Chương 171: Chapter 166 - Gwyn's Secret

The new shutters made the shop look closed, which was good because it would not open for another two weeks. Alric stood outside the former cobbler's shop and studied the narrow front while his guards took up positions to lounge. The old sign had been removed, leaving a cleaner rectangle above the door where years of rain, smoke, and city air left its mark. Someone would need to paint the new name there eventually. They needed a sign, several shelves, more cloth, at least two assistants, and perhaps some customers.

Just as winter was coming. The shutters had been fitted that morning. Thick boards covered both front windows from the inside, with iron catches strong enough to make the shop look as though it expected a small siege involving embarrassed husbands. Alric knocked. Gwyn opened the door after a moment and stepped aside.

"Master Alric," Gwyn said, holding the door with both hands and glancing along the street.

"I thought you might bring Mister Vale."

"When it comes to this type of thing, Vale is worse than I am," Alric said, stepping inside and waiting while she closed the door.

"Trust me, Vale is treasuring his ignorance." Gwyn let out a humph of a laugh as Alric inspected the shop. The room was emptier than he had expected. Three bolts of cloth rested against the far wall. One was brown, one a dull cream, and the third a deep blue. A worktable stood near a rear doorway, four storage rooms come off the sides, two per side. There were stairs at the back that went to a small upper apartment and down for a storage cellar.

Two stools, a narrow cupboard, and several tied bundles completed most of the business. There was also measuring cords, sheers and other scattered tools.

"I know it does not look ready," Gwyn said, smoothing both hands down the front of her work shirt.

"The other cloth has not arrived. I ordered lining, stronger linen and some finer wool, but the merchant said the blue would cost more if I waited, Vale just bought it." Alric studied the blue cloth and walked over to it.

"Is it good cloth?" he asked, crouching beside the bolt and rubbing the exposed edge between two fingers.

"Yes," Gwyn said, stepping closer and touching the fold.

"Very good for fitted gowns or a fine outer layer. It would also make an excellent waistcoat."

"That's why Vale wanted it," Alric said, straightening and wiping his fingers together.

"That is not how Terven ordered cloth," Gwyn said, glancing toward the bare shelves.

"He knew what would sell before he bought it."

"He knew what had sold before," Alric said, turning toward her and gesturing around the room.

"This won't be the same. A lot of what you make here, may not want to be seen." Gwyn looked unconvinced. She moved the cream bolt several inches to the left, studied the result, then moved it back. It was her first shop. Alric had known that, but this had seemed easy while they were pointing at a map in headquarters. Gwyn knew how to cut cloth, fit bodies, hide seams and how to do neat stitching. None of those skills explained where to place a cupboard before there was anything to put inside it.

Gwyn glanced at the covered windows.

"Do they all need shutters?" she asked, walking toward the front of the shop and touching one of the new iron catches.

"The workroom needs light."

"They open," Alric said, moving beside her and lifting the catch.

"When you are working alone, open them. When customers are here, close them."

"The fitting space will have curtains," Gwyn said, turning her head toward the left rooms.

"The whole shop should be private," Alric said, studying the entire space again.

"A woman should be able to walk through that door without wondering which man is looking through a window or waiting beside the cloth." He pointed to the entrance as he spoke. Gwyn looked around the empty main room again.

"No men at all?" she asked, folding her hands together at her waist.

"Not during ordinary hours," Alric said, shaking his head.

"No husbands waiting near the door. No male servants. No men wandering inside because they saw expensive cloth in the window. This is a women's space." Gwyn frowned.

"That removes half the city from the customers."

"It makes the other half more confident and trusting," Alric said, reaching out and testing one of the shutters, "You can make things for me and the men at headquarters, but we come after you close." Gwyn's eyes moved toward the workroom. Alric could almost see her trying to place customers into the empty space, then remove all the men from among them.

"Women only," Gwyn said, rubbing one thumb over the side of her hand.

"Working women as well?"

"Especially working women," Alric said, nodding toward the three bolts. Gwyn gave a slow nod. She still looked worried, that seemed to be most startups from Alric's experience. One worry was never always led to another with better prospects.

"We still don't have a name." Gwyn asked, glancing at the door.

"Gwyn's Secret," Alric said, watching her reaction. Gwyn turned toward him. Her eyebrows rose, then pulled together.

"The name?" she asked, lifting one hand toward her chest.

"The shop," Alric said, gesturing around them.

"The secret is whatever the customer wants kept inside. A bra, a fitting, or whatever." Gwyn's mouth moved slightly. It was not quite a smile.

"My name would be on the sign," she said, lowering her hand.

"It is your shop," Alric said, tilting his head toward her but also grinning.

"You own most of it," Gwyn said, looking down at the wood dust near her shoes.

"I own the bills," Alric said, folding his arms.

"You are the one that women are coming to see." Gwyn did not answer immediately. Her hands found the measuring cord hanging from her neck and began winding it around her fingers.

"Terven's name was on the old shop," Gwyn said eventually, looking at the cord.

"People knew it." Gwyn swallowed, then nodded once.

"Gwyn's Secret," she said as if testing the name, lifting her gaze toward the entrance. Alric decided to leave the matter there before she could discover several new reasons to be frightened by it.

"What are you ready to make?" he asked, walking toward the worktable. Gwyn followed him, "The new garment mostly, the bra, I can do your suits as well." she said, placing the measuring cord beside the shears. She untied the cord, she opened a draw carefully bring out the pattern for the bra currently in paper, she spread the pieces across the table and placed small weights at the corners. The existing pattern had been revised many times. Fine charcoal marks crossed older lines.

Several sections had been joined with narrow strips of paper. Notes filled the edges in Gwyn's neat hand.

"This is the one I use now," Gwyn said, running one finger along the lower band.

"The cups change with the woman, and the straps change with the weight. The side needs to come farther around for some, but the idea is the same."

"So, the riding design," Gwyn said, drawing her shoulders inward slightly.

"That is different." She crossed to the cupboard and took out more paper. The drawing showed something closer to a leather harness than underwear. Broad pieces crossed everywhere with stiff cups reinforced along the sides. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"It holds firmly," Gwyn said, placing the drawing beside the pattern.

"The leather does not shift."

"It will chafe," Alric said, frowning at it.

"The inside is lined," Gwyn said, holding the paper still with one palm.

"It will still chafe," Alric said, pointing along the lower edge.

"Heat, sweat, over hours are unkind." Gwyn studied the drawing again, "Then how does the riding version stay firm?" she asked, turning the existing pattern toward him.

"Cloth still moves." Alric looked at the cups, straps and lower band. The bra already did what it was supposed to do. It lifted, separated, supported and shifted weight into places men liked to think about. A sports bra from Earth would have relied upon elastic fabric, careful panel construction, and materials he could neither name properly nor even begin to figure out how to produce.

"Keep the bra," Alric said, pointing to the existing pattern.

"All of it. Cups, straps, back fastening, the whole thing." Gwyn glanced down at her chest. She wore a loose linen work shirt tucked into a dark skirt. She raised both hands and repositioned her chest through the shirt, lifting slightly while she considered the existing support.

"The straps still carry from the shoulder?" Gwyn asked, looking down at the position of her hands.

"Yes," Alric said, making himself look at what she was demonstrating, his hand went his forehead. Gwyn shifted her hands outward and pressed lightly against the sides.

"Less movement here?" she asked, glancing up at him.

"And upward," Alric said, nodding as he studied the direction of her hands and tried to keep his attention only on her hands.

"The cups still support everything. We are stopping the whole garment twisting or riding up." This is a necessary conversation. Alric repeated that thought to himself with the steady determination of a man trying to prevent another part of his mind from noticing that he was discussing feminine chest movement with a tailor inside a shuttered shop called Gwyn's Secret. Gwyn lowered her hands and pulled a clean sheet beneath the bra pattern.

"Show me," she said, taking up the chalk and looking at him. Alric began extending the side pieces downward.

"Closer through here, I think" he said, drawing a line below the band and toward the waist.

"It fits around the torso."

"How close?" Gwyn asked, leaning over the line and bracing one hand against the table.

"Close enough not to move, but it cannot pull the bra down when the wearer bends," Alric said, drawing a second line farther out.

"That is not a measure," Gwyn said, giving him a brief sideways look.

"It is the only measure I have," Alric said, lifting the chalk away from the paper. Gwyn took the chalk from him and began correcting the curve herself. They worked downward. The pattern reached the waist, then the hips. Gwyn cut the first pieces from rough paper, punched small holes near the edges and tied them together with thread. She placed the existing paper cups over her shirt, settled the straps on her shoulders and reached behind herself to tie the temporary back fastening.

The torso pieces hung below it like the beginning of an argument.

"Is this where it joins?" Gwyn asked, pressing one hand beneath her chest and holding the paper flat against her ribs.

"Higher at the sides," Alric said, watching the seam rather than the shape beneath it.

"Otherwise… otherwise… It's gonna fold wrong I think." He said trying to keep his chain of though. Gwyn raised one arm and twisted. The paper folded exactly where he had pointed. She lowered her arm and looked at him.

"That part was right," she said, marking it with the chalk. Gwyn removed the torso pieces, cut narrow wedges into them, and tied the sections together again. The second attempt sat closer through the waist. She bent forward. The lower edge rose.

"It still moves," Gwyn said, straightening and tugging it downward with both hands.

"It needs to anchor around the hips," Alric said, staring at the paper. Gwyn waited. Alric extended one finger down the pattern, then stopped. A sports bra had become padded shirt. The long-line bra had become a bodysuit. Somewhere nearby, common sense had seen what was happening and left before being assigned work.

"It continues down," Alric said, gesturing toward her hips.

"Around the body and between the legs." Gwyn looked at him, then down at herself.

"Between?" she asked, holding the loose paper against her waist.

"Yes," Alric said, keeping his expression controlled.

"That anchors the whole thing."

"How does the woman use the privy?" Gwyn asked, turning back toward the table and reaching for another sheet.

"Small buttons or straps," Alric said, then stopped. Gwyn laid the new paper against her hips and began shaping an overlapping lower flap.

"Beneath?" she asked, pinching the paper together through the front of her skirt.

"For the ordinary version," Alric said, nodding.

"Covered so they do not press into the skin."

"For riding, they will press into the saddle," Gwyn said, frowning down at the proposed fastening.

"Yes," Alric said, closing his eyes briefly.

"They will." Gwyn lifted one knee. The loose paper pulled upward around her hip.

"Short legs," Alric said, opening his eyes and gesturing around his own upper thighs.

"Fitted, down to about here." Gwyn crouched over the table and extended the lower pattern. She cut two rough leg pieces, tied them to the torso section and then stood with the whole increasingly improbable arrangement pinned over her shirt and skirt. The paper could not close properly over the skirt. It did not need to. They needed the lines, the joins and the places where movement pulled something it should not. Gwyn lifted her knee again. Alric watched the paper tighten across the front of her hip.

Gwyn adjusted it, then cupped her chest through the paper again while holding the lower section tight with her other hand.

"The cups remain here when the leg rises," she said, looking down the length of herself.

"It is working."

"The paper is working," Alric said, stepping to the side to inspect the band.

"Cloth will behave differently." Gwyn turned her back to him so he could see the rear joins.

"Then look at this side," she said, gathering her skirt closer beneath the paper. Alric looked. He was not embarrassed by the existence of breasts, hips, underwear or women. He had lived over forty years in a world containing beaches, advertising, gyms, medical diagrams, clothing shops and people who occasionally wore very little cloth without civilisation collapsing. None of those women had stood inside a shuttered tailor's shop and asked him to assess whether their chest moved correctly when they raised a knee.

The situation was not improper. It was simply bizarre in a way that required constant concentration to fight biological distraction. Gwyn reached behind herself, turned around, found a thread and adjusted it.

"Better?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder while holding the paper in place.

"Yes," Alric said, nodding as the line settled, he had to shake his head slightly to snap his mind to the task at hand.

"That keeps the bra straight." They returned to the fastening problem. Buttons beneath the body were acceptable for the ordinary version but not for long riding. Gwyn suggested moving them forward. Alric disliked the pressure of hard buttons against the front of the pelvis. They tried the sides, which placed them too close to where the leg bent.

"Leather is still useful in small pieces," Alric said, picking up the discarded drawing of the riding bra.

"Short straps. Buckles like a narrow belt."

"Stitched into the cloth?" Gwyn asked, taking the drawing from him and holding it beside the new pattern.

"With reinforcement," Alric said, tapping the upper thigh section.

"The leather carries the pull, but it is not rubbing across the whole body." Gwyn cut two small paper strips and pinned them across the front of her thighs. She mimed fastening them, then lifted one knee.

"Not against the saddle," she said, pressing both strips flat with her fingers.

"And she can reach them."

"That is the easier version," Alric said, crouching slightly to study how the paper shifted at the hip before standing again.

"For the bottom can go on the lower back or the stomach." He suddenly seemed to notice the position he was in and stood up abruptly. Gwyn moved the strips toward the rear of the thigh and lower back. She twisted to reach them, managed one and failed to reach the other without pulling the paper sideways.

"Better while riding," Gwyn said, stretching one arm behind herself.

"Nothing opens across the front."

"Worse when you need the privy," Alric said, watching her struggle with the second strip.

"A woman may have an attendant," Gwyn said, finally reaching the paper buckle and looking over her shoulder.

"A working woman won't," Alric said, folding his arms. Gwyn considered that, then removed the paper model carefully. She laid it on the table and traced the lower portion twice.

"One design with the buckles on the front," Gwyn said, marking the first pattern while holding the chalk firmly.

"One behind?"

"Let the customer choose," Alric said, moving beside her and looking over the two patterns. He let out a relieved breath to be just looking at the paper.

"For riding, work, or whether she has someone to help," Gwyn said, adding notes beside the rear fastening.

"The cups and upper pattern remain the same." Gwyn said nodding to herself. She stood over the table surrounded by cut paper, loose thread, discarded lines and two lower garments that had not existed when Alric entered. Then she looked past the table at the three bolts of cloth, her face shone with resolve. By the time they were finished, four patterns lay on the desk. The original bra, a sports bra, a body suit with a navel button and the body suit with short pants.

"The shop opens in two weeks," Gwyn said, resting both hands against the table.

"It does," Alric said, following her gaze.

"I have three bolts of cloth," Gwyn said, curling her fingers against the wood.

"One finished pattern, three unfinished patterns, no assistants, and I still do not know where the cupboard should go."

"Who is going riding in winter?" Alric said, turning toward her.

"Start with the bra. I'll ask Brannick to send a few female adventurers your way, we can test the riding suit through them, even if we pay for it ourselves." Gwyn looked at the paper bodysuit and then glanced at Alric.

"For free?" she said, turning back to the front fastening pattern and lifting it.

"It's research, they will also talk about it and bring in more customers," Alric said, pointing toward the pattern.

"Cloth is not cheap," Gwyn said, pulling the pattern closer to herself.

"That's my problem remember?" Alric said, lowering his hand. Gwyn gathered the paper pieces and stacked them carefully.

"I want to test on myself first," she said, tying the bundle with thread.

"I think you understand it now," Alric said, taking one step away from the table.

"I understand how I think it should be made," Gwyn said, lifting the tied bundle against her chest. Alric looked at the shutters he had ordered, the barred door, and the empty shop that would soon promise every woman in the city complete privacy.

"When?" he asked, rubbing one hand along his jaw.

"After the workers leave," Gwyn said, placing the bundle beside the original bra pattern.

"No men during ordinary hours." Alric gave her a long look. Gwyn smiled then. It was small, nervous and pleased with itself. He left Gwyn's Secret before she found another sheet of paper, the cool air felt refreshing against his skin.