem an unusual request, however, the young Miss would wish to give her gracious thanks to the seamstress who created such a beautiful set of gowns. Miss Ash is to celebrate her birthday this next month, and was delighted to receive several garments as a gift. I am given to understand that measurements were requested by Miss Audley but the benefactor initially was in fact an old family friend. Miss Ash here would be delighted to give her thanks to Miss Audley for the quality and work behind the gowns. She has been hoping for a small audience for a time now, unfortunately your opening hours made it difficult to arrange such a thing."

It was quite apparent that beyond ostensibly lowering her lashes, the girl was more interested in the items around her than the conversation the men were having. Her gaze darted subtly over the bolts of fabric and reflective glass displays, before lingering hopefully on the door that led into the deeper realms of the establishment. Selena glanced once at her attendant, then again Mr. Swainswick, before returning her eyes to her laced hands.

[Jacob Swainswick]

"That's most thoughtful of you, Miss Ash," the young man smiled. "Miss Audley is within; she will be pleased, I am certain, to make your acquaintance. Won't you step through into our receiving room? And I shall let her know that you are here immediately."

With a small gesture, the young man led the way to the next room: a cosy little chamber, nonetheless with enough space in front of the sofa and chair that a fitting or other such arcane rituals of the seamstress' arts could be conducted in comfort and decorum.

"Let me take that," Swainswick offered to her man, retrieving the latter's hat so that he'd have hands free to minutely adjust the sofa. As she sat, he excused himself with another inclination of his head, promising to fetch his mistress at once.

Swainswick's heart was beating hard in his chest. A family friend - Your opening hours made it difficult to arrange such a thing - the language was clearly coded; and when one factored into consideration the young lady's complexion, her unusual degree of vivacity, there was but one conclusion that might be drawn.

"Miss Audley," he murmured quietly, as he stepped quickly into the workroom. It seemed almost a pity to disturb her: so intent was she upon her work, so swift and nimble her fingers. "Forgive the intrusion. We have a guest, sans appointment, here to express gratitude for a commission that she's the recipient of. One Miss Ash: I think it possible that she might be of a family known to you."

[Valentina Audley]

Valentina is at her desk, head bent over a sketchpad and a voluminous apron covering her pretty evening gown as she sketches. She's the very picture of decorum, and at first glance you'd think the same of the dresses she's designing. Until you had a second glance anyway and noticed the rather risque details she's adding that will presumably drawn the eye to intimate places should the garment be made.

She looks up at Jacob with a dreamy expression, her mind still on her sketches, then blinks and focuses her attention on him as she take in what he's said.

"Miss Ash? Darling are you sure.... Ooooh." The last is breathed out slowly. There's only one person who's commissioned garments that she's not known who the recipient was and now, here apparently is an unknown vampire come to say thank-you. There are three options - either the wretched Nosferatu was making a mockery of her work by sullying it with his loathsome form, it could be the mysterious childe who was fought over so publically or... It's someone else entirely and a chance to probe further.

She stands and rapidly divests herself of her apron. "Thank-you darling, I'll be in momentarily" She smiles to Jacob as she talks.

"Please offer Miss Ash tea and see that she is comfortable."

With the apron off she moves to the workroom's biggest mirror and adjusts her dress, trying to undo the damage that hunching over a desk inevitably does to a silk frock. Silly of her to have worn this dress to work, but the possible visit from Reggie was in her thoughts and she'd wanted to look both becoming and somewhat innocent and she thought the pale blue silk achieved both aims admirably, but oh, it creased so!

[Jacob Swainswick]

"Miss Audley will be here in but a moment," Swainswick announced, seeming pleased at the prospect. "I apologise if our opening hours are a cause of any inconvenience," he added, smoothly. "Miss Audley herself is often away during the day. We are, of course, open during the usual hours for any other work or sundry items. If you have any other requirements for your celebration then we will, naturally, deal with them as a matter of urgency.

"Will you be taking tea?"

[Selena Ash]

Meanwhile Selena was filling with unruly energies. Beneath the sofa was tucked a low stool, perhaps to stand on for adjustments, and across the room on the tasteful modern wallpaper was a picture of the queen. It was a long and unhinged wait for the girl.

She felt hyperreal and precarious, repeatedly close to laughter. Here she was. How many times had she seen other girls in their own fineries, but never so fine as those Selena had spied in the darkened window of The Silver Thimble? The Seamstress' shop had never, until recently, been open. Perhaps Selena was the first to visit.

Her attendant confirmed that his mistress was comfortable before he moved to stand politely behind the chair. Selena tried to glance at him out of the corner of her eye, but gave herself eye-strain doing so. Instead, she settled on staring at her gloved hands, an action she found herself doing more and more lately, and tried not to fiddle.

When the shop keeper returned (a startled Selena inhaling a sharp, analeptic swig of air), the girl's attention rocketed up.

"Oh, no thank you," she said hastily. "I'm not partial to tea, I'm afraid. Please don't trouble yourself."

[Jacob Swainswick]

"Of course, Miss Ash. It would be no trouble."

The Silver Thimble also offered coffee, in fact - a recent change that was proving remarkably popular during the day, and that had sparked a small revolution in the provision of complementary beverage in some of Bath's most select boutiques. It did not, however, seem a comestible point worth labouring, given that her demurral merely bolstered his initial suspicions.

The young man smiled pleasantly, awaiting his mistress' arrival.

[Valentina Audley]

In front of the mirror Valentina smoothes her dress, tweaks the bustle bow and then carefully teases one curl loose from the neat bun at the nape of her neck. If it is the wretch she can at least take moral superiority in being better turned out.

The other thing about staring intently into a mirror, is that is gives you an excellent view of what's behind you. Valentina cultivates a seeming vanity largely for that purpose. When she's sure that Jacob is gone she frowns a little and focuses inwards. She closes her eyes, takes a deep (and entirely unnecessary) breath and then opens her eyes again. This time the world has swum into a sharper focus and the muffled sounds from the other room are now meaningful despite the distance.

Valentina leans in towards the mirror once more and pinches her cheek. Mortal woman use this trick to bring colour to their face and Valentina finds the action helps her concentrate on making her blood flow. She keeps an eye on her face as the rose colour blooms and then nods in satisfaction and turns away from the mirror.

She walks silently over to the door and then in a swift but controlled movement opens in and sweeps through into the sitting room. She takes in the scene, the attendant standing calmly behind the sofa, Jacob looking as though he was about to be invested into a deep secret and on the sofa... A girl. An actual, breathing girl. A slip of a thing as well, but very definitely in the ordered dress. Well, well, well...

She advances towards the girl with a sweet smile on her face and holds her hand out to the girl. "My dear Miss Ash, how kind of you to visit my little shop."

[Selena Ash]

Selena felt altogether incredulous, imbecilic, and lost for how best to phrase her gratitude without appearing poor. She'd never had to worry about this before.

The gas-lamps marked her with little wings of light: cheekbones, bonnet, big incredulous eyes. The girl rose from her seat, at the last remembered her upbringing, and aborted midway, sitting down a little awkwardly but taking the offered hands with her own.

"And kindly met, Miss Audley! Thank you for receiving me despite the late hour." It was obvious in the eyes that she was trying to reduce the marvellous mystery of the event to better acquaint herself with conversation. But it wasn't easy; Selena was practically vibrating.

"I wanted to thank you, too, for the gowns - which are so very lovely indeed - my mother has already said that she is all too likely to request commission herself should the occasion strike her requirement. Of mine, the purple one is my favourite. I've not seen such fine dye before, and couldn't even feel the stitching!"