Nineteenth Century Woman Tailor

It was just an ordinary shirt.

But Eloise remembered every item that had passed through her hands, so she recognized it immediately as the one she had repaired.

Only now did she take a proper look at his face.

Fair skin, slightly curly chestnut-brown hair, lightly styled with wax, neatly combed to reveal his forehead and brow. His nose was high-bridged, and his thin lips suggested perhaps some British ancestry. He was clean-shaven, with a well-defined jawline and a faint cleft chin, giving the impression of someone meticulous, almost to the point of obsession.

His appearance was impeccably restrained and understated, exuding a cold, refined handsomeness.

To gauge a person’s age, one only needed to look at their eyes. His eyes, the same shade as his hair, were almond-shaped with long lashes, though their expression was somewhat indifferent. Though he appeared to be in his early twenties, there was an air of old-fashioned rigidity about him, a taciturn demeanor that made it seem as though he preferred not to speak more than necessary.

His impeccably tailored and dignified attire further underscored that he was a man of considerable wealth—wealth that bordered on impoliteness—yet one who deeply respected tradition and propriety.

Given all these observations, Eloise, despite her lingering doubts about how he had noticed the flaw in her work—whether it was because he was as finicky as the Princess and the Pea or because her skills were lacking—chose not to voice her questions.

This was clearly not a person who invited familiarity.

She had no desire to be complained about and lose her job.

Lowering her head and nodding, Eloise wiped her hands on her apron and said respectfully, “Understood.” She took two steps forward, accepted the shirt, and then turned to leave.

Once outside the suite, she intended to hand the shirt over to a waiter, as cleaners were not permitted to take anything from the rooms of VIP guests.

“This is something the gentleman inside wishes to discard,” Eloise said as she handed it over.

The two waiters nodded, about to respond, when they noticed someone approaching down the hallway—Benjamin, another occasional resident of the “Opal” suite.

“Has my cousin finished packing?”

Benjamin was similarly well-dressed, though his pocket square and bow tie added a touch of flamboyance, giving him a more carefree and approachable air.

The waiters were noticeably less tense around him. “Mr. Merken has already freshened up. Should we prepare dinner for him today?”

“No, he’s heading back to Long Island for a couple of days… My mother’s birthday is coming up…”

Benjamin strode briskly toward the suite, engaging the waiters in conversation, while Eloise quietly slipped away.

She still couldn’t quite understand—what had she done wrong? Was it really that obvious?

But Eloise knew her own abilities and didn’t dwell on it too much. After all, he hadn’t said anything, had he? At the very least, discarding a shirt worth several months of her salary without a second thought suggested he wasn’t the type to waste time on trivial matters, nor would it affect her aunt.

Still, she couldn’t help but wonder—why wasn’t she the one with such wealth?

Eloise finished her work with a sense of resignation. She then joined Amy to help Nasha with the remaining tasks on the fifth floor. While Amy went downstairs to dispose of the dust, Eloise lingered behind Nasha, striking up a conversation.

“Nasha, where did you get that bracelet? It’s lovely,” Eloise said softly, appearing behind Nasha and startling her as she swept the dust.

Nasha quickly covered the bracelet with her sleeve—a delicate piece adorned with seawater pearls, a luxury for a girl from a poor family. Her cheeks flushed, as she dared not tell anyone that she was the mistress of Mr. Lambda from the sixth floor.

But such a beautiful gift was something she had never received before, and he had even promised her that she could quit her job, that they would rent a respectable apartment in New York and marry.

Nasha’s expression grew uneasy. “It’s nothing, just a little trinket a guest gave me…”

Seeing her discomfort, Eloise didn’t press further. She didn’t think there was anything wrong with a poor girl being tempted by material comforts. If she were in Nasha’s shoes, she might have made the same choice. The taste of hunger was unbearable, and the endless drudgery of such labor was no better.

Eloise was merely afraid that others might bear consequences that should have been hers, even if they had nothing to do with her.

She opened her mouth to say something but hesitated. After helping Nasha clean the stove, she shook her head and said, “Nasha, I don’t mean anything by it. But as a colleague, I feel I should remind you to be careful and protect yourself.”

Nasha was taken aback. She turned to look at Eloise, whose face showed no trace of mockery, only genuine concern.

Biting her lip, Nasha said nothing, simply nodding before returning to her work.

At noon, the ever-hospitable Amy invited them to join her for lunch in the kitchen, but Eloise decided to go home to help Bella look at schools and declined the offer.

She changed into her own clothes and headed home.

Bella had also quit her job at the newspaper stand and was now staying home alone. Their aunt, Terry, worried about her, had asked the landlady to have Bella spend the morning reading with her daughter.

This was the first time Eloise had knocked on the landlady’s door.

The landlady’s husband and son were both shoemakers, and her daughter had attended a girls’ school for a few years, worked as a governess, and later married. She had recently given birth and, as her husband was often busy, was staying with her mother for support.

The landlady herself was a kind, easygoing woman, dressed in outdated Victorian-style dark cotton clothing. When she opened the door, Eloise saw Bella sitting obediently on a wicker chair inside, eating something.

The landlady knew Eloise was a good, hardworking girl and, being a compassionate woman, sympathized with Terry, who was raising so many children alone. She exchanged a few pleasantries with Eloise and even urged Bella to take a couple more cookies.

Eloise took Bella’s hand, allowing her to keep the cookies but making sure she thanked the landlady before they left for home.

Eloise had already found information about several girls’ schools in the newspaper that morning. After a simple meal of boiled pasta at home, the two sisters set out with some money to visit the nearest school.

Moments Girls’ School, founded by a middle-aged governess from Eastern Europe, was not as grand or prestigious as the religious schools. It was a modest three-story building with a small courtyard, yet its tuition fees were not particularly cheap.

It cost two and a half dollars a week, including one meal a day, though dinner was not provided. Boarding was an option for an additional dollar per week.

This information had been published in the newspaper, and Eloise wanted to see why this school, despite its lack of fame, charged such prices. Was there something exceptional about it?

A row of emerald-green cypress trees, their branches dusted with frost-like crystals, stood outside the school gate, adorned with metal hexagrams.

Behind the trees, the red-brown brick building revealed a weathered sign bearing the school’s name in carved letters.

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