Bath Camarilla

A cold wind blows as the sun sets, a well dressed young man approaches The Silver Thimble. Limping along he pauses just before opening the shop door, closing his eyes and reinforces the walks of iron that keep his madness at bay. Leaning on his horse headed cane he glances briefly at the arranged fabric in the windows. Then, squaring his shoulders pushes open the door leading into the shop.

The bell tinkles as he steps into this strange envioment, luxurious compared to the conditions South of the River. Even his richest clients probably balked at coming somewhere like this. Glancing around the room he scans for a shop assistant of some variety.

A short young woman, in a plain but well fitted dress of navy blue looks up from a drawer of gloves. Her hair is carefully styled in an elegant coiffure and her features are pleasant and her smile welcoming.

She bobs a curtsey to Dr Tayor. "Good evening sir. How may I be of assistance?"

Taylor nods his head to her and takes a step further into the shop, his eyes scan the different chests briefly before returning to the young woman.

"Good evening. I am looking for....specific items. Something to be a pleasant surprise for a young woman. Do you have any reccomendations per chance?"

Anna smiles. "Well sir, we generally find it depends on the taste of the lady in question. However, gloves, handkerchiefs or a nice shawl all make tasteful gifts. Would you care to see a selection?"

She notes his clothing and in the privacy of her own head designates hin clueless but romantic suitor. Her expression softens accordingly.

"Does the lady have a favoured colour?"

"If I could see a selection of colours....Miss? Perhaps shawls and gloves."

Taylor clears his throat and looks midly uncomfortable

"Is there a gentleman Tailer I might talk to as well? I have a few measurements that need to be taken."

Anna's eyebrows rise in surprise. The gentleman must be very new in town not to know of how things worked in the Thimble. Remembering her place she smothers her look of shock and moves around the room opening the drawers and selecting items here and there.

"Well sir, there's no gentleman tailor exactly, Miss Audley, our proprietress prefers to attend to all the stitching herself. However, If you would care to examine these gloves I shall see if Mr Swainswick, Miss Audley's assistant, is free to attend you and fetch some shawls for your inspection."

On the nearest counter she's laid out a rainbow hued selection of gloves in a variety of fabrics from a thick suede all the way through to a delicate lace. She bobs him another curtsey and disappears out of the a door at the far end of the room.

Dammit Taylor, you don't belong here.

Taking a few more steps forward he looks over the gloves, his eyes gravitating towards a delicate pair of green lace gloves. He moves them to one side, as well as a pair of thick suede green gloves.

Idly scratching his chin he takes another more thorough look around the room.

Perhaps something more racy for Christine. I hope this Swainswick is capable of a frank conversation.

"A pleasant evening to you, sir," the elegant young man greeted him warmly. "Jacob Swainswick, at your service. Anna is just fetching a selection of shawls. She tells me that you're looking for something suitable as a gift, Mr. - ah..?"

He let the sentence hang for the other to supply a name. As he did, the young woman followed him back into the shop, carrying a small collection of folded shawls. Swainswick took them and arranged them neatly upon the counter, to let his customer see the selection.

"Thank-you, Anna. Black, very stylish, sober, quite appropriate for this time of year. The white's a good colour, similarly, depending upon the lady's complexion. And we've a couple of shades of cream, as you can see. Anything else would be bespoke; we'd manage that by arrangement."

"Mr Swainswick, a pleasure. My name is Dr Taylor. I was looking for..."

He glances at the young woman, then leans in and lowers his voice

"Do you have anything....a little more...racy?"

He clears his throat, his voice returning to conversation volume

"Hmm, do you have any in green? I will also have one of these."

He moves one of the black shawls next to the two sets of gloves he has already moved aside.

"Not immediately to hand, sir. Anything not in these colours must be placed as an especial order. However, we may be able to accommodate." If the young man was shocked by the request, he didn't show it.

"Miss Wilkins," he continued, "I'm not certain if Miss Audley is within this evening. Would you be so good as to ascertain if she is? If so, perhaps you could enquire of her which of the -" he looked at the gloves before him, "- darker green shades we currently have in? Doctor Taylor is interested in some bespoke work."

As the girl pulls the inner door closed behind her, he looks frankly at the man. "You're looking for something for your wife, sir?" The question's asked without any hesitation; without missing a beat.

Such a request was not completely novel; over the preceding months, Swainswick had received some insights into the marital state that, in his bachelor situation, he would never have anticipated had he been pressed upon the matter. As with so many other aspects, life at the Thimble had broadened his horizons in this startling direction.