19th Century Seamstress

Boutique consignment

From the outside, the school appeared tranquil and inviting. Though small, it was well-kept; the snow in front of the porch was cleared, giving a neat and welcoming impression. Eloise rang the bell.

While waiting, she tried to pull Bella forward, but Bella hesitated, her worn, mended shoes rooted firmly in the snow. Eloise knelt, cupping Bella’s pale cheeks, and saw the fear of the unknown in her expression.

"Don't be afraid," Eloise said gently, smiling. "Bella, no matter what’s inside, we should at least take a look. Who knows? We might miss out on something good if we don't."

Bella, with her golden hair in twin braids, fidgeted with the end of one braid. "What if I don't like it?" she murmured hesitantly, her face cradled in Eloise's warm hands.

"Then you don’t have to come back. No one can make you."

Eloise straightened, just as a sturdy woman in a simple cotton dress appeared from the porch, opening the gate. Dressed in a plain blue coat and a striped skirt that reached down to her shoes, she looked like a lady of modest means, possibly someone who lived on a fixed income.

"Hello, are you here to inquire about enrollment?" she asked.

"Yes, we saw the ad in the paper," Eloise replied, giving her and Bella’s names. "Would it be possible for us to look around first?"

"Certainly. You can call me Miss Madeleine; I'm unmarried," she replied, stepping aside to let them enter and leading the way.

Miss Madeleine showed them the classrooms, dormitories, dining hall, and a small library. The space was well-lit, with large windows, not a hint of gloom in sight.

"The children are having reading time right now," Miss Madeleine explained, allowing Eloise to peek through the glass doors.

Inside, about thirty children, mostly girls between five and twelve, were seated on benches along the walls, reading. Two young female teachers were present, keeping a watchful eye.

Eloise observed them, noting the cleanly trimmed nails, neatly groomed hair, and overall healthy appearance of the children—signs of proper care and nutrition. Satisfied, she followed Miss Madeleine to her office.

"Do you like it here, Bella?" she whispered, bending down to ask.

Bella hesitated, then nodded.

Miss Madeleine noticed Eloise’s concern for Bella's feelings, which impressed her. As they discussed tuition, Eloise counted out enough for a week’s stay.

Madeleine, observing Eloise closely, remarked, "Bella is lucky to have a sister as attentive as you. It's rare to see someone so dedicated."

Eloise remained silent, offering a faint smile, then finished arranging Bella’s enrollment. She planned to pick her up by five in the evening, right before dinner. Before leaving, she glanced back and saw Miss Madeleine handing Bella a piece of malt candy, which put her mind at ease.

With Bella’s situation handled, Eloise’s next goal was to finish a pair of gloves for Louise’s colleague, already cut and partially designed. If she worked the entire next day, she’d be able to complete it.

Walking home, Eloise passed a row of shoe shops, her eyes catching a pair of blue silk low-heeled shoes in a*****e window. The elegant design featured a red crystal flower accent and a smooth satin edge, perfect for a dance or formal event. But the price, displayed on a brass plaque, was a daunting thirty dollars.

Stunned, she quickly moved on, her heart sinking. Working only as a seamstress and altering clothes could never earn her enough for luxuries like these. She needed a reliable income to support her family, and perhaps a small side job making handcrafted items.

Renting a stand would mean committing to full-time work, which her family could not afford. A stable main job with a side business making small handmade goods was safer.

Determined, she entered a modest ladies’ boutique. Such shops, scattered all over New York, catered mostly to middle-income clients or young women seeking holiday gifts. The store, one of the more reputable ones, carried simple yet fashionable items: gloves, fans, shawls, and small accessories.

The plump middle-aged shopkeeper behind the counter, sporting a curled mustache and a wooden-handled pipe, glanced at her with mild interest.

“Hello, I’d like to inquire about something. How should I address you?” Eloise asked, affecting a polite tone.

The man tipped his pipe. “Name’s Anthony. What do you need?”

Eloise, feigning confidence, introduced herself as Eloise, claiming to be an assistant in a tailor shop doing some independent work. “I wanted to ask if you’d consider selling handmade goods on consignment.”

Anthony shrugged noncommittally, his casual gesture indicating he was used to people from sewing shops seeking extra income by selling small crafts. He gestured lazily at a rack of consigned items.

“If you want to sell here, know I don’t display just anything,” he said, savoring his words as he took a drag from his pipe. “My shop has standards, unlike some others.”

"If I meet those standards," Eloise said, "could we do a 70/30 split?"

Anthony chuckled dismissively. Based on past sales, consigned goods usually accounted for about a fifth of his store’s monthly revenue, rarely topping forty dollars in sales.

After considering, he replied, "If you manage that, then yes."

Eloise smiled faintly, nodded, and assured him he’d see her wares by next week. Adjusting her scarf and hat, she left with steady strides, her mind buzzing with ideas as she returned home through the snowy streets.

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