February 25th, 1894 - Greengrass Residence

Yesterday's newspaper saw Greer's life flashing before her eyes. She was going to have to brave the cold, the coldest of cold, to go to the shop to get Jemima's dress to bring it home to work on it. If she couldn't, there was no way it would be done in time for the wedding. The embroidery alone was going to take her days. This shouldn't be this stressful. It wasn't her wedding, damn it! Not that Greer ever truly envisioned getting married, but she had always imagined there would be no fuss and no stress.

It was supposed to be an off day and she thought her fingers might no numb from being cold, even inside the house, but she had to do something. Tailoring existing pieces for the rest of the family for the big day was going to keep her busy enough that she hoped she could get enough done so that when she was able to work on the wedding dress, she wouldn't have anything else to worry about. She hoped anyway.

Might as well start with the groom, as he was the next most important. Greer knocked gently on his bedroom door having mentioned the possibility of taking a look at his suit at breakfast this morning. She'd spent most of the morning assuring Aunt Audra that she would be able to fix up dresses for each of the Greengrass girls, before the big day as well, but that wouldn't be quite as necessary just yet. That would be simple fixes to existing pieces, some color-changing, a little embroidery, it would be fine. "Do you have time now for me to take a look at your suit?" Greer asked through the crack in the door, hoping whatever it was that he had to wear was already in decent shape.

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Fortitude Greengrass

  

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Until cousin Greer had mentioned it over breakfast, it had entirely slipped Ford's mind that he even needed a specific suit for the wedding. In fairness, he didn't often have to put much thought into what he was going to wear. He pulled from the same wardrobe for work and errands and balls and garden parties, and unless Greer had brought it up he probably would have just done the same thing on the day of the wedding. Was there anything special about a groom's wedding suit? He'd never been involved enough in that side of wedding preparations to know. If there was, it was certainly not going to be covered by his existing selection. Most of his suits dated to before the death of their father — before he'd known the state of their finances. Since then he'd patched and cleaned and pressed them, making them last as long as possible, because it didn't seem right to spend money on himself when they were all in debt. He had one newer suit, the tan one that Penelope Fawcett had goaded him into buying last spring when he'd been flush with cash from a recent burglary. And the white one, the one Tycho had bought him last summer so that they could attend the Animagus party together.

He had opened up his wardrobe after breakfast and stared fretfully at the lot of them for a while. No one had commented on how thin and worn most of his suits were, but most people didn't have any reason to be looking very closely at his clothes; he was nervous about Greer seeing them. He hadn't budgeted for anything new, so hopefully she could find something to work with. Hopefully, too, she wouldn't be inclined to ask many questions.

"Uh, I 'spose," he said as he answered the door and stepped aside. He was a little wary about having her inside his room, too — from the hallway you couldn't tell precisely how small it was. Ford's bedroom was the smallest in the house, initially designed to be quarters for a live-in servant — though he'd be moving out of it after the wedding, into the one of the two newly built rooms on the third floor. The house hadn't had a third floor originally, but there weren't any better options — they didn't have any spare rooms for Miss Farley, and it turned out building permits cost less and were faster to come by than new rentals.

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Set by Lady!

Greer still wasn't quite sure where she and Fortitude stood, but she did feel obligated to help out in any way that she could. Aside from arguing with strangers in the pub when they were gossiping. This felt more constructive at the very least. "Do you have anything already?" She couldn't make a suit and a wedding dress and tailor anything else that needed mending before the wedding, she prayed he had something suitable (ha!).

Setting her kit atop the nearest dresser, Greer folded her hands before her, taking a peek at the closet, but unsure as to what it was Fortitude had in mind. She saw both some light and darker colors, which was good; though she could immediately discount leaving the lighter two, unless she changed the color. White would be especially out, but if he was amenable, she was good at that sort of fixing. "Between Miss Farley's dress and everything else, I probably won't have time to make anything new, but I can tailor just about anything that you have." Menswear was pretty easy, given the straightforwardness of a suit, but she was good at fixes regardless. She might be able to squeeze in a new vest or waistcoat for below the jacket, if needed, but it would be better if she didn't have to.

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"I don't need anything new," he said quickly, though he didn't actually know whether that was true. He just knew that anything new came with an expense; even if Greer was willing to discount or even waive the cost of her labor for the sake of family, they'd have to buy the fabric. And if that was it then Ford could probably find a way to make it work, but with the wedding on the horizon he was trying to play their finances even more conservatively than he normally did. He didn't know that Miss Farley wouldn't create new expenses once she was here, or that the wedding wouldn't have hidden costs, not to mention having no real hope of Grace or Clementine getting out of the house this season.

"You can take a look," he said with a shrug, though she seemed as though she was already assessing them. "You're the expert. I don't know much about clothes."

This was a lie — given that he'd been repairing his own suits for years to save money, he probably knew more about tailoring than the average middle class male — but he'd decided while he was fretting this morning that this was probably the easiest excuse for all his suits being too old, if she asked.

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Set by Lady!

Greer quirked an eyebrow at his quick dismissal of something new, but chose not to say anything. It was for the better. She stepped towards his closet with a critical eye, running her hands over the darker suits first, but they looked like they'd seen better days and wouldn't be appropriate for the occasion. It made sense, really, he wore ministry robes more often than anything else, so didn't strictly need that many suits, aside from one or two current ones for events.

Turning her attention to the two lighter sets, she pulled them both from the closet, hanging them on the door frame instead so she could get a good look at the silhouettes and fits. They both looked relatively new and not often worn which was good, but neither color would do. "I could make either of these work, but I would have to change the color to something darker, navy blue or a dark grey, even black." She opened the white suit jacket to take a look at the structure and craftsmanship. It was well-made from first inspection, it would need the least amount of work certainly, but after doing the same to the tan, she determined either would be fine. Neither had the third piece though, so she would have to make one. Or maybe they could get away with a nice shirt and cummerbund, more like a tuxedo, but that might be too fancy.

"Do they fit well?" That was the most critical part.

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Ford couldn't help but tense when she pulled the white suit out of the closet. He had expected that she would dismiss it out of hand, if she commented on it at all, and he'd been prepared to explain why such an oddity was in his wardrobe in the first place. People already knew he and Ty were friends, and that Ty had invited him to the event last summer, so it was easily explicable. But grooms didn't wear white to weddings, so he'd expected the conversation to end there. He hadn't expected her to actually consider it.

"Change the color," he echoed. "Like — permanently?"

He didn't have any good excuses why they couldn't use the white suit; he hadn't thought ahead to this possibility and prepared any. He could see that it was the most obvious choice, from an outside perspective. It did fit him well, and it was both the newest and the highest quality suit he owned. He'd only worn it once, and because of the stark color it was unlikely he'd ever wear it again without it being altered. There was no good reason not to use it. It wouldn't do to tell her that he liked to have it in his closet because every time he saw it it gave him a giddy little thrill, remembering the extravagance — not just of the suit but of being out with Tycho somewhere where no one cared if they hung at each other's elbows all night, where Ford had no one to chaperone and no one to check in with. How he'd taken such care all evening to keep the white suit pristine, then ended up discarding it on the floor of Ty's bedroom without a second thought about wrinkles or dirt...

From an outside perspective it was the obvious choice, but Ford felt a little nauseous. He didn't know if he had the stomach to marry Miss Farley in Tycho's suit.

"Um, yeah," he said, pulling himself back to the moment with visible effort. He cleared his throat. "They fit."

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Set by Lady!

Greer was too busy inspecting the suits to see whatever it was Fortitude was warring with about them internally. "Doesn't have to be permanent, I can change it back." A white suit was a strange choice to have, but as long as it fit and she could make a matching third piece, it would be fine if he wanted it back to white afterward, no matter how odd she thought the choice to be.

"It's well made, makes the most sense to alter, even just for the day." Greer moved on to the tan one, which also seemed to be in good shape. "This one would be fine too, it's not quite as classic of a shape as the other one, but I could fix that." A few well-placed charms, take it in around the middle a little. "Would still have to be dark though." At least tan could be worn in the summer, during the day. "I need to make a third piece, to make it a little more formal, but that wouldn't be too hard. Half a day's sewing at most." If she could get back to her machines at work.

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Ford nodded, though he was only half-hearing her. His ears were buzzing. You could just tell her to use the tan suit, he thought. You're giving up enough. But she'd said the tan suit was more work, and she was already doing them a favor, with the suit and Miss Farley's dress and everything she was doing for the rest of the family. And he actually wore the tan suit, at least during the summer months. He liked the way it was cut and the way it fit him, and it was the first big thing he'd done for himself since he'd taken over as head of the household. So either one was a sacrifice, just of a different sort.

The white suit was just sitting in his closet. At the end of the day, it was less of a sacrifice, really. He wasn't going to have another occasion to wear it again. And it wasn't as though anyone besides him would know; Tycho wasn't coming to the wedding.

Maybe this was for the best. Keeping it in his closet probably wasn't a good idea anymore. It was bright enough to draw the eye. Would he tell Miss Farley the story of where he'd gotten it, if she saw it and asked? Would he be able to get through it without arousing her suspicions? He'd never been a very good liar, and she knew something most people didn't: she knew he hadn't done anything with her in the coatroom.

He stepped forward and brushed his fingers over the sleeve of the white suit. His throat felt tight. Ty wasn't going to be at the wedding. It was just sitting in his closet. It was the obvious answer.

"We can use this one," he decided.

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Set by Lady!

The longer they dithered about the suit, the more Greer got the feeling there was more to this than he was letting on, but she wasn't dumb enough to ask. For all she was thankful for the Greengrass family for taking them in, they were still basically strangers. Greer was as loyal as they came though and she would stick by them throughout this whole disaster and do what she could with the skill set that she had.

"I can change it all back after," she assured him. It gave him time to think about it. If, after it was all said and done, he wanted it back to white, she would revert it back to this state. "I need to get some measurements," she flicked her wand at her little case of tools and the tape measure came flying out, hovering like it was waiting for the next set of directions. "Do you have a shirt to wear underneath? White or maybe light blue?" Both would look good. That she could also whip up easily enough if necessary. Shirts were as simple as they came (maybe aside from pants); she could do it in her sleep. Who needed sleep anyway?

"Actually, why don't you put it on and I can make the adjustments now. Just hold off on the jacket for a few minutes," the more she could get out of the way now, while she was stuck inside, away from the shop, the better. All of the modifications to suits and existing dresses, all easy enough. The hardest part would be fixing something up for Lorelei and herself, since neither one of them had anything all that fancy, but Greer could get creative in a pinch. She'd bring some scraps home from the shop if necessary. Stepping toward the door, her tape measure followed her and she took it up in hand, toying with it while she waited in the hall.

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"Shirts, yeah," he agreed. He swallowed to try and clear the lump in his throat and stepped back from the wardrobe. For a second he assumed that was it: they'd chosen the suit; she'd change the color; he'd go fetch a shirt from a drawer so she could verify he did in fact own shirts; he'd be able to stop thinking about this up until he had to dress on the wedding day. Greer's immediate flurry of activity disabused him of that notion. He tried to follow what she was saying (what she was doing, with the tools swishing every which way, was a lost cause), but her final directive still pushed him off balance. Put it on? Now?

She didn't leave him time to protest; she was already bustling out of the room. She had the energy of a much older woman, Ford thought distantly; he could picture her harranguing a small army of children through a crowded market.

So she was gone, and Ford was alone in his room with the white suit staring at him. Right.

He pulled the curtain closed over the one small window in his room. He was on the second floor, so it wasn't exactly necessary for most passersby, but his lover knew how to fly, and it would be just his luck for Ty to swoop by on raven wings and see Ford's cousin altering his suit. He lit the gaslamp on his desk and changed into the plain white shirt she'd mentioned — he didn't have much color in his wardrobe, so he didn't have blue. Then he crossed back to the wardrobe and stood there in his socks for a moment, just looking at it. Sorry, Tycho.

Half a minute later he opened the door for his cousin, wearing the suit except for the jacket, which he'd placed over the back of the desk chair.

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Set by Lady!

Well, well. He looked pretty presentable. Maybe they would at least be able to make things look presentable at this wedding after all. Greer gave him a small smile. "It does fit nicely. I just need to measure for the waistcoat and then I'll take it to make the adjustments." She moved toward her little stack of tools, starting a fresh page in her little notebook to take down everything she needed.

"Just stand still, arms out to the side." She directed him as the tape measure went to do the dirty work. She followed it along, taking down the precise measurements as it went. "Do you have a preference on color? I think dark blue would be nice, but black or grey is fine as well." Black always made her think of funerals, but it was the most formal too. Frankly she wasn't so sure just how formal all of this was going to be, but she would make everybody look their best regardless. Knowing what Miss Farley had in mind for her own dress helped Greer start to put the whole vision together, find the cohesiveness that she thought would help make things look just right.

With the measurements taken, Greer pulled the jacket from where he'd laid it, holding it out for him to put on. She tugged at the shoulders gently, looked at the length of the sleeves, even the waist fit particularly well. "This is exceptionally well made, right down to the lining." Greer was impressed. It was clearly far superior to anything else he had in his closet, which was baffling, but again, she wasn't dumb enough to ask. A good cleaning and press and it would be all set. "I won't have to change anything but the color, unless you want anything else modified. Which was a relief really. One less thing to tailor would make things much easier.

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Ford looked at the ceiling while she took measurements, except for a few times when the tape measure surprised him by pressing up somewhere he didn't expect and he glanced down to see what it was about. He was glad she was taking measurements magically; he would have been mortified to have her hands all over him this way, even if it was just her job.

"Blue sounds good, yeah," he agreed. He wasn't sure he had too much of an opinion on this, but there was something off-putting about the idea of turning Tycho's suit from white to black. Blue seemed like a color Ty might appreciate, more than the alternatives — but of course, Tycho was never going to see it. "Unless you think something else would go better with her dress. Whatever fits is fine."

He tried not to let his shoulders sag when he put the jacket on, but it did feel far weightier than he knew it to be. It was a fairly efficient cut, and breathable, he knew that from having worn it last summer. The heavy feeling was just in his head, and there was probably nothing a tailor could do to help alleviate it before the wedding day.

Greer said it was well-made, and Ford offered a slightly pained smile. "It was a gift," he admitted. "From someone with better fashion sense than me." Whether the average person would call Ty's fashion sense good was debatable, but as someone who spent long stretches surrounded by ghosts in anachronistic clothing, the departures from typical fashion had never bothered him. Tycho definitely had a better sense for quality than Ford did, when it came to fashion — and very intimate knowledge of all the contours of his body, which helped with the initial cut.

"We don't need to change anything else," he said, shrugging the jacket off. "I mean, I don't have any ideas about it, anyway. Whatever you think is best."

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Set by Lady!

Blue it was. "I'll make it all cohesive, promise." Greer never did anything less than her best on a piece, but she felt like this had higher stakes than usual, so she would take it a step beyond this time. She still really didn't understand the whole situation, other than it was rushed and things were not exactly proper, but if felt somewhat out of character, what little she did know of him, for Fortitude to be quite so somber about the whole thing.

Greer hung the coat back up on the hanger as he took it off, she would take it back to her room and put it on the dress form to make the necessary adjustments, which thankfully seemed to be minimal. "As soon as I can get back into the shop, I can get everything put together." She assured him. She would start with what she needed to here at home, given her limited tools, but Greer was resourceful and she was just as good at the magic side.

With a few practiced wand movements, all of her tools and her notebook bound themselves up for her to take with her. "Is there anything else you can think of that I can help with?" Moral support? A listening ear? She wasn't so sure she wanted to offer those things, or if they were even close enough for that, but Greer felt like she should offer something. After meeting with Miss Farley in the last couple of days, she just had some sort of strange feeling about the whole thing and she couldn't put her finger on it.

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Ford breathed a sigh of relief as she gathered her things. This had been unexpectedly trying, but he'd survived it without having a breakdown or saying something he shouldn't have. He was getting better at pretending, he supposed. He hadn't yet mastered pretending to be pleased about how things were turning out, but he was much better now at pretending he didn't care.

"No," he said as he moved deeper into his room, giving her space to move towards the door. "We appreciate everything you're already doing."

He took a few steps, took a deep breath. She was nearly out the door when a thought struck him and he turned. "Actually — you saw her recently, didn't you?"

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Set by Lady!

Ah fuck. She'd asked hoping the answer would be no, and it was, for half a second. All she'd had to do accept the thanks and wait for the other half of the suit in the hall. Not hard. But she'd gone and done it now. Greer was a practical, useful sort of person and that was exactly what she was doing by offering up her skills to help out. The conversational sort wasn't something she would necessarily be any good at. In fact she was rather bad at it.

"Yes," Greer hovered by the doorway, looking back at him curiously. "She came into the shop so I could start designing her dress." It had been an interesting meeting, one that left Greer with more questions than answers, but she wasn't about to stick her nose in where she wasn't wanted. It was part of the reason everything still struck her as some sort of odd. Nobody seemed very happy about this wedding and Greer knew it wasn't always required in this day and age, but she would have thought one or both of them might look a little more excited about it, considering the story being weaved around them.

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Ford ran his tongue over the backs of his teeth. When he spoke his tone was hesitant. "How — is she?"

He'd asked the question on a whim without thinking it through properly, and as he heard the words in the air he realized he shouldn't have. This wasn't the sort of thing he ought to be asking someone else, who had only just met her. If he was in love with her (or not in love but at least on good enough terms that he'd been able to get her undressed in a coatroom in the middle of a ball) then he ought to have already known the answer, because he would have just asked himself. Or maybe he wouldn't have even had to ask — he was sure that if something like this had happened to Tycho, he would have already known exactly what the other man was thinking without needing to send him letters to inquire.

"I mean," he said hastily, trying to figure out how to backtrack before Greer had a chance to respond. "How did she seem to be handling — well, with all the rumors and things." This seemed plausible, he decided; it fit the narrative well enough for them both to be allegedly looking forward to the wedding but still anxious about the gossip that had sprung forth in every direction. And maybe Greer could believe that he'd been writing her letters or visiting her or doing whatever it was dutiful fiances were supposed to do, and had all the right reassurances about how she was faring generally, but was still fretful over how things were going in public. Yes, that was the right tact — how is she in public. "We haven't been out, together since — so I just wondered —"

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Set by Lady!