Jo Ann - A Hero for Christmas

“For your wedding breakfast. I know how you love mermaid tears, so I’ve been collecting them since you announced your betrothal. Think how pretty they will look scattered on the tables.”

Sophia’s eyes grew round. “What a wonderful idea! Oh, I wished I had your artistic imagination. I never would have thought of such a thing.” She swept her sister into a big embrace. “I’m so glad to have you overseeing the wedding breakfast. It will be unforgettable.”

“Yes, it will.” She hoped it would be memorable for the right reasons, rather than the fact that she had made a muddle of it. “We were able to find quite a bit. Vera joined us looking for the pieces of glass.”

“Us?”

“Mr. Bradby helped, too.”

A smile brightened Sophia’s face. “So that is how he got soaked! I saw him coming into the house, dripping wet. Ogden had one of the maids trailing Mr. Bradby with a cloth to wipe up the floors. Did a big wave splash him?”

Catherine walked with her sister along the corridor as she gave a quick explanation of how Mr. Bradby had jumped into the sea to save a child. “He paused only long enough to give Vera the mermaid tears he had found. Which gave the fishermen a chance to launch their cobles and reach the boy before Mr. Bradby did.”

Sophia turned the corner toward the hallway that led to their rooms. “What a brave man!”

“That is what I said, but he brushed aside my words as if he didn’t want to hear them.”

“Heroes can be like that. They do something amazing but don’t want to talk about it afterward.”

Catherine considered her sister’s insight. Was that the reason Mr. Bradby had been tight-lipped? Her efforts to draw him out had been for naught, and if he had not spoken with Vera too, Catherine would have wondered if she had distressed him somehow.

And the anger she had seen in his eyes. Vera had been right. That fury seemed to belong to someone other than Jonathan Bradby, who had always been ready to make them laugh. What else lurked in the depths he had hidden so successfully? She needed to talk with Cousin Edmund, who had known him during the war. Maybe her cousin could offer some insight into Mr. Bradby’s peculiar behavior.

That would have to wait until she endured the fitting she had missed. The modiste jumped to her feet when Catherine followed Sophia into her sister’s room. A book dropped to the floor, and Mme. Dupont quickly picked it up and shoved it into her bag.

Catherine bit her lower lip to keep from smiling when she saw the author’s name emblazoned on the cover: Mrs. Ross. She hadn’t guessed the seamstress read gothic novels where even heroes and heroines went into decline and died before the end of the story. Such fanciful stories for a woman who insisted on acting practical at all times.

“I am sorry to keep you waiting, Mme. Dupont,” Catherine said to cover the modiste’s embarrassment.

“Non, non.” Mme. Dupont was once again determined to be in charge. “You are my customer. You have—how do they say?—no need to apologize to moi.”

Catherine tried not to roll her eyes at the seamstress’s fake French accent. To do that would chance making Sophia laugh, and they both would earn another scowl from the self-styled Mme. Dupont. The seamstress’s name was probably a very English one, but she clearly thought posing as a French modiste was good for her business.

Mme. Dupont waved her hand at the middle of the room. “Come, come, mademoiselle.”

Catherine had to admit that, despite her charade, Mme. Dupont was skilled with a needle. The wedding dress she was making for Sophia was the most beautiful Catherine had ever seen. It was unblemished white with delicate lace accenting the modest neckline, and the design was perfect for a tall, slender woman like her sister. The sketches Mme. Dupont had made for the gown Catherine would wear to the wedding had different lines because she was more than six inches shorter than Sophia.

“Get up on ze box,” Mme. Dupont continued, “so I can measure you for ze gowns.”

“Gowns?” asked Catherine, surprised. “I need only one for the wedding.”

“But,” her sister argued, “you need a full wardrobe for your Season in London. You will want to catch eyes when you attend soirees and assemblies.”

She nodded, though she doubted she would be there long. Only long enough to go to the British Museum to view the Elgin Marbles. What would her sister and Cousin Edmund think if she spoke of her plans and how she had no expectations of any man proposing to her? Even if one did, she would have to decline his offer of marriage. The idea of losing someone else she loved was too painful even to think about. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she was unsure if they were for Roland or her father or both.

“We want you to look your best, Cat,” Sophia went on.

“I thought you agreed not to call me that.”

Sophia put her hands on Catherine’s shoulders. With Catherine standing on the box, her sister’s eyes were level with hers. “I’m sorry, but I know how important going to London is for you.”

For a moment, Catherine believed that her sister had discovered the true reason for her longing to visit London. Then Sophia began to talk about needing several gowns for afternoon calls as well as riding clothes for Hyde Park and undergarments.

“All the clothing must be ready before Miss Catherine leaves for London,” Sophia said to Mme. Dupont who was making hasty notes. “Lord Meriweather intends to go up to London for the opening of Parliament at the end of January, and my sister will be traveling with him. Will it be possible to finish everything in time, Mme. Dupont?”

The seamstress looked aghast. “Miss Meriweather, you know I will try my best, but the end of January is only a few weeks after your wedding.”

Sophia’s voice grew whetted. “I know we have asked a lot of you and your seamstresses. Be honest with us, Mme. Dupont. If you cannot do this, you must graciously step aside. My sister must not be held up for ridicule by the ton because her clothing is unworthy of her position.”

Catherine was not astonished by her sister’s uncharacteristic vehemence. The London Season remained a prickly topic for Sophia. Her only Season had been cut short when a man she had thought cared for her had instead humiliated her in front of the Polite World. That had hurt her so deeply that she had fled back to Sanctuary Bay and had made her so suspicious of men that she almost ruined her relationship with Charles.

Maybe Catherine should be square with her sister. If Sophia understood that Catherine did not anticipate a match in Town, then that might set Sophia’s heart at ease.

“Sophia, that’s not necessary,” Catherine said.

“But it is.”

Glancing at Mme. Dupont, who was listening avidly, Catherine knew she could not speak the truth now. “I will need only a portion of these items when I leave. The rest can be delivered when Mme. Dupont has completed them.”

“That is true. Let me decide what the absolute minimum is you will need when you leave with Cousin Edmund.” Sophia tapped her chin with a single fingertip, then picked up the list she had compiled. She placed checks next to some items. When she was done, less than half of the items had been ticked. Handing it to Mme. Dupont, she asked, “Can you finish these in time for my sister’s departure?”

“Oui,” the seamstress said, after she had studied the page. “As well as a few other items.”

“If you can complete the ones I marked before Miss Catherine travels to London, then I’m sure my sister will commission you to do the rest.”

“Oui, oui, oui.” The modiste nodded her head in time with her agreement. She aimed a gleaming smile at Catherine.