DoaL 2a

Margaret knew that any good servant would see no choice in the matter. She automatically answered in the affirmative, noting that Charlotte released tension in her shoulder that Meg didn't see she had. She wondered if she had improved, if that was some sort of testing.

"I would like to wear the red gown, Margaret," Charlotte said briskly, as she rose and turned, walking into her wardrobe to change her dress. Margaret, anxious when she thought of going to market with her lady. She had done so only a few, disastrous times, and vowed to do well with this opportunity.

She opened the door of the large oak press, glancing over the shelves until she saw the crimson cloth, and pulled it out. There was beautiful embroidery along the hem, some of Eliza's, the draper, best work in Meg's opinion. Though not so outspoken as to bring criticism to Charlotte, for wearing clothes outside the Sumptuary Laws, they were some of the most beautiful dresses worn by Knight's Ladies.

Margaret took the dress into the closet, where Charlotte awaited her, and closed the door. She set the gown on the floor and helped pull the casual, woolen dress over her lady's head, before folding it and setting it on the ground.

Since Charlotte was simply changing into a fancier dress for the outing, she left all her undergarments on. Meg circled her, bending down and kneeling to adjust her shift and kirtle; pulling the stockings higher and tightening the corset. After this, she retrieved items such as the farthingale, a modest frame that reached a half-foot, and, after adding them, checked that the petticoat and partlet were sitting comfortably on Charlotte. Meg hastened outside to choose some sleeves from drawers in the press, according to her lady's instructions, and sat down on a stool next to the table holding threads. She listened to Charlotte gossip while she sewed the gown.

"… Helen hopes to marry the Baron's son, thou knoweth. My foolish daughter, the girl doesn't realize the inconstant in that boy. Mayhap seems an excellent conceit now, but he will game his, and her, money, first chance. 'Tis a poor match, Meg. I don't know wherefore she hold such faith, nor why she assumes she can charm her father into the marriage." Charlotte shook her head and sighed, inspecting the embroidery on her forepart, running her finger along the ridges of thread. "Foolish, foolish daughter," she muttered.

Margaret resisted the urge to clear her throat, uncertain as to wether she should agree with her lady or defend Helen. Personally, she considered her and airling, and found Charlotte's daughter vexing, knowing the exact consequences for such ridiculous whims. But, then again, she was biased.

She gave an experimental tug on the sleeves, before straightening and unfolding the heavy cloth. It would be hot today, but The dress had a low-cut bodice that exposed the top of her bosom and would allow Charlotte to cool off a little.
She stood, bringing the gown to Charlotte and pulling it over her head, smoothing the skirt and walking out of the room to pick out a cap. Charlotte requested a cap of rustic color which suited her gown very nicely.

The last to go on was the ruff. The chosen ruff was smaller, and held only a little gold trimming around the edges, according to Charlottes taste, though unusual. She brought it around her lady's slender, pale neck and tucked the ends down into the collar of the dress, securing it under the bodice.

Plucking out a vial of rose perfume, Margaret sprayed it along Charlotte's upper chest, and placed it back upon the Turkey carpet-covered table with its brothers.

Meg picked a string of pearls from the appropriate casket and a brooch from another. Charlotte approved the accessories with a nod, pleasing Meg with her choice as she fastened them, before she finally stepped back and the women admired the dress briefly. Charlotte turned in a circle, and Meg had to admit the dress suited her well.

"Very nice, Meg," she said, a note of pride in her voice,  "My basket?"
"'Tis done." Margaret plucked the item from the corner of the bedchamber, held the door open for Charlotte and followed her down the stairs. They exited the building after informing a household servant of her whereabouts.

The bright sunlight was growing warm, and Meg found herself beginning to sweat in the heat of the day. The streets were noisy with people, peasants and nobles alike, and Meg had to stick closely to her lady to avoid being separated.

"I thought we might go to Cornhill street first. I wanted to see the newest gowns," Charlotte said, as she stepped lightly over a drying mud pile. "Then perhaps to the Exchange. Mayhap not. Yes?"

"Very well." Margaret was excited to go to the drapers on Cornhill. It had been awhile, and she missed the place and its people. The Exchange, though, she hated. The area had not offended her directly, but its existence she loathed. "Yes, my lady."

They had only to walk a few blocks before coming to the entrance to the street. Noble ladies peered in through shop fronts, gossiped about the latest fashions while admiring the drapers' handiwork. An elderly man, John, waved at her from his shop front display, where he was setting up a dress with slashed sleeves and fox fur trimming the edges and hem. After Meg waved back, he mouthed something and pointed further down the street. Confused, Margaret turned back to the direction Charlotte was walking in--

"Meg! Oh, Meggie!" Before having any chance to react, Margaret was seized roughly and crushed in a tight squeeze that passed vaguely for a display of affection. She could hardly move her arms but in a desperate attempt to save it shimmied the basket around so it was not in the line of destruction. Women surrounding them tittered and servants clucked their tongues disapprovingly.

Feeling a blush spread across her face, Margaret mumbled a greeting into her mother's breast.

Charlotte grinned widely.

***

"And now," exclaimed Charlotte, "She believeth she is in love and wants to marry. The girl is absolutely convinced. Wherefore she believes it will turn good, I know not. What say you to that, Eliza?" The trio had retired to the shop Margaret's mother owned. She had been gracious to the visit and closed her doors to customers, even though it was the high time for shopping of the day.

Eliza was still working though. She said she was completing a commission for the Duchess of Southampton, who had come all the was into the cit to request a gown. She must have it finished by the end of the next day, before the Duchess left. It was a beautiful, delicate satin dress of a deep sapphire color that would cost upwards of fifteen sovereigns. She sewed as they talked.

"What say I? I can only assume the girl has heard nothing of protests and failure stories. She believes their love is pure, yes?" Charlotte nodded ruefully. "I have nothing to say, then." Margaret fidgeted with the hem of her apron, uncomfortable with the conversation, though it was not something fresh. Her mother was born a Baron's daughter, married to a respectable Earl's son at the right age and with the appropriate dowry. No sooner then the crying of the banns finished and the two wed, he begun to spend unrespectable amounts of time at tabling dens, gaming and dicing, and became a drabber too boot. Having caught a fever while out drunken one night, he died before his first child, Margaret, was even born.

Eliza took her what was left of his estates, paid the bills, and against the wishes of friends and family opened her shop here. She had not remarried, instead raising Margaret off of the money she made and living in the shop. When questioned about this, she replied that she had no trust in such men anymore, and could not be pressed on the subject.

The Royal Exchange had been opened four years ago, and since then the shop had suffered. Peers preferred to do all their shopping in one place, even though Eliza's gowns were infamous. Because of this, Charlotte, an old friend from Eliza's better days, took Margaret in as her servant. This was entirely unconventional, but Charlotte was nothing if not loyal. She respected Eliza a great deal for having raised a 'sweet, kindly girl like Margaret. I could hardly do so much myself.' she says, laughing.

"Meg," Margaret looks up from her fiddling, attentive, "Lady Day is coming up, is it not?" Eliza didn't look up, and her tone was casual, but Meg knew this was forced. Her mother wanted to know how much she would be paid, even though she'd not worked from one quarter day to the next yet.

"I shall be paid ten shillings, Mother." She said this quietly, unsure about discussing money in front of her employer. Charlotte had, though, looked away politely and was examining a gown she had seen several time before. "One angel. Next quarter day will be…" She hesitated, not knowing if it was alright to assume she'd be paid more,  if her work would have improved. "Discussed later."

A maid tapped on the front glass, and smiled widely at Eliza. For her part, Eliza only shook her head and waved the girl away. She scowled and flipped away to her mistress. "Oh, dear," Eliza frowns up at the crowd gathering around her window. "Pray pardon I cut this visit short. The crowd will be over me like dogs on a bear." She stood and stowed the dress she had been working on behind the counter. "wishing you luck, Charlotte. It was a pleasure seeing you both, really. Again, forgive my shortness. Return soon, girls!" She embraced Charlotte, who turned her face to Meg.

"Margaret, dear," She said, frowning at her, "Knowing it has been an age since thou hast seen your mother, I would allow you to remain here to help with the customers while I continue homeward, yes?"