Zeelandia

28. The Sempstress

Mary introduced me to Mistress Moore, then I turned to the girl who had fetched her, offering my hand. "And I am told you are Alice."

She blushed. "I am, Sir." She curtsied and took my hand. "And I am honoured to meet you."

"Run along upstairs," Mary said, and when Alice had disappeared, she explained to the sempstress what I wished to have sewn.

Mistress Moore pursed her lips, nodding as she examined my front. "Would that we had the cloth for it. All that remains now is muslin and veil gauze, and they are too frail for the purpose. This would be best done with a poplin."

I handed her the small folded bundle. "This is my current binding, and Mary thought you might make do with it."

She unfolded it, testing its suppleness and strength as she did, then she looked up. "This is very fine cloth." She rolled it between her fingers again and pulled it diagonally. "I have not before felt any of this quality. Where had you found it?"

"I cut it from the skirts of one of Mother's petticoats."

"Oh, my! You must come from great wealth."

"Father gained it; Mother squandered it." I winced and pointed to the cloth. "How long will you require to craft a vest from this?"

"If you serve as my form, I can cut and baste it together in half an hour. The stitching will take another hour beyond, and reinforcing the eyelets for the lacing, two more."

"Three hours and a half." I shook my shoulders and watched the wabbling of my shirtfront. "I must return aboard well before then, and I dare not with these unrestrained."

Mary pointed to a bolt of cloth on a table across the room. "We can bind you with muslin. Would that suffice?"

I followed her finger's indication, nodding. "Indeed, for the nonce, it will."

Mistress Moore smiled, then she led me behind the curtain, and as I removed my shirt, I asked her, "Have you children?"

"We have seven daughters and four sons."

"Oh, how wonderful. Of what ages?"

"From nineteen on down. The youngest is four this week."

"So, some have passed through their changes, then?"

"Three of the girls, and our eldest son has not long since begun."

We remained silent as Mistress Moore wrapped the cloth once around my chest and chalked where the end came. While she worked, I wondered whether it would be proper to ask her, but my thoughts were interrupted when she said, "We will cut this long to afford folding a triple hem at each end to take the lacing eyelets."

My thoughts returned as I held the ends together at the front while she folded and marked pleats, and before she finished, I said, "Mother had told me so little about coming of age, and I now fear her information was incorrect. Might you tell me what you tell your daughters?"

Mistress Moore paused her marking and looked up into my eyes. "What had she told you?"

"To avoid the company of men. To always keep my bosom and ugly place hidden. To ensure –"

"Ugly place? What is this?"

"Down there. My nethers."

"Oh, my poor dear girl. Why ever would she think it ugly?"

"She said it is a wound given by God as punishment for my unholy thoughts, and as a reminder, it will ache and bleed every month."

"Oh, my! How sorely you had been misinformed. What age had you at this time?"

"Nearing sixteen. My nubbins had begun swelling, and I asked her about that and their soreness."

Mistress Moore tilted her head and asked, "Nubbins?"

"These." I gave each a pull and a twist.

She chuckled. "A fine name, but we call them nipples, and their swelling and tenderness are the first signs of the coming of age. A few months later, hair appears below, and as it grows, you anticipate the first bleeding. Had she taught you how to attend this?"

"Yes, to swaddle as if I were an infant."

Mistress Moore shook her head, grimacing. "Plugging is a far finer way. Did you not speak with others about this? Your sisters, your friends?"

"My sisters had been overcome with the pox in their youth, and they did not survive."

"Oh, how dreadful. I am so sorry for you." Mistress Moore then remained silent as she completed marking the cloth, and when she sat to begin basting the hems and pleats, she asked, "What about friends? Did you not talk with them?"

"Well before my blood started, Mother confined me to the house and refused me company." I shook my head. "Later, the laundry maid noted the soiled cloths, and she instructed me how to plug."

Mistress Moore nodded. "Yes, a better way. It seems your mother had strange ideas."

"As I looked back the past weeks, I realised her sanity had begun failing much earlier than I had previously thought."

"What about your father? Was he of no assistance?"

"He had sailed not long before that, and he has yet to return." I trembled. "Twenty-eight months, now."

Mistress Moore set down her sewing and rose from the chair to embrace me. "You have endured so much," she said as she stroked my back. "And you endure it still aboard the ship."

"It has become easier there."

"But it is not the life for a woman as fine as you. And if you remain aboard, you will surely be found out. What then? You might become the target of the crew's carnal passions."

"This is why I want the vest. To make my ruse easier."

Mistress Moore unwrapped her embrace and stepped back. "It would be easier to leave the ship. To remain here. I will give you shelter and food, and you can repay by sewing for me."

"That is so kind of you, but you do not fully understand. Captain has asked me to be his wife, to wed with him, and to –"

"Oh, my!" She shook her head. "Why then are you hiding these?"

"That the crew not know I am a woman. Many are superstitious."

Mistress Moore nodded, then tilted her head. "Do you lie with him?"

"I do." I hummed a quiet sigh. "And because of my lack of instructions in such matters, I ask for your counsel. I do wish to know how best to please him."

A smile spread across her face. "You are as married, so you may call me Ruth. Sit here with me, Camille, and while I stitch, I will unfold the many delights of my favourite sport."