Searching for a court dress, Sarah discovered, did not mean going to market to find one. No, it meant staying in the city house, standing on a stool and letting Lady Abigail compare her to dress after dress. Which, in a way, was better than trying them all on.
“Straighten up,” Lady Abigail instructed Sarah for the umpteenth time.
Sarah stood as straight as she could. How the woman had perfect posture the whole day through amazed her.
Sarah complied as the next dress was held against her. Apparently Lady Abigail had already contacted all her friends in town for Hickory and Margaret had brought in a cart load of dresses after breakfast.
It was now after lunch, or supper as it should be called, and there were still more dresses to go. So far nothing in the pile had passed Lady Abigail’s muster. Sarah was, again, thankful she hadn’t had to try each one on. That probably would have taken two days.
“No,” Lady Abigail set down the last dress. “I am afraid there is nothing here that will be suitable.” She sighed. “Margaret, please take these dresses back to their owners and give them my deepest thanks. I am afraid Sarah has an unusual shape.”
“Unusual shape?” Sarah asked. Having thought of herself as being average, being called unusual caught Sarah off guard.
“Well,” Lady Abigail looked at Sarah as she stepped down.
“If it weren’t for ye bust and hips ye’d be better suited in men’s clothing,” Margaret commented from behind a pile of dresses.
“No, no, not like that,” Lady Abigail flourished a hand at Margaret. “Her shoulders are a little broader than average, she’s got a little larger waist and…”
“More cleavage,” Margaret finished when Lady Abigail trailed off.
Sarah smothered a chuckle at Lady Abigail’s expression as she flourished a hand at the retreating Margaret. Jason’s mother sighed.
“Come child.” She swept out of the room, Sarah in tow. “We will just have to make one from the ground up.”
“Can’t I just use the dress from Griffon’s?” Sarah asked.
“Nonsense,” Lady Abigail flourished a hand at her. “You will need one of your own anyway.”
“But I have no money,” Sarah protested.
“My son has plenty of funds,” Lady Abigail stated as they entered the dining room for dinner.
Jason was already there and Sarah turned to him for help. He smiled.
“I do you know,” he assured her.
“But I,” Sarah stopped as he placed a hand on her shoulder.
“I know.” He nodded. “I live off my Lordly allowance, so my Scout salary is just piling up and going to waste.”
Sarah furrowed her brows at him.
“You are my fiancée; therefore, I am,” he paused for a moment, thinking, and then grinned at her, “fiscally responsible for you.”
Sarah rolled her eyes as Lady Abigail coughed.
“Sorry,” Sarah pulled herself up straight.