Elspeth Ann Thomas Fry (elspeth_fry) wrote in v_nocturne_rpg, @ 2009-08-07 01:04:00 |
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Entry tags: | berdette daugney, elspeth fry |
The Kind Proprietress
It was a dreary day in London. The clouds hung over the city as if they were God's spies, always waiting and looking for a sinner to strike with a lightning bolt. Despite the threat of holy smiting, the streets throbbed with life, from the highest Lord to the rats nibbling on the toes of some unfortunate soul. Today London showed her true face as a hole of shit, and even to true veterans it was enough to shorten the fuse on tempers. If the elbows were a little sharper, if the curses were a little harsher, nobody had time to notice. The sidewalks were just as crowded as the streets, and everyone KNEW what they were doing was the highest priority in the world. It was irrational to think another man's agenda even existed.
The Aviary was a beacon of light amongst the gloomy and forbidding storefronts around it. Literally so, as countless beeswax candles filled the windows and turned the store into a glittering treasure trove. It has been said their glow turns even the reddest skin porcelain, and the stringiest hair shining. Fitting, for a boutique focused on beauty and the pursuit of it. While one may think the smell inside would be a cacophony of contrasting perfumes, all of the samples sprayed seemed to come together and create a symphony of olfactory delight. Exotic birds roosted prettily in their gilded cages, not one squawking or screaming. If only the patrons weren't so self-centered, they might realize the atmosphere inside was almost like... magic.
It was fitting the boutique be named The Aviary, as the ladies themselves chattered and flitted like magpies. Just like magpies as well, they were often after the shiniest thing, and there was many a conversation about which fabrics, perfumes, and men were simply the best. When your livelihood depended on what was said about you and who said it, such topics could be vital to social survival. While they appeared to be gentle kittens with innocent conversations, their silk gloves hid bloodthirsty talons just waiting to grab onto someone else's folly. Right now the folly belonged to Elizabeth Harridan, who had been seen with a notorious libertine at an opera last night. Each and every one of them had saying it by not saying it down to an art form.
If Elspeth had her druthers, she would have remained on the Whitechapel until the weather improved. On the top deck of the steamship, the clouds felt oppressively low, a grayish lid pressing down on the cityscape. The river churned and sloshed around the boat like a murky soup and, despite the wind and rain, the air kept its sticky summer warmth. Her cabin never seemed so comfortable. Unfortunately, an upcoming birthday required the purchase of a gift and she could not procrastinate shopping another day. She dressed in her black taffeta and sensible boots and disembarked. She waited on the docks, little reticule clutched in one hand, an umbrella held aloft in the other. A horse-drawn cab arrived, one of her late husband's, and she took it to Sussex Square.
Outside the boutique, Elspeth watched raindrops dribble down the window pane, capturing the candle light. The shop beckoned to the privileged women of the city, an upper echelon to which she belonged, now that her purse came from the crown instead of her middle class natal and marital families. Lady gossips would know Elspeth according to the latter class, the daughter of a clerk and widow of a businessman, with a tinge of scandal on her reputation. To her, this was no pleasant trip into a trendy shop; she was headed into a nest of vipers.
After smoothing her hair into place, Elspeth stiffened her backbone. She lowered her umbrella and shook off the water. Then she stepped inside.
It wasn't long before the identity of the woman who walked in the door was spread amongst the numerous gaggles of gentlewomen. "Is thought to have killed her husband, you know," was whispered into Berdette's ear by a would-be conspirator, though instead of egging the crude behavior, she simply smiled, nodded, and walked away. She returned to the square block of gleaming white oak that served as a counter. It was quite a brave move for... Elspeth, was it? To walk in here when she must have known the thinly veiled scorn she would receive. Such confidence was admirable, even though Berdette herself would never dream of attempting it. Being so brash was outside her capability.
The hardest thing she had to do now was walk up to the socially perceived leper and treat her just as any customer. Reminding herself that any gossip was exactly that, she walked towards Elspeth with a genuine smile. When she reached her, she felt a familiar pang of envy as she, once again, had to look down. Her height was the only thing unfashionable about her appearance. Being the size of a doll was most desired at the moment, and she was quite upset that it was one of the few things about her body she could not change.
Politely she tilted her head towards Elspeth in greeting, her voice pleasant and appropriately soft, "Many greetings, madame, and welcome to The Aviary. I am the proprietress, Berdette Daugney, and am here to help you with whatever it is you seek. Is the item for you, or a gift for a friend? "
"Neither, I am afraid," she murmured. Elspeth gave a sidelong look to the chittering women. It was uncomfortable to be around them, but she would not give them the satisfaction of casting her eyes down, as if she had a thing to be ashamed of. Her dark eyes lingered on their dresses before drifting to the proprietress. She lowered her voice and pivoted into the shopkeeper's confidence.
"Tuesday marks the twenty-fifth birthday of my late husband's sister," she said. Having hung her umbrella from a rack, both sets of fingers were free to white-knuckle the reticule. "While she'll have none of me--" Elspeth twisted her heel against the floor. A grain of dirt scritched. "I won't treat her so despicably. It is... one of those conundrums where one loses, no matter what she does."
She leaned closer and confessed, "Harriet doesn't want a gift from me." Elspeth shook her head. "But if I fail to send one, she'll tell all of London how horrible I am. So." She lowered her chin and looked at a few items on display next to her, running her finger along a shelf. Then she nodded. "I want to send her a gift so perfect that few can find fault with it, unless they complain about the price, which women rarely do. A gift that even Harriet can't help but cherish, which will no doubt make her snatch her hair out." The smallest of smiles lifted the corner of Elspeth's serious mouth.
Hmmmm. A sister-in-law, then. Berdette considered this for a moment, mentally cataloging all of her products as to figure out what would work best. She clasped her arms behind her back and led Elspeth to the more expensive perfumes. Each was carefully laid into a nest of silk scraps, the flagons themselves elegantly and flawlessly crafted to survive even the closest inspection. Berdette gestured to them with her fingertips, eyes searching Elspeth's face for signs of approval. "These are for the more discerning customer, though not the most costly. Those are kept in the glass cabinet behind the register, along with the imported French scents your sister-in-law may pine over."
Berdette paused for a moment to let that offer sink in, before finally saying, "We also can create personal scents for the lady, one to be named and concocted just as you please. Or, I can create one just for her, if you do not trust the nose to be highly skilled in the olfactory arts."
"Oh," shaking her head, "I don't know the first thing about scents," Elspeth confessed. Most days, she smelled of talcum powder or lavender, which she tucked into her clothing trunks, so that the fragrance saturated her wardrobe and overwhelmed the smell of horseflesh from the family stables. She peered into the silken cradles and folded her arms, afraid she might touch something fragile and spill it. The bottles looked like suitable presents unto themselves, so pretty were they.
Fingertips grazed her collar and a simple brooch pinned there, a silhouette on ivory. "She favors gardenias," Elspeth said. She looked at Lady Daugney for encouragement or dissuasion. "Her parlor often reeks of them. But I'm not sure if... If that's suitable for..." Elspeth wet her lips and fiddled with the hair at her nape.
"Oh, my dear, do not fret. I'm sure we will find something." A warm smile flooded her face as reassurance to Elspeth. "Light floral scents are preferable, as I am sure you can imagine. They create an image of femininity and delicacy, while never too sensual as that would be quite vulgar." Berdette then headed over to a small centerpiece in the room. Stacked inside of gilded cages were bottles fashioned into twining flowers and plants. Carefully, she opened the door to a cage and lifted one of the bottles out, presenting it in both hands to Elspeth. "Here is her favored scent, but as you said... it is rather prevalent in the parlor, so perhaps something else? Is she married?"
Perfumery was a love of Berdette's, and she was so mentally involved with helping her current customer that the whispers around her slipped away into nothing. If later on she was questioned, she wouldn't be able to recall a single word that had been said. Calling her intense would be fitting, and she looked at Elspeth as if there was nobody else in the world.
Elspeth carefully lifted the bottle to her nose. The perfume's fragrance was delicate and sweet. Closing her eyes, she almost believed an open gardenia rested in her palm. However, what the lady suggested about the parlor was true, and no one wanted to flit about town smelling just like her house. "No, she isn't," she said and returned the product. "Harriet is a bit..." With hand free, Elspeth smoothed an imaginary wrinkle out of her dress. On this occasion, if few others, she looked for a polite approach. "Shrill."
The sound of wings drew her eyes up to a cage, where a colorful bird settled on a swing, a male according to his plumage. When a man wanted to be noticed, he was free to spread his feathers and squawk to his heart's content. Women were forced to use subtler methods. "You know what I find strange?" she mused. Perhaps Elspeth had been lulled by the shop's atmosphere, or even Berdette's attention, but her tongue loosened enough to say, "We all choose what we like best. I suppose it's only natural, but that's silly, isn't it?" Elspeth tilted her head at the other woman. "Lord knows we don't wear it for ourselves. Whatever it is that draws a man to a woman, it's a shame you can't bottle that."
Shrill. Berdette took that to be she was a sharp woman, probably a bit brash which would not attract a man at all. Not permanently, at least. Not wanting to make Elspeth feel exposed she said, "It seems to me that there are two types of women a man would want. One who is polite and delicate to be kept in a glass cabin and one he can... excuse my vulgarity, handle. A scent can change his perception of which you are..." She placed the flagon back into the cage it came from and brought her customer back to the shelving that lined the walls. "These will perhaps... help balance out her negative attributes? They are gentle scents, light wisps that spiral into the nose and bring about images of placidity and a sweet smile. Floral, of course, but less focused on one particular flower.
"I guess by your appearance, and pardon me if I'm wrong, but you seem to be a woman quite serious about your business. Perhaps potpourri left among your clothing is your method of choice? We carry this as well. You couldn't be thinking of leaving without something for yourself, could you? I understand you are a widow, for which you have my condolences but perhaps... as you said, this could be for you?" Berdette smiled at her and gave her a wink so quick it would have been lost on someone not very attentive.
"Oh!" Elspeth touched her throat. "Well, I don't... That is, I had not thought to buy anything for myself, I... I'm not... Well, I'm not in the market." Elspeth shut her eyes. Little splotches of pink burst to life on her cheeks and neck. "Obviously." Her teeth clenched at the stupidity of that remark. Lately, it seemed Elspeth found many a reason to press her heel into the ground or clench her jaw. The tension kept her from having a fit. At this rate, she would ruin her boots and grind her molars into useless nubs.
She exhaled through her nose and looked at the shopkeeper, who was abnormally tall for a female, but had a roundness of face that softened her. Elspeth confessed, "I spend a good deal of time around men, but not in a romantic sense. I wouldn't want them to think I was... encouraging male attentions." Lord, what a picture! Leaving a trail of perfumed air behind herself on the Whitechapel, which featured so few women and only one that took up arms. It would be ridiculous, not to mention impractical. What use did a hunter of monsters have for trifles? Especially a sweet fragrance that could lead a supernaturally enhanced nose to her. What would her colleagues say? Armitage, or God forbid, West, and that one would notice, she had no doubt.
Elspeth picked up a bottle of floral scent and found that it pleased her. She gave Berdette a thin-lipped smile. "This one's lovely. Not even Harriet could have the heart to pour it out. I'll buy one bottle, partly because of her birthday and partly to thank you for your kindness."
"Pardon me, then! I had not realized your current state. I can imagine being scented would be most inconvenient. Pray tell, what is it you do that puts you in such a situation? It sounds like it is taxing on the mind." When she looked at the perfume Elspeth selected it only took her only a moment to recognize it, and her expression said she was quite pleased at the choice. "Aaah, yes. Bouquet Petit. Tulips, peony, fresh springwater and crisp green grasses. Very natural and feminine, which I assure you is quite 'in' right now. "
Berdette returned to the counter and resumed her post behind it, once more listening in on the conversations around her. She tried to ignore the slanders about the obviously lovely and polite Elspeth and wasn't sure what to think when she heard herself being commended for 'properly dealing with such riff-raff'. There was nothing admirable about simply performing her job and making money. If anything, she was slightly scandalous for doing such independent work. Shopkeeping, while enjoyable, was certainly something more suitable for a man to do.
"Not at all," Elspeth said. For the sake of uninitiated ears, belonging to Berdette Daugney and others, she invoked a partial truth. "Following the death of my husband, my brother James took over his livelihood. Mr. Fry bred and stabled horses for rental throughout London. I often find myself in the stables alongside the men. I needn't work, mind you, but I love the animals and I find them of great... comfort to me."
Having veered into the murky territory of grief, she steered herself back on course. "Most of the employees have been known to the Fry family for years, but not all. I do not wish to draw attention." She took money from her purse. Uncomfortable speaking of herself, particularly in such company, she said, "I heard of your shop through a cousin of mine. She paid it compliments, of course, but it's much nicer than she led on. How long have you been in business?"
"Ooh, five years, if I can recall correctly. It is Mr. Daugney's treat to me, and his way of keeping me occupied. He is quite often away on business both in America and in Ceylon. You see, we own several tea plantations over there," laughing, she said, "And well, tea is not so far away from perfume and things like it. " While speaking, Berdette completed the transaction and carefully wrapped the perfume vial in a sheet of white cotton, afterwards placing it in a silk bag.
The mention of her husband made her twist the wedding band she vigilantly wore, a ring intricately woven to appear like intertwined flowers. There were diamonds placed here and there, as if they were to represent buds. She held her hand out for Elspeth's inspection, not because of vanity but because she was so used to demands of it being shown. Thankfully it was not too flashy, nothing to inspire envy or make her a big target for a thief. Both occurrences were not something she would ever wish to deal with.
Elspeth leaned closer to inspect the jewelry, as women did. "Such a unique design," she said, admiring it. Her own wedding band was a plain thing, worn by her mother-in-law before it landed on her own finger. It was a fluke that it fit so well, even if it did feel too tight when it the weather was hot. "It's beautiful and quite in keeping with your shop."
She put the perfume in her reticule. "Well, you may rest assured that I will recommend it to others." One of Elspeth's brows arched. "My opinion is considered shrewd by some women." She gave her best smile to the proprietress and found that her cheeks felt stiff, like smiling in frozen air. "Thank you again for your assistance."
After collecting her umbrella, Elspeth left the cozy shop and made her way along the wet street.