“England, my dear. Clothing laws. I mean, it’s one thing when restaurants say no service for people in bare feet or whatever. But you could be put in prison for wearing furs like ermine, or certain colors—like purple! Very bad to wear purple unless you were royal, of course. So undemocratic. God bless America!”

“Really?” Susan said.

“Yes, really,” Rose whispered. Franny’s words rang in her head. He ain’t noble ’cause he’d have ermine on his cloak if he was. Only royals are allowed to wear ermine.

“Well.” Susan’s face scrunched up as if she were trying to solve a very difficult math problem. “What was the cutoff line for wearing fur or velvet?”

“Oh, not sure, dear. You know, noble birth—princesses, dukes, duchesses. Below that lairds or landowners, artisans, craftsmen, and merchants. The laws eased up for them, but no ermine, no purple, no cloth of gold. Though they couldn’t wear pure silk, there were blends of linen that could be woven into very lovely brocade patterns. The coarse fabrics were left for the yeoman farmers and such.”

It was all Rose could do not to pop open the locket right here and try to figure out the fabric of the man’s waistcoat. Not a prince, but what was he? Laird, farmer, blacksmith, artisan?

As soon as she was back at her grandmother’s, she went to her room and opened the locket. She squinted hard at it. Then she remembered she had downloaded the picture to her laptop. It was impossible to tell the fabric. But maybe he wasn’t a farmer. A farmer wouldn’t wear a ruff like this man. A merchant? Artisan? An artisan would be nice. Or maybe a merchant, if he owned a clothing store. She laughed to herself as she imagined a little sign in Old English script above the shop—Vintage Before It Was Vintage, or maybe Vintage Is Now! Rose hoped the cool dude in the ruff didn’t own something like a butcher shop.

After Old Souls, she and Susan visited three other stores and found a few more items, but Rose’s favorite of all was a red velvet pocketbook. She posted a picture on her blog of the pocketbook and the lace dress she planned to reconfigure for Susan.

IT CALLED TO ME: A red bag on a red chair in a red room. How could I resist?