Sophie stood on the small pedestal as the dressmaker and her assistant poked and prodded her like a straw doll. Her grandmother looked at Sophie quietly and would only make a noise if she was very unhappy or very pleased.
“Bon,” she had said several times in acceptance of the gown’s cut and color.
“Mademoiselle?” asked the Parisian seamstress, known far and wide for her frocks.
“I’m sorry. What was the question, Madame Darbonne?”
Eugenie looked over at her granddaughter and admonished her. “Sophie! You are not Madame Darbonne’s only customer today. You are miles away. Pay attention.”
Sophie was thinking of her pamphlet and what had become of it. But she shook her head and replied, “I’m sorry, madame.”
The seamstress, an older woman, was used to cranky middle-aged women, skittish young brides and overbearing elderly women. The exchange between the grandmother and granddaughter was nothing new.
“My dear, never mind. Do you like the fabric? We can change it.”
Sophie drew a hand across the cream-colored silk with intricate brown embroidery at the scooped neckline, elbow-length sleeves and along the hem. It was a beautiful dress.
“Fit for the queen herself,” murmured Sophie, smiling.
“Mais non,” the seamstress said. “I don’t charge nearly enough for our queen.”
“You charge enough,” Eugenie added drily.
“Yes, Madame Gauvreau, I do. But I sew and design quality gowns,” insisted the seamstress.
“Your gowns are the finest,” Eugenie admitted.
Madame Darbonne and her assistant used pins to bring in the waist and add a touch here and there to the gown, and then asked Sophie to step out of it.
“Monsieur Gauvreau is ever generous,” the seamstress replied.
“Yes.” Eugenie beamed. Her son was her pride. “He has always been so. He has always given Sophie whatever she asked, though as you see, Sophie is not spoiled.”
“It is a shame he never remarried.”
Sophie and the young assistant had moved behind a screen to allow her to dress in privacy.
“Yes. I often wondered why he did not. I know he loved Danielle, but it has been more than twenty years. Such a long time,” Eugenie pondered.
“Perhaps once mademoiselle marries, he will follow suit,” Madame Darbonne suggested.
“Perhaps,” Eugenie admitted.
***
“That is strange, is it not, Grand-mère? That father never remarried,” Sophie asked as they took the carriage home.
“Not really. He was very much in love with your mother. When she died, a part of him died as well. Your father is constancy itself. It is rare in a man.”
“I would not wish him to be alone the rest of his life,” Sophie said quietly.
“Nor I.” Eugenie touched her granddaughter’s hands, which were lying in her lap.
***
The duke had received an invitation to Sophie’s ball and gladly accepted. She did not want to appear rude so she invited Sebastian and his friend Etienne. She also invited his sister Leila in an effort to include the young woman, who had few friends in Paris.
She invited Madame Necker and her husband, Germaine, and Messieurs Marmontel, La Harpe and Comte de Buffon. She knew her grandmother and father would invite many more people but she was happy to include her own friends and acquaintances. Lizette and her father were also included in Sophie’s list of invitees.