A Change of Business

[Valentina Audley]

The streets are dark and a quiet figure moves swiftly through the night skirting any drain covers with a healthy weariness. Arriving at her shop, Valentina heads round to the back, noting with approval the new window display on her way past. Once at the back, she unlocks the door and steps into the workroom. Carefully locking the door behind her Valentina turns to admire her little empire.

The room is lit and her desk has the shop's ledgers spread out on it for her perusal. She notes the piles of fabric on the cutting out table and there is someone whistling cheerfully upstairs. Valentina grins as she takes her coat and bonnet off, hanging them up neatly before moving to seat herself at the desk and inspect the ledgers. She'd not bought Helen with her tonight, deciding that now was as good a time as any to see how the new shop's manager behaves when it was just the two of them. She absentmindedly smoothes the cotton lawn of her skirt, tracing a finger along the lace patterns as she reads the ledgers most current entries and waits for Jacob to put in an appearance.

[Jacob Swainswick]

After a minute or so the whistling stops; there's a certain stillness from upstairs, then:

"Hullo?"

Rapid footsteps on the stairs presage the arrival of a young man, tall, and of elegant proportion, dark locks combed neatly into place atop a high forehead. Deep blue eyes are set in an intelligent face, above a thin nose and a mouth that, whilst expressive, was reined by an altogether sensible composure. He had a strong chin; his physiognomy on the whole speaking of studious attentiveness, but sans the birdlike timidity - so fashionably adopted by scholars in the modern nights - that Valentina found so objectionable in young men.

His suit fitted perfectly both frame and the station of an earnest clerk apprenticed to Bath's most exclusive seamstress; with long-fingered hands he completed the act of shrugging on the jacket as he came to a halt, a pace inside the door.

"Miss Audley," he inclined his head, graceful, his smile genuine, but not over-familiar, "I was just taking stock." His voice, a pleasant tenor, suited him perfectly. "How may I be of service?"

[Valentina Audley]

Valentina props her chin in her hand, leaning her elbow on the table and smiles at him. Helen really had chosen well, he was so pretty and Valentina does so like pretty things in her shop. His suit was perfect for him at this time, though she idly wondered how his dark hair would look smoothed back to match evening wear. Brushing that thought aside for another time she turns back to matters at hand.

"Good evening Jacob. Please, come and take a seat." She gestures to the chair nearest the desk. Back here in the workroom the furniture tends to functional rather than overly decorative but it's all comfortable and well made. The chair in question has been padded with a crazy patchwork embroidery cushion, to soften its angles somewhat.

"I trust the day went well?" She'd read the accounts, plenty of handkerchiefs sold and two embroidered waistcoats as well as an order for a walking dress that would need a measuring appointment, but she wanted to hear his opinions of the business. Mostly as a prelude to the extra instructions she wanted to give this night.

[Jacob Swainswick]

"Yes, very well." He perched, neatly, collecting his thoughts for a moment. "A waistcoat for Mr. Reeves; both he and Mrs. Reeves are quite taken by the latest style. Another for a gentleman, a Mr. Larksop, of Cavendish Square, here on business for a month or so. He took half-a-dozen hand kerchiefs also, and placed an order for sundry other small items; I can't say what his man must have thought whilst wardrobing him for travel. I dealt with the order directly; he seemed pleased. I believe we may see quite some repeat business here during his stay.

"Mrs. Vex-Haversham sent to us. A promenade dress for her eldest, Miss, ah, Victoria; I have taken the liberty of marking down the evening of the fourth for an appointment - it was the first available in the journal. The kerchiefs are proving popular - your exclusivity is causing something of a stir, I think..."

So he continued, earnestly detailing the day's work. He did not once refer to the journal, having instead the facts seeming at his fingertips.

"And I have received the latest Monde Elegant," he concluded. "Paris continues to define the avant-garde. I understand it's quite the talk at the moment. You will find the ledger as you have requested - I trust."

[Valentina Audley]

Valentina smiles, pleased at his powers of recall. Everything matches with the ledger and all looks to be in good order.

"Very well done darling. I rather think when the latest little unpleasantness has passed I may need to take a trip to Paris and see if I cannot source some more direct contacts there. As for Mr Larksop, it may well be worth mentioning to him if he appears again that our summer suits are modeled directly on the very latest lines from Paris, though with our own flair of course. He sounds as though he could be the sort of gentleman who has a near permanent hankering for the newest styles."

She considers for a moment. "Are there many young Miss Vex-Havershams do you know? If so it could be worth taking special pains to secure the business for all of them."

She stands and moves slowly over to the cutting table. "I note you've laid out the red wool and the brown taffeta. Are we running low or is this to recreate something from Monde Elegant?"

[Jacob Swainswick]

"I think he does, yes." He made a mental note to check on the Vex-Havershams: it was four or five girls, but he couldn't recall which. Miss Audley did not like imprecision.

"Ah yes, look here." He produced the latest periodical from a shallow drawer, removing it from a protective folio cover. "I think this is a match for what's described here. I wondered if it might be a little heavy, but given the odd weather we've seen of late, well: what d'you think?"

He was attentive, of course, and keen to learn. But he cursed inwardly. He'd missed his chance: the unpleasantness. Miss Audley always spoke lightly of things - and given her status, was almost certainly more capable than any other woman in the city of looking after herself. Nonetheless, his chivalric inclinations warred with propriety: I'm sure she'll speak of it again if it's a problem, he consoled himself. When it came to it, her manners might be light and her tone thoroughly modern, but she didn't mince words if a thing needed to be said. And he was, after all, an employee, and understood full well the limits of his station.

[Valentina Audley]

She's watching him closely, from under lowered lashes as she seems to be inspecting the fabric. It's good that he doesn't give a temporizing answer when he clearly doesn't know or isn't sure of the answer and likewise good that he does not press for information about things unconnected to his job, though she notes the momentary misery when he realises the moment is gone. She'll need to teach him though, he needs to be able to solicit information from the customers without them realising and the best way is to become chattier, within reason of course. Still, he's done well so far. A reward later may not be out of the question.

Of course, later she needs to go over etiquette regarding the Kindred who may visit the shop, however for now, the fabric is in front of her and calls like a siren. She tilts her head slightly as she looks between the page he holds out and the fabric, thinking for a long moment.

"I like the wool darling, but though the taffeta would hold shape admirably, I suspect it would not flow as the wearer moves which would be a pity if you consider the drape."

She bustles around, tidying the taffeta back into it's drawer and selecting instead a rich silk. Beckoning him with a free finger she heads to a dress makers dummy, sweeping up a pincushion on the way. Once there she sets to, quickly pinning the fabric onto the form, draping and folding as she goes. Lost in her task she hums happily as she works, snatches of 'down by the salley gardens'.

When she's done she steps back and nods in satisfaction. "There! It holds the drape nearly as well and yet, it will sway much more naturally when moved, don't you agree darling? I do like your choice of colours though, so we may need to order in some of the silk in that shade of brown." She smiles at him as she speaks, inviting his opinion, temporarily forgetting anything beside fabric and dressmaking in her excitement about the project.

[Jacob Swainswick]

"I'm certain Miss Victoria would be delighted," he chuckled, "although I fear Mrs. V-H will take some persuading." And then, apropos nothing, "You know -" A moment's hesitation, then: "This establishment is doing very well. But Helen's duties take her away a fair deal. So I've been looking at the books, and, ah -"

He took a breath, taking quick strides to the counter once more, and pulling the ledger around, before plunging on. "We could easily afford to employ a second seamstress. A first-rate one, as befits the place's reputation; one who could be relied on to oversee measurement appointments, daytime fittings. And probably a shop girl also. One with a sensible head on her shoulders. Some of our patrons are, I think - even when they're outfitting for their husbands, I feel that having a female opinion would prove popular. If you're agreeable to the notion, that is. I could place an advertisement; all applicants subject to your approval, of course. I'm certain that we'd be able to see the proof of the idea inside, say, six weeks." He gave her an honest, open look. "What do you say? I've prepared the sums, if you'd care to look them over."

[Valentina Audley]

Employ another seamstress?! Let someone else into her world and touch Her Fabric, Sew Her Garments?!

Her first instinct is to fly at him for his audacity and strike him down. First instincts are not always good ones though and Valentina has spent a long time learning to hold herself back. It's only for Kine, she tells herself, but no. She will not permit another to sew in here, in her tiny empire.

As this flashes through her head Jacob is subjected to a long hard stare, the beginnings of a snarl and then, with an effort of will Valentina smoothes her expression back to one of placid politeness.

"There will never be another seamstress in this shop Mr Swainswick. We cater to those who have discerning taste and recognise true quality takes a little time. As for the shop girl..." The earlier friendliness is gone and in it's place Valentina is cold and somewhat haughty.

She thinks for another long moment. "She would not privy to our operations the way that you are, but other than that... I see no reason why one could not be hired if it was needed. A bright girl could presumably also be entrusted to measure the lesser clients, no?"

She unpins the fabric carefully as she speaks, folding it and places it away.

"Now then, come with me, for there are other matters to attend to." With that she sweeps into the shops receiving room, gracefully draping herself on the sofa and seeing if he follows.

[Jacob Swainswick]

Dolt. Buffoon. How could you not see that that would be an insult?

He'd imagined the pleased look his employer would give him, praising his business acumen. Instead - he hadn't meant to intimate that -

It was presumption.

It's a contrite-looking young man who follows her. "Yes, of course, Miss Audley."