The Traitor's Wife: A Novel Read Online Free PDF

British officers are in Philadelphia,” Peggy chattered, coating her lips in pink lard to tint them a bright hue. Clara stared into the vast abyss of Peggy’s crowded armoire. A rose-colored gown. But there must have been twenty pink dresses in the wardrobe. She saw silks in shades of pink that mirrored nature’s softest petals: cherry blossom, tulip, begonia, hydrangea. How would she ever determine which one her mistress had meant by “rose”?
    “Well?” Peggy was still at her vanity, applying rouge to her cheeks.
    “Rose, rose, rose,” Clara muttered as she fingered the parade of gowns. How lucky the girl who possessed just one of these gowns, and her mistress owned them all. Clara settled on what she determined to be the correct one, removing it gently from its hook and carrying it toward her mistress. When Clara advanced toward her mistress, she saw that Peggy had stripped down to her shift and stays, prompting Clara to blush and lower her eyes. She supposed a lady need not be modest with her maid, but Peggy didn’t seem self-conscious of her near nakedness at all.
    “Oh, you’re as bashful as a nun. Or worse, my sister.” Peggy giggled. “I want you to re-fasten my stays to make them tighter.” Peggy turned around so that her backside was to Clara. Fixing her grip to one of the posters of the bed, Peggy braced herself for the assault on her waistline.
    Clara untied the existing knot and pulled on the laces. The hourglass shape ensured by a lady’s bone stays looked much less comfortable than the cotton stays worn by servants like herself, and Clara felt a moment’s appreciation for her less-constricting wardrobe.
    “Tighter, I can manage a bit tighter,” Peggy urged her maid, even as she appeared to struggle for breath. “I’m to have the smallest waist at the party tonight.”
    Clara nodded, pitying her mistress but obeying her orders as she redoubled her efforts and pulled anew on the stays. The top of Peggy’s corset fanned out to add to the appearance of a full bosom and also to ensure that a woman was forced to hold her upper arms out, like a ballet dancer. With elbows bent and hands clasped together in front of her waist, she’d be in the position considered most ladylike.
    “That’s enough.” Peggy winced, closing her eyes for a moment. Clara tied off the laces and awaited her next order. With her corsettightened and waist pulled in, Peggy leaned on Clara as she slid into her ample pannier hoopskirt.
    “Goodness.” Peggy closed her eyes and reached tenderly toward her abdomen, still adjusting to her constricted breathing. “Always takes a minute to adjust.”
    “I can loosen them.” Clara reached for the laces, regretting that perhaps she’d tied the stays too firmly.
    “No, no.” Peggy shook her head, her breathing still labored. “All the gents like to imagine that they take my breath away. If they only knew it was the corset.” Peggy opened her eyes and smiled at her maid. “Now, the pièce de résistance.” Peggy pointed at the gown that was fanned out on the bed, its skirt taking up the entire width of the bedframe. “I do love this one.” Peggy stroked the rosy silk affectionately. “And so does he.”
    Clara, interest piqued, nevertheless let the comment drift aside like the breeze streaming through the open windows. She held the dress wide to help Peggy slip into it.
    “Even loyalty to the British crown has its limits, I suppose.” Peggy giggled.
    “Pardon me, miss?” Clara wrinkled her brow, unsure of the meaning.
    “My dress,” Peggy said. “It’s à la française. ”
    Clara nodded. “Oh, of course.” But still she had little idea of her lady’s meaning, and Miss Peggy’s smirk indicated that she suspected as much.
    Peggy pointed down at her dress. “The tight stomacher visible in front, it’s the highest fashion of the French court. And now the British.”
    “It’s certainly very fine,” Clara replied, admiring her mistress’s figure. The bodice