Nineteenth Century Woman Tailor

After lunch, Eloise placed the leftover fish soup on the stove to keep it warm.

She then hung the remaining dried fish and sausages on the wall and washed the wooden bowls and spoons that Thomas and Bella had cleaned out.

After tidying up the house and putting everything in its place, she waited for Thomas to visit the coal shop owner to pay for a recommendation letter and then to the newspaper shop to resign from his job.

By the time her aunt and Louise returned, Thomas was already packing his toothbrush, clothes, and hat into a wicker suitcase.

In the evening, her aunt and Louise came back with their faces flushed from the cold, but they were smiling, as if something good had happened.

Seeing Thomas packing, Louise didn’t wait for him to mention the job search and immediately asked about it.

“I’ve found a new job, doing odd jobs at the Laxun Law Firm,” Thomas replied.

Hearing this, her aunt’s smile faded. She closed the door behind her and frowned at him. “It’s not something dangerous like cleaning chimneys, is it? How’s the pay? It’s not a scam, is it?”

Thomas first handed her a glass of water, urging her to rest, before calmly explaining that the law firm was the same place where he had been delivering newspapers for a month and that he had thoroughly investigated it.

Meanwhile, Louise listened intently, pulling Eloise aside and saying,

“Today, I secretly slipped that shirt into the basket that was sent upstairs. When they checked it, no one noticed anything unusual about the garment. I doubt the guest in the suite will notice either.”

Eloise nodded and fetched a cleaned and lined bonnet-style straw hat from her sewing supplies, handing it to Louise.

“Here, I rushed to finish it. The hat is all fixed, and I’ve also mended the scarves. We won’t have to suffer from the cold tomorrow.”

Louise was overjoyed. She put the hat Eloise had altered on her head. Though it looked plain, it was comfortable to wear—no scratching or drafts—and the edges were trimmed with the cheapest velvet fabric from the supplies, making it look as good as new.

“You’ve learned tailoring so quickly! Your skills improve every day. In another half a month, you’ll probably be able to make morning coats for gentlemen.”

Louise’s words were a bit exaggerated. Eloise hadn’t systematically studied the formal attire of this era. She could handle small projects and repairs, but when it came to actual tailoring, aside from design, she felt there was still much to learn.

That evening, the fish soup in the pot was still warm, and her aunt cooked pasta with sausages. After dinner, Eloise took a pot of hot water downstairs to wash up. Once done, she lay down in her clothes and discussed with Louise and her aunt the idea of pooling money to send Bella to school.

“It’s not right for Bella to be wandering around outside at such a young age. If we can manage it, she should go to school and learn to read and write.”

“That’s true, but our family isn’t well-off right now. I wouldn’t want to send her to a school where they can’t even afford to feed the children properly.”

Louise stroked Bella’s cheek. The little girl had been dozing off next to her sister, but at the mention of school, her eyes immediately opened.

In New York, there were schools specifically for children from poor families—public, private, religious, and even girls’ schools.

These so-called schools didn’t teach much. The children mostly read with the teachers, learned basic literacy, and how to spell words, but the costs varied.

Bella lay next to Louise with a pained expression. She had attended school for a few days before but hated it because the teachers always made her sit still in her chair, which was hard for her active nature.

Eloise knew that Bella had long dreaded school, likely because she had been mistreated there.

“I plan to personally find a girls’ school for Bella—one with kind teachers, close to home, and preferably half-day. It might be more expensive, but I’ll just take on a few more jobs...”

Co-ed schools weren’t safe, religious schools didn’t appeal to Eloise, and boarding schools were out of the question since they couldn’t keep an eye on her. After filtering through these conditions, there probably weren’t many options left.

Hearing this, Bella felt somewhat reassured and didn’t bring up skipping school again.

Her aunt, hearing Eloise’s plan, got up and took out a few dollars she had saved from under her bed. “You shouldn’t be the one paying for this. I still have some here...”

...

The night passed, and Eloise had another day of work at the hotel, while Thomas bid farewell to his family and headed to the law firm with his suitcase.

The citrus-scented soap with its fine lather reminded her of a dishwashing liquid from her past life, though in this era, it was considered a luxury.

Eloise had washed her hair the night before and dried it by the stove before bed. Now, she braided her hair, put on the straw hat, and wrapped herself in a knitted scarf.

As she stepped outside, the light snow was still falling. With her warm clothing, she didn’t feel cold, except for her feet.

Feeling warm, she arrived early and was the first to check in at the front desk. It wasn’t until she received her assignment that she saw Amy coming up from the dormitory.

After the morning meeting, another colleague who cleaned fireplaces arrived late, blaming the heavy snow for her delay. Fortunately, the doorman let her off without recording her name.

This colleague, Nasha, lived several streets away. Her parents were textile factory workers who often took her earnings, leaving Nasha with only cloth shoes to wear in the freezing winter, no hat, scarf, or gloves.

Eloise, seeing how pitiful she looked, suggested she take on the lighter tasks on the seventh and eighth floors.

But Nasha shook her head. “I’m too scared to go. You should do it. I’m afraid I’ll mess up and get caught by Mrs. Morrison.”

“Then how about this—you take the fifth and sixth floors. We’ll finish our work and come help you later.”

Amy gave Eloise a meaningful look and pulled her aside.

Amy whispered to Eloise that she had once seen Nasha spending hours in a merchant’s room on the sixth floor.

The merchant frequented the hotel, and whenever Nasha was on duty, she would stay there for a long time. But Amy added that she had heard from the accounting office that the merchant was staying on credit.

Amy, worried that Eloise might try to help Nasha again, added,

“Plenty of people stay here on credit nowadays. Nasha’s family treats her poorly. If she can get something out of that merchant, it might be for the best.”

Eloise listened, her mind racing.

Could this merchant staying on credit be the same scammer her past self had encountered?

Perhaps because the original soul had been replaced, the butterfly effect had now landed on Nasha?

Lost in thought, she arrived at the “Opal” suite on the seventh floor. The same two attendants stood outside the door. Eloise greeted them and entered with her bucket.

This time, she noticed the study door was still closed, and no one was inside. The sound of running water came from the bathroom but soon stopped.

After cleaning the fireplace, she went to the storage room to fetch more coal. As she did, she caught a glimpse of a figure in the walk-in closet.

A gentleman in a full morning suit stood half-hidden behind the closet door.

Eloise took a closer look. The sharp tailoring of his outfit, the broad shoulders, the narrow and upright waistline, the peaked lapels, single-button closure, and the understated yet elegant hemline—it was all unmistakably the work of a master tailor from England. Compared to the work of New York tailors, it was in a league of its own.

Only the old tailors from there could produce such admirable craftsmanship.

And yet, the gentleman’s proportions were also exceptional. If she could make clothes for a client like this...

Eloise was so absorbed in her thoughts that she froze for a moment before snapping back to reality, realizing her gaze might be inappropriate. She quickly averted her eyes and returned to tending the fire.

Winston, adjusting his bowtie in the mirror, felt a burning gaze on his back.

But when he turned around, all he saw was an unremarkable worker tending to the fireplace.

Eloise had just lit the fire and was about to leave when the gentleman in the closet called out to her.

“Is there something you need?”

She had to tilt her head slightly to meet the eyes of this young, classically European-looking gentleman.

“Please, dispose of this.”

Winston’s expression remained neutral as he held out a plain shirt.

Eloise looked at it, feeling an uncanny sense of familiarity.

…