Izzy shook her head and focused on standing still for the woman altering the pink dress. It did her no good to dwell on how lovely it was here. She wouldn't be staying. At least she hoped not. The job promotion was hers. All she had to do was show up at the meeting with her boss.
Charles had rolled his eyes when it was decided the first dress of fifteen was the best choice. Think of all the time everyone could have saved if they'd just gone with it and not spent hours trying on all the others. Beautiful though they all were, this dress suited her, with the pale shade complementing her dark hair, and the delicate lace around the bodice and sleeves giving her a more feminine look than she usually wore. Wait. Was she crazy? A dress, one from 1812 no less, suited her? No. She wasn't going down that road. Letting herself be lulled into complacency about this time and place would only hurt her in the long run. She had a life to get back to.
Izzy glanced down at the gown. She had questioned the neckline, or rather, why there didn't seem to be one. If she weren't careful and leaned over too far, the whole world would see two parts of her that only her doctor normally saw. What are these people thinking? True, the dress was long and covered her legs to the floor, but no one would be looking at her legs. Since it was December, she'd think a person might want a turtleneck underneath.
A slight tug on the hem of the dress pulled her thoughts back to the seamstress. Izzy peered down at the top of her head. "How's it coming, Anna?"
The other woman tilted her head up briefly. "It's well, my lady, the pinning is finished. After you disrobe, I'll begin on the sewing."
Izzy nodded. "Thank you, Anna. I appreciate it."
The seamstress shot her eyebrows upward but avoided direct eye contact. "Y-yes, my lady."
Izzy bit her lip. Hmm. Maybe workers of the lower class weren't used to being thanked for their efforts? She'd have to be more careful what she said and how she said it, although twenty-five years of doing things a certain way would be hard to change. Like all the other kids on her block, she'd been brought up to thank others for their hard work and kindness.
Izzy stepped down from the platform and once again allowed Sarah to assist her with removing the dress and petticoats. It was hard to hold still while she waited for Sarah to tediously undo the row of buttons down her back. Everything in her was screaming to pull it off over her head like she did with her tee shirts, but it would ruin the pretty fabric and delicate buttons. She then stepped out of the dress while holding onto one of Sarah's work-roughened hands.
Next came the dismantling of the undergarments. After that, Izzy stood there in her birthday suit wishing for her fuzzy pink robe from home, because she was both embarrassed and cold.
She grabbed her underwear, bra, shirt, and pants from the nearby chair and quickly donned her clothing, while Sarah handed the dress with all its voluminous folds to the seamstress. The maid flicked her eyes toward Izzy but glanced away and said nothing. Was it out of respect for Izzy's supposed station? Whatever the reason, it felt wonderful to dress herself, even if her clothes were a couple of days past needing to be washed.
Sarah came toward her and curtsied. Izzy waited a moment and then realized the maid wasn't going to speak first. "Yes, Sarah?"
"If it please my lady, his grace would like you to try on the day dresses he purchased."
"More dresses? For me?"
"Yes, my lady." Sarah cast her eyes downward.
Izzy sighed. More trying on dresses and having another woman touch my bare skin and tug clothes over my body. She followed Sarah to a second room just off the bedroom. Standing in the doorway with her mouth open, she eyed the bed-full of clothes. Dresses, under things, and jackets were folded in piles. Several pairs of shoes, slippers, and boots stood neatly on the floor. Charles must have money to burn. She wrinkled her nose at the styles with so much material. Her skin wouldn't see sunlight ever again as long as she wore them, and she knew from the experience of trying on all of the ball gowns that some were indeed scratchy. What she wouldn't give for her cotton sweatshirts and sweatpants right now.
Her attention was drawn to Sarah when the younger woman walked toward the bed and covered her lips with her hand after a small intake of breath. She lovingly ran her fingers over the material of one of the dresses. The maid's eyes sparkled as she studied the boots and shoes. Izzy watched her closely. Sarah's dress was drab and showed small areas of wear. The girl's boots, while polished, were obviously not new. Did she wish the large pile of clothes were for her?
Sarah swiveled and gasped.
"Sarah, are you all right?"
"Oh, my lady. Begging your pardon. I—"
Izzy flapped a hand toward her. "It's all right. Think nothing of it."
"Yes, my lady." The girl's face was tomato-red.
Suddenly, Izzy felt ashamed of herself. Charles had purchased all of these things for her, someone he didn't even know. Sarah, who'd likely worked for him for years, wore older, drab seconds. Maybe, if Charles didn't mind, she could see that Sarah got some of the new things.
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