The Secret Life of Miss Mary Bennet by Katherine Cowley (the reading list book txt) 📗

immodest or revealing. She had not realized a dress could look so flattering on her figure.

Mary swished the dress back and forth, imagining how it would look on a dance floor. “It is stunning.”

“Next one,” said Fanny, and started undoing the ball gown before Mary could even reply. She seemed to be enjoying herself.

Before she knew it, Mary was dressed in the lacy puce evening gown.

Mary did not normally bestow many compliments, but it seemed the right thing to do. And with Fanny’s workmanship, it was easy to be genuine.

“I do not normally like this colour, but I love it on this dress.”

“Because I know what to do with it.”

“You certainly do. I think even the most intolerable man could not help admiring me. Can I try the last one?”

Fanny smiled. “Of course.”

They dressed her in the cream-coloured morning gown. It had intricate embroidery, especially around the bodice, which had the risk of drawing undue attention to that region of her body, a thought which made Mary uncomfortable. Yet it was also her favorite dress. It made her feel that she could go anywhere, do anything, be anyone she wanted to be.

She could lose herself in a dress like this. And do so willingly.

“You are the most amazing seamstress I have ever met.”

Fanny smiled in agreement.

“And you designed all of these dresses yourself?”

“I did, Miss Bennet.”

Mary lingered in front of the mirror, not wanting to return to her normal clothes and still figuring out how to interrupt Lady Trafford’s plans. But she did not have time to dawdle. She needed to fool Lady Trafford into thinking she had gone to Worthing, intercept Mr. Stanley, and somehow trick him into revealing their plans.

It might be easier to succeed if she wore this dress.

“Would it be possible for me to stay in this dress for the next few hours?” Mary asked. And now to say nothing dishonest to Fanny and yet hopefully direct her to the incorrect conclusion. “There is…a man I would like to meet. A man I will only be able to see today. And I would rather him see me in this than in one of my normal dresses.”

“Oh, you have a sweetheart in Worthing.” Fanny smiled. Though she had no young man, Mary blushed. The sensation felt quite unfamiliar to her. “No wonder you have been so keen to visit these past weeks. Yes, you can wear this dress while you say goodbye to him.” She paused. “I would not be surprised if Lady Trafford has me take it apart to use the fabric scraps for something else.”

“Thank you,” said Mary. She looked again at herself in the mirror, pictured herself intercepting Mr. Stanley, and her face fell. She could wear a beautiful dress, but it would not be enough to change how people saw her or what she was able to accomplish.

“Whatever is wrong now, Miss Bennet?”

“I wish my face and my hair… I wish they matched the dress.”

“There is no crime to being plain,” said Fanny. “And you are more attractive than you think. But if you want to look different, there may be something I can do.”

Fanny left and returned a few minutes later with an array of items Mary had never seen before. “I sent for your horse to be readied, so we don’t have much time.” She waited, as if expecting Mary to do something. “Sit down,” she directed, pointing to a chair. She turned the mirror away so Mary could not watch and proceeded to apply powders and creams to Mary’s face.

“I do not want to look like a, like a—” Mary found no other way to say it, so she blurted out the words, “—fallen woman!” Even saying it made her feel unclean.

Fanny did not stop her work. “Well, you would if I put on lip paint or added things to your eyes. But what I am doing will not be obvious—no one will be able to tell I have applied anything to your face. I am simply hiding some blemishes.”

“But if I can see it, will you take it off?”

“Of course, Miss Bennet. But don’t you worry, I have done this many times before.”

Mary noted that Fanny possessed a full array of tones, both to match her own skin and a lighter skin like Mary’s. Meanwhile, Mary’s stomach began to feel uneasy. Maybe intercepting Lady Trafford’s guest was not the best plan after all.

Fanny began working on Mary’s hair, a process that seemed ridiculous in length. Lady Trafford would be expecting her to leave, and she needed to do so quickly. Mary had always believed that putting energy into one’s appearance truly was a waste of time, and this only confirmed it. She drummed her fingers against the arm of the chair.

Finally Fanny finished and turned the mirror towards Mary.

Mary stood in front of it, confused. She did not look like herself. Now it was not just the dress that might capture someone’s attention, but her face. Even her neck and her facial structure appeared different, and her skin looked perfectly clear.

“Now pinch your cheeks,” said Fanny.

“Pinch my cheeks?”

“To get a little redness in them.”

When Mary did nothing, Fanny pinched her cheeks for her, a little harder than Mary thought necessary.

Fanny nodded. “Now walk around the room.”

She did not understand the direction, but she followed it.

“You must hold yourself like you belong in this dress.”

“I cannot. This is something one of my sisters would wear.”

“Then pretend to be one of your sisters.”

She pictured herself as Jane, confident, beautiful, almost regal.

“Yes, that is much better,” said Fanny.

Mary stopped in front of the mirror. With this dress and the cream and the hair it was like putting on a disguise, becoming someone different. She wondered if her family would even recognize her.

“Please do not tell anyone that I am dressed like this,” said Mary. “I do not want Lady Trafford, or anyone else, to know that I am meeting someone.”

“I will keep it our little secret. But take good care of the