19th Century Seamstress

The skill is a notch

This was just an ordinary shirt.

But Eloise remembered everything she had handled with her own hands, so she recognized it immediately—this was the shirt she had mended. She took a moment to carefully study the man’s face.

He had fair skin, slightly wavy dark chestnut hair styled neatly with a light touch of pomade that revealed his forehead and prominent brow. His nose was straight and defined, his lips thin, and his clean-shaven face showed a faint cleft in the chin, hinting at a hint of precision or even compulsion. He exuded a cool, polished restraint, appearing meticulously traditional, though he looked to be only in his early twenties. His narrow, long-lashed eyes, the same color as his hair, lent him an aura of quiet sternness, as if he was one to speak sparingly, a man bound by an air of cool reserve.

This was clearly a person of high social status, someone so wealthy that he could discard a garment worth several months of her salary without hesitation.

Eloise didn’t dare ask why he had taken issue with her work—whether he’d noticed her mending or if he was just that sensitive, like a “princess and the pea.” She didn’t want to risk being complained about and fired, so she kept her head down, nodded, and said, “Understood.” Wiping her hands on her apron, she took a step forward, accepted the shirt, and left the room.

Outside, Eloise intended to hand the shirt to the attendants, as hotel staff were not allowed to take anything out of a guest’s room.

“The gentleman inside requested that this be thrown away,” she said as she passed the shirt to the attendants.

The attendants nodded and seemed about to say something when another figure entered the corridor: Benjamin, an occasional guest of the "Opal" suite.

“My cousin—has he finished getting ready?” Benjamin asked, his clothes just as refined but with a more playful touch: a colorful pocket square and bow tie that gave him a dashing and easygoing air.

The attendants relaxed in his presence. “Mr. Merken has washed up, sir. Should we prepare a meal for him?”

“No, he’ll be heading back to Long Island for a few days… It’s my mother’s birthday…”

Benjamin moved toward the suite’s entrance, speaking to the attendants as he went, and Eloise, with her head down, quietly slipped away.

She couldn’t help but wonder where she had gone wrong with the shirt. But then again, she knew her skill level; there was no use dwelling on it, and at least she wasn’t to blame. People that wealthy, after all, had the luxury of discarding things without thought—certainly not worth her time to fret over.

Still, why couldn’t she have that sort of fortune?

Finishing her tasks with a sense of resignation, Eloise joined Amy on the fifth floor to help Nasha with her remaining duties. While Amy went downstairs to empty the ashes, Eloise took a moment to follow Nasha and make conversation.

“Nasha, where did you get that bracelet? It’s lovely,” Eloise said quietly from behind, startling Nasha, who was sweeping.

Nasha quickly tried to cover her wrist with her sleeve. The bracelet was a delicate piece, adorned with small freshwater pearls—an extravagant item for a girl from a poor family. Flustered, Nasha blushed. She certainly wasn’t going to admit to anyone that she was involved with Mr. Lamda from the sixth floor.

The bracelet, after all, was a gift, and he had promised to help her quit her job and even rent a respectable apartment in New York where they could live as husband and wife.

Nasha’s expression was tense, and she answered vaguely, “Oh, it’s just a small thing a guest gave me…”

Seeing her discomfort, Eloise refrained from pressing further. She didn’t think it wrong for a girl from a difficult background to want a better life; she’d probably make the same choice if she were in Nasha’s position. Hunger and grueling work were not things anyone could easily endure.

Eloise just worried that someone else might now be experiencing the consequences she might have been meant to face herself. After some hesitation, she helped Nasha finish tidying the fireplace and then said, “Nasha, I mean no offense, but as your coworker, I feel I have to say it: please, be careful and take care of yourself.”

Nasha paused and looked back, surprised at Eloise’s earnest, concerned expression. Seeing that her colleague genuinely meant well, she bit her lip, nodded, and returned to her work without a word.

At noon, Amy enthusiastically invited everyone to the kitchen for lunch again, but Eloise, intending to take Bella to look at schools, declined. Changing into her own clothes, she headed home.

Bella, having quit her job at the newspaper office, was waiting alone at home. Their aunt was worried and had asked the landlady that morning to keep an eye on Bella, letting her stay with the landlady’s daughter and study.

This was Eloise’s first time knocking on the landlady’s door.

The landlady, a kind-hearted woman dressed in an outdated Victorian-style dark cotton gown, opened the door. Her husband and son were cobblers, and her daughter, who had attended girls’ school and worked as a tutor before recently giving birth, was staying under her mother’s care while her husband was away. Eloise noticed Bella sitting obediently on a wicker chair inside, nibbling on something.

The landlady, knowing Eloise to be a responsible young woman, kindly offered Bella a couple of extra biscuits, then watched as Eloise took her sister’s hand and led her home.

That morning, Eloise had already looked through a few schools listed in the classifieds section of the newspaper. Once the sisters had a simple lunch of boiled pasta at home, Eloise took Bella and headed to the nearest girls’ school.

The Mormantz Girls’ School was reportedly run by a middle-aged teacher who had immigrated from Eastern Europe. Unlike the more prestigious religious schools, it was modest and low-profile: a three-story house with a small yard, but still not inexpensive.

The tuition was two and a half dollars per week, which included lunch but not dinner. Boarding was optional for an additional dollar per week.

Looking at the school’s exterior, Eloise wondered why this seemingly obscure place demanded such a high fee. She wanted to know what justified the cost, hoping to discover something exceptional.

In front of the gate, a row of green, snow-dusted arborvitae trees lined the entrance. Small metal six-pointed stars hung on their branches, and the red-brick building peeked out from behind, with a worn sign over the door that bore the school’s name.