Chapter 17 Happy Was The Day

Dark, intricately-carved walnut panels lined the walls of Ferneley House, an establishment of Miss Roberta Oliver. Set near the corner of Foster Lane, travel to the dressmaker’s shop was less than a mile from the Gardiner townhome. However, the dirty streets and bustling commerce of Cheapside prevented Elizabeth Bennet and her aunt from walking to their appointment. 

The origin of the famed paneling traced to Miss Oliver’s grandfather, who served as purser on a brig. The ship regularly sailed the Mediterranean to supply London’s elite with goods and spices they craved, until wars and mismanagement lost the owner his interest in the vessel. On the brink of bankruptcy, Old Mr. Oliver hired lads off the dock one day to strip the captain quarters’ paneling as a payment substitution, mere days before the ship was seized. Miss Oliver shared the story with all of her repeat customers, always adding the anecdote that all her grandfather reclaimed the black gloom more than one captain complained about, but she provided a lady’s bloom. 

As Elizabeth admired the familiar lines of the fishtails framing the corners of each panel’s outline, complete with minuscule scales, she smiled in agreement with the sentiment she had heard often. Ladies blossomed under Miss Oliver’s designs and craftsmanship. Elizabeth had first come to the conspicuous shop in her teen years, and here she stood to claim gowns for diversions in Town with her betrothed. Such a transformation had never distracted her thoughts before in the shop, and she nearly missed her aunt finally receiving the proprietress’s attentions.

“My favorite customer,” Miss Oliver greeted Mrs. Gardiner warmly and nodded at Elizabeth behind her.

“You say that to all, I’m certain,” Mrs. Gardiner dismissed the compliment, humbly.

“A lie! No one else holds a husband so resourceful!” Miss Oliver said, referencing how the Gardiner warehouses nearby allowed her customers to easily procure the highest quality of fabrics, from muslins and cambrics to even silk. Such ease put Ferneley House, named such for the master seamstress who had apprenticed Miss Oliver decades ago, as a strong rival to the popular Grafton House for discerning debutantes. 

Mrs. Gardiner arched her eyebrow, waiting for Miss Oliver to remember the plan for the day. Without further delay, she addressed Elizabeth directly.

“And Miss Lizzy, Miss Lizzy,” Miss Oliver dramatically pressed her palm against her forehead, “when your aunt shared with me the good news, I could scarcely speak for a quarter-hour. A quarter-hour I say!”

“I don’t believe it was quite so long, but silence did reign,” Mrs. Gardiner said to her niece’s giggle, teasing her long-time partner in spending money.

“Come!” Miss Oliver looped her arm into Elizabeth’s and began to steer the young woman, with her aunt following, to the back of the shop. “I have sketches and fabrics, all for your trousseau! And beyond that, your morning gowns, your tea gowns, and your evening wear! Too much to explain, you must come see and tell me your wishes.”

Elizabeth jerked her head to look back over her shoulder, but her Aunt Gardiner nodded enthusiastically. Still, Elizabeth felt unsettled. Who was going to pay for all of this? She knew once she was Mrs. Darcy there would be a largesse, but she was not prepared to purchase gowns on credit she did not hold.

“Miss Oliver, I’m afraid there has been some mistake, I am only here for one gown. A final fitting.”

Miss Oliver laughed. “You were always so level-headed, you. Mr. Darcy sent a letter for your benefit.”

“Aunt?” Elizabeth asked as she obediently sat on the tufted velvet chair Miss Oliver led her to. 

Mrs. Gardiner sat on the similarly upholstered settee next to her niece, rolling her shoulders to relax the tension forming between her shoulders. “A moment, Roberta?” she asked, and the proprietress heartily consented. Turning to a better angle towards her niece, Mrs. Gardiner leaned in so she could speak in a hushed tone.

“I already explained Mr. Darcy has been in correspondence with your uncle. Ordinarily, your uncle’s account would have sufficed a few purchases for you and Jane,” she paused and gulped, signaling her niece an indication of the scale her purchases were about to become. “Mr. Darcy’s request was very specific. Without the support of your mother, he recognized you would lack a wardrobe suitable for a Mrs. Darcy,” she whispered.

Elizabeth’s stomach lurched in shame. Fitzwilliam had expressed she was inadequate! Her mind quickly replayed her friend Charlotte’s words at the assembly, that she was too naive to comprehend the role of his wife. She needed not voice her insecurities; her distress was plain upon her face for her aunt to read. Mrs. Gardiner swiftly reassured her.

“This is not a slight against you, Lizzy, but shows your Mr. Darcy holds the utmost care for your needs. When the Bennet household would not support your match financially as much as Jane’s with Mr. Bingley–“

“The marriage contracts,” Elizabeth said, softly, looking down at her lap.

“Oh, tosh! I’ve never heard of such silliness in my life! To think, any mother or father jeopardizing a union between their daughter and one of the wealthiest bachelors in the kingdom?” A small smile twitched at the corner of Lizzy’s lips as her aunt complained on her behalf. And then, her aunt appealed to Elizabeth’s rational senses. 

“Tell me, has your mother offered to purchase you a single new gown since Mr. Darcy received Mr. Bennet’s blessing?”

“No.”

“And has Mr. Darcy concealed his engagement to you in word, deed, or amongst his friends and the public?”

This time, Elizabeth broke into a full grin.

“The opposite!”

Mrs. Gardiner sniffed in the confidence of her views on the matter. “Your mother’s favoritism and your father’s despair in losing his most beloved daughter has blinded them both to what is both proper and decent. Your uncle and I hope desperately they come to better judgment in haste, but in the absence of that occurring, you have our support.”

Miss Oliver and her assistants returned to the small salon with bolts of fabric Mrs. Gardiner and her husband had selected for Lizzy. 

“Before we begin this ladies, I propose Miss Bennet wears the gown for this evening. My girls can finish the hems while we work on the other gowns and orders and you can leave with the gown this afternoon.”

Elizabeth’s eyes glazed over as she suddenly realized they would be in the shop for hours, and both women eclipsing her in age and experience laughed at the blushing bride’s reaction.

“Fear not, we shall take rests and refreshments as Miss Oliver has other customers to see today in addition to us,” Mrs. Gardiner said, firmly, and offering an appreciative smile to her friend who had made time for them quite last minute, only the previous day.

“Indeed, you only need to tell young Margot here your preferences and we shall have a tray made with your choices,” Miss Roberts said, not looking at the maid or her customer because the gown in question had just been unpacked from the box it was held in. “I will confess now to you both that we had to begin with an order that was unfortunately canceled, make adjustments, to meet the time constraint,” Miss Oliver explained, as she frowned at some of the hasty craftsmanship of the stitching.

“My maid can assist Lizzy this evening. Your gown will shine,” Mrs. Gardiner said, offering reassurance to the vanity of her dressmaker. 

Elizabeth’s eyes widened in shock at the most elegant gown she had ever seen was help up on Miss Oliver’s arm, confused as to any defect her aunt and the owner saw. The principal color of the gown was a starched white, with stitched rosettes in a spotted pattern across the skirt in silver and golden thread. A light gauze rested over the bodice, gathered with a golden band of trim and seed pearls intricately sewn into a woven pattern with the gold. Then the gauze fell around the majority of the skirt, leaving a stark triangle of goldenrod cambric with a hand-blocked pattern of flourishes. Two things immediately stood out to Elizabeth about how the gown differed from her existing wardrobe: the quality of the fabrics was three times the cost she was usually permitted to spend, and the gown had long sleeves!

“Sleeves?” she asked, afraid to comment on the gown’s cost.

Aunt Gardiner allowed Miss Oliver to explain.

“Long sleeves are the trend this season for the upper set. You will still need a cloak or coat.”

“It has been so much colder this autumn than previous, no?” Mrs. Gardiner asked, making conversation as Elizabeth stood to slip behind the screen and allow the maids to dress her in the gown.

“Indeed. Much of my orders are asking for reconstruction with a thicker lining,” Miss Oliver shared.

Elizabeth shivered behind the screen as she stood in her shift, with the maid holding the day dress she had just divested herself of and waited to be assisted into the evening gown. The garment was stitched with conspicuous openings under her arm to allow a final fit. But Miss Oliver had been correct that very little of the gown needed stitching and she shuddered again when the gown was lifted over her head and allowed to fall and rest upon her shoulders. The act spurred emotions deep in her heart as she experienced a physical event removing her from her identity as her father’s daughter and one step closer to becoming Mr. Darcy’s wife.

When she stepped out from the screen, Mrs. Gardiner gasped. Miss Oliver smirked at the visage before her and discretely motioned for a nearby assistant to collect something, handing over to her a key from her wrist. Elizabeth didn’t understand the exchange, but she blushed as she looked down at the elegant fabrics spilling over her body. She additionally felt shame as her bosom was most exposed by the cut of the dress, and she looked up for Mrs. Gardiner’s help.

“I should need a scarf to tuck–” she began, raising her sleeved arms to protect her cleavage lines with her hands.

“Absolutely not!” Miss Oliver said, taking a step forward as her aunt laughed.

Elizabeth frowned at the gown’s designer.

“I beg your pardon,” Elizabeth began, her hands remaining where they were until Miss Oliver reached her and guided her to a full-length mirror standing in the corner of the salon. 

“The bosom of this gown is a masterpiece, carefully measured and tucked for your form, and your duty to wear as a reminder to your handsome gentleman of the jewel he has gained,” she explained as the assistant arrived with a case that had been entrusted to her care the previous evening by messenger. Opening the velvet-lined box behind Elizabeth’s back, as the young woman was still acquainting herself with the creamy coloring of her curves appearing as a mere extension of the white silk touching her decolletage.

Lost in her thoughts, Elizabeth soon realized the neckline ended perilously close to the top of her nipple with the way the stays were sewn into the bodice, a feature she had not realized when the gown rested limply on the arm of Miss Oliver. The very thought of the neckline’s location, and remembering Fitzwilliam’s masterful touch of her breasts could occur in this gown with the slightest dip of his fingertips, brought an unwelcomed heat to her person. She squirmed before the mirror as her desire for her future husband brought her nipples to a taut point, a reaction she was unable to conceal with the gown.

When Miss Oliver turned around, she considered Elizabeth’s reddened expression in the mirror and sighed. “Your aunt told me this was a love match, I hardly believed it,” she said as she extended the necklace in her hands and gently placed it along the pristine skin of Elizabeth Bennet, securing it with the clasp in the back. A single, large diamond laid in the middle of the piece, marquis cut, with gold filigree and smaller diamonds in clusters accentuating the chain, reminiscent of a string of small flower blossoms.

Elizabeth held her breath. The jewel laid upon her breastbone with a dramatic sightline to the endowments she possessed in greater quantity than all of her sisters. 

“Mr. Darcy sent it for you as a gift. When I saw the yellow stones, we changed out the skirt to canary yellow,” Miss Oliver explained. Elizabeth inspected the jewels closer in the mirror and understood what Miss Oliver meant. The small clusters were clear and yellow stones, yellow from delicate foil behind the setting. The dimensions of the small clusters appeared more like flower petals of varying coloring.

Tears began to well in her eyes as she braved lifting her fingers to the largest stone in the center.

“Why did he not give this to me himself?” she asked, confused and unsettled by how heavy everything felt because the changes were monumental and beyond her control or consent. She was not ungrateful, far, far from it. She just felt bereft that she was not prepared to navigate the scope of their visit and she had never been given such expensive gifts. She also wished Jane had been with her, Jane would have understood her conflict.

Mrs. Gardiner rose and brought a handkerchief to Lizzy. She exchanged an expression of sympathy with Miss Oliver. “Because a private exchange of gifts is between a husband and wife,” Mrs. Gardiner explained, not adding that other arrangements between gentlemen and women might include personal transactions of jewels, but such arrangements were not decent and nothing her maiden niece needed to know about.

“But I am in private?” Elizabeth asked, softly and her aunt shook her head.

“Mr. Darcy explained the gift to your uncle last week, but I must say, the sketch did not do it justice,” Mrs. Gardiner said, as she inspected the finery with a closer eye. 

Before Elizabeth could voice many of the other thoughts swirling in her mind, such as how her family could have never afforded this gown and necklace, let alone more gowns on top of this purchase she was expected to select next from plates and dolls, Miss Oliver began to undo the necklace to store it away.

“Wait!” Elizabeth exclaimed, again feeling as though too much was happening all at once. She suddenly felt light-headed. 

“Best we put it away and keep it safe for this evening. And we have much more to do, I’m afraid,” she said, as Mrs. Gardiner began to lead Elizabeth back to the screened area. While she had stood in front of the mirror, distracted by her bosom and the jewels, two assistants had kneeled and pinned the skirts for the hem needed. Elizabeth only realized this as walking back to change into the dress she owned as a Bennet daughter, she did not have to lift the skirts to avoid stepping on the fabric.

“I need air,” she confessed, as the gown was lifted over her head and immediately whisked away up the stairs to rooms where many women sewed at small stations in Miss Oliver’s employ. The coming festive season for the merchant classes had begun an increase in orders for Ferneley House. Two new sets of ladies entered the shop from the front door, with the bell ringing twice. “I need air,” Elizabeth said again, as her aunt and Miss Oliver were distracted by the newcomers.

When she was still ignored, she looked to the maid standing beside her and reached out to grip her hand. The young woman took pity on the young bride-to-be and led her to the hallway, across the carpets to where a heavy door led to the back courtyard of the block.

“Mind the slop,” she warned, as Elizabeth was about to take a step out, but the stench of the air made her gag.

Overhead, down the lane, an open window permitted a fresh bucketful dropping of unmentionable contents. Retching, Elizabeth reeled back into the dressmaker’s dim hallway, leaning against the wall.

“Move aside, move aside,” Mrs. Gardiner commanded and the maid stepped back to disappear into the shadows. Mrs. Gardiner waved a wadded handkerchief below Elizabeth’s nose filled with lavender and ammonium carbonate. Her niece flinched, but her eyes fixated on her aunt. “There now, feeling restored?”

Elizabeth sheepishly nodded, feeling mortified to exhibit behavior akin to her mother’s. 

“This is all difficult, I am not your Mama, and you are under incredible stress to take this all on by yourself. But you must if this is your wish. I know you traveled yesterday, slept poorly last night?” she asked the last part and Elizabeth coughed into her hand as a side-effect from the smelling-salts, and looked away from her aunt, thus agreeing to the charge.

“But this is the lot you chose. The jewels, the gowns, the parties . . .” Mrs. Gardiner paused, thinking about grand adventures her niece would have, and then shook herself back to the moment at hand instead of the blissful future she dreamed for Elizabeth. “Your work will at times seem frivolous, bordering on the conceited, as you change your attire three to four times a day in a carefully orchestrated schedule of the leisure classes.”

“I know what’s expected of me,” Elizabeth stated, with slight petulance to her tone. But it was not her aunt’s warning that annoyed her. It was the incessant reminders suddenly around her that she was not quite up to Mr. Darcy’s sphere.

Mrs. Gardiner did not take offense at her niece’s tone, instead, she slowly nodded. “Of course, of all of my nieces, you are the one up for the task of London Society. You are not as sensitive as Jane, silly as the younger two, or pious like Mary.”

Elizabeth accepted her aunt’s escort back to the main salon room, as there was still more work to accomplish. She only felt weak again as Mrs. Gardiner enumerated the number of gowns she needed to select with the order taking three weeks at the very least to complete. 

“But we can ask Miss Oliver to prioritize certain gowns ahead of others and accept the order in segments. I would suggest we request half of the evening gowns and two-day dresses and traveling outfits ahead of the other garments,” she said.

When they reached the front lobby, there were a handful of ladies waiting for their custom. Miss Oliver, excused herself from one woman with the saddest feather in her cap, handing over her concern to an assistant.

“I set up the plates, fabrics, and a few dolls in a small room over here,” she explained, leading them just off the main salon to a room that looked perfectly suited for a private consultation. A low table with legs in the Queen Anne style filled the center of the room, littered with the very items Miss Oliver had named. In the corner, was a tea cart with a bottle of wine and two glasses, and a plate of sugared fruit. “Dear,” she said, just before Elizabeth could follow her aunt’s example and sit down. “Next time, ask for wine earlier,” she said, with a wink.

The assistant named Margot remained behind to take notes on the fabrics and styles that Elizabeth wanted. At first, a good part of the first hour was hampered by Elizabeth disagreeing with her aunt over what she did and did not need, politely, as there was another in the room. When Mrs. Gardiner held firm as to the quantities of each gown or frock, she next attempted to select only the most affordable fabrics. Finally, in the second hour, emboldened by drink and suffering from a lack of food, she found little resistance or good sense remaining with her. By the end, she agreed with anything her aunt suggested and it was well past luncheon when they finally boarded the Gardiner carriage to return back. For Elizabeth, this suited her well, as she was not entirely sure she would have managed the walk.