#BREMERTON BEAT BLAST SKIN#

She'd decided long ago that working around her mother was more diplomatic than upsetting her. There hadn't even been negotiations, just no outright objection from Caroline. Alarm had made her dark brows arch closer to her perfectly coiffed hair with its beginning threads of silver. 'Caroline, have you varied from our agreed-upon menu?' her mother asked. It would never do to confess that she'd begun midnight kitchen forays to ease her tight nerves. 'And more than a little.'Ĭaroline answered with a vague smile. ' Absolument, you have gained since your last fitting,' the seamstress said. And in other sunny news, her mother's insecurity meant that at least Caroline would not be facing French ducs on top of the English dukes Mama kept pushing her to marry. Which, in her opinion, was not saying much.Ĭaroline released her breath and unclenched clammy palms as another pin met only fabric. All the same, she intended to escape this year's marriage market as she had 1893's: unwed, unpromised, and as independent as she could be. She had no idea what she could do to top last year's anti-marriage efforts.

Worth's skills had also made Caroline's slight surplus of curves an asset rather than a detriment. Rumor had it that Mama's maternal great-grandmother had been a Cherokee princess, which Mama would not confirm. Assuming she could bear up under the weight, it would complement her clear complexion and hair as dark as her mother's. The low-cut-almost risqué-ivory silk ball gown Caroline wore had been embellished with what felt like pounds of pearls and dark green crystals.

Worth's style sense was clearly incomparable. Caroline caught her own reflection in the cheval mirror that was positioned so that Mama could see Caroline in profile. The seamstress stepped back on the thick carpet to assess her work. Caroline knew she was on her own in the battle of the pins. Mama brushed away an imaginary crumb from the fabric of her conservative, high-necked dove gray morning dress and then fussed with the tiny bit of lace at each cuff. Normally, her mother wouldn't tolerate such talk from a servant, but Agnes was secretly intimidated by the French, which was why they'd left Paris before the dresses were done. She glanced at her mother, who kept an eye on affairs from her regal perch atop the massive red velvet and gold-gilt settee that she'd also insisted must be part of Caroline's quarters. 'Your measurements have changed,' the Frenchwoman accused. Not to mention the house itself … With sixty rooms, it, too, could rattle a soul. The sense that one was being watched by countless beady little eyes could be unsettling. Or perhaps she was intimidated by the dozens of china figurines Mama had positioned about Caroline's enormous sitting room. Maybe her aim was off due to the lingering seasickness that delayed yesterday's fitting.

#BREMERTON BEAT BLAST SKIN#

The angry looking woman already caught skin twice. The seamstress, who accompanied Caroline's new wardrobe from Worth's Paris dress shop across the Atlantic to the Maxwell family's Fifth Avenue residence, wielded another pin. But she doubted her parents would ever come to their senses enough to set her free. What Caroline really wanted was adventure, independence and to see the world. Even in the advanced year of 1894, an American heiress had certain rules to follow, and allowing herself to be a pincushion for the House of Worth seemed to be one of them. It was the only way she could get through this tedious dress fitting. Close your eyes and think of chocolate cake, Caroline Maxwell told herself.

Bremerton beat blast