She was forced to recognise that Robinson could not handle her role when the maid had difficulty fastening the hooks and buttons. It took her too long, and Faith privately considered that she could have dressed herself faster. Not that she’d have chosen this gown. At least, not until she took a look at herself in the mirror at the end of the process. Black wasn’t the best of colours for her, but Cerisot had considered that when she’d cut the gown as low as respectable daywear allowed. Faith’s skin to show glowed in contrast with the rich black. Black was an expensive colour, the depth of colour hard to achieve in cheaper fabrics, as Faith knew to her cost. Her old mourning gown, although perfectly acceptable, had an unfortunate tinge of green to it. The cut was masterly, though the dressmaker had only taken a ready-made gown and altered it for Faith. Her custom-made gowns would arrive as soon as they were completed, but she hadn’t ordered many full mourning. She only had two weeks.
