April, 1845
The day was just about to get started when Harriet awoke in the soft grey of dawn, the dim light of her modest attic room barely outshining the shadows that lingered after a fitful sleep. It was a new day in the bustling market district of London and, even at this early hour, the city's pulse was beginning to quicken. Stretching and rubbing her eyes calmly beneath her worn but cherished covers, she could hear the distant clamor of early vendors and the gentle hum of life stirring outside her window.
With deliberate care, Harriet rose and prepared for her daily tasks as a dressmaker, a vocation that had long been both her pride and her independence. Her plain yet neatly kept room held a small mirror mounted upon the wall, its surface reflecting her delicate features: a determined face, softened by the early morning glow, and eyes that shone with quiet fortitude. In a manner that was gentle and measured, she dressed herself in a modest yet tidy gown of well-worn calico, along with a neatly tied bonnet that framed her auburn hair. There was an understated elegance to her appearance, each detail hinting at the artistry of her craft.
Harriet pushed open the creaking wooden door of her dwelling, and she was immediately greeted by a brilliant cascade of sunlight that poured into the narrow street. Outside, the heart of the market was already alive with movement. Merchants unfurled their shades, displaying vibrant wares, while townspeople bustled about their morning errands. With the freshness of morning as her witness, she stepped out, her eyes bright and hopeful amid the vivid texture of daily life.
"Good morrow, Master Thomas,"!!! she called out to a familiar face, a robust, kind fellow who sold fine linens. "Might you have a moment to examine the new dress commission? The lady expects nothing but the best." Thomas, tipping his cap and beaming broadly, replied in kind, "Ah, Miss Harriet your handiwork never fails to enchant. I shall inspect forthwith."
Strolling past the various stalls, Harriet's shop-door was never far behind her. "Mrs. Windham, pray, do come collect your order of lace and trims!" she beckoned to a well-dressed woman who had frequented her studio for several seasons. She was bustling with happiness, her day about to begin happily.
Before the pace of the day caught up to her, Harriet made a brief stop at a small stand that sold warm bread and fresh butter. "A slice for a humble morning," she murmured with a modest smile. Sitting on an upturned crate on a quiet side street, she savored her simple repast , a slice of crusty bread, lightly buttered and accompanied by a small cup of strong tea. The sustenance was humble yet invigorating, setting the stage for a busy day ahead.
Returning to her studio, she set about the next duties: the meticulous tasks of washing her modest garments. Her wooden washbasin, a relic of both practicality and memory, awaited her careful attention. After a brisk, cold bath that refreshed her spirit, Harriet dressed once again, this time for her day of labor, donning an apron of sturdy fabric over her gown, ready to protect her garments while she sewed with the precision and passion that had earned her reputation.
Not long after, a knock at the door heralded the arrival of her dearest friend, Lisa, whose presence was as uplifting as the morning sun. "Harriet my dear, 'tis a pleasure to see thee so lively on this fine morn!" Lisa exclaimed, entering the familiar space with the warmth of a long-standing camaraderie.
Harriet, delighted by her friend's unexpected company, replied in kind, "Lisa thou art a balm to my spirit. Pray, let us sit and recount the happenings of our busy days while I finish this new gown for a patron of high standing." They settled by the small wooden table, sipping on freshly brewed tea, and discussed the trivialities and momentous events of their lives. Lisa inquired gently of Harriet's plans for upcoming commissions, and Harriet spoke with confidence and modest pride, revealing the latest patterns she had devised, a blend of simplicity with a whisper of refined elegance.
"Canst thou believe it?" Lisa exclaimed, her hands clapping together in delight. "James hath sought mine hand in marriage. He did speak to my parents but two nights past!"
Harriet looked up from her stitching, eyes wide with theatrical surprise. "What news thou bringest! And yet thou lettest us while away the morn with idle chatter and common pleasantries?" Her tone was teasing, nearly laughable in its feigned scorn.
Lisa laughed, a sound light as summer air. "Forgive me, dear heart, I had not meant to withhold it. The matter is still fresh, and my thoughts quite tangled."
Harriet leapt to her feet, holding the hem of her garment in both hands and giving a merry twirl. "My friend, I shall sew for thee the most resplendent raiment this town hath ever beheld! Silk and satin, lace and pearl! None shall shine brighter than thee at thy wedding feast!"
"Stop thy nonsense!" Lisa giggled, though her cheeks flushed with more than mirth.
Harriet stilled, her gaze softening as she noticed the hesitation beneath her friend's smile. "Speak truly, now. Is thy heart glad in this match?"
Lisa lowered her eyes, voice scarcely above a whisper. "Nay… my heart longeth not for James, but for another. 'Tis Sylvester, the goldsmith's friend from the lower quarter. It is he who stirreth my soul."
Harriet, ever gentle, reached for Lisa's hand. "Ah, Sylvester. I see it now, the way thy breath stills when his name is uttered. What wilt thou do?"
Lisa gave a wistful sigh. "I know not, Harriet. But I cannot pretend joy where there is none."
"You know what? Instead of addressing thy parents on the matter, why not speak to James and reveal thy desires? He is a fine young gentleman, and I am persuaded he shall understand," Harriet declared.
"I would rejoice if he consents, yet what of my parents? How shall I prevail upon them?" Lisa queried, her eyes imploring for guidance.
"Hast thou ever confided thy desires to Sylvester?" asked Harriet.
"Sylvester and I have been courting for some time now yet he remains afeard of my parents," replied Lisa.
"Ha! A man ought not fear his in-laws. He should be bold and resolute. His timidity shall only prompt James to escort thee away. If he doth truly love thee, he must summon the courage to meet with thy parents and declare his intentions. Inform him that James,a stranger has come to ask thy hand, and thou wilt consent only if he doth make haste to see thy parent," Harriet stated confidently.
"Thou makest a valid point, yet a predicament remains, and I am in dire need of thy assistance," Lisa entreated, her eyes pleading.
"Anything for thee, my dear friend," Harriet replied without hesitation.
"Know, I must needs visit James to set matters straight. His dwelling lies far hence, and thus I shan't be able to see Sylvester on the same day. Wouldst thou be so kind as to go unto Sylvester and relay my sentiments?" Lisa implores earnestly.
"Oh, dear friend, alas, I cannot close my stall, for a great number of customers shall come on the morrow to collect their garments. Why not seek him on the following day?" Harriet proposed.
"I wish it were so, but my mother and I must attend an event in another city, and we shall return late. I beg thee, let not thy friend be left desolate," Lisa replied with urgency.
"Very well, do not be a trifle mischievous, I shall visit him on the morrow. Is he not ever in the company of his friend, Robert? I might even procure some gold adornments from Mr. Jack, the trader who sells near his abode," Harriet mused with a playful glimmer in her eye.
" Thank you, my love, thou art truly one in a million. If all proceeds well, thou shalt sew me the finest clothes until I grow old, and even dress my offspring!" Lisa exclaimed joyfully.
"Pray, let us not fast forward the course of fate. May the gods grant our wishes," Harriet concluded with a warm smile.