Introducing Miss Joanna (Once a Wallflower #2) - Maggi Andersen Page 0,2
Jo was tiny. She was tall, and her feet were long and slim like the rest of her. The dress had a low scoop neck and three tiers of ruffles around the hem, with more of the rosebuds sewn onto the capped sleeves. The overall effect was dainty and feminine.
At Jo’s first fitting, Mrs. Laverty produced the material for the ballgown. “Your father believes green suits you best, and I quite agree, you have lovely eyes.” She picked up the fabric from her table and draped it over Jo’s shoulder. “Perfect!”
In the long mirror, Jo studied the effect. The blue-green silk was flattering, although she would have preferred the white muslin with the roses. Mrs. Laverty had not only taken her scissors to the silk but had stitched it together and was now slipping it over Jo’s head. “There will be the three ruffles at the hem and the short sleeves you asked for,” she said.
The seamstress, enthused by the task, had the gown almost completed by the beginning of the third week. Jo was a little disappointed when she tried it on, but it still needed a few finishing touches.
“It’s as you described,” Mrs. Laverty said, eyeing her carefully. “I couldn’t find any silk rosebuds. The camellias are just as pretty, don’t you think?”
Large flowers decorated the hem and smaller ones on the short sleeves. An even bigger camellia sewn onto the skirt made Jo think of a node on a tree. She admitted she was no expert, so decided it would do. And the color was lovely.
“It’s beautiful, Mrs. Laverty,” she said as the seamstress fussed about with pins in her mouth.
“It does suit you, Jo,” Aunt Mary said. “You look wonderful in it.”
The day of their departure arrived. Their trunks tied on the back of Fred Manion’s carriage, they climbed inside. Fred expressed his satisfaction at having purchased the contraption secondhand at a very good price. The worn seats were hard, and the interior smelled of a sheepdog and something indefinable and unpleasant. However, nothing could rob Jo of excitement as they set out on their journey.
Fred rested the horses at the top of Forest Hill. Then leaving the Wiltshire downs behind them, the carriage rattled on through Savernake Forest, passing tramps, peddlers, and wanderers along the way.
“London, here I come,” she said with a grin.
“You will be the belle of the ball,” Papa enthused.
“She will.” Aunt Mary settled in the corner with several pillows, her eyes shining with anticipation through the lenses of her eyeglasses.
Their first overnight stop was the White Bear at Maidenhead, and without the delays of bad weather, or the need for Fred to use his blunderbuss to ward off highwaymen, they reached Kensington a day later. Their journey was almost at an end. Jo’s bottom was sore from the constant jouncing around, and poor Aunt Mary had become pale and silent.
The bustling city was a revelation. Jo stared through the window at the busy streets, the shops, and the dazzling display of wares encroaching on the footpaths. Women boldly strode the street corners and chatted to passing men. The roads were filthy, the gutters overflowing, and coal smoke turned the sky gray. An all-pervasive dank smell rose from the Thames. But none of it mattered. This was London! The carriage pulled up at a crossroads to allow a wagon piled with vegetables to trundle slowly across in front of them.
“They’re going to Covent Garden,” Fred Manion observed loudly from the box. “That’s where I’ll be off to as soon as I deposit you in Mayfair.”
“So good of you, Fred,” Papa yelled back.
“Pies. Pies,” a hawker called to them from the pavement. Holding his tray against his chest, supported by a leather strap looped around his neck, he shuffled over to them. “Fancy a beef pie with onions, yer lordship? Ladies? A pastry that fair melts in yer mouth. Made by me missus.”
“I’ll have one,” Fred said, leaning down with a coin in his hand. As he bit into the pie, the gravy must have spilled over his pants. With a curse, the reins slipped from his hands. “No need to worry,” he called as he climbed down to retrieve them.
Jo put her head out the window to watch the unfolding scenario with interest.
The pie still clutched in his meaty fingers, Fred was soon up on his box again.
“Eat hearty,” the fellow said and bit into the coin before moving back to his position. His cry went up again.