The little wardrobe was fairly bulging when the trunk was finally emptied. Katie knew she would never have a chance to wear all the finery Lord Alden Emerson had sent her. She wondered what she would say when she saw him again? After all, the gift was really just some cast off clothing of his sister's that neither he nor his sister wanted. So was it, in truth, a gift or just another gesture to make her feel all the more indebted to him?
Katie wanted to believe that true concern for her welfare, had been the motivation, that spurred Lord Emerson to help her in the way he was doing. Regrettably, she could not shake the feeling that it was most likely the fact that he felt responsible for her because her mother had been in his family's employment when she became illegitimately pregnant with Katie.
These matters plagued Katie. She needed desperately to feel that there was someone who had true concern for her. Someone she could put her trust in. Not just an aloof man who felt obligated to her for some reason, which Katie could not fathom. As kind as Lord Emerson was suddenly trying to be to her, she wondered if he was a person she could actually put her trust in.
Her mounting confusion completely baffled Katie every time the thought of Lord Emerson wriggled its way into her head. He had stepped so abruptly into her life and taken over her affairs so completely, that in such a very short time he had become an overwhelmingly large part of her thoughts and affairs!
Now she vacillated as to whether she should weakly submit to his guardianship attitude toward her, or strike out for her own independence and let him know that she expected nothing from him and did not want to be in his debt. At the moment, the hope that maybe she could learn to accept him, as a friend, was a comforting thought. With determination she tried to push all other disturbing contemplation’s from her mind, and hoped the future would prove to be more pleasant for her.
To distract her thoughts, Katie pulled her music box out of her saddlebags and hung the leather pouches over a hook on the wall. Reverently placing the box on the small nightstand next to her simple candlestick, she lifted the lid and listened as it played out its song. How could that child of so long ago realize what turns her life would take? The music box lulled her into the past, recalling that child whose only pursuit in life was finding a secret box.
There had been no secret box. She had to admit that now. The secret was not a box, but her hidden ancestry. As a child she had longed to find the key to some unknown door. Now she was not sure that she wanted to find the key that would unlock this new door and expose what lay behind her true identity. Sadly, she thought of her mother, and those carefree childhood days when nothing had troubled her. Phrases of a poem her mother had insisted she put to memory, faded into her memory. Her mother had claimed the poem held clues to finding the secret box. Katie repeated the poem in her mind now.
My dearest Child I have no songs to give you.
No Lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray.
But ere I part, one lesson I shall leave you,
For every day.
Be brave young maid, and let who will be clever.
Do noble things, not dream them all day long,
And so make life, death, and that vast forever,
One grand sweet song.
Thinking of the poem, she could not see any clues in it that would have led to her to a secret box, or the true identity of her birth. It had been called A father’s fare Well. Could it be that her mother had thought of the poem as a symbolic message from a father who could not be there for Katie as she grew up?
She realized now, that she had tried to be brave, even though her skies seemed dull and gray but there were no noble things for her to do. As depressing as it felt, the only grand sweet song she had was the sad melody of her treasured music box. Her mother had always called the melody a grand sweet song, just like in the poem. Strange, Katie thought. What did any of that have to do with a secret box, or her true identity?
CHAPTER EIGHT
As the week opened up into a whole new way of life for Katie, she was kept busy with mending, which had piled up over the months Winslow Hall had been without a seamstress. Katie found herself falling into her routine duties with ease, and efficiency. Although she was alone most of the time in the sewing room, she really didn't mind her solitude. She was used to solitude, having been an only child.
Maggie frequently shuffled her way to Katie’s room, eager to spend the time with Katie spinning old tales of the people who once lived at Winslow Hall over the centuries. Katie happily anticipated the history lessons because she found it exciting to learn so much about the people who used to live within the aged walls of the Hall. It gave her a sense of belonging to know that somehow she was a small part of Winslow Hall, even if she wasn’t a Winslow.
Though she could not be certain of the authenticity of the stories that the imaginative nursemaid spun, the gleam it brought to the old woman’s eyes, and the smile it produced on her aged lips, was entertainment enough to Katie on its own. She found a soothing pleasure in Maggie’s company that made her feel an unexplainable comfort, giving her the sense of homecoming. Katie had missed the company of her mother so much, and now Maggie was becoming a strange replacement to fill the void that was left by her mother’s sudden death.
Maggie’s dramatic antics when telling her assorted stories, as if she had witnessed everything she told Katie with her own eyes, was a constant amusement to Katie. Maggie certainly had a very captivating way of spinning tales, Katie thought with delightful glee.
However, at this particular time, Katie was busy mending some servant uniforms and was hardly listening to what Maggie was animatedly relaying to her, though she did look up and smile occasionally. Her mind was busily going over the excitement that had the whole house turned on end. Katherine Gail Winslow was due to arrive within a fortnight and claim her inheritance.
Now that Maggie had a willing audience she was taking complete advantage of it. The old woman seemed to be getting attached to Katie, and sometimes forgot who Katie was and talked as though Katie had once been one of her young charges of the past. Then she would seem to remember that Katie was the new seamstress and sadness would dim her usually pleasant features as she forced herself to grasp the reality.
Many times she repeated her stories, and Katie had to smile to herself and pretend it was the first she had heard the tale. However, it seemed important to the old nursemaid to share with Katie every tale or happening that had filled her somewhat lonely life, and Katie did not have the heart to interrupt her, so she tried to jog her mind back to what Maggie was relating to her.
"You know," the old woman’s cagey voice lowered as though she was about to tell a guarded secret, “it is believed that one of these turret rooms has a secret passage which leads down to the garden." Katie mused to herself how secret passages, like secret boxes, most likely didn't exist. "Of course, no one really knows which turret it is, but the story has been passed down over the years and is part of the history of the house.
“You see, it is a well-known story that the wife of one of the Lords of Winslow Hall, I could never quite recall which one, was unfaithful to her husband, whoever he was. I do remember that part! They say she used to sneak down through the passageway at night and meet her lover in the garden. One night though, when she was returning from the garden up the secret passage, her husband discovered her. When she reached the turret room he was waiting for her. She was so frightened for fear of what he might do to her that she backed away from him onto the balcony and fell over the railing.
“That is his story, of course! Some say he pushed her. Some say she jumped because he forbid her to ever see her lover again, and she would rather die than be parted from him.
“I understand though, that he remarried very soon after his wife's untimely death, so some claim he was as unfaithful as she was and just wanted a good excuse to get rid of her!” Maggie chuckled at the look of horror on Katie's face. She enjoyed shocking people with her outrageous portrayals, and Katie always ob
liged her by appearing overcome by what may have been just fantasies spun by an imaginative old woman.
"You certainly know a lot about this house," Katie commented, but Maggie seemed to be distracted now and was wandering around the room. She seemed intent on something and Katie looked up from her sewing to see what it was. Maggie was looking at Katie’s music box, which Katie had brought into the sewing room to listen to when she found herself missing the gentle company of her mother.
It was an unusual looking box with inlaid mother-of-pearl. A delicate design was painted along the border of the box, and Maggie ran her hand over the box and peered closely at the design.
"Do you like my music box?" Katie asked. "My mother gave it to me." She rose from her chair and came to Maggie's side. “Here, let me play it for you." She lifted the lid and slid the catch to allow it to play. The melody tinkled out soft and sweet. Such a grand sweet song, she could hear her mother’s voice saying.
Maggie's eyes suddenly filled with tears.
"What is it Maggie?" Katie insisted. “Is something wrong?"
"No. No, it is just that this is the same lullaby I used to sing to Kathy when she was little. I have missed her so much! She is coming back isn't she? You said she was coming back! I can't believe my little Kathy will be back again!"
"Yes, she is coming back, if it is your Kathy. Alain seems to think, or hope, that she is not who she claims she is."
"Oh, it will be my Kathy all right. I am sure of it!" She paused, and began singing the sad lullaby along with the music box, in a strange eerie sounding voice. It was nothing like the way Katie's mother used to sing it to her. She wondered what Maggie had been like when she was younger and happily caring for her charges.
Suddenly Maggie abruptly closed the music box. "I must go!" The sudden announcement came without any explanation. She started to leave the room, but then turned back to Katie. "Beware of Ghosts!" she warned.
"What are you talking about?" Katie asked, bewildered at Maggie’s sudden and strange warning.
"The ghost of that poor woman who was pushed from the turret balcony, of course! It is said she roams the secret passage, looking for her lover!"
"Since I don't know where the secret passage is, I doubt I will be running into her!" Katie laughed good-naturedly.
"No one has ever found the passage since her death," Maggie’s voice hushed to a whisper." It was blocked to keep others from using it. I suppose the secret of where it is located will remain buried in her grave. We have heard her wandering in the walls though, trying to find her way out again!"
"Probably just rats!" Katie suggested.
"No. No! I am sure it was her ghost. So be careful!"
"Alright," Katie assured her, laughing to herself. "I will not let her out, even if I find the secret passage!"
That seemed to appease Maggie. "No one has ever found the secret passage,” Maggie reminded Katie as she shuffled out the door. “Beware of ghosts!"
Katie’s smiling lips told all too clearly her amusement, as she watched Maggie shuffling away still mumbling to herself about ghosts. What a strange story, Katie thought idly to herself.
After Maggie left, Katie could not put the story out of her head. She wondered if there really was a ghost that was caught up in some secret passage? Only she had heard ghosts could walk through walls. Her imagination began to get the better of her, and she wondered if perhaps there had been some secret passage built into the wall or floor of her turret room. The more she thought about it the more curious she became, and on impulse, she put down her mending and decided to investigate the feasibility of such a passageway.
Consumed by the rare possibility that there might actually be a secret passage, Katie approached the small room that she had grown quite fond of and stood in the center. With scanning eyes, she slowly turned in place and examined every inch of the walls and floor. There was nothing out of the ordinary. No paneling on the walls that might slide away to reveal an opening. No rugs on the floor placed there to hide a trap door. No hangings on the wall to hide a secret latch. After surveying the room, she continued to give way to her ridiculous obsession she found herself confronted with, and tested the prospect a little deeper by tapping the walls to see if she could find a hollow sounding place or a loose brick or something that indicated some passage existing, but still no luck.
Scoffing at her absurd curiosity, she had to admit to her gullibility. It was apparent that there was no secret passage, and probably never had been. Anyway, there was none in her turret room. She was being silly to believe Maggie and her crazy stories. Even if the secret passage had ever existed, what made her think it would be in her own turret room? For all she knew, it could have been built in any of the four turrets. Still, her room was the only turret that overlooked the garden, Katie sleuthed out.
However, the thought also occurred to her that over the years the landscape of Winslow Hall could very well have been changed. People were always redesigning their houses and gardens. Just to make sure this was only a bizarre obsession of an old woman, and an imaginative romantic as herself, she decided to eliminate her own tower room as the one which housed the secret passageway, by getting down on her hands and knees and feeling the floorboards, in case a trap door had been concealed in such a way that she hadn't seen it.
Katie had been peering under the bed in her preposterous pursuit, when the sound of approaching footsteps alerted her. A knock resounded on the door, but before she had a chance to get to her feet, the door was opened and Alain put her head in.
“What on earth are you doing crawling around on the floor?" Alain’s voice cut into Katie’s embarrassment.
She felt suddenly silly. This pursuit is as futile as thinking I could find the secret box! she scolded herself, and idly wondered what Alain would think if she told her that she was looking for a secret passage, which probably didn't even exist? Would Alain be imaginative enough to find it entertaining, or just too sophisticated to bother with such trite? Katie decided on the latter.
"Oh!" Katie got up and dusted her hands on her smock. "I was uh...looking for a...a needle I dropped! I didn't want to prick my toe on it some night when my shoes were off, which reminds me..." She quickly altered the subject. "You won't believe how silly I have been, but when I packed my things I completely forgot to include any of my shoes!" She quickly kicked at one of Lorna’s shoes, the tip of which was peeking out from under the bed, and pushed it out of sight. "I don't know what I could have been thinking of, and Windy Gates is a rather far piece to travel just to get a pair of shoes. All I have are these riding boots." Katie thrust her booted foot forward to make her point. "They are quite tiresome to wear day after day, as you may well imagine.
Alain raised her finely arched eyebrows, and looked suspiciously at Katie. “Why were you wearing riding boots? If you had a trunk of clothes with you, I assume you were riding in a carriage when you went to visit Alden.”
Katie paused, trying to think of how to answer. “Um…I had been out riding my horse, because I was taking it to a friend’s house to leave with them, while I was away. I didn’t know how long I would be gone, and I had my trunk loaded on the carriage that was to convey me to my destination. I just had the carriage driver meet me where I was leaving my horse, and didn’t think about changing my shoes,” she fabricated and then hastily continued. “What I am trying to say, is I would much appreciate it if I could go to the shops one day soon and purchase a more comfortable pair of shoes."
Alain shook her head at Katie's story as though she did find it a little outlandish, but then she gave Katie one of her strange, elusive smiles. The kind that Katie felt was used to hide something Alain was not willing to reveal.
"Then it is just as well, because I came up here especially to ask you to do some shopping for me. I've been very pleased with your work and can see you have excellent taste in clothes. You have a lovely selection of gowns yourself!" Alain's eyes roamed towards the half open wardrobe, and then back at Katie. “The st
yle of your clothes looks so familiar. In fact, the gown you were wearing out in the garden the other night looked very much like one I once saw Alden's sister wear. I am sure all of her gowns were imported from France though. Yours must be a copy, or is it you have done some sewing for the Emersons at one time?"
"Well, no, I haven't myself, but...uh...my mother did some work for them. Maybe it was some of her work you saw." Katie was dismayed at the growing tangle of lies she was being forced to create because of her parentage, and Lord Emerson's concocted story about leaving her belongings at his manor, and then giving her his sister’s cloths. It was amazing how one dishonest tale could lead to another!
"Yes, Alden did mention something about your relations working at Emerson Manor. I wonder why he hadn't told me about you sooner? I have been telling him of my need for a seamstress for months now!"
“I...I guess he just wasn't thinking, but my mother's dress shop was in Windy Gates and I'm sure he didn't know that she had died and I was traveling in this direction. My mother had always told me if I ever needed help to go to Emerson Manor." Her last remark had been true enough, yet she hadn't remembered it until now. Why had she felt reluctant in accepting help from Lord Emerson then? Was it her independent nature, or did it go deeper than that?
"I came to Emerson Manor to see if Lord Emerson knew where I could locate my Uncle, but as it turned out, he got me this position instead."
Alain looked a little bored with Katie's explanation, and cut her short to continue with her own thoughts. "Alden has always been one to take in strays the same as his Grandfather who was overly kind to the riffraff in the area. His Grandfather took in my mother as an orphan, you know, of course she was not riffraff, but merely a poor relation of the Emerson’s. Tut-tut, that wasn't what I came up here to discuss though."
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