What did they need? Molly began a list in the margin. “More bedrooms, of course. A dining parlor would be welcome.”
“And a workroom,” Josiah added.
“And a workroom.” She paused. “But only if I’m to continue with my mantua-making in a serious capacity.”
“Is that a question?”
“Is it not?”
He waved his hand toward the cloth-covered parlor. “This is what you do.”
“My outside projects have ended and may never resume once we’re married. Everyone knows husbands don’t like their wives working.”
“You and I both know I can support you. I don’t need to prove myself to anyone else.” Josiah’s eyes returned to his work. “We could go further and open a shop. Just think—space to work and a proper fitting room, plus a front room for selling dry goods. Then you could practice your craft properly. I don’t mind being the silent financial partner.” (Adrift, Ch. 21)
For all its contemporary amenability, Josiah’s suggestion of a mantua-maker shop isn’t ahistorical. In the eighteenth century, clothes were cut “to the person,” which entailed a woman standing in her shift and stays while the mantua-maker fitted the garment’s pieces to her. Mantua-making was an intimate affair, and its operation, an exclusively female one. These were woman-run businesses.
Now, Molly doesn’t get her shop, yet her mantua-making plays an important role throughout the series…but I won’t spoil things for you!