Chapter 11 – The Hat Shop
Summer had been pestering Lili relentlessly for several days. Eventually, Lili gave in to her request.
The two of them went to Petticoat Street and bought all sorts of cheap, tacky things. Lili purchased a green second-hand dress and a magnifying glass for nuns.
They walked down Petticoat Street carrying paper bags stuffed to the brim.
Their hands were sticky from peeling and eating oranges on the street, but the taste in their mouths was sweet.
“Summer, let’s go back now.”
“What are you talking about, Lili? There’s still plenty of time. Don’t you know how rare it is to go out like this?”
Summer tugged Lili in the opposite direction from their hotel.
“Where are we going?”
She led Lili to Leyton Street, near the grand residences of the aristocracy.
Through the polished glass windows, luxurious hat shops and dress boutiques lined the street, and the passersby were impeccably dressed.
“When a maid returns to her hometown, at least dress properly. That’s a measure of success,” Summer said.
Lili glanced at the large car parked in front of a beautiful hat shop.
It was the first time she’d seen a well-maintained car so close in the middle of the city. Her curiosity was piqued—who could have arrived in such a vehicle?
“Summer, it’s a car!”
“Don’t stare too much. It might belong to someone important.”
Indifferent, Summer opened the door to the shop with a sign reading Madame Emilia’s Hat Shop.
Ding—
The small silver bell rang, and the shopkeeper came over to greet them.
Seeing their appearance, she asked in a businesslike tone, “Are you here to pick up a hat left by a young lady?”
“We’re here to buy hats. We’ll pay in florins, so please count the change carefully,” Summer said arrogantly, nudging Lili.
Lili hastily handed over the gold coins from her worn leather purse.
A faint smirk crossed Madame Emilia’s face, but she remained professional.
“Alright, ladies, come in.”
The girls were thrilled at the opportunity to try on as many hats as they liked.
“Summer, everyone’s dressed so elegantly, huh?”
“Consider this a real lesson in life in Londinium, you Puritan girl.”
Summer strutted around wearing a flashy fascinator adorned with mesh and feathers. Madame Emilia suddenly grabbed the hat from her.
“Excuse me, that one already has an owner. Please put it back.”
Whispering to Lili as she watched the direction Madame Emilia gestured, Summer said, “Lili, look at that woman. She’s the Prime Minister’s daughter.”
“The Prime Minister’s daughter?”
Summer leaned close to Lili’s ear.
“You don’t know John Hobert, the Prime Minister? That’s his daughter, Cecil Hobert. They sometimes hold garden parties at their hotel. Huh… I wonder what that life’s like.”
The Prime Minister and his daughter rarely resembled each other, despite appearing frequently in newspapers.
“Miss Cecil, how about this one?”
Madame Emilia cooed as she showed the hat to Cecil.
Cecil’s glossy, wavy brown hair was carefully pinned up and tied with a sky-blue ribbon. She draped a lavish lace shawl over her delicate shoulders and tied a large silk ribbon around her waist.
Sensing Lili’s gaze, she glanced at her briefly.
This elegant young lady wasn’t just trying on the fascinator Summer had picked out; she was selecting every type of hat imaginable.
Lili watched, fascinated.
“This one, this one, this one… No, not this. Bring this too. Ah, this one’s nice as well. All of these.”
Cecil piled the hats onto her maid’s arm. The maid wobbled under the weight.
Feeling Lili’s gaze again, Cecil looked at her, too.
Lili smiled faintly, but Cecil didn’t linger. She disappeared into a private section of the shop, hidden behind folding screens.
“Aristocrats buy hats like they buy bread?” Lili chuckled, picking up a straw hat decorated with a blue satin ribbon.
“Summer, we can just pick our hats like we pick bread.”
Noble families didn’t usually mingle with others while shopping. Instead, they tried on the hats they wanted in a private area separated by folding screens.
Cecil tried on a variety of hats, each time seeking approval from Christopher.
“Doesn’t this one suit me?”
Rumors that the Prime Minister was eager to secure donations from Belmore pricked at Cecil’s pride, though she was indifferent to politics. She wanted to hear that Belmore was enamored with her, the Prime Minister’s daughter, showering her with gifts.
Thus, she occasionally summoned him through her father.
“Miss, if this one pleases you…”
Choosing a hat for the Royal Ascot horse-racing event was part of that strategy. Cecil planned to gift him a matching corsage if he helped pick the right hat.
The problem was that he seemed uninterested—strictly speaking, he seemed uninterested in Cecil herself.
“How about this one? Too simple? Or should it be more extravagant?”
The pile of hats in front of him testified that he hadn’t reacted meaningfully to any of her choices.
Desperate to attract attention, Cecil tried on numerous feathered hats.
Her efforts were admirable, but he was looking elsewhere. Christopher stared at a corner outside, visible through the silk screens.
Elizabeth.
He swallowed her name.
Elizabeth had laughed at a modest hat in front of a mirror, tilting her head playfully. Her small lips opened widely when she smiled, giving her a cheerful appearance.
Her hair had loosened slightly from trying on and removing hats multiple times, adding to her untamed, just-woken-up charm.
Christopher took a cigar from his pocket, tapped it on the table, and then put it back. A strange thirst overcame him.
“Belmore, isn’t this a beautiful screen? It was used by Eastern nobility,” the shopkeeper said, noticing Christopher’s wandering attention toward another woman.
Madame Emilia placed a silver cigar stand before him. He smiled wryly; he was normally discreet.
“Yes, very beautiful.”
The orphan had chosen a plain straw hat suitable for a private school girl.
After coming to Londinium’s most extravagant hat shop, he picked a hat anyone could buy anywhere.
The girls’ youthful voices carried into the private section.
“You’ll wear that to the convent too, right? You look just like a schoolgirl, Lili!”
“I’ve never even been near a school. Oh, I have seen schoolgirls wearing hats like this in a line before.”
Christopher lowered the gramophone beside the table, making their voices clearer.
“Try this on. You’re so pretty everyone might propose! Then you pick a suitable husband and marry. How about that?”
“Summer!”
“What? Is what I said wrong? Are you really going to become a nun?”
Her shriek was followed by peals of laughter.
She was certainly a girl who drew attention in multiple ways.
Having barely held her at the hotel, now she was scheming to run off elsewhere. He wouldn’t interfere if she married normally.
“Who would marry me? I’m not expecting it,” she said.
She had no idea what kind of face she made, or what look she gave people.
At least once, every man staying at the hotel had looked at her.
Suddenly, Christopher realized he was acting just like those insignificant men. A surge of inexplicable irritation rose within him.
He loosened his tightening tie.
“We’re late. Let’s go. I’m not buying this one. It’s flattering to be called a schoolgirl, though.”
“Isn’t it nice to look like a private school girl?”
“Summer, I genuinely want to be a student. I don’t want to just look like one.”
“I hate books the most, but you’re fascinating.”
“If you grew up with no toys and only the Bible to read, you’d probably enjoy books too.”
Soon, the bell tinkled, and the surrounding area quieted.
Christopher finally straightened from leaning on the sofa.
Cecil remained in front of the mirror. Feeling his gaze, she turned slightly and smiled.
“Do you like this one?”
He realized belatedly that he had smiled faintly.
He looked at the hats on the table and instructed the clerk, “Pack them all and load them into the car.”
Outside the window, the girls could be seen chattering and disappearing with their paper bags full of purchases.
Only then did he put a cigar in his mouth. The sharp smoke obscured the women’s retreating figures.
The carefully packed hats were loaded into Christopher’s car.
He drove slowly, enjoying the control of the wheel like a sport. Some criticized him as no different from a coachman, but that was just those opposing new technology.
“Sir Belmore, I’ll wear the hats properly. They’ll be perfect for the Royal Ascot, right?”
“….”
Christopher wasn’t paying attention to Cecil. Instead of answering, he adjusted the car’s side mirrors.
Cecil looked out the window following his gaze. It was just an ordinary street scene; nothing captured her interest.
“Sir, what’s wrong? Is something bothering you?”
At her prompting, he returned the mirrors to their normal position.
“Nothing at all.”
The car slowly left Leyton Street.
The crowd that had split around the vehicle merged again after it passed. Behind them, Lili and Summer followed, chatting happily with their paper bags in hand.
